Forbidden Ballad - Rock My World (2 page)

I listen to Stanley’s final message.

“The record label is pissed off, and they’ve had enough of your games. I thought you were bigger than this, Carly. You’ve been released, and to recoup the loss of the tour, the label is no longer giving you a cut of the album since you’ve reneged on your side. I wish you hadn’t done this, Carly. You’re never going to work in this town again.”

I sigh.

I was out.

I figured that I wouldn’t make any more money off the album, and that was just fine with me. I didn’t want to profit from anything that I had shared with Walker. I did feel bad about the fans that had bought tickets to our shows, and I wonder how Stanley would spin this to the media.

I walk into the kitchen, and pour myself a glass of water. It’s two in the afternoon on a Sunday.

“What am I going to do?” I whisper to myself.

I can’t imagine staying in Nashville now. I don’t want to be anywhere near Walker, and Stanley’s right. I’ve burned all my bridges in this town. How would I even find another label that would want to sign me?

What I need is to talk to my best friend, Quinn. I dial her number and pray that she picks up.

“Hey, Car! How are you?”

Quinn’s familiar voice brings me to tears, and I can’t respond. Instead I choke out a sob.

“Oh, honey, what is it?”

“Walker,” I manage to say. “I caught him cheating on me.”

“Oh, Carly, no. I’m so sorry.”

“I don’t know what to do, Quinn. I quit our group and got myself fired from the label.”

“No, Carly! Tell me you didn’t,” she moans.

“What was I supposed to do? How was I supposed to work with him every day?”

She sighs. “Did you know the girl he cheated with?”

I let out a bitter laugh. “Yeah, so do you. It was Willow Green.”

“What?” I can hear the shock in Quinn’s voice. “
The
Willow Green?”

“Yes, the beautiful little starlet. Naked in all her glory while she was riding my fiancé.”

“Oh, Carly,” I can hear the pity in her voice and it makes me cringe.

“What am I going to do? I’ve ruined myself in this town. I don’t know what to do, Quinn!”

“Come here,” she says suddenly. “Come spend some time with me in the city. Maybe you can even talk to some of the record labels.”

“I don’t know,” I start to say, but suddenly it sounds like a brilliant idea. New York is full of opportunities, and I have all the time in the world right now. Maybe a few weeks in the city would be good for me.

“Come on, Carly. I have to work, but you can hang out all day and try to pursue work, and then at night we can hang out and have girl time!”

It was so tempting. I hadn’t seen Quinn in almost a year, and I know she felt bad that she hadn’t been able to come down to Baltimore for my grandmother’s funeral last week.

“Alright. Let me try to wrap some things up here, and I’ll try to get a ticket out in the next few days.”

“Yay! I mean, I’m sorry about what happened, but I’m happy to see you.”

“I know. Thanks, Quinnie, you’re the best.”

I hang up and pull out my laptop. I’ve been very comfortable financially since Sideroad began taking off, but now I no longer had an income, so I knew I needed to start watching my money.

I found a ticket for a flight that left in three days, and I figured that would be plenty of time. I entered the requisite information to purchase and then forwarded my confirmation to Quinn.

Closing my laptop, I looked around my apartment. I knew I needed to call my parents, especially before this story broke but I was going to wait a bit longer. I went back in the bedroom and pulled out my two large suitcases. No time like the present to pack.

~~~

Three days later, and after countless tears, I find myself seated on a direct flight to JFK airport. I try not to think about the desperate texts I had gotten from Walker, or the angry call from the record label. I knew I looked like crap, and I was hoping that I wouldn’t be recognized. I had left all my country-looking outfits hanging up in my closet, including my worn and loved cowboy boots. I don’t know how I would ever wear them again. They reminded me too much of my old life. Because that’s what it was now, my old life.

I spend the flight staring out the window, not really seeing anything, and lost in my own thoughts. Every time I think about the tour I gave up, my heart clenches tightly and my eyes swell with tears. That was my dream, and I allowed Walker to ruin it for me. I could have sucked it up, and gone on tour, but that would be selling out.

The plane bouncing from touching down, pulls me out of my sadness, and I feel a thrill as I look out the window. I’m in one of the greatest cities in the world, about to spend three weeks with my best friend. I grab my carry on once we’re at the gate, and hurry towards baggage claim where Quinn is supposed to meet me.

I see Quinn before she sees me, and I can’t believe how
cosmopolitan
she looks. She’s effortlessly chic, with her bright blonde hair cut into a sleek bob. She’s wearing white skinny jeans and a rouched royal blue top. Her bright green eyes search for me in the crowd and when she sees me, she lets out a little squeal and comes running.

We hug tightly, and I feel some of my stress melt away. I’ve missed Quinn. I have friends in Nashville, but no one as close to me as Quinn. There’s something about your best friend from childhood. They understand you in ways that others can’t. Quinn was there for sleepovers, puberty, first loves and heartbreaks. That kind of history can’t be ignored.

“You look like crap,” she jokes, brushing at her tears.

“I know. You look fabulous,” I say wryly.

She lets out a laugh.  “You’ll look fabulous soon enough.”

She takes in my black sweat suit and flip-flops. “Well, at least you’re not in cowboy boots,” she says, wrinkling her nose.

“Don’t worry. I left them at home, along with anything else remotely country-looking.”

Quinn beams. “Excellent! Maybe we’ll start with a shopping trip!”

“I brought other clothes,” I protest.

“Hmm. Well let’s go home and check them out, but I’m pretty certain we’re still going to need to buy you a few things.”

I roll my eyes, but don’t argue.

An hour and a half later, Quinn and I are nestled into her small but well-decorated apartment in Tribeca. Quinn runs an art gallery and does exceptionally well. The art gallery belonged to a wealthy uncle of Quinn’s who passed away from cancer a few years ago. He left Quinn the gallery, along with a hefty inheritance. He had had no children, and Quinn had been the closest thing to a daughter.

“So, what is your plan while you’re here?” Quinn asks carefully.

I sigh, and stretch out my legs. “I’m not sure, really. I know that I need to look for work, but I also want to relax and not think about things.”

Quinn nods and then opens her mouth to speak but closes it quickly.

I knew that look.

“What?” I demand. There is something she isn’t telling me.

“Well, it’s just that I have a friend that works at one of the record labels here.”

I narrow my eyes.

Quinn twists at her shirt, not meeting my eyes.

“I may have mentioned that I had a friend who was looking for some work.”

“
May
have mentioned?”

“Okay, I
did
mention.”

“Quinn!” I moan. “I don’t want any handouts! And I still don’t know what I want to do!”

“It’s not a handout, just a connection. You know how much the business works on connections! And don’t act like you’re giving up music, Carly! You’re too talented! What are you going to do? Go back to school and become a nurse? A teacher?”

I shake my head and look away. Quinn is right, of course. So much of the music industry is based on connections, and I wasn’t going back to embark on a new career. I was meant to be a singer. I had been given a headlining tour, after all.

“Fine,” I say grudgingly, “I will follow up with anything your friend might find.”

“Perfect! I’ll call Jake tomorrow!”

“Jake?”

Quinn shakes her head. “It’s not like that. I wish it were though. He’s gorgeous, but he’s taken. His sister, Beth, is one of my close friends.”

Hmm, now I’m definitely more interested in meeting this Jake person. Quinn is one of the pickiest people I know, so it’s unlike her to say that a guy is gorgeous. Jake must be supermodel material.

“No rush on calling him, though. I want a few days to decompress.”

“Strike while the iron is hot,” she teases. “I’ll call tomorrow,” she confirms. “I’m sure it will take a few days for things to get rolling anyway.”

I give up, knowing that Quinn will do whatever she wants and it would be in my best interest to go along. It’s not like I have any other leads at this point. Just incase, I had packed a handful of Sideroad’s latest CD in my luggage.

“Alright, enough work talk. Let’s talk about where we’re going for dinner tonight!”

I look blankly at Quinn.

“I was counting on you to pick a place. I wouldn’t know where to go.”

“Great!” she said her eyes lighting up. “I know the perfect place!”

With that, I was caught up in the tornado that is Quinn, getting dressed and coiffed by my friend, before I was following her to the “world’s best” Mexican restaurant. As long as they had good margaritas, I would be happy.

