Live Out Loud (Toronto Series #6)

By Heather Wardell

Amy's a hobbyist songwriter with big dreams, but not the usual 'making it as a musician' kind. No, Amy wants to honor her late best friend by finally starting the support center for teenage girls they'd dreamed of when they were just girls themselves. She doesn't know where to start, but when one of her songs becomes an overnight internet sensation she sees a quick path to the money she'll need to make the center a reality.

As white-hot pop sensation Misty Will, Amy finds a whole new world opening to her and realizes she loves being on stage holding an audience spellbound. She also loves how her young fans look up to her and draw strength from her songs, but of course they don't know the awful thing she did after her friend died and how badly she could have used a support center herself. She knows, though, and also knows that she simply has to leave her new pop princess identity behind and become Amy the center director as she's dreamed of for eight years.

Doesn't she?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Heather Wardell
• Release date: Sep 1, 2011
• ISBN: 9781465980830

Heather Wardell

Want a free monthly story and updates about Heather's books? Copy bit.ly/HW-NL into your browser's address bar to sign up.Heather is a natural 1200 wpm speed reader and the author of twenty-two novels. She came to writing after careers as a software developer and elementary school computer teacher and can’t imagine ever leaving it. In her spare time, she reads, swims, walks, lifts weights, crochets, changes her hair colour, and plays drums and clarinet.Generally not all at once.

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Book Description

Amy's a hobbyist songwriter with big dreams, but not the usual 'making it as a musician' kind. No, Amy wants to honor her late best friend by finally starting the support center for teenage girls they'd dreamed of when they were just girls themselves. She doesn't know where to start, but when one of her songs becomes an overnight internet sensation she sees a quick path to the money she'll need to make the center a reality.

As white-hot pop sensation Misty Will, Amy finds a whole new world opening to her and realizes she loves being on stage holding an audience spellbound. She also loves how her young fans look up to her and draw strength from her songs, but of course they don't know the awful thing she did after her friend died and how badly she could have used a support center herself. She knows, though, and also knows that she simply has to leave her new pop princess identity behind and become Amy the center director as she's dreamed of for eight years.

Doesn't she?

Author's Note

Live Out Loud is the sixth novel in my Toronto Series. While the books can be read out of order, this one does include characters from my free Life, Love, and a Polar Bear Tattoo and also from Stir Until Thoroughly Confused, so if you haven't read those two yet you might want to pick them up first!

If you'd like to read all of the Toronto books in order, starting with my free novel Life, Love, and a Polar Bear Tattoo, the Also By Heather Wardell link in the Table of Contents will give you the information you need.

Whatever you decide to do, happy reading!

Heather

LIVE OUT LOUD

Chapter One

I roared into the last chorus of the best song I'd ever written, slamming ahead with everything I had to give, and wished I could stop time and stay right there forever. Being on that stage felt a thousand times wilder than the craziest roller coaster, a million times more exciting than sex, better than anything I could imagine, and I didn't want it to be over. Neither did my audience, from what I could see with the stage lights blazing in my eyes and refracting off my hot pink fake eyelashes.

But it had to end, of course, because nothing that good could last forever, so I sang, nearly shrieked, the final Live out loud!, and the band cut off in perfect unison as I threw my head back in triumph.

The crowd burst into applause and cheers, and I shaded my eyes with my hand and grinned at them. What? I said into the microphone. "Did you like that or something?"

Further cheers, and I couldn't help laughing because I'd never felt so alive. Me too, my friends, me too.

I turned to look for my cousin Blake, knowing what I'd see, and sure enough he had his ever-present camera up. I'd never understood how his girlfriend Evelyn could stand his capturing every instant of their lives on video, but then maybe as a blogger herself she didn't mind it. I would enjoy seeing a recording of this performance, if only to get a good laugh at my costume.

I blew him kisses with both hands, then told the crowd, I can't thank you enough for being here. The best birthday present ever. But hold on for a few minutes, okay? I'll be right back. Gotta get changed.

They laughed as I tugged at the impossibly short pink miniskirt I wore. It had been Giselle's in high school, and I'd known I had to wear it to sing this first song. Out Loud was about her, after all, so I'd needed her up on the stage with me, needed her strength and determination.

Unfortunately, to wear her skirt well I also needed to be a good four inches shorter and ten pounds smaller.

Still, it had entertained the audience. I left the stage, wobbling on my unfamiliar high heels and grinning at the memory of their shocked faces when I walked out in the tiny skirt with a matching hot pink wig and a black bra showing beneath the sheer leopard-print top I'd found at a thrift store to tie the whole mess together. A long way from my typical jeans-and-t-shirt outfits, but that was why I'd done it. Tonight I was a long way from who I usually was and I couldn't have been happier.

