Best Of Everything (7 page)

In the end we agree on a minimalistic approach, with a slide show and retro effects that harken back to the sixties, with a hippie-ish vibe. It’s very Haight, and reminds me of my busking days. I hope audiences will respond well to it. Of course the designers assure me that they will.

The album cover is gorgeous. It’s a frosted photo of just my face looking off in the distance, my hair blowing in the breeze, and I recognize it as one taken by the still photographer at my video shoot. It’s got a lot going on – there’s a sadness to it I really like, and the font treatment is total Janis. I have no problem signing off on it. I’m actually relieved, because it could have been so terrible. After seeing some of the set ideas, I’m glad the cover designer went with classic instead of trying for cutting edge.

Ruby gives me a lift to the rehearsal studio, and I check my messages as she drives. My phone has been blowing up all afternoon, but I had it on silent, and now I see a dozen messages, from Jeremy, Melody, Derek. I scroll to his first, and he’s high-fiving me for my radio interview – his engineer played him the clip. He’s also apologetic that his shit wound up in my lap. I text him back that it’s all good and that I’ll call him after rehearsal, and then busy myself responding to Melody and Jeremy as the anonymous sameness of Los Angeles blurs by the tinted windows of the Lexus.

Chapter 7

When I arrive at the rehearsal studio, Sebastian is waiting with Terry. If I ever felt like there was pressure to be on my game, this is it. Even after working with Sebastian for six weeks, I’m still in awe of his reputation, and if Terry brought him to check out the band, it’s either because she thought we were really good or because she wanted a second opinion.

He gives me a big hug, and I note he smells really good. Melody’s a lucky girl; or at least she wants to be. I’m way past judging whether it’s a good match or not. What I know about sensible relationships could fit on the head of a pin. My boyfriend’s got a surprise kid, we’re doing the long-distance thing, and we both have issues, to put it mildly. If a famous producer and a teenage sex bomb can make it work, more power to ’em.

“How have you been?” he asks, as though it’s been more than a week since he last saw me.

In truth, it does seem like a lifetime ago. So much has happened since then, the obvious being Derek. I feel like a completely different person than the girl who was sitting next to him at the mixing board, even if the change is psychological – well, mostly.

“Good. How about you?”

“Last minute tweaks. We’ll be mastering your project tomorrow. You’re welcome to come by the mastering lab if you want. Shouldn’t take more than an hour or two.”

“Ruby’s got my schedule. I don’t go to the bathroom unless she says I have time.”

“Sounds uncomfortable,” he says. Terry’s muttering into her cell, her attention elsewhere, as the band troops in. I introduce Sebastian to everyone, and I can see they’re impressed that one of the top dogs in the music business is dropping by to check us out. I kind of take it for granted – I mean, it’s Sebastian – but the effect he has on the guys is electrifying.

The band tunes up, and then we launch into the set. I’ve got a tambourine for a few of the tunes, which I’m still getting the hang of, but overall I think we do a good job. When we finish, Sebastian claps, as does Terry, and we take a fifteen-minute break. Sebastian and I walk outside, where the sun’s setting in a reddish-orange blaze over the Pacific.

“So?” I ask.

“You want the good or the bad?”

“I want the truth. You’re one of the few people besides Terry I trust. Give it to me.”

“You sound great, but it’s missing something. It’s like you’re hitting all the notes, but I’m not getting you as a person. I want to connect with
you
when you’re onstage – I want to feel like you’ve invited me into your life and I’m spending an hour, just you and me, sharing secrets and whatnot. I felt that way on a few of your talent show performances – like the audience might as well not even have been there. This feels too much like a…a show, for lack of a better word. You need to find a way to make it more personal.”

Leave it to Sebastian to cut to the essence of what I’ve been feeling. The band is good, the songs are fine, but the problem is…me. I’m not comfortable, not completely so, with all the pomp and ceremony, and that’s coming through.

“What would you suggest? I mean, you know me as well as anyone.”

“Remember that first day? At the piano? When you sang my song? That’s the Sage people want to see. That’s the one they’ll fall in love with. Part waif, part woman becoming. You need to put that across, but first you need to find it inside yourself again and get used to the idea that it’s who you are as a singer. All I can advise is what I’ve been telling you through all the recording: find your personal truth, and then make that your performance.”

