Page 27 of Accidentally Hitched (Unintentionally Yours #1)

Callum

“ W e are not trying to make you into someone else. We want you to be you. And we want to shine enough light on you that the world wants that. Just you.”

Noah has a way with words when it comes to new artists, especially ones that he knows will chart the billboards with Hardin’s name across the front.

As we make our way down the hall of the BlueJay Studio in downtown Nashville, it’s me, Avery, our father, Cass, Amanda and of course Noah walking at the front of the line with January Parker. Her manager is walking on the other side of her.

“It’s wild to be here and the idea of touring with Malina Mavis is just crazy,” January admits.

She’s new, fresh, and intimidated by all of it.

That’s normal. And it’s something that a little photography, PR, and of course a good hit song will change.

It’s hard to be modest when a million people are sharing your number one song on TikTok and your Spotify listens hit the same mark.

“Are we talking a double headliner or is she opening for Mavis?” the manager asks.

“That depends on how much popularity she gains in the next few weeks. Most likely January will be the opener with a promised hour-long set. Which in itself is a sweet gig to land considering who Mavis is right now. But if she sells enough? We’ve seen new stars outshine the chart toppers.

That could be you,” he winks at January who is utterly beside herself.

We step inside the recording booth and Noah shows her around.

Amanda has a similar giddiness that she is struggling to hide as she looks around as well.

The signed framed records and black and white photos on the walls flaunt the faces of the people who have been in this booth before us and to be honest, this studio still gives me chills. And I have seen it all.

“This is crazy,” Amanda mouths the words quietly to me.

“A little starstruck?” I ask with a grin.

I want to pull her against me. I want to kiss her while she paces around the studio in awe of where we are standing.

From the Neumann U87 to the Machina pulsar monitors, to the high end distressors, and microphones that are so precise you can hear the vocalists' fillings rattle in their teeth, Nashville is no joke in the music department.

“That doesn’t even scratch the surface of what I am feeling right now,” she whispers.

I lean in, my lips brushing her ear. “And to think, you get to play with all of it later…”

“So why don’t we plug it all in, run through your demo and see where we are at?

” Noah asks. January nods eagerly. She’s ready to go, which I love.

While she is definitely walking on clouds, her head is attached firmly to her shoulders, right where I want it to be.

That’s another thing. Avery and my father have signed people on simply because an algorithm told them it would be profitable to do so.

But even the artists with the most popular edge are going to flop if their heart isn’t in it for the music. January is different.

“Why don’t we leave you kids to it and we will check back in when you have something that Hardin can work with,” Hiram says. We leave Noah, January, her manager, and Amanda inside while me, Avery, and our father step out.

Avery lets out a breath just as the door to the recording box closes.

“She seems promising,” Hiram says.

“She seems modest,” Avery retorts.

“Not everyone is going to fly out the gate fists swinging,” I remind him. “She’s young but she’s in it for the right reasons.”

“If that reason isn’t to be a superstar, we are wasting our time. Mavis is going to outshine her astronomically. Which means that Davies Records is going to outshine us. It’s going to be like Charlie Brown’s Christmas Tree just doing its best next to the Rockefeller tree.”

“You have no faith,” I shake my head at my brother.

“And you are supposed to be a realist.”

I grit my teeth, and my lips stretch into a tight smile. “January loves music. But more than that, she’s good. She sings with her soul. Writes with her heart. She–”

“Jesus fucking Christ, Pops are you hearing this?” Avery quips.

Our father, who has taken a seat in a leather chair in the hallway under a poster of Johnny Cash.

“All I am hearing is the same damn thing I’ve been hearing since you boys were young.

Arguing. I side with Callum on this one.

I think the girl has potential. But that’s IF we can pull a hit single out of her.

If we can’t do that, she will be piggybacking the Mavis tour and Davies will most likely slide another act in there above her. We can’t afford that.”

“That means she’s a risk. That should scare you,” Avery shoots in my direction.

But I’m not worried. “What even is music without a little risk?” I ask with a smirk, my eyes focused hard on my brother. With that, his outer layer sheds a little. He’s afraid…because if she is in fact a hit, that’s one point for me and zilch for Avery.

“I feel like I am in over my head,” January takes her headphones off and slouches on the stool. We have been at it for about two hours now and while we were off to a solid start, we are quickly losing momentum.

“Tell us what’s going on kid,” I say into the mic so she can hear us from the other side of the box.

“It’s like the way I hear it in my head isn’t coming out right.”

“She’s flat,” Avery shakes his head. His hands are on his hips and he’s pacing behind me. Honestly, I wish he’d kick rocks. The recording part of this world has never been his corner. He cares about the signing and the profits and nothing in between.

“She’s not flat,” I say, making sure the mic isn’t on. “She’s got it in her. It’s just coming out wrong.”

“Because she’s a fucking flop. A kid with big dreams and no reality.”

I spin my chair around and shove up to my feet.

“Since when do you know the first thing about this? You can’t even carry a tune.”

“No but I carry the wallet. I crunch the numbers, remember? And right now, I’m not seeing the zeros you promised me. Well, I am. But they’re at the beginning instead of the end.”

“It’s not all about the goddamned money!” I bark out.

