Page 16 of Stormswept Colorado

Yes, there’s a piano here I can use. But would it be the end of the world if they cancel? Do I really need another magazine cover?

Said NO ONE EVER who wants her next album to sell.

I rolled my eyes. But okay, fair point.

Bryan stepped over to me. “Everything alright?”

“Yeah, it’s just Cheryl. Reminding me about an interview tomorrow.”

The magazine wanted to record segments of this interview for social media, and they wanted me to perform a few songs. It was supposed to be authentic, stripped down, just me and a piano. And it had to be this Friday. They’d loved the idea of me visiting the small town where my sister once lived.

Scheduling this kind of stuff was beyond frustrating. A timeline was etched in stone, impossible to change, until suddenly an executive in some fancy office decided it wasn’t.

But I wasn’t going to complain. Because this video interview would be a good excuse for why I couldn’t have dinner with Emma’s parents on Friday night in Hartley. I’d metEmma’s uncle Aiden and aunt Jessi before, and they were wonderful people. But her whole extended family? That sounded overwhelming. Dinner with the parents was just…not my thing.

Bryan would drive me to Hartley once the interview was over, and I’d be there for the whole wedding day.

Cheryl

Speaking of your next album. Paul Ruxton has been calling again, asking how songwriting is going. I told him you’ve got months and he should mind his own fucking business, but if you have anything to tide the execs over, it could help.

Ugh. Next topic, please?

Songwriting wasn’t a straightforward process for me. Inspiration came in fits and starts. Sometimes a whole song appeared at once in my mind, the chords already itching to be set free from my fingertips. Other times, I got only glimpses. A feeling. Vibes that slowly took form into something more substantial. Yet those songs tended to be my favorites. Worth the wait.

But the executives at my record label, like Paul, wanted to see continuous results. I was their show monkey, and I was supposed to dance. Pose for pictures. Produce new albums on command. It was a constant battle.

At least I had Cheryl in my corner. She tried to stand as a barrier between me and the label execs. Eventually, the songs would come. Even with my past struggles, the music always showed up for me.

Putting my phone away, I went back to shopping. After a few more minutes, I had some outfits for Brody to add to Bryan’s pile. The shop sold locally made body care for moms too, so he picked out a gift set for Mikaela.

When it was time to pay, I slid my credit card into Natalie’s hand before Bryan could hand his over.

“Come on, you don’t have to do that,” Bryan said.

“No. But I want to. Buying gifts for other people’s kids is one of my favorite hobbies. You wouldn’t deny me, would you?”

He snickered. “Nah, you do you. Thanks, boss.”

The owner swiped my credit card. But then Bryan muttered a curse. He nodded at the storefront windows. “Uh, Ayla? We may have a problem.”

When I turned to look, my stomach fell.

There was a crowd of people waiting on the sidewalk right outside. Natalie, the boutique owner, had switched the sign to closed, so nobody had come in. But people had their phones up taking pictures.

I recognized some of them. Those guys who’d shouted and made raunchy gestures from across the street earlier.

“I’m so sorry,” Natalie said. “I don’t think they’re from around here.”

“No, I figured not. But it’s okay. I’m used to it.”

I was nervous though. The crowd blocked the door. A few people even had their faces pressed to the windows to see in.

Bryan strode over to the door, no doubt scowling at them. A couple of people moved back, but somehow Bryan’s presence just seemed to agitate the others even more. The men hooted and hollered at us like we were animals in a zoo exhibit. Their voices were loud enough now that we could hear them through the glass.

“Ayla!Come outside!”

Crap, this wasn’t good.

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