Page 53 of A Country Kind Of Love

Peyton’s jaw gapes.

“What?” He asks.

“You just continue to surprise me.”

Marvin glides through the door on the right like he’s floating on Aladdin’s carpet. This will be the third time she’s met him. He’s always relaxed, and today is no different. He’s more formal than the previous times she’s met him. He’s got on a pair of slacks, loafers, and his shirt is tucked in. The shirt must be a super skinny fit; it’s flush to his stomach. It’s so tight she can practically see his belly button.

“Hey, sorry to keep you guys waiting.” He gestures for them to follow him down to the studio. She didn’t notice the last time, but he’s got numerous gold records, even some platinum hanging in the stairwell.

Could that be me one day?The thought has crossed her mind; writing a hit single so big it goes platinum or even multi-platinum would be a dream. A Grammy gets you respect. An AMA means you’ve got fan appeal, but a platinum record indicates financial success. She wants her career to involve music; she wants it to be sustainable and financially realistic.

Her mother struggled over the years; luckily her dad was able to support the family as they got older, but as a child Peyton often found herself with old school shoes and hand-me-down toys. Her mom would always tell her, “chase your dreams no matter what because life without dreams is tiresome and colourless”. She chased her dreams up until the day she died. Peyton assumes she was happy. She wishes now that she could ask her a few questions.

Would she do anythingdifferently?

Was she happy?

Did the spotlight scare her?

It’s the simple things she wishes she hadanswers for.

“Why the hell are you dressed like a southern boy about to meet his girl’s parents for the first time?” Jesse jabs at Marvin.

“Shut the hell up. I had to look presentable today.”

“And you went with that outfit? Jesus man, you should’ve asked for my help.” Jesse smirks.

Marvin launches a scrunched-up piece of paper at his friend. “Says the man with clothes that don’t fit, have holes, or look like they’ve been found ina dumpster.”

“I’m offended.” Jesse pulls at his trousers. “These are vintage.” The jeans were vintage alright.

“Vintage is another word for ready for the bin.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Jesse waves him away.

“Aren’t you going to ask me why I look so professional?”

“You finally had a court hearing for the time you made Janine pretend she was pregnant to avoid a speeding fine?” Jesse guesses.

“Wait... what? Please explain.” Peyton flops backon the sofa.

“I was speeding down the freeway. This was about two years ago. The cops started following me. I didn’t want to get a ticket, so I took the next exit and headed straight for the hospital. I had my sister Janine put some clothes up her top and shape them like she was pregnant. At the hospital I jumped out of the car and ran straight inside with her.” He says it offhandedly, like it’s a normal thing anyone would do.

“There’s no way that worked?”

He nods. “I’m as shockedas you are.”

Peyton looks towards the door; there’s no sign of Avery. “Ishe coming?”

“Who?” Marvin fiddles with a wire amongst the thousands of wires tucked around his recording station.

“Avery?”

“Oh, yeah, he’s not coming today. He couldn’t make it. He came last night, and we worked on a little something. If I can just get this stupid thing... working.” Marvin is under the desk on all fours. Peyton has no idea what he’s trying to do, and shedoesn’t ask.

“Oh.”

What am I here for then?Was what she had the urge to say, but that would be rude; her mom taught her better than that. She gave up an afternoon with Cleo to come and write songs with Avery. Peyton looks perplexed at Jesse, he shrugs, unaware of the change in plans.