I Went Down To Rosedale – Chapter 2
A/N For me an upside of the CMT years was the development in Daphne's character. Whatever the latter seasons threw at her she took it on, survived and shot out some great one liners, she was even granted her own random homeless person. Deacon's other girl but not his daughter, Daphne grew to make her own choices, where would they have taken her next? Thanks go to everyone who has taken the time and trouble to click though.
3 Weeks later. It felt to Daphne as if her life had been reduced to boxes. Much of her stuff from the house she had grown up in, the things she never needed but couldn't bear to part with, slept in storage downtown. Now her current bedroom was half filled with half-filled cartons as she tried to decide what was wanted on board the voyage to collage.
"Two guitars is quite enough," her laptop told her obstinately.
"How can you say that? Musicians can never have enough guitars, it's like girls and shoes."
"Shoot, you can only play one at time. Turn the camera around so I can see what you got there.
Daphne swivelled the machine jerkily, it whistled back at her. "Wooo, someone's going to be grumpy if they find out you've taken their original 50's Fender."
"Da-Deacon's cool with it. I'm only borrowing to try out some slide, obviously that one stays here." She continued the virtual tour.
"Ha – so that's your little noise box. The baby pink colour-scheme's kinda cute, just not my style, does it go up to 11?"
"I might want to rock out after a long day's study."
"Listen girl, any student room you wind up in will come with paper thin walls; and you practising electric ain't exactly gonna endear you to the frat. 'Specially if they have a little mood music of their own going down. You catch my drift?"
Daphne giggled, "Yeah sure."
"So just stick with the two acoustics max yeah? Sorry honey, I gotta go, Sage sends love to her nearly-sister. You take care."
"And you, bye Luke." She flicked off the chat. Unlikely as it seemed, the one thing to survive that complicated tryptic between various Conrads, Claybornes and Wheelers was the bond between Luke and Daphne. He had become something of the uncle you never mentioned at Thanksgiving, a sounding board and a co-conspirator. A couple of Australian tours and many alimony payments later, Columbia recording artist Luke Wheeler was rolling steady now, happy to put his ore in and listen to the teenager's troubles, much better than he'd managed to do for his own kids. While also silently enjoying how much it would piss off Deacon, if only he knew about the contact he still maintained.
Maddie stretched out on her bed, phone in hand, thumb hovering over the call button.
"What's wrong?" Matt asked her.
"I'm worried about Daph, she's being too quiet."
Matt sighed, it had been a tiring day, working on overdubs for Maddie's new song, now he seriously wanted to wind down. "You are always worrying about your little sister, well guess what, she's not so little anymore."
"So I shouldn't care right?"
"Baby, she's starting collage very soon. There will be lectures, boys, parties, boys, social clubs, protest groups and boys. You won't be able to keep tabs on her then. Do you remember what you were doing at her age?" He slapped a palm onto his own forehead, "oh of course, no need to tell me, it's all still on old gossip pages of the internet. You have to let her make her own mistakes, just like you did. When was the last time anyone heard a decent song out of Jonah Ford?"
Maddie humphed and dropped the phone onto her pillow. "Maybe I'll whatsapp, if she wants to talk she can right?"
"Good call." He laughed at his own joke and sat on the edge of her bed. Probing fingers parted Maddie's blonde locks and Matt began to kiss her neck. After an initial squirm Maddie laughed languidly . "I thought you were having a shower."
"Seems a shame to waste it." Soft light played on the blind and outside the apartment block and LA rumbled eternally on.
3 Days later. Saturday morning and Daphne and Deacon were sharing the breakfast table, both lost in their own thoughts. A country-pop song drifted from the radio. Daphne hummed along in harmony, Deacon tried to out-stare a slice of toast. "That was Feel My Mood, from Ilse de Witt," chirped the DJ, "Who will be playing live at Nashville's Bluebird Café this Friday night as part of her Southern Sates Tour." None of this was fresh news to the two occupants of the kitchen.
"Have you finally decided if you are coming with me yet?" Daphne asked, "It would only be polite considering Ilse got the both of us tickets."
"I might be busy," Deacon mumbled.
"If you want to spend the night looking at accountancy sheets that don't make any sense to you, that's your lookout ."
"Those sheets pay your way young lady."
"Dad, that's what Zach's people do. We make the music, they make numbers.
Deacon drained his coffee.
"Maybe Gramps will come with me."
Daphne had scored a direct hit, Deacon's relationship with his father had struggled through to an uneasy truce, not dissimilar to the one Rayna had built with Lamar after the girls' birth, but Deacon was not about to let Gideon muscle in and ruin what was most precious to him. For the millionth time he yearned for his wife to be there help guide him through all this, while also silently cursing his father for not making contact sooner. "OK, you got me, arm twisted, I'll go."
"Are you worried Ilse's going to hit onto you again?"