~~~

I pause outside the impressive building, tilting my head back so I can look all the way up the sleek exterior. I take a deep breath, and steady myself before walking into the cool, marble lobby. I pat my bag for the one-millionth time, making sure that I feel the flat, plastic CD case which hold Sideroad’s latest CD.

Woodenly, I walk towards the elevator bank, and press the button. An elevator opens almost instantly, and I step inside and press the number fourteen. As the elevator moves swiftly upwards, I think back on the past four days that I’ve spent in New York.

True to her word, Quinn took me shopping, and I hated to admit that she was right about me needing new clothes. My clothes were all right, but slightly outdated, especially for New York. While Quinn went to work, I wandered around the city in my new clothes, checking out cool shops and eateries. So far, I don’t think I’ve been recognized, but I wasn’t able to resist glancing at a few gossip magazines. Walker and I weren’t the headline, but there was a good-sized blurb about the rumored break up of Sideroad.

There hasn’t been an official announcement stating that our tour has been cancelled, which I think is strange. The tour is supposed to start in a week, and I can’t imagine why Stanley would be dragging things out. At least there was no mention of Willow Green. It was bad enough that Walker and I were through, both romantically and musically. I don’t know if I could handle the embarrassment of
why
we broke up.

The phone call to my parents had been a painful one. I didn’t want to tell them why Walker and I broke up, but they couldn’t understand why I would throw away my entire career over it. I finally had to admit the reason why, and I cringed the entire time. It was humiliating.

My mother had warned me years ago not to get involved with Walker if we were going to work together. I wish I had listened, but I had been too foolish. Of course, my parents wanted to know if I could go back and apologize, if I could try to make things up so I could at least have my career.

Needless to say, I wouldn’t be going down to Baltimore to visit my family during my stay in New York. They weren’t happy with me, and I was upset by their reaction. Plus, I had just spent two weeks with them, so I didn’t feel guilty.

So here I was, about to meet Quinn’s gorgeous friend and music producer, Jake. I was dressed in black pants and a scalloped gray blouse. My hair was shiny and straight, and Quinn had finished my ensemble with silver heels. I wasn’t sure if this departure from my normal look was a good thing or a bad thing.

The metal doors slide open, and I walk through them, straightening my shoulders and holding my head high. There’s a long, marble black desk and a pretty woman sits behind it. I walk towards her and smile.

“Hi, my name is Carly Michaels. I have an appointment with Jake Ryder.”

The young woman surveys me, and I know that she knows who I am.

“Yes, of course,” she murmurs, her manicured hands picking up her phone.

She speaks quietly into it, and then hangs up.

“Jake will be right with you.”

“Thanks.”

I take a seat, and look around. There are album posters, and signed records along the wall, and copies of industry magazines stacked in neat piles on nearby tables. I don’t have to wait long, and I see a man emerge from an office down the hall. As he nears, I can tell that he is unbelievably handsome. His brown hair is perfectly styled, and he has bright green eyes that reflect the light. His entire face looks like it’s been perfectly chiseled, and I wonder why he isn’t a model. He’s much too pretty for my taste, but I can see what Quinn sees in him. I feel a little tongue-tied myself as he introduces himself.