“Girl, playing small is a sin when you’re larger than life. Embrace a life bigger than your dreams.”
One did not argue with Iris Kimble.
I was halfway expecting to see Eddie and Shelby board the luxury yacht, but thanks to the Internet I already knew they had flown back to Tennessee to celebrate the 4
th
of July with her patriotic family. She was headlining an outdoor concert, her first major event since the
Fierce
tour.
The ink wasn’t even dry on her contract with Carrington Entertainment, but she was already being trotted out like the superstar he was wagering she would be.
After what Jasper did with Vanni and Dreaming in Blue, I suspected Shelby would race to the top of the charts with his influence and money behind her.
How long she’d last there before she dropped from the strain was anyone’s guess.
Every time I thought about Shelby, I was racked with guilt. I had to figure out something to help her, even if my help was the last thing on earth she wanted. The next time she collapsed it could be the last. If that happened and I didn’t lift one finger to help her, I didn’t think I could live with myself.
If I could just figure out how to save her without destroying Jace or myself
in the process, I’d be golden.
But I had no more time to figure that out than I did to investigate my fuzzy ancestry. Iris pulled me along from guest to guest to ensure I was introduced to everyone. She already knew most of the people from Corey’s show, as she was a huge fan of Broadway and fit seeing all the hit productions into her hectic schedule.
I teased her that she’d never have a social life that way, but she shot back that her entire industry was social. A vacation for Iris meant turning off her phone for an hour so she could lounge in her jammies and eat ice cream from the container.
She lived and breathed entertainment. She not only knew everyone there was to know, they knew her. I could tell how respected she was in her field by the way everyone greeted her, even those who had never met her before.
One of the few who had never met her in person was Brant Rierden, quite possibly the most handsome man I had ever seen (next to my Jace, of course.) In fact, Brant was so pretty, I immediately assumed he played for Corey’s team. He was tall and athletic, with broad shoulders that tapered down to a thin waist. His eyes were the cerulean blue, and stood out against his tanned, perfectly sculpted face. He looked as though he had just stepped out of a black and white movie, and personified everything I could have ever imagined the word “debonair” to describe.
Even more remarkable, he was the first person I had ever known to render Iris completely speechless. The minute he brought her hand to his lips, telling her how charming her accent was, she melted just like butter.
His eyes twinkled when she blushed like a teenager, and I knew that this impossibly good looking man and star of Corey’s Broadway show had just fallen equally head over heels for the sunny blonde standing at my side.
I bit back any amusement and excused myself politely. Instead I set out to find Corey, figuring I could count on my bestie to be my “safe” person in a crowd of virtual strangers.
Actually I wanted him to buffer me from Griffin. The last thing I needed was more of his rejection.
Love, though, was in the air. I found Corey standing at the bar next to Jacob. They talked close and animatedly, touching frequently as they stood close
to hear each other over the crowd.
Cupid had definitely struck.
It made me miss my Jace even more. I grabbed a drink and headed out to the deck so I could watch the city sparkle to life against the darkening sky.
It was such a strange life that I led. Here I was on a boat full of the rich, famou
s and influential, and I felt completely alone because Jace wasn’t with me. As I leaned on the rail, it dawned on me that he was my truest definition of success. Yes, I loved to sing. I really loved to be able to do it full time. But without Jace, something was missing. Without Jace at my side, I couldn’t be fully happy.
I spent all this time looking for all the missing pieces of my past, but I knew
he was the perfect piece to fit my future. Without him everything else was incomplete. I’d do anything to protect him and keep him happy. It was the only thing I really knew for sure.
“Penny for your thoughts,” I heard a male voice with an Australian accent ask me from behind. I turned to see Griffin step up beside me at the railing.
I wondered why he even cared. “I was thinking about Jace,” I answered honestly, figuring there was no point to lie.
He nodded as he looked out over the city. He emptied his champagne flute. “I’m sorry if the weekend was tough on you because of that,” he offered.
I shrugged. It wasn’t only because of that, but Griffin Slade did not warrant that kind of disclosure. “I’m sorry if it was difficult for you.”
His eyes met mine. “Why would you think it would be?”
Again I shrugged. “I know I’m not the kind of girl you are used to.”
He turned to face me. “And what kind of girl am I used to?”
“Not me,” is all I would say.
He laughed. “You’re an enigma, Jordi. I can honestly say I’ve never met anyone like you. I honestly don’t know what to make of you.”
My eyes narrowed. “What does that mean?”
“You’re a tough nut to crack. You have all this contrasts that I’m not sure who I’m dealing with on any given day.”
“Ditto,” I mumbled as I turned back toward the water.
“Then I guess we’re even,” he said as he leaned on the rail, mirroring my stance.
We stood there like that silently for long minutes. I kept waiting for him to make some excuse to leave or check his phone or do any of the other things he’d done in the past to show me I wasn’t worth five minutes of his company.
When I couldn’t take it anymore, I blurted, “Thank you for the new song, by the way.”
He didn’t even look my direction. “You’re the only one who could have sung it,” he replied.
“Well,” I stammered, “thank you anyway.”
His eyes met mine. “You’re welcome.” With that he pushed away from the railing and walked off, no doubt to find his current arm candy.
I stared after him for long minutes after he left. I felt even more lonely and bereft, though I couldn’t articulate why. With a defeated sigh, I turned from the railing and went to find the buffet.
