Page 122 of Sing For Me

“My name is Stu Jacklin. I’m so sorry for calling so late, but I’ve got your recording and I can’t stop listening to it on repeat. And when I’m sure about an artist, I need to tell them, immediately.”

“Recording?” I’m too confused to say anything else.

“Sounds suspicious!” Nora whispers.

I should hang up. But there’s something about this call that feels legitimate. I can’t say why. “What recording was that?” I ask instead.

“Oh, uh, sorry, I thought you knew about this. My apologies. I run a mid-sized record label out here in LA called Two Shot. I’m listening to a recording of you singing as we speak. I’d like to fly you out here to meet, if you’d be up for it. My dime, of course.”

Now my stomach bucks. I know Two Shot. They produce some of my favorite albums. My heart thumps. “I’m sorry, is this about the video?”

“Video?”

“You haven’t seen the video…”

“No, I got an email from Eli Dunham a couple weeks ago with a recording attached. He’s a friend of my old bandmate Ben? Do you know Ben?”

I swallow, my throat suddenly dry. “Yes,” I croak.

“Let me read you the email, how’s that?”

Before I can respond, the guy clears his throat and starts reading out loud.

“‘Hey, Stu, here’s the tape I talked to you about—I know you’re inundated, but I’m just over here trying to make this girl’s dreams come true. I’ve fucked up so many times with her just…please give her a listen. She’s the most incredible person I’ve ever known. She deserves this, even if I don’t.’”

Stu chuckles. “Damn, the kid’s hard on himself.”

But I can hardly breathe. My heart is fluttering like a bird in a cage. “He is,” I whisper.

“So, you didn’t know about this?”

“No, it was…it was before stuff kind of blew up over here.”

“Listen, why don’t you send me the video you’re talking about; I’ll take a look, but if it’s you singing, it’s just for my own enjoyment, because I’m ready to take you on. We’ll still do the meeting and all that because I want you to know how much I want you, but…”

The man carries on about contracts and money, and how he builds careers, but he looks for authenticity. He doesn’t want stadium performers because he hates big shows.

It’s like the man was made for me.

I hang up promising I’ll call him tomorrow.

“Okay,” Nora says, and it’s only then I realize she’s pulled over into a cutout on the side of the highway. I’d been so absorbed I hadn’t registered we’d stopped. “Tell me what exactly that was all about!”

I look at my friend. It’s only then I realize, between pounding heartbeats, that she never finished telling me her news.

“Nora, what about you, I—”

“Forget about me right now, Reese. Tell me, immediately, what that was about.”

“I’m in love with him.”

“What? Who? Reese! Who was that?”

I laugh, a real full laugh this time, with tears at the edges. “Eli. I’m in love with Eli. I think I fell for him years ago, but I didn’t let myself go all the way—I was teetering on the edge. But he was broken, and…” I press my fingers to my eyes. “No. He wasn’t broken. He was hurting. But he was whole inside. He’s never once strayed from who he is, and I think that’s exactly why I love him.”

“Reese, I barely understood any of that, but I think I got the gist.”

I laugh again, and then I’m sobbing.

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