“Hey!” Amanda snaps and we both turn. “Both of you shut up.”

I’m not expecting that kind of sass from her, especially since I am her boss.

Not gonna lie– it’s kind of hot.

Okay, it’s really hot.

Noah and Cass are looking into the booth as well, both of them obviously concerned about what the next steps should be. With that, Amanda turns the mic on, giving us another death glare to keep it zipped before turning back to January.

“There is nothing wrong with the way you’re singing the song, honey.”

“But it doesn’t sound right. It shouldn’t sound so forced.”

“That’s because it’s the wrong song.”

All of us look at Amanda who grabs a guitar and a notebook and walks past us, through the door joining January in the booth.

“The fuck’s she think she’s doing?” Avery asks but I just point a finger at him before leaning on the table, my gaze zeroed in on her. I flip on the sound so I can hear everything they’re doing.

“These lyrics here? That needs to be the focus.”

“But that’s one line. From the bridge,” January looks lost.

“Sing it,” she tells January. “But slow it down.”

“ Jealous. I wish I were jealous. Because jealousy is better than the truth. Envy doesn’t make you cry or waste your time or beg you for a truce. If I’m honest, I wouldn’t want to be you .”

Fuck me.

“Yes,” I say, rounding the sound board to go inside the booth. Noah is hot on my heels. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Avery storm out the door. But I don’t give a flying fuck.

“That’s going to be the driver in your chorus,” Amanda tells her, slipping the capo on her fretboard. “Let’s do it again. But really push it through this time.”

I watch, arms crossed, eyes locked on them as January sings it again. After she finishes, I cut in.

“Now sing that last part again, with a crescendo and add some grit. Yes…now draw it out.”

I close my eyes as she does as I say.

Yes.

There it is.

Me, Noah, Amanda and January spend the next hour and half wrapping the better parts of the lyrics from the demo around a new concept.

And it is fire. We take a break, and Noah grabs a bottle of whiskey from the cabinet (because of course the BlueJay would have a minibar in the recording booth) and a couple of glasses.

“I think we need to celebrate. Because that was absolutely the skeleton of a hit,” Noah says, pouring a shot in each glass. He stops and looks at January. “Are you old enough to drink?”

“Last Thursday,” she says with rosy cheeks.

“Well Happy Birthday, girl. You’re going to be a star,” he adds, and we all clink our glasses together with a smile. Everyone cheers.

And I look down at Amanda who plants a kiss on my cheek.

Later on, after a grueling meeting with Avery and my father that I choose to leave Amanda out of because it’s just going to be us fighting, I make my way down the hallway of the BlueJay.

Avery is out with Zoe, getting drunk most likely.

My father has retired back to his hotel room where he will watch the History Channel and pass out with a modest meal provided via room service (he doesn’t eat a lot.

Never has. And since getting sick, it’s gotten worse).

I run into Noah and Cass who look to be headed out the door as well.

“You coming out with us?” Noah asks.

“Not tonight. I’m beat.”

“Already? But we are in Music City! And the night is young!”

“Yeah well I’m not,” I make a joke at my own expense. “And that was exhausting.”

“Fair enough. But you’re not spending every night that we are here locked in your hotel room.”

“Deal,” I agree with him, and he gives me a bro-hug as the kids call it before they disappear out the front door. Honestly, I am ready to close up and head to the hotel and crash. But then I hear the soft strumming of a guitar coming from the recording room.

I make my way down the hallway and stop. I have heard Amanda sing before, but not like this. Maybe it’s the equipment, the way her voice sounds coming through high end speakers. Maybe it’s that no one is listening…or so she thinks.

But her voice, feathery and gritty yet graceful, is what stops me. My heart swells against my ribcage and my breath snags in my throat.

Amanda is sitting on the floor, cross legged, with the guitar in her lap. The mics are on her, ear buds in, but she isn’t recording. It’s more so she can hear herself and drown out everything else.

I know the feeling…

I stand in front of the soundboard and listen as her voice fills the room, pouring through my senses like a current.

“ People see the flowers and they think of you. The one who’s shining off the petals like you always do.

But me I just sit back, and I enjoy the view.

Because while you’re the center of the universe I orbit from afar.

Spinning ‘round in circles in the dark. When you don’t show your face people don’t know who you are.

When your shadow is darker than your light is bright you can’t be the chosen one.

Cuz I am just the moon hidden behind the sun. ”

I am about to hit record, just so I can have it. So, I can tuck whatever magic that was away like a secret for my eyes and ears only. But Amanda stops and she sighs.

“Too many words,” she whispers.

“Beautiful words,” I say, and she jumps.

“How long have you been standing there?”

“Long enough to hear something gorgeous.”

There is a hint of a smile, but she hides it. “It’s a mess.”

I walk through the door and sit on the stool above her. “Is it yours?”

“Yeah. I’ve been working on it for a long time. Years actually. It’s funny how when you ghost music, it just flows. But when you write for yourself, things don’t come out right.”

“That’s because it’s about your own heart. And that’s…

“Messy,” she says the word again and we both smile.

Then I join her on the floor. “Can I suggest something?”

Amanda holds the guitar out to me, and I take it. Then, for the first time in a very long time, I start to play.