Though I knew everyone was waiting, I gave myself one moment to breathe before changing and going back out. I'd sung in public before, but never like this. Never in a bar, never for an audience of over a hundred, and never for so many friends-of-friends and friends-of-friends-of-friends. Never on my twenty-fifth birthday.

And of course, never to launch my first CD.

I stood savoring the glowing warmth of finally finally finally reaching a goal I'd set for myself. It had been twenty-five years coming, but for once in my life I could say I'd done something I'd planned. I'd decided six months ago to make a CD of my own songs by my birthday and I'd done it. Tonight celebrated and commemorated it.

And next I could—

No. Not tonight. I didn't need to think about the center and how I would get it running tonight. This was my time. The goal I'd shared with Giselle, which I was at last capable of completing alone in her honor, could wait until tomorrow. She would have understood. She'd understood everything about me. I'd never have a friend like her again, and I'd given up trying to find one. The crowd out there were my acquaintances but only Giselle had been a true friend.

I quickly freed my head from the itchy wig and changed into jeans and a t-shirt then glanced at myself in the mirror. My hair tumbled about my face in a post-wig tangle, my wildly overdone makeup hadn't survived the stage lights, and my fake eyelashes looked ridiculous, but none of that mattered. My eyes were on fire, burning with a passion I'd never seen in them before. All that mattered was the music. My music. And the people who wanted to hear it.

I went out and shared it with them, and with myself, until my throat was sore.

*****

When I woke up after noon, I lay in bed luxuriating in the great memories, replaying the delight I'd experienced onstage and the hours at the bar afterward selling all fifty of the CDs I'd brought and giving out tons of homemade postcards explaining where to buy the music electronically and accepting endless good-natured teasing about my ridiculous stage outfit and congratulations and compliments for my songs and the party itself. My launch plan, which I'd spent hours on and reviewed so many times I knew it as well as my lyrics, had gone off without a hitch.

At the moment, though, my favorite memory was having included 'book off work the day after launch' in the plan. I was a barely adequate waitress at the best of times, and since I'd been up until five in the morning because I was too wired to sleep today wouldn't be the best of times, especially since Tuesday was 'Seniors' Day' at the Setherwood Café and I didn't get along well with seniors. Funny, since my parents were both in that age group.

I rolled over, snuggling into my comforter, and pulled my mind away from the job that made me money to instead think about how I wanted to use that money. A bit to live on, of course, but I had far bigger dreams for the rest. Giselle and I had dreamed of starting a center, a place where confused and lost teenage girls could find themselves and become confident women, and now that I'd reached my CD goal I would succeed at the important goal, the one that really mattered to me. Having made my very own CD was nice, but the whole point of the CD project had really been learning how to push and motivate myself so I'd be able to figure out how to make the center happen.

But at the moment I didn't want to figure anything out. I wanted to enjoy my triumph. So I did. I stayed in my cozy bed and relived my night until I was too hungry to stay put any longer.

Wishing Jason was home so I could beg him to get me food, I crawled out of bed and headed for the kitchen. Thinking of my absent boyfriend brought my mood down a few notches. Of all the times to have to go to Dubai for a meeting! I'd so wanted him at my launch party, but he'd said there was nothing he could do.

Sadness threatened to overwhelm me, but I started singing Out Loud, right there in the kitchen, and my lyrics pushed it away. Jason would be back soon and everything would be fine.

Once I'd pulled myself back together, I made toast and microwaved some soup then fired up my laptop so I could check email while I ate and see if I'd received any more congratulations.

My inbox appeared, and I dropped my spoon into the bowl, barely noticing as I splashed my pajama top with tomato soup.

Six hundred and seventeen new messages?

If I got seventeen in a day, it was unusual. Who'd sent the other six hundred?

The first few seemed to have been written by monkeys with a few broken fingers.

That song rocks but teh others r crap.

can u giv me free cd? kthnxbai.

Pnk grrl, i luvs u.

But the fourth, while easier to read, was even harder to comprehend.

Gorgeous song and great performance. Please contact me regarding contract opportunities.

I didn't recognize the sender's name, but the signature referenced Griffer Records. How had they, one of the best record labels in Toronto, heard of me?

I didn't get that question answered until I'd waded through about fifteen more monkey-style emails.

Amethyst, call me. Call me before you talk to anyone else. You're going to be huge and Sapphire Angel is perfect for you.

The signature file said, Jo. Sapphire Angel Music, like she was Cher or Britney, too famous for a little detail like a last name. But I was more interested in the email that had been forwarded to her, which she'd left in her email to me.

Jo, check out this video. We should grab her ASAP. Nancy.

