HARLOWE

Opening up my eyes today, I feel the sun shining on my face. It becomes so clear to me that everything is going my way. I feel like there's no limit to what I can do. I got rid of some fears that were holding me back. I'm starting to realize I've got untapped potential and endless possibilities. Being the social media reporter for the Heartland Foundation Do Good Gala opened a whole new world for me. A nice change of pace to wake up to.

It's only the first step on a long, tremulous ladder. The sense of accomplishment excites me. I've really earned it. That fills me with pride. The feeling was echoed by Maya, my parents and Lyndsay Cruse, the Executive Director of the Foundation, with whom I clearly am on a first name basis since our brunch at the label.

I seem to have offers out of a fairytale. My dress cascades down from my bedroom door as evidence that I indeed was Cinderella for a night this week. "I'm ready to reap the benefits of what I've sowed. Carpe Diem, Harlowe."

With that affirmation, no, attitude, I get out of bed. Putting on my comfy bathrobe and furry slippers. In search of some much needed breakfast.

Coming down the stairs, my mom is standing there, awaiting my presence. I swear she has supernatural hearing. I kiss her good morning on the cheek. We both smile about our appearances. "Where's Dad?"

"In here, Bunny! Making a feast, come sit!"

Rounding the corner to the kitchen, my father is living out his chef's dream behind the stove. "You didn't exaggerate," I tell him, eyeing all the food that's spread around the breakfast bar. "You could feed an army."

"Oh nonsense, you deserve it after getting such hopeful offers. I'll join you in a sec, just finishing your favorite."

"French toast? You truly mean business, Daddy."

My father comes from humble beginnings. In his household money was tight and groceries and luxuries were expensive. That's why he and his cousins would often get French toast instead of a cake for their birthdays. Ever since he told me the endearing story so fondly, it's one of my go-to dishes. I want to keep this memory and tradition alive. My dad agreed. Even though he whips up the sweet treat way more frequently than my birthday.

"Can't I show my love and appreciation for my daughter through some fancy slices of bread?" he asks me, as syrupy as the one he's holding in his hand. I nod while he slides the plate and bottle on the bar. It's my mother's cue to take her place beside me.

"I guess, my Journalism training kicked in for the gig, Dad. Didn't get the degree for show. Although I kinda work in some type of show business nowadays." I finally take a bite to signal I'm done making my statement.

"Nickel Recording and Publishing will always be there for you. It's your birthright. That's why..."

"My gosh, I knew it! The French toast comes attached with something. A token of a father's love... Yeah right. Lay it out on the table, Dad. Don't spin another white lie and Mom, start eating. Stop fidgeting."

"How did you...?"

"Journalist, remember Mama? People tell you their stories through their behavior and silence way more often than through their actual words." She flinches back, just like Deacon when I called him out on his bullshit.

"Bunny, don't be so hard on your mother. I'm the one that got a phone call and decided to keep it from you until your schedule freed up."

"So, I was right, Dad. You do mean business. I've been taking care of myself, like I should and not even a sincere 'Congratulations' came out of your mouths..." I move my hand between my parents. "...It's all shallow pride to keep up appearances. By all means, tell me what you need."

"Harlowe, we're proud of you. Forever. But, your mom and I have been dealing with a tricky thing and didn't want to bother you. We didn't want to dampen your joy."

"You're dampening it right this moment, Daddy. I was feeling so good and now you're making me question myself and the good job I did. Do you even want me to get away from under both your shadows?"

"Yes, of course Harlowe," my mom pleads. "We just need your help."

"My help with what? What's so important it had to be kept for me?" I look from my mom to my dad with raised eyebrows.

"The phone call I got was from Trace Ellis about True Tone Records. Can you keep a secret? Surely, you can. Stupid question," my father answers himself. If my brows could go any higher they'd disappear in my unbrushed hair.

"Trace and Maurin have sold their record label. He picked up the phone to inquire if I, we, want to sign Deacon Blye..."

"And why couldn't I know this nugget of information before the Gala?"

