Just A Fan (Book 1 of JAF series)

Chapter 12 Image is Everything

"No dresses?" April repeats in a tone of disbelief.

The first 10 minutes have gone better than I expected. It might be due to the fact that I made the resolve to act like a responsible adult, so I am actually acting civil toward April for once.

I agreed to be cute and spunky, a real southern sweetheart. I've decided I will negotiate as far as I can. After all, the main goal is sharing my music with the world.

Now we've moved on to wardrobe and appearance and we are hitting a few snags.

"So if you don't want to wear lace or dresses or frills, what would you prefer?"

"Well, you know I actually had an image in mind. It's something like a mixture between two country artists."

April leans back, looking satisfied, "which two?"

Oh, she's not going to like this one bit. "Luke Bryan and Jason Aldean, but a girl version, and no cowboy hats or muscle shirts."

April's face falls. "No."

"Please, hear me out, I like denim, and flannel. I am totally willing to work with the style, but it's the natural look that works the best for me, it's who I am. I can't act normal dressing and looking like someone I'm not."

"You expect me to let you look like a lumberjack?!?"

"No, like a country girl. I want to be THAT girl, the one everyone's singing about. The one who doesn't care if her hair's messed up or she's got a black eye. I hear about those type of girls in country music all of the time, but I never see them. It makes no sense, why can't I be the girl that I am?"

I run out of words and brace myself for the shouting that is sure to come.

Instead, April looks thoughtful for a second.

"Okay," she agrees. "But makeup in non negotiable, and you will wear dresses when the occasion calls for it."

I can agree to this. How could I not? I nod.

We continue on, talking over some details for a while longer. Now that April and I are on the same page she doesn't seem as bitter.

Finally, she stands, "alright. Now that we've got that out of the way are you ready to meet your band?"

I follow her to the studio, the hardest part was convincing April to let me play instruments while I sing. I sold it with the 'strong-American-girl' angle, she had to give in.

4 familiar faces sit in the sound booth.

I try to remember when I got to try out with this band. I can come up with one name, the piano player's, his name is Mike.

The reintroductions fly by; Chris on the drums, Eric is base, Mike he's the awesome piano player, and Jason for the guitar and vocals. All guys, I don't mind, I've always gotten along with guys better anyway.

I take the mic with a new found confidence, feeling 100 times better with a guitar in my hands. Even April doesn't look as angry as she normally does.

We run through some easy songs, some exercises. I am proud because we sound good, I feel my spirit rising, a taste of my future.

By lunchtime my day, which started out as the worst ever, has turned into one of my best. I've got the rest of the day for writing.

Although, after lunch I realize I have no idea where I am supposed to go, Hunter and I never agreed on where to meet. I was too mad to remember to ask.

I decide to head back to the small sitting room Hunter was in yesterday.

The room is empty. I figure I can wait here a minute, relax. I sit on the small couch that takes up almost half of the room.

I take my phone out and frown, no reception.

As I toss the phone down next to me the door opens and Hunter pops his head in.

"Hey, I was hoping I'd find you here."

I return his smile, "yep, you found me."

"Well, come on."

I walk back to studio 1 with him.

"So I had a couple of ideas going already," Hunter tells me, "but I wanted to see what you were thinking."

I grab a nearby guitar and sit on a chair, starting to strum. I'm still trying to get used to writing songs on a schedule, with other people. It's still a bit awkward and confusing.

The other 2 I've already co-written felt forced and emotionless to me. But today I am in a song writing kind of mood.

"Let's write a hit song!" I joke, sounding extra excited.

"Hey, one of these has to make it on the radio, why not this one? By the way, how'd your big meeting go?"

I grin some more, "awesome! I'm getting just what I wanted, well... almost."

"Cool, so you are getting a pierced nose and navel, and have a minimum of 5 boyfriends a week?"

"No," I laugh. "I get my jeans and flannel. And baseball caps!"

"Wow, how'd you do that?" Hunter looks completely amused.

"I have no idea..." I look down at the floor. "I guess I just felt strongly enough about it, I can't act like someone I'm not."

"It's your eyes," Hunter states.

I look up sharply, "come again?"

"When you really want something it shows in your eyes."

I blush and find I cannot look directly at him. I've never liked my eyes, they are boring and muddy green and not really worth noticing.

"I mean it, I can tell you have a real passion for music! All you'd have to do to see it is look in your eyes whenever you talk about music, or while you are playing."

Now I am definitely uncomfortable.

"So... um... for the song, uh, what direction were you thinking?" I really want to talk about something else.

"I'm not sure, it is your song."

"Well you're a lot of help."

A memory pops into my head. I hesitate, not really wanting to share.

"Spit it out."

My eyes flash to Hunter's, 'how'd he know?'

"When I was 7 we took a field trip in science class, we went to a creek near our school. We waded into the water and I fell down, face first. I was covered in mud, and I started to cry. A boy in my class helped me up and he wiped mud from my face and said 'don't worry, the mud matches your eyes.'"

It's a stupid little memory, but I remember it with fondness. Even now it makes me smile.

Hunter sits, leaning on his knees, listening. When I finish he perks up.

"Think there's a song in that memory?"

"Um, yeah. I think so." I try to say it with a confidence I don't feel.

"No, say it like you mean it."

"I did."

"Your eyes didn't."

I roll said eyes, "is this going to be a regular thing?"

"Yep, at least until you believe in yourself."

"Okay then, I've got this!"

"Yes, yes you do."

We fall to work tossing words, lyrics, and notes back and forth. Trying to fit everything together, trying to make something that makes sense.