Love Songs
Page 39
“But Warner?”
“This is the Woman On Top Tour. The only men on this tour are crew.”
“Me?”
He signaled the waitress to bring him another drink. “You.”
She hadn’t been prepared for this. Where were the simple days of putting on a red wig and black Mary Janes?
Tom explained the logistics of the tour while he sipped on his new drink. She'd be almost a side show act at ten of the thirty cities, but it did mean she'd be on the road for almost a month.
She kept checking her phone hoping Warner had responded to at least one of her text messages, but to no avail.
Tom's phone rang and he took the call. When he hung up he signaled for the check. "Our star is done with her rehearsal. She wants to meet you."
"Today? I really would like to talk to my husband about this."
"Sometimes you have to make your own call," he said as he stood.
"When will I have to make my decision?" She gathered her purse and followed him out of the restaurant.
"Oh you're in or you're out. She needs to fill this spot on these tours. She likes you."
He was heading up the street. She assumed toward his office or to the studio where Savannah had rehearsed.
"I don't really understand this. I mean I was singing background to Warner. I didn't carry any of the songs."
"It seemed to do the job."
She checked her phone and sent Warner another text. This simply wasn't happening. How did her life get so complicated and full of amazing things in less than a month? But she'd considered doing this, hadn't she? There had been that spark when she performed Warner's song with Randy and she knew she'd wanted to do this. This was her opportunity.
Warner had his own opportunities brewing. The TV show was going to launch his career, so he would want her to be successful, right? This is what he would want for his wife.
Warner was a quick study—no one on this show liked him.
He’d already seen the attitude before him when the one guy, and he didn’t remember his name because he just didn’t care to, thought Warner would get more air time because of Patricia. The girl, who looked like she’d be better off singing in a tribute band to Metallica, had already been interviewed and he caught the part where she thought Warner’s music was for sissies.
But what the hell did it really matter? Warner was looking to sell his songs and to get a contract. Heck, not everyone thought the world of Tim McGraw, George Strait, or even the OX. There were always going to be critics and this show was all about putting them together in a battle.
When Warner took his opportunity to be interviewed, the first question was about Patricia Little.
“Let’s set the record straight,” he said. “Patricia Little was unfortunately my step-mother from the time I was ten until I was twelve. I am in my thirties and she’s still a thorn in my side. So as far as I’m concerned, that can be your last question about Patricia Little. She is nothing in my life and has nothing to do with my life.”
“How about your new wife? That was sudden wasn’t it?”
“Yeah. When you fall in love with the right girl you marry her as fast as you can,” Warner said with a smile.
“What about her career? She’s going on tour, singing your songs. Does that make you feel like you’ve been left behind already?”
Warner narrowed his stare on the man behind the camera asking the questions. “What are you talking about?”
“She’s meeting with Savannah’s people right now. I’m sure you knew that.”
Warner could feel the heat rise in his face and damn he was sure that showed on camera. He needed to control himself quickly or he was going to fall right into the trap of making himself look like an idiot on TV.
“My wife is a very talented woman. If Savannah liked her style then the woman has taste. As for her singing my songs, I can’t think of anyone I’d rather have sing them.”
The man nodded. Warner hadn’t gotten all worked up. Their plan had failed—on camera at least. What the hell was Clara doing signing contracts to sing his songs?
He stood from the stool when the interview was over and headed right to the bathroom to splash cold water on his face. Well, he hadn’t really expected his new wife to sell him out in only two days but why would that differ from anyone else in his life?
Oh, she was going to get an earful when he got home. Maybe he had made a mistake running off and marrying her. After all, hadn’t he assumed she was going to steal his songs anyway?
He reached into his pocket and turned on his phone to give her a call. He was curious as to what she would say to him.
Before he could dial the number the screen lit up with no less than ten text messages, notice of six missed calls, and a voice message.
He scanned through the texts.
Warner call me.
OMG Savannah wants me to sing with her. Call me.
Where are you?
I’m heading to her mgrs. office. They want me to contract.
Warner I need you.
Call me.
He let out a breath. She wasn’t hiding from him. That stupid man who had interviewed him had inside knowledge of something and he was trying to use it against Warner. Well he was glad he’d played that off and they didn’t get the fight they thought they would. Warner wasn’t going to let this get to him. This was going to work for him, dammit!
Warner listened to the voice mail. The last one had only been sent fifteen minutes earlier.
“Warner, please call me as soon as you can.” Clara sighed into the phone. “Savannah wants me to tour with her for ten cities. I’d be that act that goes out before anyone even gets into the arenas, but they want me to sing your songs. I need to know what you think. They want me to sign today or I’m out. I want to do this, but not without your consent. I’m in the bathroom now hoping you get this. Please call me or text me. I’m in Tom Wheeler’s office down on Broadway. Please call me.”
Warner felt his heart race. His Clara was going to sign a contract to perform his music. That stupid man had thought he’d get mad about that, but he wasn’t. This was big for both of them.
He dialed Clara’s number, but there was no answer. So he sent her a text.
You sign that contract and you make that woman proud. I’d be honored if you’d sing my songs.
He pushed send and waited a moment for her reply as he walked out to the hallway.