"Because we wanted you to have an unprejudiced view of him and ask you for your opinion later..."

"Way to show your trust in my professionalism and more importantly, as your daughter, Mama." She has the decency to look ashamed.

"Well, I can tell you Deacon Blye is a dick. We had a run-in behind the scenes of the event. I'm not willing to tell you more, because it's blatantly obvious he's a talented musician. His popularity would only boost Nickel Recording and Publishing. So, in the greater scheme of things, my opinion means very little."

After taking a sip, I continue; "With all the history our families have, why are you considering this?"

"Maurin has had cancer for years," mom whispers. "She doesn't want her family to be a slave to the music and its industry any longer. She wants to be free..."

"Ah, so is this a grand gesture from the presumptuous Harrison Nichols to court his first love?"

My mother casts her eyes down. She catches a tear with a shaky thumb. My father's cheeks redden across from me. They're both smart enough to stay silent. It tells me I've hit a nerve. Maybe even the core truth. Believe me, I love my parents, but the way I came to be, I don't wish upon any child.

My father audibly swallows. "Harlowe you were wanted. You are wanted. Harrison and Maurin have asked for a meeting. I've taken it. After Deacon's thirtieth birthday, they're coming over. We want you to be there with Maya."

"With Maya?" I can't hide my surprise.

"When I researched Deacon Blye, I found nothing of importance. Except his basic Wikipedia and True Tone page. I need you and Maya to combine your telepathic Spidey senses and launch an investigation into the guy. Knowledge is what I need. I can't work with someone that seems to be a ghost," my father, the President orders.

I'm having trouble finding the right words to say. Taking a deep breath, I'm giving it a try. "From where I'm sitting, you first deny me my skill set by keeping this upcoming meeting from me and now that the unprejudiced view didn't wield you any results you can benefit from, you appeal to the same skill set? What kind of reversed psychology is this?!"

"Please Lowie..."

"Stop it, Mama. Both of you! You're lucky I did my due diligence before the Do Good Gala. This struck me as odd as well. I'll dive into it. Not because you decided to confide in me, but because I don't want Deacon Blye trashing my birthright, as you so eloquently put it."

Standing up from my barstool, I press both my fists in the warm spot I've vacated. "Thanks for clouding the good day I was experiencing." Facing my parents, I let them see my disappointment. "Next time, have a little faith in me. Just give it to me straight, I'm a big girl. Instead of adorning this whole French toast charade."

Once upstairs, I text Maya.

SOS... Meet me in 30. Inside the recording studio!
- Lowie x

---

"They asked us to do what?!" Maya lets out. "Investigate Deacon Blye?"

"Yeah," I don't even have the vocal capacity to match the sounds my best friend is producing. Covering myself with the dress bag from Hayley Paige, that I took with me so it can be picked up, works wonders as a shield against Hurricane Maya. She's coming in full force. Her face is as red as her hair. I can't decipher if it's from outrage or excitement.

"Where would we even begin?" She reads my jumbling thoughts.

We dove so far into our own world, we didn't even notice that one of our country crossover princesses, Alexa Wright, entered the studio. "Sorry, girls. I know the light's red. I forgot to take my bag after recording. Your courier is here too, Harlowe. He's at the reception with Jaclyn."

"Hi Alexa, oh okay. Thank you." I brush past her. I could use a breather.

"Good morning, Jaclyn," I greet our receptionist. With a smile she introduces me to Kris. "He's here to take the dress off your hands."

"Hello there. Are your parents the Jenner or Kristofferson type of people?" I jab, giving him the garment bag.

He winks and replies without missing a beat. "I know the history this place holds so the only truthful answer I can give you is: Kristofferson."

"I like you, Kris. Here, please accept my tip. Would you be so kind as to tell Hayley's people that I'll call them soon?"

"Yes, Ma'am. I'm instructed to head over there right away."

"Oh none of this Ma'am stuff. We can't be that far apart in age. Hope to see you again, Kris. Have a nice day! Jaclyn, please give him a cup of coffee for the road."

