Sweet Little Thing: A Novella (Sweet Thing) (12 page)

I could feel the anger boiling behind my eyes. “First of all, Chad is not thirteen years old. I was trying to produce an album that would get him some attention as a singer, not as a teen heartthrob.” I turned to address Chad directly. “I mean, is this what you want, man?” When he just shrugged, I said, “Well, you better polish your dance moves because that’s what you’ll be doing on stage, dancing and lip-syncing.”

Frank sat quietly until finally he reminded me of why I had hired him back in the days when I was starting out. “Let me talk to you all for a second.” He took off his fedora and set it on the table, clasped his hands together, and leaned in. “I’ve been at this game for a while. We’re witnessing a huge shift occur in the music industry. The record labels are dying because the record is dying. When someone likes a song, they can download it for a dollar or steal a bootlegged copy for free online. You don’t even have to buy the rest of the album—that’s why there is so much pressure for an artist to have multiple hits on one album. Look around; record stores are closing because it’s all going digital. Think of it like this: when was last time you bought a roll of film? See any photo labs around? It’s happening very quickly with music and books too. No more record stores and no more bookstores means what? It means no more labels and no more publishers. Do you think those companies will let that happen without putting up a fight? No, they’ll find a way to tap into this digital market. They’ve given you a nice advance, but you’ll never see any royalties, trust me. Ninety-nine percent of your sales will be digital, but they’ll still charge you twelve pennies on every dollar for packaging. What packaging? They’ll find a way to keep you under their thumb, kid. You could sell five million albums, pay your three-hundred-thousand-dollar advance back, and you still won’t see another dollar. They will nickel-and-dime you on everything, including this studio time. They’re sending you back to us and saying they’re unhappy? That means they can take out twice as much money in studio costs. They’re going to spend an inordinate amount of money to make you sound like the male version of Katy Perry. Your pride will be nonexistent. You’ll owe them after everything is said and done, and then you’ll get finagled into another deal. They’ll probably even insist that you get veneers for that crooked tooth, and then they’ll make you pay for it.”

He chuckled, but the room was completely silent. His laugh echoed off the walls in a terrifying way before he took a deep breath and continued. “In the beginning, they wanted you to feel like your talent was real so you’d agree to sign your life away for the prestige of being signed with a major label. Now that they have you, they’ll try to make you feel like crap until you give them what they want. These days, people need to see the musician on TV. No one listens to the radio anymore, and the people that do will buy albums from independents and small labels. So they need the whole package, and they only make money on the artists who reach celebrity status. I think they agreed to let you come to Will, knowing he wouldn’t produce the crap they want, that way they could put the responsibility back on you. They didn’t know who you were as an artist. They just knew you were good-looking with a good voice.”

“I can’t get out of my contract.” Chad finally spoke. His voice was shaky.

“There are other things we can do.” Frank turned to me. “Remember the time you said you wanted people to be in awe while you performed, not because of the pyrotechnics going off on stage but because they connected to the music?” When I nodded, he said, “I have a suggestion.”

I was getting worried about where the conversation was going.

“This is totally off the record.” Frank leaned in farther. “Your auntie did a few good things for you, kid.” Chad’s face lightened and Frank said, “There is nothing in this contract that says you can’t start performing these songs. That’s the first good thing she did, the second was that she insisted you stick with Will.” He turned to me. “How much does this mean to you?”

“Me? Not very much, if I’m being honest, Frank. I’ll get my money no matter what happens to Chad.”

Chad and Michael remained quiet while Frank slowly shook his head back and forth with a look of pure disappointment on his face.

“I have a baby on the way,” I pleaded.

“You really just want to give up on Chad and roll over for these dummies?”

“I don’t even know what you’re suggesting.”

“I’m suggesting that Michael and Chad go back to the label and tell them that pushing the release is fine. Tell them they’ll get their ballad and hit. Meanwhile, Chad will start performing up and down the East Coast as part of the Will Ryan Band. You can promote yourselves online and gather a following. People will get to know Chad and get to know the way ‘Soldier’ was written. That song could be an anthem, it has a hook, but the label is right—it’s not commercial, it’s original.”

“I can’t leave Mia and go on the road while she’s pregnant.”

“Hold on a minute, Frank.” Michael finally found his voice. “Are you saying that we leave the album as is and that Chad starts performing the songs under a different name?”

“Legally, we can make it happen. Will, get Mia down here. I’m not suggesting you leave her. We need her. I’m suggesting you both go.”

“I don’t think she’ll be into it,” I said.

“Let’s see what she has to say.” He motioned for me to pick up the phone and call her.

I grabbed my cell phone and texted her:
ARE YOU BUSY?

JUST TAKING THIS PHOTO TO SAY THANK YOU.
She sent me a photo of her naked from the waist up, wearing all my Post-it notes like a bikini top.

I replied,
I LOVE IT! CAN YOU GET DOWN HERE? WE NEED YOU. PUT ON A SHIRT FIRST.

Everyone filled their coffee mugs and waited for Mia to come down. When she came in, she smiled and said hello and then took a seat at the table. Frank, in his typical fast-talking fashion, basically laid down the whole situation for Mia. At the end of a very long speech, he said, “What do you think, sweetheart?”

