She’s My Kind Of Rain (Rawlings Ranch #1)

Chapter 12

12

SAWYER - JUNE 21, 2004

“Hey, get your head outta the clouds, dipshit. You’re like two inches from fallin’ off this scaffoldin’.” Rhett tugs at my shoulder to gather my attention.

I snap back into reality. Not paying attention while building a house is probably one of the stupidest things I could be doing. That and pissing off Richy with the shitty mudding job I just did on the seams of the drywall in front of me. I still can’t stop thinking about the other night at The Red Fern, and everything that happened. My song. The card from the Telluride rep. The girl. If I close my eyes, I can still see her blue eyes shining back at me.

“Honestly, I’m surprised you’re even here today. ya got that damn card, now call it.”

“Yeah, I planned to call during break time,” I say with a shrug. “Until I’ve got a record deal in writing, I’m not quitting this job. I’m not too worried about that though. I’m excited as shit, don’t get me wrong, but I’ve already gone through that in my head all weekend. The plan is to call and then do exactly as the rep directs me to.” I let out a laugh and glance at Rhett.

“Anythin’ she says, hey? That’s mighty submissive of ya, Sawyer.” He winks while laughing his gotcha laugh.

I consider feeding into his games, but my heart is being tugged to find someone I know nothing about, and something about that is distracting me from the greater picture. I have a once in a lifetime chance, and yet I can’t seem to find it in me to think about anything besides the girl.

“Nah, not everything. I don’t know what she even looks like. I mean it’s Telluride. I can’t imagine they would offer a lowball contract, given who they are. Plus, I don’t know what she wanted. I don’t want to assume it’s to sign me. And if it’s for personal reasons, I’m not interested.”

“Ya don’t even know what she looks like, dude. I wouldn’t say no if I was in your shoes.” He wriggles his brows.

“Yeah, I bet you wouldn’t.” We both laugh. Rhett is happy to make acquaintances with any pretty girl he sees, assuming that she’s pretty. “Sorry, I’m just tired. I’ll get some coffee in me and be brand new in about ten minutes.” I consider throwing in a joke about Rhett’s interest in the A&R Rep, but decide against it.

“If I didn’t know any better, I would think ya were in love.”

The accusation surprises me. “I don’t even know what she looks like and like I said, not interested in the rep. Just tired.”

He gives me a suspicious look. He and I both know I’m not tired, yet like a good friend, he’s not going to call me on it twice. I climb down the scaffolding and head toward the cluttered makeshift break room of this build, fully intending to get a cup of coffee, even though one a day tends to be my max.

Rhett’s right though, I can’t get her out of my head. She was almost like a ghost, there and gone before I had a chance to say hello. She hadn’t been cheering like the rest of the room. It was almost as if she had sadness in her eyes. I truly wanted everyone to feel the song to their core like I did, but not in a way that hurt them, and for some odd reason it felt like I had.

I only saw her for a split second, but she was burned into my memory and through the sadness in her smokey blue eyes, I saw that she had the soul of a dreamer. I could tell she felt the lyrics to that song more than anyone else in the room, and everything in me wanted to ask why. I need to know why.

Who was she?

I walk back to the scaffolding, when I hear a burst of laughter from above.

“What the fuck you laughing at, champ?” I say, in a light hearted tone.

“For a man hell bent on gettin’ coffee into your system, ya sure came back empty-handed now, didn’t ya?”

I look down. Sure as shit, Rhett’s right. Laughter bubbles out of my lips, followed quickly by my best friend’s own bark of laughter.

I really am out of it. Why does this girl have such a hold on me?

“Alright, you caught me.” I shrug.

“No, shit, I knew something was up the moment you said you wanted a second cup. You never drink a second cup.” He gives me another knowing look.

I blow out a breath before admitting, “Alright, it’s a girl. I don’t even know her name and I’ll probably never see her again.”

Might as well tell him. He’ll likely just nag me until I finally cave or he finds out on his own. Hell, he managed to land me that gig at The Red Fern, maybe he can somehow find me the girl too. The luck I’ve had since knowing him has been rather impressive.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen ya this outta sorts. She must really be somethin’ if she’s distractin’ ya out of a job. Don’t let Richy see ya fuckin’ off like this or he really will cut ya from the crew before your big break.” He pretends to be stern with me, all while having a shit-eating grin plastered across his face. “That bein’ said, get that sappy ass back up here and tell me about her.”

“You just want me to come back up there so you can take your fifteenth coffee break of the day.” I roll my eyes, smiling because of the stupid grin on his face. Of course, he’d want to know everything about her. He’s the biggest damn gossip on the site, but since she’s my dream girl, and because he’s my friend, I oblige.

The ladder creaks at my weight on each rung until I make it to the top of the scaffolding. I tell Rhett about the girl, and how she seemed to respond to me—or even more so the song I sang. He looks as if he knows something I don’t nearly the entire time, but never leads on to why. After our conversation comes to an end, he urges me to call the rep.