He studies me like he’s seeing me for the first time, and it feels uncomfortable, more intimate than I’m used to. “People aren’t coming to hear you sing, Sage. I mean, yes, that’s what they’re paying the fifty bucks or whatever for, but in the end, they’re coming to see what you’re all about. To share a special hour, where you give them something nobody else can. You’ve got it in you. Now you just need to figure out how to make the band an extension of you. If you can do that, you’re going to be unstoppable.”

I consider his words and nod. “Where would you start?”

“Your guitarist is pretty damned good, but for my taste the arrangements are too…big arena. See if you can bring it down, make it more intimate. Maybe do the whole thing unplugged. Get some incense going. Take your shoes off. Make it personal, one-on-one. I think I’d do our ballad with just you and the piano, like the demo – leave out the rest of the band. Some of the others, just you and the guitar player sitting next to each other, like you and Derek did those first appearances. Maybe set a hat or an open guitar case on the edge of the stage so the audience feels like they’re watching a street performance. Those are your roots, so you shouldn’t stray too far from them. Stay true to what got you here, and the audience will love you for it.”

A lowered sedan with opaque windows creeps down the street, a booming bass beat echoing from inside. Everything Sebastian says is accurate: I’m not really comfortable with any of this. Because of that, I don’t own it. It seems fake to me, so I treat it as an illusion, and that’s coming through in the performance.

I need to get back to that place where I was that morning I first met Derek, where I was the tough, rebellious street scrapper who was doing it for real. Now I feel like a trained monkey going through the motions. And Sebastian’s just told me that it’s not cutting it. He’s a legend in the music business, and I’d have to be an idiot to ignore his feedback.

I may be many things, but I’m no idiot.

We go back inside and I thank Sebastian and Terry for coming, sending the clear message that I want to be alone with my group. Once they leave, I sit down with the band, explain the problem, and enlist them to help solve it.

We spend the next hour retooling two songs, and by the time we’re done I’m happy with the direction. It feels more real to me, not like an act, which means that it will be real to the audience as well.

Maybe the secret, if there is one, is to just do what feels right and ignore everyone else. Fans of my music want into my world, not the other way around. I didn’t go out trying to impress with my talent – I just sang songs I liked because I had no friends and my life was crap and all I had was my guitar and my music.

So now, instead of trying to be a performer, I’ll do something way, way harder.

The band’s gone and the room’s empty. I lift my phone and eye myself in the screen. It’s going to be tough, but I’ve only got one option. My whispered voice startles me in the quiet as I talk to my reflection.

“I’m going to be me.”

Chapter 8

I get to the apartment and collapse on the bed, drained from the long day. After brushing my teeth, I pull on some sweats and fish my phone out of my jacket. Derek answers in seconds.

“Hey,” I say. “Sorry I’m calling so late.”

“No problem. Any more fallout from the radio thing?”

“I haven’t even checked. Been in rehearsal.” I tell him about Sebastian’s visit and my revelation.

“Go with your gut, Sage. Got you this far.”

“Thanks, Derek.” I pause, trying to remember what else I wanted to tell him. “Oh! I almost forgot. Terry says that she may have you on a leg of the tour with me!”

“That’s awesome. When will you know for sure?”

“It’s kind of like baking a cake. You can’t rush it.”

“So…when?”

“Maybe a week or so,” I guess, wishing I had a more concrete answer.

“Well, that’s better than nothing. It would be way cool if it happens.”

“How are your rehearsals going?” I ask.

“Not nearly as exciting as yours. My band’s pretty solid. Can’t complain. The players are really good.”

“Have you thought about flying out here for a couple days?”

“Believe me, that’s all I think about. But my manager has my schedule packed right now. I’m hoping in a couple of weeks or so…” He doesn’t sound convincing.

“How’s…your son?”

“I saw him this afternoon. He’s…I don’t know. I mean, he’s a baby. He cries. Poops. Makes random noises.”

“And mom?”

