I glance up, eyebrows raised.
His lips graze mine in a light kiss. “You do not have to do this, Felicity. I know how you feel about being in the spotlight. I know this isn’t your dream. And I hope you know, whatever you decide, I’ll back you up. I’ll make sure Lincoln doesn’t flip out on you.”
“Thank you,” I murmur, stretching up on my tiptoes to kiss him properly.
We take our seats and soon become the subject of the scout’s intense focus.
“I’m Francesca Foster with Route 66,” she says in a forthright, no-frills tone. Her eyes are sharp with intellect as they move from me to Ryder. “I’m not going to waste your time, or mine, with ass kissing. I don’t do ass kissing. I do facts. And the facts are, if you sign with us, I can make you very, very successful in a very, very short timeframe.”
“How do you know that?” Ryder asks, sounding dubious. “Not to undercut your enthusiasm, but we’ve been through this before, to disastrous results. I apologize if we’re a bit skeptical, but we only have your word to go on, here.”
“I encourage skepticism. It’s a healthy method for ascertaining truth.” She straightens her shoulders and folds her hands delicately on the tabletop. “Your lyrics are strong and catchy, for the most part, though I’d suggest you ditch the re-tuned Lacey Briggs songs and write entirely new material, perhaps involving Felicity in the process to better suit your sound.”
Everyone looks a bit stunned at the level of intel she seems to have on our group.
How does she know about Lacey?
Does she work for the CIA?
“Your instrumentals are also quite solid. You’re comfortable both playing and performing together. There’s a natural energy between the three of you”— she gestures at the boys — “that makes it clear you have the ability to create good music together.” She pauses. “Good, but perhaps not exceptional.”
Lincoln’s eyes darken with anger. “That’s bulls—”
“I am not finished.” Francesca smiles, but there’s iron behind it. “This is where Felicity comes into this equation. She’s the wildcard.”
I go still, not liking the sound of that. At all.
Ryder chuckles lowly. “Fitting.”
When Francesca’s brows lift in question, he clarifies. “Felicity’s last name is Wilde.”
“Ah.” She doesn’t laugh. Simply straightens her shoulders again and launches back in. “As I was saying, the three of you have a solid group dynamic. But the four of you… it could be phenomenal.” Her eyes are speculative. “Ryder and Felicity — your voices are completely complementary. Perfectly suited for duets. I haven’t heard harmonizing like that in years. With a bit of polish, some vocal coaching… you could make an incredible album. You could sell a lot of records.”
“And what, exactly, would you want from us in return?” Ryder keeps his voice calm and even, but I can tell from the way he’s squeezing my hand beneath the table that he’s excited by the things she’s saying. “We’re not interested in a label that tries to change our sound or manipulate our image.”
“If I can be frank — it takes far more brute force to take a rough lump of clay and chisel it into a sculpture than it does to acquire a beautiful piece of art, pull it out of storage, and put it on display for the world to enjoy.” Her smile is small, but steely. “I’m interested in signing fresh talent, not manufacturing it.”
Lincoln is nodding. Aiden is fighting a smile. Ryder’s grip tightens on mine.
I can feel their hope, tangible in the air around me.
I am holding their dreams in my hands.
“You seem so sure there’s an audience for us,” I chime in, feeling my defenses rise. “I just don’t think you can be certain of something like that, at this stage.”
“As I said, I like data. However, I’m not so rigid that I cannot accept the existence of some variability. There is, to use a common term, a certainX-factorthat makes some groups rise astronomically to the top of the charts, far faster than any projections can account for.” Her pause is heavy. Her eyes are intent. “I believe you have it.”
“Still.. this seems like a huge gamble for you. We’re nobodies from Nashville and you’re convinced you can take us to LA and turn us into stars, essentially overnight?” I shake my head. “It seems a bit too good to be true, if I’m being honest.”
“Honesty is always appreciated, Felicity.” She smiles placidly. “Do any of you have a smartphone with you?”
“I do,” Linc says, pulling out his iPhone.
“Do me a favor.” Her eyes crinkle slightly at the corners. “Plug the word ‘Nashville’ into your search engine.”
“Just ‘Nashville’?”
She nods, watching him type. The smirk on her face reminds me of a magician setting up an unsuspecting audience member for a slight of hand. The smirk grows into a smile when she hears a curse explode from Lincoln’s mouth.