Everyone was at the house when I got back. Jared and Luca were playing ping pong while Garrett was hogging our new computer to study. After some bickering, I convinced Garrett to save his work and let me look up the video.
On the screen, Jared started playing his guitar, then Luca added the drums. The lyrics fit, and Jared and I started dancing around the room, sharing the mic. Garrett joined in and was even smiling. Avery came into the room. When I saw her, I stuck the microphone into its stand, still singing as I took her hand and spun her around. She rolled her eyes as I dipped her. She was in a pair of low-rise jeans that looked painted on and one of our merch T-shirts cinched in the back with a hair tie. I couldn’t help myself. We danced and sang, jumping around until we were dizzy and the lyrics muddled into nonsensical improv.
Avery
Summer 2008
The videos changed everything.
I did my best not to look at comments, but what Evelyn said to me months earlier about how girls would obsess over the guys was cemented in the back of my mind. Whenever they talked about the comments, I left the room. Near the end of recordingFools for You,Evelyn did what most teenagers do and lost interest in her hobby of recording them. The label tried to buy the YouTube passwords off her, but she refused.
But that didn’t matter, people had gotten a taste for Fool’s Gambit and wanted more. Their label started pushing for the album to be finished as fast as possible and were willing to throw as much money as they needed into it.
Martin took the reins of the operation. Before the videos, I’d pitch songs and maybe one in three would be okayed. After that, I was lucky if I could suggest a single verse.
There were weekends when I sat in the driveway in Caper, my legs adhering to the leather seats, wondering if it was even worth it to make the drive if all my ideas were going to get shut down.Then I remembered I’d promised to be there, and I’d start the car and drive to Nashville.
I did have more time to work on my own stuff, though. Wes had mentioned a few times that I could get my own agent and manager, but I didn’t want anyone telling me what I could or couldn’t write. So, I brushed him off.
Garrett seemed to be the only other person who was apprehensive about the shift in direction and tone. He followed Wes’s lead, but after full days in the recording studio, he’d walk out shaking his head. I noticed it for a few weeks before I finally asked what he was thinking.
“I’m here for the music. It’s simple, but that doesn’t mean it’s bad,” he said.
“And you’re satisfied with it?” I prodded.
He shrugged and said unconvincingly, “It gets the job done.”
Still, whenever Martin said something to push them further from their original creative vision, Garrett’s eyes found mine. It was both an acknowledgement and a warning.
Speaking up wasn’t worth the risk of losing everything.
So, I took a step back. I went on coffee runs and hung out with the studio staff.
“Here, let me,” Martin said as he held open the door. My arms were laden with cardboard coffee carriers and it was the least he could do.
“Thanks.”
He fell into step beside me as I headed down the now familiar poster lined corridor to the studio. “I reached out to a few friends and they want to meet with you.”
I narrowed my gaze. “Why, so you can get rid of me?”
“No.” He was a terrible liar. His voice pitched upward and he couldn’t even look at me. “I see how hard you work to help the boys and thought you’d like to have your own chance. People have seen you in the videos. They know you’re good.”
As much as I wanted to say no to his attempt to get rid of me, it would be stupid to turn down an opportunity I wouldn’t be able to get on my own.
Two days later I found myself walking into a new studio to meet strangers who had the potential to shape my future.
I came prepared with my own songs and ideas. I’d learned a bit about production from listening to Martin and was ready to show it off. I wasn’t just some kid, I knew how things worked and wouldn’t be taken advantage of.
“We want you to try this out,” one of the men I was meeting with said before touching a button. A song I’d never heard before flooded the room. Everyone else bobbed their heads to the thirty second cut. “It’s from a great writer, and from the moment we heard your voice we knew you could be the next Amy Winehouse.”
There were similarities in our rich velvety tones, but her voice had more of a whine than mine did.
“I thought you liked my music?” I grinded my teeth. That’s what I was there for, my music not someone else’s.
“We see potential in you. Humor us. Try it out.” The words beckoned for me to take the first step down the path to utter compliance.
“Sure.”
