Prologue
Raleigh
MY STOMACH RUMBLES as my name is called into the board room. I wait for the wave of grumbles to pass before smoothing the pants of my power suit and standing. The lone biscuit I grabbed after my morning shift will have to tide me over, because God forbid those inside the board room write me off before I even have a chance to pitch my worth.
I take a deep breath and straighten my jacket. My feet float forward by their own volition, my pumps clicking across the expensive marble flooring. For so long, I’ve thought this ten year town had done me in. I first came here searching for something that’s long since grown out of my reach. Once the shiny new girl, fresh off the bus and ready to make a life on the stage, now a 29-year-old, bussing tables day in and day out. I’m caught in an endless cycle, and even with the career change, things haven’t looked promising. Despite earning my degree in public relationsand even putting myself through an online grad school program, no one has looked my way. Until today.
Entering the grand conference room, it’s impossible not to peer out the large windows that line the entire left side. Looking out over Nashville, I can imagine the lives of so many down below on Broadway ready to make the most of their night. Whether that means singing for tips, anticipating their big break, or groups of friends celebrating something special. Everyone comes to Nashville for a reason. As I divert my attention from the view I wish would someday be my own, I can’t help but imagine being on the precipice of my own dream.
“Ms. Davis, thank you for joining us this afternoon.” My attention is drawn fully from the windows to the group of people scattered around the far side of the table.
There she is. Spitfire, debutant, Mae Evans.
A man reaches out across the table which brings my attention away from the country star to the company around her. Two men flank either side of her and the glowing halo around the celebrity in front of me dulls. Averting my eyes to the man reaching out, I shift my binder to my left hip and reach out to shake the man’s hand. At the exchange of pleasantries, everyone has a seat and the interview begins.
“We won’t take up too much of your time, Ms. Davis.” The unnamed man’s eyes dart to Mae in a moment that I don’t miss. “To be quite frank with you dear, we’re not going to hire you.”
It takes everything within me not to let my mouth fall open. I’ve been a part of these types of interviews before–a quota to meet, a check off a list. I let my gaze snap to Mae who has a steely look. She might just be in my corner if I can hang in there a little bit longer.
The unnamed man lets a condescending smile spread across his face. “Mae wanted to invite you in, but with your lackof agency experience and nothing to speak of in the industry, you’re just not a great fit.”
Oh, great excuse.Blame the only other woman in the room for this display.
Calmly, I fold my hands on the table in front of me. Glancing briefly at Mae, my motivation returns full force. I have to fight for this one or I will be laughed out of another opportunity. “Perhaps we could speak about the report I’ve submitted regarding strategies for Mae and her upcoming releases. I might not have a lengthy duration of professional experience, but I work on Music Row; I can see what does and doesn’t work.”
The man who had been leading the conversation leans to the man at his left. Soon the men are whispering amongst themselves, and Mae is left staring daggers for me. She abruptly pushes her chair back, causing the murmurs to stop.
“It seems that myhandlershere haven’t bothered to read your work,” she says, standing her ground. “I did, however, and thought it all was executed well. I may not know much about the topics but I know what I like.” She turns to address the executives, but keeps her eyes on her fingernails. “I read every proposal that came through.” She glances up for only a moment to gauge any response. “I read every single one you had in the back log too. She’s the only one who submitted something original. Every agent from the agency turned in some recycled piece from Trenton’s interviews.”
One man facepalms, the others sweat in their seats. From what I’ve seen of Mae Evans, she’s a fierce defender of herself–guarded and unafraid. Just the kind of person I gravitate toward.
“Mae, we can’t just hire someone off the street,” the man in the cowboy hat says with a slight laugh.
Mae drops her hand to her side and looks the cowboy dead in the eye. “I’m sorry, isn't this what this town does? We scrimp, save, and perform in the bars and on the sidewalks until wecatch the eyes of suited up somebodies from the skyscrapers who only act when they can make a buck. I’m not Trenton, I don’t get into trouble. I might be a little bit abrasive, but it’s only because I have to be.”
“Mae, is this really a risk you want to take?” an older man from the left asks. He’s hunched over the table with genuine concern in his eyes. “This is your career. We know how big you have the potential to be, but you signed a contract and we can’t advise this decision.”
“Well, I’m not going to just hand it to her,” Mae says with a huff before turning back to me. “Why don’t you tell my team about your proposal.”
I nod, my heart beat easing when it recognizes that a genuine chance has been set before me. I toss the hair on my shoulder behind me, pull out copies of my report from my binder, and pass them around.
“From what Mae has already confessed, she’s new to the scene. She’s gaining support fast, and soon the publicity might become overwhelming. From that very first video that went viral, people have appreciated the attitude that Ms. Evans has exuded, but the abrasiveness is unattractive to those who don’t know her. And I know how we can fix that.” Sending a knowing nod in Mae’s direction, I smile lightly. “We need to lean into that southern side of you, Mae.” At this moment, my words become directed straight at the star sitting in front of me. If I don’t get hired, at least I can help a gal out. “I don’t think that becoming shiny like Nashville would be good for you. Your music is old school in the best way. Your demeanor, your clothing, your performance choices…they should mirror that.”
Mae has a genuine smile across her face now. The tougher side is already melting away. “I don’t need this city to change me,” she says. “I like sparkles and glittery dresses, but nothing willever beat fiddle and pedal steel for me. I need help navigating this spotlight that’s growing behind me every step forward.”
“A girl with no experience can’t help you do that, Mae. No connections, no sense of the pressures you’re under–”
“I don’t need someone who’s been a part of the machine their whole life.” Mae sighs with frustration. “You know, if you’d bothered to read Ms. Davis’ file you would know that Raleigh is from a small town in Arkansas and came to Nashville years ago. That’s what I need; someone who knows how overwhelming big changes can be.”
“I believe that I can be that for you,” I say, staring deep into her eyes. At the moment, despite the overwhelming idea of handling a teenage country superstar, I need this opportunity. But on top of that need to do something important, I wholeheartedly believe in what we can accomplish together.
Another cheeky smirk finds its way across Mae’s face. “I want to hire Ms. Davis.”
Scoffing and eye rolls follow this statement, but it seems the Princess of Country Music has already gotten her wish because the man who’s led the interview clenches his eyes shut for a moment before rising and reaching out his hand again. “We’ll be in touch,” he mumbles.
The young girl in Mae breaks as she giggles and stomps her boots, practically bounding around the table to meet me. She wraps an arm around my shoulders and escorts me out the door.
“I think this is the beginning of a beautiful partnership,” she says with a little edge. “The good ole boys club won’t realize what’s happening until it's too late.”
