Ruby
We arrive at the recording studio on Music Row bright and early. Abby introduces me to an up-and-coming producer named Heaven, and the audio engineer I’ll be working with to create my new sound for the single. I’m sticking to my country roots, but we’re adding a little pop flavor to it. Call it a crossover if you want—I’m just doing what feels right for me and the song.
Heaven plays the backing track she recorded with my touring band earlier in the week, with my scratch vocal I captured on some cheap equipment back in Oak Ridge. My heart leaps.
“We’ll add your guitar and vocals today and go from there, but I think we have a solid foundation to work with,” Heaven says.
I glance at Abby, with her dark auburn hair braided to one side and her brown eyes alight with excitement.
“It’s amazing,” she says. “I knew it would be.”
We start by overlaying my acoustic guitar with the near-perfect backing track. Once we have a clean take, it’s time for the more polished vocals. The entire recording takes a full twelve hours, but by the end of the day, we have a finished single and a release plan.
“Are you sure you want to do this without a label?” Abby asks.
“Positive. I have to do this for myself. Whatever happens next, I’ll always have this.”
She pulls me in for a side hug as we step out onto the sidewalk under the harsh city lights. Traffic is still crazy this time of night, and it makes me miss the peace and quiet of Oak Ridge.
“Drinks?”
I scrunch up my face. “Rain check? Honestly, I’m exhausted. Besides, we have to be back at it again tomorrow to work on the rest of the album.”
“Ok. I’ll see you in the morning.”
The next few days pass in a flurry of excitement and activity. Liam and I text back and forth throughout the day, and we call each other every night before bed. I miss home more than I ever thought possible.
It’s so different from the first time I left. Ten years ago, I was chasing something new and unknown. This time, I’m building something for myself—something I can be proud of. The endgame isn’t fame or fortune, it’s happiness and contentment. Liam told me to show the world who I am, and that’s what I plan to do.
I keep myself tucked away in the penthouse when I’m not at the studio, so I haven’t had to deal with any unwanted attention. Truth be told, I’m not sure anybody even realizes I’m back in town yet. It’s a small miracle.
Five days after the initial recording session, I share a teaser videofor the new single, Bad Bitch Scorned, to my social media. It’s raw footage of me dragging an old guitar down a dead-end road in Nashville in a pair of faux leopard skin bell-bottoms and a pleather vest with ties up the front. It ends on a close-up of me smashing a guitar and setting it on fire.
The fans go absolutely feral for the clip and the isolated vocals that go along with it. It’s just two lines—“And you never saw it coming. There’s nothing like a bad bitch scorned”—but it packs a hell of a punch. The cryptic teaser overshadows the media frenzy surrounding the scandal, and the pressure ratchets up to a thousand with each day that passes.
I start to dodge paparazzi again soon after, often driving past crowds of fans gathering near my apartment building.
By week two, I have half an album ready to go, and the other half is scheduled to be completed by the end of the month. It’s the fastest we’ve ever worked, and Heaven is a godsend through all of it. Our working styles mesh perfectly together. She calms my chaos. She’s encouraging when needed and steadfast when the moment calls for it. Honestly, she’s a badass. I don’t know where Abby found her, but I might just have to tie her up in my basement and keep her there—if I had a basement, that is.
It’s been three weeks since I left Oak Ridge, and I’m sitting with Abby on the oversized sofa in my penthouse, glasses of wine in hand, waiting for the clock to strike midnight on the day the new single drops.
“Are you ready?” Liam asks. He’s on a video call with my phone propped against the box of wine. It looks like he’s walking somewhere, but it’s dark, so I can’t quite make anything out.
“Ready as I’ll ever be.”
“Take a deep breath. It’s already been pre-ordered like a bajillion times. It’s gonna be amazing.”
I laugh into my wine and take another sip. “I don’t think bajillion is a number, babe.”
“What was that? You’re breaking up. I’ll call you back.”
“That was weird,” Abby says. “But at least I can get some more wine now.” She turns the box and refills her glass.
A knock sounds at the door. Abby and I look at each other in confusion. “Did you order something?” I wouldn't put it past her to get the midnight munchies.
“Nope. Maybe it’s Nico.”
“He’s usually back in his apartment by now.”