She looked at me first. I didn’t give her any indication of how I was feeling. The truth was that it sounded interesting to me. We could do some live shows together and then during the week go back into the studio and work.

“Come May, I won’t want to go too far from home.”

I nodded. Her voice seemed small. She was looking for my approval, but I wanted her opinion.

“What do you think of Chad?” I asked her.

“I think he’s a great singer,” she said immediately. “I think the music we wrote for him gives him way more credibility. I can teach him how to get by on the piano. I wouldn’t want to see the label turn him into a brand so quickly either.”

“So you’ll do it?” Frank said.

“Yes.”

He stood up and placed his fedora on his head and said, “I’ll get you guys some bookings. Will, you need to find a drummer.”

He left the room and it seemed all problems were solved.

“So, I guess this means we’re a band,” Chad said with a goofy grin.

We had our work cut out for us.

M
ia continued going to the birthing-method classes with Jenny while I worked with Chad in the studio, preparing for the upcoming shows Frank had booked for us. We had to keep things quiet with the label, so I had to find people I trusted. I hired Dustin, a drummer from the band I used to be in. I hadn’t talked to him for a long time after he hopped in bed with my then-girlfriend, Audrey. I got over it quickly, though, when it occurred to me that she had fucked him right back. I never had to worry about stuff like that with Mia. Anyway, Dustin hated the record labels, so he posed no real threat. He was on board for the shows in a heartbeat.

We played around town mostly and Boston a lot, anywhere with a music scene that was in driving distance. Mia enjoyed the shows even though her growing belly was making playing more and more uncomfortable. Chad sang well; he had a good stage presence. I noticed within a few weeks people started coming up to us at the end of the shows. We had a pretty decent following for our tiny tour. As time went on, we noticed that when we played the song “Soldier,” which had a very catchy and loud chorus, the crowds would sing along to it. We’d played about three shows a week for five weeks before the label caught wind of our little plan.

They couldn’t technically put a stop to it, but they moved Chad’s release date up. They wanted to get the single for “Soldier” out before bootlegged copies from our shows were floating all over the Internet. Frank’s plan had worked. Chad had his own original sound, thanks to us. I made peace with giving him the music, and by the end of the five weeks, I actually liked the kid. He was a quick study. Mia taught him some basics on the piano, and by the end of our shows, he was coming up with new music.

We all parted ways amicably. Frank moved on to look for the next big thing. I went to work with new musicians in the studio, and Mia went back to her obsession with being pregnant.

“I’m as big as a house,” she said one night into the mirror above our dresser as she examined her naked body from every angle.

I watched her from the bed where I was propped against the headboard. I looked down at my own stomach and noticed it was a bit harder to see those ripples Tyler had so blatantly observed. I might have put on a few pregnancy pounds myself.

You couldn’t tell Mia was pregnant from behind—she still had a perfect little ass—but man, when she turned, watch out. Once she reached thirty weeks into the pregnancy, her belly stuck out at least two feet from her body.

“You’re not big, you’re beautiful.”

“I’m a cow. I’ll never be sexy again.”

“Turn around, Mia, so you can see just how sexy I think you are.”

Mia’s boobs and belly had gotten huge, but she was just as beautiful as before, if not more. Her skin was shiny and vibrant and pink and lush. As she turned, I quickly slipped out of my boxers and threw them aside.

She scanned my body up and down and then her face morphed into the pity-party face. “Are you thinking about someone else?” She actually started crying.

Fuck.
“In the name of all that is good and holy, Mia, you are standing in front of me naked. I’m turned on because of you.”

“How can you want me like this?” She sniffled.

“Come on, stop that.” I motioned for her to get on top of me. “Climb aboard, baby, let’s have some fun.”

She brushed her hair out of her face and climbed up onto the bed. She straddled me and then bent to kiss me, but I could tell it was uncomfortable for her to bend over her belly. Leaning back with a sad look on her face, she took hold of me and then sat up on her knees to guide me inside her. I felt a tear hit my stomach. She was still crying.

“No, stop, baby. Don’t do that.” I pulled her onto the bed next to me. “Lie on your side so you’re comfortable, sweet thing.” I climbed over her and looked at her face. “You gonna be okay?”

She nodded unconvincingly, but I proceeded to kiss her all over anyway. I kissed her belly and sang to her and sang to my baby. Ray LaMontagne’s “Shelter” was blaring from the iPod dock. I sang along to it like I had written it just for her. After ten minutes, Mia started moving with me, kissing me and answering each touch.

I curled up behind her and pulled her leg back over mine and then I made love to her on her side. I kissed and sucked at her neck. She whimpered.

“Do you see how beautiful you are to me?” I said near her ear. Pushing her head back against my shoulder, I watched as she opened her mouth, closed her eyes, and found that happy place. I held her against my chest, one arm gripping her leg and the other holding her around the shoulders as I continued my slow and deliberate movements against her. The tension in her body was gone. We moved with ease and comfort until we were both sated, and then I kissed her shoulders and back as the rest of the album played out. We stayed like that, connected, with my face buried in her sweet-smelling hair until we were asleep.

“Good morning, handsome.” Mia, fully dressed and ready for the day, was leaning over me and smiling.

I squinted up at her. “Hi, pretty baby.”