Taylor Swan

Chapter Four

Chapter Four: Tim McGraw

I was on tour!

Not my tour, but that was the next phase. I would get there.

Zach Rivers had reached mega-stardom. The girls and women of America loved him. Obsessed with him, you could say even.

His parents being famous did not hurt his success.

All he had to do was post some YouTube videos, and he was an instant star.

I was not jealous.

Picture to burn had become my baby. I cherished that song more than the rest. Forget about Drew and forget about Brandon. Jordan's song was the actual winner.

I started each set with it and ended with it. It was catchy enough that people would sing it with me.

Everyone had that one person they wanted to burn their picture.

"Well, Kid. You are doing it." My mom said as I reclined in my green folding chair. Most of Rascall Flatt's tours were outside stadiums. I loved to find a spot, slip my shoes off, and sit and listen to music.

Fans loved them. And I wanted fans like them someday.

Loyal and fun fans.

"We are doing it," I said to my mom. I was so glad she came on my first few tours with me. It made me feel better.

The tours with Rascall Flatts were a blur.

And then we got the call from Scott that changed where my life would lead.

"We want Taylor to be a cross-platform artist," Scott said; he was on speaker as my parents and I huddled around the bus to hear them.

"No. Absolutely not." My father said.

"Hear me out," Scott cut him off. "She is young, she's got the look, and Liz has already made some with a pop background."

Liz did? She didn't tell me that.

"If anyone can do Country and Pop, it's Taylor."

My father was shaking his head, not saying anything.

Everything was going so well.

"She's country. This is Taylor we are talking about," my mother spoke up. "She is the girl who grew up singing Patsy Cline and Dolly Parton."

My mother looked exacerbated by what Scott had suggested.

Was it wrong if I could break out of the country mold if I wanted to?

Scott spoke up again. "What does Taylor think?"

My parents paused and looked at me.

"I think we do it."

And with that and Liz and I working on some of the melodies, I was Pop and Country.

Because why the hell not?

When I was in High School, I felt like an outsider. The kids talked around me but not with me. I was the weird, awkward girl. It helped me become who I was. Instead of being part of everything, I watched people. And my writing got better the more I watched. The more I felt like I could write about it.

I fucking opened for Tim McGraw.

Tim McGraw.

Fan girl Taylor, right here.

He wore his standard attire: a black cowboy hat, shirt, and jeans.

"You wrote a song about me." He said to me.

"That I did." I smiled at him. That I did? Why did I have to sound so weird?

"It was catchy." He said.

"That it was." I kept smiling.

He looked at me, laughed, and then looked back at me. "You are a little different. They told me you would be."

My hands covered my face. "Awesome."

He patted me on my shoulder. "Keep being weird, do not let anyone change that."

And he walked away.

Tim McGraw gave me words of wisdom, patted my shoulder, and walked away.

I sang the song Tim McGraw twice that night when I opened for him. Goosebumps spreading through my arms when I ended the last note.

It was my favorite night by far.

But then the tours ended, and I had to figure out what I did next. Well, the record label had a big say in it.

Taylor was going Pop. The numbers were in, and I would be able to make the transition.

I was nervous and excited.

During the off time, while we wrote the newest album, there were some award shows I had to attend.

It was July, and I was attending my first ever MTV VMAs. I would not be winning any awards but they asked me to do something else. Or Scott persuaded them.

I was going to be interviewing celebrities.

"Really?" I asked Scott.

"Really," he said.

I knew talking to Scott as much as I did was not normal, but I was becoming a big star at a start-up record label. They needed me at this point, not the other way. But yet he still seemed to think he owned me.

"You have heard me converse with people?" I asked.

My father paused typing on his phone and looked up to listen.

"Yes. And that is why you are doing it. America will fall even more in love with you." He knocked on the door on his way out and that was that.

I was interviewing famous celebs on the red carpet.

Was my life real?

There may have been a few interviews more awkward than the one I had with Tim McGraw, but then his words filtered into my head; do not let them change me.

I tightened my hand around the microphone and turned to the camera if they wanted the real Taylor. They were going to get the real Taylor.

And then, he walked over with his two brothers to get interviewed.

His shiny black rockstar hair that he throws back. His eyes meet mine, and I forget everything I was supposed to ask.

Joe.