New York City, NY
July 4, 2012
Fortunately for me, “Pieces of Me” was not some kind of sex anthem I’d have to pull out of my ass to sing. In fact, the song was eerily applicable to my current situation. I really was an orphan trying to piece together my past. The words bubbled up in me as if I had written them myself. By the time I hit the studio that Wednesday, I was fully prepared and completely professional. This was despite the fact that Griffin was back to being incommunicado and Angus and his crew were sitting in the control booth, watching our progress.
I didn’t care. I was going to go in, pound out the song and be on a plane by the
weekend, back to my life on the west coast. I’d make a brief pit stop in Vegas, to check on Maya and Diego, and then I’d be back in my home in the Hollywood Hills, wrapped in the arms of a man whose love and acceptance I didn’t have to question.
As professional as I thought I was being, and as perfectly as I thought I nailed the first few takes, Griffin kept throwing out ideas that demanded yet another
take. This was his song, and he had very definite ideas on how he wanted it to sound. Unfortunately for me, much of his songwriting process took place in the studio. I had experienced this on a smaller scale with Yael, the lead guitarist of Dreaming in Blue. But as a solo performer, the collaborative process usually began and ended with me.
Well, me and the producers.
But it didn’t take long to figure out that Griffin was far more finicky than Graham could have ever been.
Worse, Angus also had his hands all over the creative process. He already knew where he wanted the song in the movie, so he had suggestions on the nuances of t
he song, the phrasing and tempo. So if Griffin wasn’t insisting on another take, it was Angus. Gone were the accolades on how great I was for the project. Now both of them were picking apart every single word I sang and how I had chosen to sing them. Initially this was a huge blow to my ego. I thought it sounded perfect on the first performance, but they had found my interpretation lacking. By the end of that first day I ended up divorcing myself from the material enough to do whatever it was they asked, thinking that would expedite the process.
Instead, it seemed to make things worse.
After nearly eight solid hours of taking my emotions out of the song, they criticized me for not bringing it to life. Angus would remind me of the heroine’s mindset, as if I hadn’t read the book or had somehow forgotten. I tried to give more, like he was asking, but it wasn’t enough. It was though I gave him what he asked for, but then he wanted something else. Griffin was even worse. He wouldn’t tell me what I was doing wrong at all. He just knew it wasn’t “right.”
A
pparently the only one who found this infuriating was me. They were willing to put in the time to get it just so, even if they trampled all over my ego to do it. I was itching to be done with it so I could get back to my real life and the one person who made me feel perfect as I was. As late as things were running, I knew I wouldn’t even get a chance to talk to Jace before he took the stage for his performance that night to celebrate the holiday.
Since Corey was working, Iris, Jacob and I decided to attend the show for our 4
th
of July plans. There was an after-party after that, which would keep me busy until the wee hours on the east coast.
I just needed to get out of the studio first.
Griffin had gone for a smoke break with Angus, so I escaped to the snack area for a bottle of water. I ended up with a diet soda for a jolt of caffeine to keep me running for the rest of the night. Using that same “logic,” I snagged a huge jelly donut to quiet all the grumblings I got after working straight through lunch.
Emma joined me at the table, nursing a bottle of water while she polished off a container of yogurt and an apple.
“Is Griffin always this much of a perfectionist?” I asked.
She smiled. “You have no idea. I’ve seen him work 1
8-hour days on one song. But those are usually the ones that win him awards, so I guess he knows what he’s doing.”
“I hope so,” I grumbled. “I’d like to get back to L.A. before the movie premieres.”
She laughed. “That’s the one good thing about working with Griffin. You’ll never stay in one spot very long. He is a vagabond who gets bored easily, so he never commits to anything long term, even a place to live or work.”
“I guess that explains his social life,” I offered with a teasing smile.
She shrugged. “What can I say? He considers life a buffet and he’s determined to sample everything. Moss definitely doesn’t grow under his feet. Tomorrow he could decide he wants Belgium waffles and off we go to Europe for a weekend. So you’ll be many things while you work with Griffin, but bored or stuck are not among them.”
“For the record, I am not available to work from Europe for a weekend,” I informed her. “I actually have a life. And I don’t mind roots.” In fact, I needed roots. But I didn’t say as much to her.
“Not many people can or want to keep up with him,” she agreed. “It takes a special kind of person to last more than a project.” Her eyes met mine. “I guess it says something that he’s chosen to work with you more than once.”
For some reason, her comment rubbed me the wrong way. “Should I be honored?”
She chuckled. “Griffin is an odd duck. Working with him, even being his friend, can be tricky for most people. He’ll never give you what you need to keep you anchored in the relationship. But if he’s still coming around that means he considers you worth the effort. I wouldn’t take anything he says or does personally. He can be a tough nut to crack.”
I had to laugh. “That’s exactly what he said to me the other night.”
Her eyebrow arched. “He did?”
I nodded. “Said I was an enigma and he couldn’t figure me out. I told him we were even because he confuses the hell out of me. One on hand he barely even looks my direction or utters a word. On the other, he’s recommending me for something like this song.”
“He respects you,” she said, as if I should already know that already.
“Then why a thousand takes? I keep trying to give him what he wants but it’s never good enough.”
She leaned forward on the table. “There is only one thing you need to remember when it comes to dealing with Griffin: he samples everything because he doesn’t know what he wants. He has these ideas, which can be pretty great in and of itself, but he is a master of trial and error to make it even better than what he imagined. He’s always pressing out of his own comfort zone and his preconceived notions of greatness. He’s the only person I know who can take something everyone else thinks is great and expose the mediocrity, simply because he’s ballsy enough to ask, ‘How can this be better?’”