Page 100 of Bluebird

22

My hotel suite was a little fancier than my bedroom at my parents’ house. Who was I kidding? My room was luxurious, enormous, and most importantly, I wouldn’t have to share a bathroom with my brother for a few days.

I fell backwards into my ultra-lush, king-sized bed and reminisced about all the celebrity indulgences of my past. Fancy hotels, VIP parties, chauffeurs, the list goes on. But with all the good, came the bad. The media, the pressure, the road, the drugs, the alcohol, the sleaze. Too many to mention. I had no intention of selling my soul for the finer things anymore, although I could really use a new bed. And definitely a place of my own.

I spent my first night in with room service. As much as I loved Melbourne, I didn’t like the thought of dining at a restaurant on my own. The good thing about being on tour was I always had someone to keep me company. Whether it was a band mate or one of the crew, I was never alone. Well, in the company sense anyway.

The next morning, I phoned and made an appointment to meet with one of the owners of Little Bird Records, under a pseudonym. I wanted to experience how they would treat a new artist, and purposely didn’t use my real name. I had already done most of my due diligence on them, and so far, they were ticking all the right boxes.

The studio was just a short stroll from my hotel. I turned off a main road into an amazing little graffiti decorated alleyway. It was a piece of art in itself. The studio entrance soon materialised at the base of the alley and I was suddenly very thrilled it was daylight.

I rolled open the solid door and was greeted by their receptionist. As I walked up to the counter and smiled, her eyes bugged out as she processed my recognisable face. So much for my pseudonym.

“Natalie Rivers?” she gushed. I offered her a warm smile to ease her nerves, as I had become very well acquainted with the tell-tale signs of starstruckness.

“Hi, yes, I am Natalie Rivers. I actually have an appointment with James Vine, but under another name. Dawn Lake?”

She checked her appointment calendar and her smile widened. “Oh, okay, that explains it,” she exhaled in relief. “I’ll let James know you have arrived.”

Instead of calling it through, the receptionist left her desk to let James know in person. This was either a very old fashioned business, or she wanted to give him the heads up in person. I guessed the latter.

Just a few short minutes later, I was greeted by a nice-looking middle-aged man.

“Dawn Lake? I’m James Vine.” He smiled, formally holding out his hand.

I stood up to meet his friendly eyes. I liked him already. “Pleased to meet you, James, but you can call me Natalie.” I winked and shook his hand.

James smile grew even bigger. “Well this is a surprise. Please come into to my office.”

“Great, thanks.”

I followed him into his office and Jenny, the receptionist, nervously took my coffee order.

“I can’t believe it. Natalie Rivers. In my office…wow,” he exclaimed, with a familiar twang to his accent.

I smiled, chuffed at his excitement. “I don’t often hear an accent like that around here.”

“Ah, yes. Grew up in Nashville, but moved here for love about five years ago. Now I’m happily married, with two kids and one on the way,” he declared, proudly.

“That’s great, congratulations.”

“We’re big fans of yours at this label. What brings you here today?”

“Well, I’m not sure if you’re aware, but I parted ways with my record label late last year and have had a bit of a break from the scene.” I hoped he had seen my interview and not believed all the tabloid rumours.

“Oh, yes, I did see your interview and I’m very sorry for your loss,” he sympathised. “Oh, geez, and I just gloated about my pregnant wife. I’m so sorry.”

I shook my head. “Don’t be ridiculous. That is wonderful news and I’m very happy for your family. No need to apologise.”

He nodded tensely, and we were both grateful when Jenny brought our coffees in. I thanked her, took a sip, and told her it was delicious. She almost skipped out of the room in delight.

“I have been working on some new songs of late, and I’m keen to get the backing of a label like yours,” I stated.

James almost chocked on his coffee. “Us? LB Records?” he uttered in shock, holding his chest.

I nodded.

“But…but why? I mean, wouldn’t you prefer a bigger label? We couldn’t pay you anything like—”