Page 56 of A Country Kind Of Love
“Do you mean Cleo?”Jesse asks.
“Yes. I was supposed to be helping her, Jesse. I wrote this song forher. I don’t want to sing it with someone else.”
He reaches his arm around her shoulder. “Cleo willunderstand.”
“I’m not so sure she will. She keeps singing the song, Jesse. She’s obsessed with it. Fuck. I can’t do this.”
She wriggles from his grasp to pace back and forth. “God, I’m so hot. I needa hair tie.”
“I’ve got you, here.” Jesse removes the small black hair band holding his silky locks in place. She envies him and Cleo for their hair. It is always the perfect mix between bouncyand greasy.
“What about Avery? Why am I singing a love song with Avery? I’m gay, and if Marvin for one second thinks I am willing to hide my identity to score a record deal he’s out of his mind.” She huffs.
“He doesn’t expect that.”
“How sure are you?”Peyton asks.
“He’s aware of your sexuality; that has nothing to do with the song. It’s all about the way your voice appeals to people. He thinks the song as a duo has a better chance of being picked up. If it does, that doesn’t mean the two of you willstay a duo.”
“I don’tunderstand.”
“It’s a way in. You don’t start out as the captain of the football team when you’re a freshman, Peyton. You have to earn your seat atthe table.”
She doesn’t appreciate the football analogy because she hates sports, but she sees the logic.
“You’re basically saying I’m not good enoughon my own?”
“Oh, so now you want to be a solo artist? You didn’t want to sing five minutes ago.” Jesse chuckles.
“You know what I mean. If I wanted to sing, why wouldn’t a record label want me on my own?” She sulks.
“Like I said, a point of difference is good. You take a record label like Sony, how many demos from women singers in their early twenties do you think they receive on a weekly basis?”
“I don’t know,maybe 5-10.”
“Fifty, maybe more. Marvin knows producers, and they’ve told him first hand they don’t listen to every submission; they can’t afford to. They pick ones that look reputable, have a well formatted email, and a name they recognise always helps.”
“You sound like you’re talking from experience,”Peyton says.
“Everyone in this town has tried to get a record deal at one point or another. It’s not easy.” As far as Peyton was aware Jesse didn’t desire the bright lights of Broadway the same way other musicians did. She recalls their first conversation.
“You told me you didn’t move to Nashville for music; you said you played forfun.” She eyes him suspiciously.
“I do play for fun. I used to play for more than that, but I was too stubborn, too prideful, and too idiotic to accept a helping hand.” Jesse kicks at a rock on the floor. He misses. Peyton wants to laugh, but it’s inappropriate timing.
“What happened?”
He sits down beside her. He pulls his right leg up; the laces on his mucky cream Converse need tying. One is way longer than the other, and Peyton refrains from kneeling down in front of him and tying his whole lace like an OCD mother. She did it with her brothers for years after their mom died. Why can’t boys tie shoelaces properly? It’s a mystery.
“When I moved here, I came with a bit of a chip on my shoulder. I thought I was the next big thing. I’d been praised and admired by my classmates, family, and friends in Indiana so much I just assumed making it in Nashville would be a piece of cake.” He toys with a silver ring on his index finger. The small skulls around the centre move on their own separate plate as he spins them around the band. “There’s nothing wrong with confidence; you need it in this business, but my confidence turned cocky. I tried for about twelve months to get a record deal. I approached everyone in the business. I picked up dive bar gigs on weekends to scrape by, and I shut myself off from the world because I saw everyone as competition.”
“You were an asshole?” Peyton’seyes widen.
“Pretty much, yeah.” Jesse laughs. “One day a rep from Capitol Records pulled me to one side after a gig. They said they liked my voice and that they’d love to set up a meeting with me to discuss potential deals.”
“You’re kidding?” Peyton is fully invested in the story now. She’s almost forgotten her body is perspiring from every pore.Almost.
“Nope.”