After all, what kind of self-appointed manager would he be if he didn’t?

“Good Afternoon, Telluride Records, this is Julia speaking.”

Nerves consume me the moment the secretary answers the phone. I’ve never had such a big opportunity, of any kind, right within reach.

“Hi.” My voice cracks as I begin to speak. Clearing my throat, I continue. “Uh, this is Sawyer Mason. I played the other night at The Red Fern. Uh…” I look down at the card in my hand, my mind going blank as I try to remain professional during this bout of new panic I’m going through. “A Daisy Holloway left her card at the bar.” I consider stating I assumed I should call, but since this already feels like a trainwreck I wait for her to respond.

“Oh, I see. Do you mind being placed on a brief hold?” she says in a very upbeat tone.

“No ma’am, not at all.”

I hold tight, waiting for the pleasantly surprising hold music to end on the other line. I’m sweating and my heart dances in my chest. Since when the hell am I so nervous to be on a phone call? Only seconds go by, however it feels like an eternity now that I’ve embarrassed myself, stumbling over my words only moments ago.

The line picks back up, snagging my attention.

“Hi, Mr. Mason?”

The voice on the other end of the phone is different. It’s not Julia, in fact it’s not even a voice that sounds like it belongs to a girl from Nashville at all. Her accent is distinct. No southern twang in the slightest. Kindness radiates through even the smallest sentence and my nerves for some reason only have deepened.

“Hey, yeah this is Sawyer,” I respond, unsure what else to say beyond that. Oh God, I hope Julia passed on my reasoning for calling or else I just made myself look like the biggest dumbass ever. This woman probably talked to new talent every day, and here I was, acting like we were on a first name basis. My nerves skyrocket, and I bite back a groan.

A small pause from the other end—only milliseconds—but long enough to note she’s thinking before she speaks. “My name is Daisy Holloway. I’m glad to see my card not only made it to Mr. Southers, but also to you.” She seems to hesitate but continues, “I was in The Red Fern Friday evening while you played. As my card states, I’m head of A&R here at Telluride Records and I—we,” she corrects herself, “would be interested in having you come into the office to meet with myself and the C.E.O., Mr. Montgomery. That is, if you are interested in potentially moving forward with Telluride Records and a development contract. Are you familiar with how this works?”

I really wish Rhett was my agent right now. I truly don’t know the protocol or whether I should act seasoned, or just be myself and be honest. I’ve since taken to pacing back and forth from the minute Miss Daisy started talking to me.

“To be honest, I don’t,” I say, deciding it’s probably best I don’t act like I know all about what the next steps to this meeting are like for the fear that I fuck them all up.

It’s as if I can hear a smile form on her face as she responds, “That’s completely okay. Most people don’t, and I’m here to help guide you. So, we like to have, if possible, a demo CD prior to the meeting for Mr. Montgomery to preview.”

“Yeah, I don’t have one. I really only sing occasionally during open mic nights.” I lie, instantly regretting it. Guilt sinks into the pit of my stomach, but the thought of sounding like I have no idea what I’m doing feels just as shitty as me not telling her the truth. “You just so happened to see my first scheduled slot. Which, by the way, I truly appreciate you leaving your card and taking your time to chat with me.”

“Oh, no, the pleasure is mine. Truly. Your singing is exceptional. Now, it is okay not to have a tape, but this does mean you will be expected to perform for Mr. Montgomery at our meeting or before if his schedule opens up on a night you are playing live.” She pauses a moment, and then her soft, lyrical voice dips with a hint of disappointment as she adds, “Unfortunately, Mr. Montgomery has left on a trip and will be gone until the end of July or early August. I apologize for the delay, but would be happy to schedule our meeting if you would like to move forward. How does that sound?”

I’m still pacing, my nerves singing through my veins with excitement and disbelief. Holy shit. They want to sign me. They actually want to sign me? I take a deep breath, trying to calm my racing heart, and force a fake calmness to my voice as I reply, “Yeah, that sounds good.”

“Great! Okay then, Mr. Mason, how is the tentative date of August Second?” she questions with the most genuine excitement in her tone.

“That sounds good to me. Is there anything else you need in the meantime?” I question, thinking this all seems too easy.

“I will transfer you back up to Julia, and she will take down all of your personal information so we have it on file. It should only take a few moments, if you don’t mind. And Sawyer?” A lingering sound, almost that of pain, hovers in her voice.

“Yeah?” I hold my breath.

“The song you chose was beautiful.” She quickly continues, not allowing me a response, “Have a nice day, and tell Rhett I say hi.”

The phone goes silent for a moment, then the sound of Julia’s voice permeates the other end. And just like that, I’m now curious about two women all in the same week. One woman I may never see again and another that may have my professional singing career in the palm of her hands, while potentially being in Rhett’s.