I'm not usually this friendly with couriers. This exchange, however, cheered me up. It's my good deed for the day. It's the little things that make a difference.

Heading back to the recording studio, my forehead creases. Alexa's still in conversation with Maya. I tap the window next to the door so I'm not scaring them. Opening it, I'm expecting a talk about Alexa's latest session, since it's Maya's job to manage them and guide our artists. That isn't what I'm hearing, I'm catching a name: Deacon Blye. My curiosity peaks...

"There you are!" Maya jumps up from her chair. You have to hear this, Harlowe!" She directs me into the empty seat, before she nestles herself into my lap.

"Eh, Mimi..."

"Oh shush! Come on, Alexa. Tell her."

Alexa laughs at Maya's antics. I don't really understand her sudden enthusiasm, but I decide to roll with it. This has to be some anecdote, riling up my bestie like this.

"Alright, alright, I'll start again," Alexa chuckles. "I'm not sure you're aware of this Harlowe, but I'm from Lexington, Kentucky. I left after graduating high school. While I was attending, I had a boyfriend. Care to venture a guess?"

"You're gonna tell me it's Deacon, aren't you? You're the Genie coming out of the Magic Lamp at the exact right time..."

"First wish granted. I can't really tell you any more, because I've signed a non-disclosure agreement. What I can tell you though, is that you should get your hands on some yearbook photos. Preferably, from my senior year. It'll show that I'm speaking the truth.

"Furthermore...," Alexa keeps me in suspense. "...I can get you into Deacon's coveted birthday party."

A small gasp leaves my lips as she digs up the ornate black and gold invitation from her bag. In fancy lettering it reads:

Deacon will be turning thirty, he's flirty and thriving! Come join him at The Hermitage Hotel, 231 6th Avenue North in the heart of Nashville to wave goodbye to his twenties at 8 PM.

Since he's known as the Mystery Man, we're hosting Deacon a Masquerade Ball. Dress to impress and keep an eye on your mobile devices for the actual date.

We'll keep you posted so you can RSVP on time.

Trace & Maurin Ellis

I keep staring at the piece of paper she gave Maya. "Holy shit, Alexa! This is a lot to unpack."

"I'm in shock too. I'm sure Quentin Hix or Mrs. Ellis herself went through Deacon's contacts, because if he was in charge of the invites, he'd never invite me. I know too much..."

"I'm surprised he still has your info then. Who made you sign the NDA, Alexa?"

"The two of you could be a convincing Detective Sherlock Holmes and Dr. John Watson." Alexa observes before answering Maya. "Beatrice Cohen. In the name of Trace Ellis. I'm taking a risk here, so please...," she smiles mischievously. "Second wish granted, girls."

"Are you really going to this party, excuse me, this ball?" I blurt out.

"Fuck yes! Now that I've received an invitation, I'm going to this bougie ball! If I adhere to the theme, no one will know his high school sweetheart is in attendance. I want to see how the other half of Nashville royalty lives!"

Seriously, by this time my eyes and ears have to be the size of saucers. "Firstly, you're too kind, Alexa. Secondly, you might be the key Maya and I need to investigate Mr. Blye. Starting at that freaking party!"

Alexa's eyes light up. "Like I said, I'm willing to give it a whirl. Third wish granted. I'm in the mood to help you gals! You ain't never had a friend like me!" she bashfully quotes Friend Like Me from Aladdin. It cuts the tension the three of us feel, agreeing to this devious plan.

"If this is going off without a hitch, we need to do some serious shopping and fast!" Maya concludes.

"This calls for the company's credit card," I chime in.

"If we don't get it on loan!"

"ALEXA!" I chastise her in a fit of giggles.

"She isn't completely wrong, Lowie." Maya pushes us towards the door, attempting to get us out of the studio.

I can't remember the last time I was this carefree and full of genuine laughter. Alexa is a great girl, bold and resilient. It makes my skin crawl that someone is actively dimming her light.

What in the world are Trace and Deacon trying to hide?!