Page 38 of Night Songs

For the first few hours, we went through speech drills, attempting to smooth my jagged speech into something sleek and curved, like Audrey Hepburn’s transatlantic purr. But eventually she gave up. I couldpretendto be whoever she wanted, and I could create endless new personas to suit my needs, but there was no version of me that wasn’t from the country, or the South for that matter. She spent the next few hours teaching me all the basics of acting proper until Clayton seemed satisfied, and I went along with that part. I like to know what rules I’m breaking.

When the transformation was complete, he took me to a studio to have my picture taken. The photographer had all these ideas about me dressing up like a cowgirl straddling a hay bale and prancing around in a swimsuit with a beach ball, but I put a stop to that nonsense. I told him to just make me pretty, and I posed real nice for him, and that was all we needed. I refused to be someone’s fool.

Then, it was time for the label to listen to the album. I called out of work and stayed by the phone all day at Mom’s, waiting to hear from Clayton. Hess tried to distract me with board games and the new Loretta Lynn album, but nothing calmed my nerves. The opportunity still felt so precarious, so unreal, that I was afraid someone would come by and snatch it out of my hands. Or Clayton would wake up one morning and realize I was nothing special and dump me on the sidewalk with the rest of the trash.

Early in the evening, there was a knock on the door. It was Clayton. His face was calm and self-assured. Unreadable as ever. He asked if I’d like to go for a drive, and I said okay. I felt like a dead woman walking, like the mafia was about to pick me off.

When we got into his Cadillac, he asked me if I was hungry, and I said “always.” I was a legend in the studio for the food I could put away.

We pulled into the Krystal’s on Gallatin and waited for a waitress to skate to our window. The car was a quiet, dark space in the midst of the feral Saturday night crowd. Clayton didn’t like to listen to the radio when he was working on a new album; he preferred to hold the songs in his mind without them getting infected by other sounds.

After a petite brunette took our order, Clayton went back to staring out the windshield. I couldn’t take it anymore. “All right. Let me have it. They hated it, didn’t they?”

He smiled. “Theylovedit. And theylovedyou. Your voice, and those pictures we had taken. They agree you’re going to be a star.”

There was this little jolt in my chest like I’d been struck by lightning. But I still sensed there was a catch. “Then why do I feel like you’re gonna take me out?”

He folded his hands and held my gaze. “I have a proposition for you.”

“That don’t sound good.”

He raised an eyebrow and continued. “I think we should get married.”

I instantly thought of Hess and her goddess body. We struggled to find places we could be alone and really together, and we’d had less time to spend with one another with all the work on the album. Even so, it felt like she was the center of my little life.

I looked at Clayton, and I imagined his red face hovering above me, concentrating hard and pulsing to burst. I was suddenly aware of the small space of the car, and the fancy automatic locks on the doors. I pretended to adjust my dress, feeling for the knife in my bra. But I’d forgotten it in the excitement. Sweat broke along my hairline, and I scanned around the car, searching for anything I could make into a weapon.

“I appreciate the offer, but…”

He held up a hand. “I don’t see you that way, either. I’m…” I looked over at him, forgetting the danger for a moment. I’d never seen Clayton ata loss for words. He was always so calm and collected, already waiting with the right thing to say. “I’m not interested in that kind of thing.”

What didthatmean?

“I don’t enjoy being close to people… in a romantic fashion. I enjoy friendship, and professional and artistic collaboration. That’s all I want from others.”

I’d never heard of such a person, and I tried to wrap my head around it. Clayton was divorced and had a few kids that lived in Kentucky with their mom and her new husband. I’d always sensed something different about him, and I’d honestly thought it was that. I’d never met a divorced person before. It was still very taboo in the holler. People really thought it would send you to hell.

“Then why do you want to get married?”

“I think it would be good for the album. A little love story for the fans. Newlyweds singing to each other on their record players. We’d have the press cover the wedding so they could put it in papers and magazines.”

It was an interesting idea. I saw the logic in it. But I was still skeptical. “What would I have to do?”

“You’d move into my house with me and my mother, but you’d have your own room. There’s a whole wing just sitting under sheets with no one to fill it.”

Another mother that wasn’t mine. Another unknown, judgmental presence looming over me. I thought of Hess and Mom and the girls at the boardinghouse. It was a safe space I’d made for myself, and I didn’t want to give it up. It was the first time I’d been in control of my own life. I’d never see Hess if I left.

“I don’t know. I like living at Mom’s. I don’t wanna leave.”

The brunette returned with our burgers in red plastic baskets and a slice of chocolate icebox pie on a plate for me. I tucked a napkin into my dress and started to eat immediately, stuffing the burger into my mouth and forgetting where I was.

Clayton eyed me and chuckled. “You’d be able to have visitors. Iwouldn’t want there to be a whole crowd all the time, but you’d be welcome to host Miss Walker whenever you’d like. She could even… sleep over.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “Well, that seems fair, since she’s my sister and all…”

“Lou, I know she’s not your sister. I know she’s a very special friend, and you’d be free to be together, alone, without anyone around, if you lived with me. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

A piece of burger caught in my throat, and I sipped soda to dislodge it. I thought I might puke. I wanted to ask him how he’d found out, but I was afraid to even acknowledge it. I kept staring straight ahead, terrified of meeting his gaze.