Wes and Margaret had come out from the house to greet Ivy. There were hugs. Margaret asked Ivy if she was eating enough now that she was a star because she looked awfully thin.
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Ivy said. “I’ve been working out with a trainer and eating nothing but grilled chicken and broccoli. It’s awful. They’re fried chicken haters, you know?”
“Don’t you worry. I’ll keep you well fed while you’re here. How long can you stay?” Margaret asked, looping her arm into Ivy’s as we all headed to the big house.
“Depends on a few things,” Ivy said. “As a matter of fact, I need y’all’s advice.”
“That’s what we’re here for,” Margaret said.
“My wife loves nothing more than telling the rest of us what to do,” Wes said, his fondness for his wife evident in his warm tone.
A few minutes later, we were settled in the kitchen. Margaret had put out some cheese and crackers and poured glasses of tea.
“Tell us everything,” Margaret said.
“The North American tour is done,” Ivy said. “It was fun, but I’m exhausted. Traveling week after week can start to wear a body down.”
“You need time to rest up,” Margaret said. “You can’t bleed a dry turnip.”
“True enough,” Ivy said. “It’s been a rough couple of weeks, which is why I was desperate to come see y’all.”
“What’s going on?” Wes asked.
“As I mentioned, I didn’t renew my contract with the label. I’d finally had enough. They wanted me to put out an album with more of a pop feel to it, which I have no intention of doing. Then I got into a fuss with Bobby over it. I fired him. Or he quit, depending on who’s telling the story. And then there’s been all this Dana nonsense.”
“I’m sorry about all of that,” I said.
Ivy touched my shoulder, shaking her head. “Not your fault.”
“What happened with Bobby?” Margaret asked.
Bobby had been her manager for the last three years. I’d never liked the guy, but kept my mouth shut. It was not a good idea to tell Ivy what to do or how to do it.
“He was treating me like a little girl. They all were. Like they knew more about how to be Ivy James than I did. You know how it is. Honey this. And sweetheart that.And Ivy calm down, little darlin’.”
“Oh no, not that,” Margaret said.
Wes and I exchanged a humored look. Neither one of us were stupid enough to tell either of the women in the room to calm down.
“I know, right?” Ivy asked. “When I told my mama about Bobby, I figured she’d give me a stern talking to. Instead, she was like, ‘Ivy, you don’t need these overgrown boys telling you what to do. You’re Ivy flippin’ James.’ You know my mama never curses, so for her to sayflippin’ said it all.”
I laughed. “Your mama’s scary. With or without curse words.”
Ivy nodded, smiling. “Yeah, she’s the best.”
“How’s the rest of the family?” I asked. Ivy had four brothers. Every one of them a character and a half.
“The boys are a handful as always,” Ivy said. “But everyone’s good. Mama says hi by the way. Wants to know when you’re coming for a visit. She wants to show you the house I bought her and Daddy. They’re awfully proud of it.”
“I can’t wait,” I said, meaning it.
“What’re you going to do?” I asked. “Do you have another label in mind?”
“That’s why I’m here. I mean, besides wanting to see y’all. I have an idea.” Ivy’s blue eyes sparkled. “Wes, I think we should produce an album ourselves. You have the equipment. You’re a legend. And that way we control everything. We can put out the exact album we want to, and we make a butt load of money doing it instead of giving away most of it to the label. They’ve treated me like a pretty little girl they can dress up and use as a puppet. I’m done with it and ready to take back my power.” She turned toward me. “We can spend some time together writing while I’m here. Between the three of us, we know all the best session musicians. We’ll fly them out. Do the whole thing right here.”
“I don’t know. I’ve been out of the game a long time,” Wes said.
“But you have that gorgeous studio just ten steps from where we are right now,” Ivy said. “We have everything we need.”