I clicked the video link, which took me to a music blog I knew well since it belonged to Blake's girlfriend Evelyn, and was soon watching myself dancing and singing in that inane hot pink outfit. I'd hoped Evelyn might mention my CD on her blog but she'd never offered and I hadn't wanted to ask her to do it. She'd been home sick with a cold last night, and Blake must have emailed her the video while I was changing my clothes because she'd posted it before I'd even finished the concert, along with a link to my web site.

My web site. Maybe this attention would score me a few downloads.

Try a few hundred thousand downloads.

I stared at the hit counter for a shocked moment, then logged into the payment system Jason had set up for me and stared at the thousands of dollars I'd already received for downloads of my songs, mostly from Out Loud. Then I checked my page on the do-it-yourself site where I'd published the physical CD and stared at multiple reviews saying some variation of, That song rocks but teh others r crap. Then I stared at my kitchen table.

What the hell was going on? Did Evelyn have that big an audience?

I began an Internet search on myself, feeling weirdly egotistical, and soon understood. Evelyn's blog had barely two hundred followers, but her post had been reposted on several huge music news sites, and from there it had spread like glitter in the wind. Everywhere I looked, every music industry site I could find, had either the original post or a mention of its huge popularity with of course a link to the original.

I had gone viral.

Chapter Two

As I sat, too stunned to move, my ancient cell phone rang. Jason and I had fortunately set up my web site with only my email address on the contact page, which meant rabid fans and hungry producers probably hadn't found my number yet, so I answered the call.

Amy, this is unbelievable.

Yeah. Um, who is this?

She laughed. Evelyn. Sorry, I thought you'd recognize Blake's number.

I didn't have call display, but that didn't matter. I'm so glad you called. I don't know what I'm supposed to do now.

Have coffee with me.

That'll solve all my problems?

She laughed again. You don't have any problems. Not any more. Meet me at Starbucks at Yonge and King in an hour?

A quick shower and a few hundred emails deleted later, I sat sipping a cinnamon latte when Evelyn arrived. Good job on the outfit, she said as she sank into the chair across from mine. Nobody would recognize you.

I blinked. I'd worn my oldest and most comfortable sweatshirt and jeans, with my hair in a ponytail, but not for camouflage. I'd simply wanted the familiarity of my favorite clothes.

Ooh. She leaned in to inspect me. You might want to wear sunglasses, though. Blake had a good close-up in that video and your eyes stand out.

One of them did, anyhow. My eyes were green, but the right had a large brown splotch covering nearly half the green. I'd hated it as a kid, since my classmates had called me poopy-eye and other such charming names, but my first boyfriend, in grade ten, had loved my unusual eyes and I'd picked up his attitude. I nodded. Sunglasses from now on. Got it. What else?

She leaned back in her chair and pressed a hand to her mouth, clearly deep in thought.

I waited a few seconds, then an unpleasant thought struck me. You don't know, do you? You don't know any more than I do.

I know a bit more than you. She sighed. But not much. Let's face it, I've never had someone take off like this. We have to make sure we get the most out of it.

I frowned. We?

Of course. This is the start of your music career, and it'll also send my blog straight to the top.

The start of my music career had been the second day of high school when my music teacher had assigned us all to make up a short song in a week. I'd barely touched my piano in the year since I'd quit my lessons because I hated the teacher's rigid rules, but I went home annoyed by such a stupid assignment and figuring I'd get it over with fast so I set to work right away.

When I began picking out the first tune, though, I could immediately hear what had to come next, and next and next, and I'd still been sitting there, surrounded by scribbled pages of music, when my parents came home from their bridge group at nine o'clock that night. I'd taken seven finished songs to school the next day, one of which had become the new official school song.

That assignment had changed my life. I'd restarted my piano lessons and also started taking singing lessons, with teachers who let me improvise and work on my own songs while still improving my technique. I'd switched from Spanish into a poetry class so I could write words for my music, which was where I'd met Giselle. And I'd spent as much time as I could lost in the music and lyrics in my head.

I would never stop making songs, because I adored them, but I'd also never considered making a career from them. The CD was the culmination of a huge goal, not the beginning of something else, and really I'd only done it to prove to myself I could finish what I started. Evelyn didn't know any of that, and I couldn't find the words to explain it, or to say that I didn't want to be the rocket fuel for her blog.

She didn't seem like she'd hear me anyhow. Her eyes were on fire with the same energy I'd felt on-stage. Which producers have contacted you?

I tried to remember the names, then shook my head. It's been a crazy day. I'm sorry. I'll check my email at home and let you know.

She pulled a tiny computer from her purse. Check it now.

I shrugged, and pecked away at the minuscule keys until I'd found and named all the relevant email senders.

Sapphire Angel. No doubt in her voice. Jo is a legend. She'll be perfect for us.