“This is the Woman On Top Tour. The only men on this tour are crew.”
“Me?”
He signaled the waitress to bring him another drink. “You.”
She hadn’t been prepared for this. Where were the simple days of putting on a red wig and black Mary Janes?
Tom explained the logistics of the tour while he sipped on his new drink. She'd be almost a side show act at ten of the thirty cities, but it did mean she'd be on the road for almost a month.
She kept checking her phone hoping Warner had responded to at least one of her text messages, but to no avail.
Tom's phone rang and he took the call. When he hung up he signaled for the check. "Our star is done with her rehearsal. She wants to meet you."
"Today? I really would like to talk to my husband about this."
"Sometimes you have to make your own call," he said as he stood.
"When will I have to make my decision?" She gathered her purse and followed him out of the restaurant.
"Oh you're in or you're out. She needs to fill this spot on these tours. She likes you."
He was heading up the street. She assumed toward his office or to the studio where Savannah had rehearsed.
"I don't really understand this. I mean I was singing background to Warner. I didn't carry any of the songs."
"It seemed to do the job."
She checked her phone and sent Warner another text. This simply wasn't happening. How did her life get so complicated and full of amazing things in less than a month? But she'd considered doing this, hadn't she? There had been that spark when she performed Warner's song with Randy and she knew she'd wanted to do this. This was her opportunity.
Warner had his own opportunities brewing. The TV show was going to launch his career, so he would want her to be successful, right? This is what he would want for his wife.
Warner was a quick study—no one on this show liked him.
He’d already seen the attitude before him when the one guy, and he didn’t remember his name because he just didn’t care to, thought Warner would get more air time because of Patricia. The girl, who looked like she’d be better off singing in a tribute band to Metallica, had already been interviewed and he caught the part where she thought Warner’s music was for sissies.
But what the hell did it really matter? Warner was looking to sell his songs and to get a contract. Heck, not everyone thought the world of Tim McGraw, George Strait, or even the OX. There were always going to be critics and this show was all about putting them together in a battle.
When Warner took his opportunity to be interviewed, the first question was about Patricia Little.
“Let’s set the record straight,” he said. “Patricia Little was unfortunately my step-mother from the time I was ten until I was twelve. I am in my thirties and she’s still a thorn in my side. So as far as I’m concerned, that can be your last question about Patricia Little. She is nothing in my life and has nothing to do with my life.”
“How about your new wife? That was sudden wasn’t it?”
“Yeah. When you fall in love with the right girl you marry her as fast as you can,” Warner said with a smile.
“What about her career? She’s going on tour, singing your songs. Does that make you feel like you’ve been left behind already?”
Warner narrowed his stare on the man behind the camera asking the questions. “What are you talking about?”
“She’s meeting with Savannah’s people right now. I’m sure you knew that.”
Warner could feel the heat rise in his face and damn he was sure that showed on camera. He needed to control himself quickly or he was going to fall right into the trap of making himself look like an idiot on TV.
“My wife is a very talented woman. If Savannah liked her style then the woman has taste. As for her singing my songs, I can’t think of anyone I’d rather have sing them.”
The man nodded. Warner hadn’t gotten all worked up. Their plan had failed—on camera at least. What the hell was Clara doing signing contracts to sing his songs?
He stood from the stool when the interview was over and headed right to the bathroom to splash cold water on his face. Well, he hadn’t really expected his new wife to sell him out in only two days but why would that differ from anyone else in his life?
Oh, she was going to get an earful when he got home. Maybe he had made a mistake running off and marrying her. After all, hadn’t he assumed she was going to steal his songs anyway?
He reached into his pocket and turned on his phone to give her a call. He was curious as to what she would say to him.
Before he could dial the number the screen lit up with no less than ten text messages, notice of six missed calls, and a voice message.
He scanned through the texts.
Warner call me.
OMG Savannah wants me to sing with her. Call me.
Where are you?
I’m heading to her mgrs. office. They want me to contract.
Warner I need you.
Call me.
He let out a breath. She wasn’t hiding from him. That stupid man who had interviewed him had inside knowledge of something and he was trying to use it against Warner. Well he was glad he’d played that off and they didn’t get the fight they thought they would. Warner wasn’t going to let this get to him. This was going to work for him, dammit!
Warner listened to the voice mail. The last one had only been sent fifteen minutes earlier.
“Warner, please call me as soon as you can.” Clara sighed into the phone. “Savannah wants me to tour with her for ten cities. I’d be that act that goes out before anyone even gets into the arenas, but they want me to sing your songs. I need to know what you think. They want me to sign today or I’m out. I want to do this, but not without your consent. I’m in the bathroom now hoping you get this. Please call me or text me. I’m in Tom Wheeler’s office down on Broadway. Please call me.”
Warner felt his heart race. His Clara was going to sign a contract to perform his music. That stupid man had thought he’d get mad about that, but he wasn’t. This was big for both of them.
He dialed Clara’s number, but there was no answer. So he sent her a text.
You sign that contract and you make that woman proud. I’d be honored if you’d sing my songs.
He pushed send and waited a moment for her reply as he walked out to the hallway.
