Chapter 9: Launch Party

I played it standing up in the middle of the studio, with Hudson reading over my shoulder.

Breckin's voice, mic three bright, a big glossy drum sound behind him.

Verse one was mine, every word.

Then the second verse started, and I didn't know it.

"Tailgate down by the river, sundress and a Solo cup, you were singing to the radio and I was falling up."

I stopped the track.

"That's not my verse," I said.

"No," Hudson said. "That's a label verse. Somebody got paid by the hour for that."

"They cut the screen door."

"They cut the screen door and the pennies."

"They cut my grandmother out of her own porch," I said. "And put a Solo cup in."

Hudson took the phone gently out of my hand before I threw it.

"There's a launch party," he said. "Tonight. Rayburn Records."

"How do you know?"

"Because Hartsell Music got an invitation. On thick paper. My grandmother used it as a coaster."

At seven that evening Wynona handed him the coaster across her desk.

"Go," she told him. "Take her. Don't let her be polite."

"I've never once been polite," I said.

"I know. That's why I'm sending you."

Rayburn Records was all glass and brushed steel at the top of Music Row.

The lobby had been turned into a party.

Breckin's face hung three stories tall on a banner, lit gold, with paper lanterns behind him.

Hudson showed the coaster at the door.

"Hartsell Music," Hudson said pleasantly. "Plus one."

The girl with the list let us in because nobody had told her not to.

The single was playing on a loop over the speakers.

Breckin was by the bar with Adalyn, shaking hands, laughing his stage laugh.

A tall man with silver hair stood beside them with a hand on Breckin's shoulder like he owned it.

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