I do have notes, that’s not a lie. But Arlo knows me well enough to appreciate I could spout off thoughts on Coolidge’s entire catalogue at a moment’s notice, even before today. I know my stuff.
“Well, since you’re here,” he says, pretending to buy my bullshit, “I heard a story about a former partner of yours.”
Arlo always hears stories. I don’t know how, and I’ve stopped trying to figure it out. The man is more reliable than a gossip rag.
“Oh yeah?” I stretch back, casually interlocking my fingers behind my head.
“True or false, one Drake Colter turned up all remorseful smitten kitten on the very public doorstep of his luminescent ex-fiancé right as his former bandmate was also showing up and had a little shootout at the O.K. Corral moment in the front yard?”
I don’t even know where to start. “What?”
Arlo’s smirk is triumphant, and it makes me want to scuff his shiny overpriced designer boots. Rub dirt and grit all up in the nonexistent creases.
Instead, I drop my hands. “Colter showed up, yes. He thought to go with her to the wedding that he was definitely not invited to and she turned him down and then I dropped her off at the airport as planned. No O.K. Corral moment. Not even words. Just grabbed her luggage and took her to the airport. As friends do,” I add plaintively.
Arlo sighs, heaving dramatically into the chair next to mine and spinning to face me with a frown. “That’s not nearly as juicy as I hoped. Though I love the idea of him showing up only to have you sweep her off her feet.”
I bite back a frustrated groan. “No sweeping. Just carried her luggage.” This is starting to get obnoxious. “Did you talk to Melissa, by chance?”
He tilts his head to the side, his floppy red hair slipping over one green eye. “Your sister? No.” He crosses one knee over the other. “But how is the hetero love of my existence?”
“She’s fine,” I mutter. “Invited me to brunch tomorrow.” I straighten and pull myself to the soundboard, proper. “Listen, the last thing Lorelai needs is sweeping in any iteration from another guy in her life. She’s already busy fending off Drake full-time.” And let’s face it, eventually he’s gonna wear her down. It’s the reason I didn’t bother with a lease. I don’t need the hassle of paperwork when she caves and moves in with him.
I’m not completely unfamiliar with self-preservation.
“She wouldn’t need to fend him off if you were there.”
I wave him away, switching on random levers that Arlo will fuss over later. “Something of which she is well aware. She didn’t want a date this weekend.”
He narrows his eyes shrewdly and I ignore him. He likely knows about my feelings for Lorelai. As I said, he knows everything. But up till now he’s kept his thoughts to himself. After all, if he can see my feelings for Lore, he can also see her lack of feelings for me.
But before he can say anything more, I’m saved by Coolidge’s arrival with his rusty-haired bandmate, Fitz Jacoby. We make introductions and I listen and watch the dynamic between the two musicians while Arlo runs through some logistics about our studio. It’s clear Coolidge and Jacoby have known each other a long time. Fitz is well known for both his fiddle and guitar playing. He’s married to Annie Mathers’s cousin and bandmate, Kacey Rosewood. If memory serves, Jefferson was at least at one point very attached to Annie, creating quite a bit of overlap between the two bands. Jefferson and Annie oozed chemistry at the CMAs a few years back, setting off ripples of giddy speculation across the country music echelons. Even my front-row seat to Drake’s hissy fit couldn’t keep me from noticing.
I wonder idly how that’s going for him and am relieved to see the camaraderie and respect between the two younger men tonight. Conflict is par for the course in the music industry, but I try to avoid it in my studio. It fucks with the vibes.
The two men play a few new originals for us that I really dig. A little Chris Stapleton–esque. If Chris had been twenty years younger and an unassuming underwear model type. Coolidge is genuine and poised. I was expecting youthful cockiness, but he seems to have grown out of it already, which is a huge point in his favor. Arlo offers refreshments, and while Fitz takes a beer, Jefferson sticks to water. He’s refreshingly focused. I like him. A lot. Sometimes you just get gut feelings about people, and this is one of those instances. I’m happy to go with my instincts on this.
I lean forward in my chair with a soft squeak of leather. “So what exactly are you looking for from us?”
5
CRAIG
EVEN IF IT BREAKS YOUR HEART
Jefferson Coolidge settles back on the black leather sofa, crossing an ankle over his knee and draping an arm over the top of the cushion, looking every bit comfortable in his own skin.
“No offense,” I continue mildly, “but I remember your being connected to Mathers. One tour with her and you’d be set. The labels have got to be knocking down your door.”
Coolidge’s face contorts in a boyish grimace. “They are, but I’m not interested in that route. Been there, done that, had my stomach pumped and vomited on the T-shirt.”
My eyebrows shoot up at his frank response while a slow clap plays inside my head. “Ah.”
“I know what lies that way,” Coolidge continues. “It doesn’t work for me. Annie’s still touring stadiums and Suncoast is treating her like the royalty she is. I’m not interested in riding her coattails,” he says with a smirk, trading knowing glances with his bandmate. “I’ve got new material I want to try out—experiment with, even. A little less refined than what the labels are looking for, but I think it could be something special under the right producer’s magic.”
“And you think I’m the right producer? I used to work with Colter, you realize?”
I don’t like to remind people, but it’s not like I can hide my former attachment. Especially in this case. Colter has long held a beef with Coolidge grown primarily out of jealousy. They faced off for Best New Artist and Coolidge swept. Then Drake faced off against Annie Mathers for Best Song the following year and lost again. It was mostly timing （not to mention, I was the one who wrote the song, so pardon if I didn’t give a flying fuck about his feelings on the matter）， but Drake’s a dick. Look at the way he dropped Lorelai and she was his fiancé. And I haven’t forgotten that he was relentless against Coolidge when the news started reporting his follies. It still riles me up to think about.
In my studio, however, Jefferson shrugs his shoulder, not shifting from his relaxed position. “Used to being the key. I heard you dropped Colter and picked up Jones.”
I have to work so as to not react at her name. I put that aside for self-reflection at a later date, probably never. “No one picks up Jones. She’s her own star.”
He nods at me, a glimmer of respect in his eyes. “Then you get me. Did you know Annie and Lorelai sang together years ago?”
I shake my head, and he leans forward, elbows on knees. “Annie’s looked up to Lorelai for years. Hated what happened to her and the way she was treated after the ‘Ohio’ incident. She was still in high school at the time. In Michigan, in fact,” he says, and I don’t miss the implication, as Lorelai taught school in Michigan. “Annie was the one to point me in your direction. Said if Lorelai Jones trusts you, I could, too.”