“There’s nothing to tell. She’s looking for a job and a place. But it’s not easy. She never graduated, so she doesn’t have a lot of choices…”

“How is she going to pay for a place if she doesn’t have a job?”

He sighs. “We’ll worry about that when the time comes.”

“We?” I can’t help myself. I mean, I know I should just let it go, but I can’t.

“You know what I mean.”

“No, I guess I don’t. Is it now ‘we’ instead of ‘her’? Because when I was in New York, you and I were we, and she was…her.”

“Sage, she doesn’t have much money – only what she was able to borrow from her mom. So I’m going to have to lend her the cash for a place to stay. I can’t have my son living in a shelter. You know my background – that’s not going to happen as long as I can do something about it.”

“You’re living in a roach motel to save money, but you can afford to get her a place of her own?” I can feel the blood rushing to my face. “Are you sure you’re over her, Derek?”

“Of course. Look, it’s not my ideal situation either, okay? But this isn’t about her. It’s about Jason. I wish she wasn’t part of the deal, but she is. Sage…that has nothing to do with you and me. You understand that, don’t you?”

I take a deep breath and remember my father’s words. A decent man steps up and takes care of his responsibilities. “Sounds like it’s going to be a lot for you to handle, Derek. Supporting a kid and his mom. What would you do if you were still…if we were still on the street?”

“Well, in that case, she wouldn’t have seen me on TV and I’d never have known about Jason.”

I don’t say I would have preferred it that way. Although I would have. Not the living in sewers and eating rat-tail soup part, of course. But the Derek-all-to-myself part sounds perfect.

Unfortunately I don’t run the universe, so I need to suck it up, just as he’s doing.

“Can’t turn back the clock. Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help,” I say, opting to follow my dad’s advice.

“I really appreciate that, Sage. And yes, this is taking some getting used to from my end. An appearance here and there doesn’t go as far as when we were doing three a week and each pocketing big money. And more often now they’re to push the record, meaning I don’t get paid for them, so it’s going to be tight until I go on tour.”

“Have I mentioned this sucks?”

“You might have.”

“It does. Especially you there and me here. That’s the worst.”

“I know. I miss you every minute of the day, Sage. All I can think about is you, our time together, how you feel in my arms…”

The hard center of my heart melts as his words hit home. This is the man I was making love with just a couple of nights before, experiencing passion and joy I’d never imagined. And he feels the same as I do. All my frustration and anger over the Lisa situation aside, he wants me as much as I want him.

My hand reaches for my shoulder, to my new tattoo. I close my eyes and imagine his rock-hard body next to mine, his smooth skin and incredible green eyes caressing me as we move together. My breath catches in my throat at the memory, and I’m transported back to my bed in New York, where heaven on earth was mine for a few brief hours.

“I miss you too, Derek, more than anything. I do, and I want to be with you. I’m sorry for being a brat about Lisa and Jason. I’m just being selfish, I know. I want you all to myself.”

“I’m all yours, Sage. Every bit of me. You’re all I want.”

“I know. We’ll make this happen. Life just got in the way.”

“We will, Sage. I promise you.”

“I’m counting on it, Derek. Whatever happens, I’m with you.” I laugh, because if I don’t, I’ll start bawling. “I even have a tattoo to prove it. Property of Derek.”

“Mine’s bigger. Says…what does that say? Stage? Rage?”

I smile. “Night, Derek. I’ve got an early one.”

“Me too. Good night, Sage.”

I wait for him to hang up, and he doesn’t. After fifteen seconds, I sigh. “Hang up.”

“Okay.”

He doesn’t.

Three minutes later, we’re still saying good night, and my phone dies, the battery depleted, the cosmos making the hard decision for us.

Chapter 9

The following day Ruby has three appearances for me: interviews on two different radio programs, followed by a TV talk show that focuses on family infighting, abuse, and trailer trash drama. I’m dreading all of this, but it’s clear that neither Ruby nor the record company particularly care about my preferences. If I can stay in the public eye, for whatever reason, until release date, that’s a big win, because nobody buys your record if they don’t remember you. At least that’s the way Ruby explains it as we drive to the first station, located near Koreatown.