177:

An hour later she was in the studio, embraced by old friends, and surrounded by excited technicians and engineers. The energy level was high, Julian and Michael kept her close, showing her the disks they'd put together, and which songs they'd messed with. In studio she listened, shook her head, shrugged, grinned. They were all so pleased with themselves; she had to smile, to congratulate them.

And yet a feeling of deep melancholy settled over her and Tracy became aware of the unsettled anger of being usurped. She bit her lip, trying hard to show only her appreciative happy face, because she told herself, it was entirely logical and acceptable of them to have taken over. Still, the underlying feeling of animosity prevailed. 

And wasn't that logical as well? She wondered, biting that lip hard. One part of her was able to say they'd done her a huge favor and they were so sweet and genuinely concerned for her, and another part of her was furious.

Michael beckoned to her and she and Jules, Greg and Jimmy made their way into one of his conference rooms. They were laughing and talking, hadn't been together in a month or more. Had a lot to catch up on, especially Tracy's escapades. They were all completely unaware of her inner turmoil.

"All right, business folks, can we concentrate?" Michael didn't sit down but passed out folders with agendas and other information. "Don't open them, peruse at your leisure. Let's talk music."

Tracy gave him her full attention while the others finished their talking.

"Here's a list of possible song titles and order of appearance. This is all from the last three weeks. Our girl has been a little emotional, and it shows. This is some of her best work, and it needs to be laid down, but it's very scattered. Not all the same genre at all. I've contacted another label to produce the gospel stuff, Trace, and the classical. I've also contacted and procured some more suitable musicians for this type of music. If...." He stressed the word, "You want to go into production on it. You've crossed over into pop and rock, you have an entire country CD if you choose, or you can remake some of them and get back into pop only."

Tracy's eyebrows rose to the ceiling as she put the headphones he offered to her ears and listened to her own preliminary recordings from the last several weeks, stuff she'd not thought about since she'd laid it down-- in Park City, on the ocean, a lot from then, and some from Montana. How had that much music made itself manifest?

They were talking around her. But the music swirled in and out, words, melody, memories, feelings. She was there, in and out, experiencing a kind of weird sense of impending future, as the excitement of creativity surrounded them all. 

This was the music industry, she thought vaguely, still more wrapped up in the music and the accompaniment she heard in her head as each new preliminary song presented itself. Ideas swirled around also, for videos, and concerts. She raised her hand and put down the headphones.

"Miss Tracy?" Michael acknowledged her.

"There's a ton of work here." She pinched her nose above the bridge closing her eyes. "And some of these songs have specific storylines, I don't want to just be the singer in the prom dress with the microphone and floating rose petals."

Both Greg and Jimmy's heads swiveled away from her abashedly. She grinned, reading their minds, they were always wanting her to dress up in prom dresses and big black fake lashes. Julian hung his head and looked apologetic.

"Can you give me an idea which songs need extra attention and what kind of ideas you have so we can meet with the producers and get this ball rolling?" Michael was thumbing through his notes. He wore a headset too and was recording his observations to be made into more notes by his transcriber. He was the busiest man on the planet, Tracy surmised.

She nodded curtly. "Yeah, I can do that. I'll take this upstairs and make a detailed run down if that's okay with you, and then there are a few ideas we can finish up tonight if you guys are up to it." She found it was a little easier to speak about it, now that they were listening, and not showing her everything. 

The facts were the facts, the songs had been doctored, played, produced. She had to go with it. They hadn't usurped it... had they?

"I have to say this..." she suddenly burst out. "I just have to say this once, okay?" her voice, even to her own ears was somewhat rushed and breathless, as if she really were forcing the words. But right now she knew she'd better get it out, before it festered into something worse. Michael stopped moving abruptly, leaned his ample hip against the table, causing a slight bumping rocking motion before he stabilized himself.

Julian pinched the bridge of his nose they way Tracy had earlier, and Greg and Jimmy looked back and forth between them all anxiously. No one said a word.

"It's not that I'm not grateful." She whispered, not looking at them, but at the door stop attached to the wall behind the closed door.

"But you're not grateful..." Greg finished, a contradictory sigh, and a slap on his forehead. "I told you guys...."

"Oh, for Pete's sake! Stop that." Tracy blustered, slapping her palm on the wall behind her and leaning against it for support. "Don't put words in my mouth, okay Greg?"

"Well, you're about to tell us..."

"I could tell you to go to hell, couldn't I? You'd understand that, wouldn't you! But I'm not! I'm not!" she took a deep breath, held it, blew it out, rubbed her wrists in front of herself agitatedly.

"Then what? You look all hot and bothered by what we did... for you, I might add."

"Shut up Greg." Michael's lips were a thin line. "Tell me how you feel, Trace."

Her second deep breath was telling. "I do appreciate what you did. You have to know how startling it is! Your energy is infectious, absolutely intoxicating to be around, the energy in here is incredible, and I am so..... overwhelmed!"

"In a good way or a bad way, love?" Julian's soft query was heartfelt.

Blue eyes met hazel. A throat clogging swallow had to be got around. "I feel a little violated."

Both Julian and Michael were nodding, although the looks on Greg's and Jimmy's faces were irrationally full of agitation, un-accepting of this ingratitude. Greg threw his folder across the room and stormed out, slamming the door.

"He just can't believe you are angry about this." The more tender-hearted Jimmy absolved.

Her slim fingers covered her eyes as tears formed. "I didn't say I am angry, Jimmy! I'm not. I'm shocked. I'm a little hurt. Don't I have a right to feel a little violated? Something I wrote in private... absolute private in a crises time in my life, a lot of soul searching crap time of my life, and you guys took it."

"Yes, we did." Michael agreed, holding up one beefy hand. "You want to know why? Why did we do it? Why did we feel we could?" he shook his head in self-recrimination. "We—" he indicated with a pointing finger back and forth between himself and Julian. "Couldn't believe the amount, nor the range, nor the elegance and emotion---"

"Nor the complicated creativity that emerged from your amazing mind. It was intriguing and inspiring and invigorating and on fire!" Julian bent into his words, pronouncing each carefully. "We stole them, yes! We did! We couldn't help it! Have you heard them, Trace?"

"No! Don't you understand! I haven't! Not since I wrote them! So to hear them here, seriously, already beginning mastering...who played them? Whose recording are they? Am I just the song- writer? How do you understand the vision I feel for them, or... the attachment!" Bright tears shone in her blue eyes.