Us?

*****

I stood outside the fancy restaurant Jo had chosen feeling like a car with no brakes.

Evelyn had insisted I call Jo right there in Starbucks, Jo had insisted we meet for a late dinner that very night at the best restaurant in Toronto, and I'd spent the last few hours calling and emailing people who'd all insisted this was the best thing that could ever happen to me. Even my parents, when I finally reached them at their retirement community in Florida, had watched the video while I waited on the phone and then Dad said, Opportunities like this don't come along every day, Amethyst. Go for it. Make all those music lessons worthwhile.

Only Jason hadn't chimed in, because he didn't know. He had a hectic schedule in Dubai and had asked me before he left not to phone or even email unless it was an emergency so he wouldn't be distracted. I had nearly sent an email anyhow but had restrained myself, since by the time he replied I would already have met with Jo and would have more to tell him. Things were moving so fast.

Everyone was right, it was a great opportunity. But did I want it? And did Jo really want me? She'd only heard 'Out Loud', by far my lightest song. The lyrics were deep, of course; a song dedicated to Giselle and her tragically short life couldn't have been anything but rich and meaningful. But the music was upbeat and poppy because that was what Giselle had loved most about my songs. I'd also written some songs with richer harmonies and less perky melodies because they'd felt right to me, so the CD was a mix of everything I could do. What if Jo heard my other songs and—

If I said, 'Where's your pink wig?', what would you say?

Startled, I turned to see a tall sleek woman in her late forties, wearing black jeans and a vibrant blue leather jacket that matched the streaks in her long dark hair. Energy seemed to fly from her, and I felt more alive just being nearby. I'd say it didn't match my outfit.

I'd worn the simple red cardigan and black dress to accompany Jason to Carla's university graduation a few months ago. Though her raised eyebrow at the time had told me I yet again didn't meet her standards for her brother's girlfriend, my frantic search through my closet that afternoon hadn't found anything more dinner-with-potential-boss appropriate. I had considered trying to look like a rock star instead but there hadn't been time for shopping and my concert outfit was too cheesy for a restaurant as classy as Steel.

The woman laughed and handed me a business card. You'd be right too. I'm Jo.

I tucked the card into my sweater's pocket. Amy. Nice to meet you.

The pleasure's all mine, Amy, but I thought your name was Amethyst.

I nodded. I go by Amy, though. Most people can't spell Amethyst and some can't even pronounce it. I had used Amethyst as my name on the CD, though, because Giselle had always used my full name because she thought it sounded fancier.

Jo held open the restaurant door for me. As I walked inside, she said, True. So that won't work for your stage name. And Amy's a bit too 'girl next door'. What's your last name?

She wanted uncommon? I had it in spades. Szczesniak.

I heard a choked gasp from behind me, but before I could turn around a hostess met us in the foyer, greeted Jo by name and smiled at me, then led us to a quiet table near the back of the gorgeous teal-painted restaurant.

Once we were settled, I sat reading and re-reading my menu, not sure what to say. Jo clearly didn't like my last name, which wasn't a huge surprise since the few people who could handle 'Amethyst' didn't even bother trying 'Szczesniak'. Marrying Jason would make me Amy Lyon, but as we'd never discussed marriage I couldn't exactly count on that as a solution.

Jo set down her menu and I did the same.

She shook her head. What are we going to call you?

I have a name.

"No, you have alphabet soup. I can't put that on a t-shirt. How many z's are there?"

Two. And two s's.

She shook her head again. We need something else. Even Amethyst is too much. She drummed her fingers on the table and studied me. How about Mistress Cashmere?

My mouth fell open. Why, exactly?

You're tough but soft at the same time.

I shook my head. I was a singer, not a toilet paper logo.

She sighed. Well, we'll worry about your name later. Let me tell you how I see this going.

She did, in great detail, not finishing until we sat toying with coffee. Our waitress had tried to convince us to have caramel cheesecake for dessert, but Jo had recoiled in horror, run her eyes over me, and said, At a million calories a bite, no doubt, and after that I hadn't been able to let myself have any. Too bad. It looked delicious.

Okay, let me make sure I get this. I took a deep breath, trying to straighten out everything she'd said in my mind. I'd release a new song every few weeks, all electronically. No physical CD. You want to contract me for ten songs and then we'll reassess. Right?

She nodded. Physical CDs are dinosaurs, but the big guys are too clueless to see it. You'll make quick money, I'd say at least a hundred thousand per song given how popular you already are, and we won't have to worry about the public losing interest while we take months to produce a CD since you'll constantly have new songs for them. Yes, you've got it.

A million dollars over the life of the contract, and more if I became really popular. I had to go for it. The center would be possible in a matter