Truth was that Deacon's love life had fallen into the same downwards spiral it occupied before his marriage. Sweet affairs with sweet ladies that floundered under the weight of expectations, past experience and self-doubt. Throughout his life Deacon's found only 3 true soulmates; his guitar, the bottle and a certain sassy, kind hearted, energising, red headed country singer. Now two of those were beyond him.
Fortunately before either of them could say something they would regret Deacon pulled his stuff together and headed out for a studio session, leaving Daphne alone with her thoughts and her phone. She tried to contact Maddie, got voicemail and so curled up on a couch chopping through trashy TV, rolling news and pop stations on the plazma. Unsatisfied by this she switched to Youtube, browsing random Rayna Jaymes clips, live appearances, outtakes and years old news stories, forcing herself to keep off comments section. Eventually Maddie messaged back with a picture of two large smoothies on wooden picnic table. Daphne took the self-improvement hint, changed into scruffs and went for a rare run. Anything to put off packing.
3 Hours later. In the afternoon Scarlett showed up, unannounced and determined. "Get your bag we are going for a drive."
This time Daphne borrowed Deacon's stock excuse, "I'm busy."
Scarett looked around the room, discarded magazines, guitar propped against a table and an array of dirty crockery. "Yeah I can see that. You need a change of scene girl."
"No, I've got too much packing to do."
"Those boxes will still be looking at you tomorrow. I'm willing to bet that all you've been doing is putting crap in them and then taking it out again." Scarlett still remembered how tough it had been for her to pick out material possessions that represented her life, at the point she had first moved to Nashville, even when spurred on by the desire to put space between herself and Beverly.
They drove west. The cool, modern city gave way to suburbia; greens and browns replacing steel and concrete. Yet all was neatly defined, controlled, compartmentalised into pleasant valley little boxes. Eventually the landscape became wilder and unplanned, glossy magazine escape houses morphed into weather beaten, practical self-sufficient dwellings. Tarmac became gravel that threatened to become mud. Scarlett pulled up on a non-descript slip road, black metal gates stood in front of her, flanked by a sturdy wire fence. She pressed a button on the gate panel, looked up into a security camera and an electric motors hummed. With the way clear they continued along what was more a lane between grassland than a formal drive, on towards a large building Daphne had noticed from the public road. Scarlett halted the car and killed the engine. "Well here we are." All the explanation Daphne was going to get. The younger girl got out, heat was rising off the stone yard, mixing with a gentle wind blowing across the open countryside. Next to Scarlett's vehicle was a sleek white two-seater sports car that would have been top of the range six years back, beyond that a ubiquitous SUV and in between the primary coloured angular lines of a much used and abused pick up.
"That's Avery's truck," said Daphne.
"Got it in one." But before Scarlett could elaborate the man himself came around a corner.
"Great, you made it! Come on in Juliette really wants to see you."
It was clear that the kitchen was the hub of the house. Cadence was busy drawing, sat up at the big wooden table, legs kicking the air wile a small boy played with toy cars on the floor. "This is Waylon Barkley-Barnes," said Juliette. "We don't know yet if he's going to make a triple platinum country album or win the Indie 500."
"Maybe both," Avery added.
"That's my boy!" Juliette pushed a hand through her blonde mane and pulled at her top. "Now, Daphne, the reason for draggin' you out here is that I have question for you." Even in retirement Juliette still weaved her spell, greetings, offers of drinks, the invitation to take a seat were for other people. Juliette's one track mind was is in overdrive. "Do you really want to go to college?"
"No!" The answer came flying out before Daphne was consciously aware of it and her hand instantly shot to her mouth as if she could grab it back. Juliette's eyes flashed with animation.
"I knew it. Saw it at the Opry, then for God's sake don't do it, simple as."
"What I want to do is to keep making music, all my life, just like Mom did but no one gets it."
"Awe honey, I understand I really do. That's a tough road you are choosing for yourself though. Everyone will compare you to Maddie. Right now you're onto a loser, because both of her parents were country royalty and she's got longer legs than you." Juliette looked at the shocked faces around her. "What? Daphne, no-one is going tell you this except for wicked Aunty Juliette and you need to hear it. This industry can chew you up and spit you out. I got through by singing 'I'm A Girl' and 'Boys And Buses' but your music is already way deeper than that. You've got to let the world catch up or you'll end up getting up close and personal to a piano on someone's stage." In full flight now she didn't even register Scarlett's muted breathy intake. "You see, I've got a better idea. It's about time that I did something for this family other than make babies. So I'm going back in the studio and I
want you to be Avery's assistant producer."
Daphne gaped.
"I do too," put in Avery, "Scarlett been playing me some of your stuff when she gives Cadence her riding lessons, and I think we would make a good team. Let me try something on you, here's a group I've been working with recently, take a listen…" Avery opened a file on his laptop and an alt-country swing reverberated around the kitchen. The male singer whined and the guitarist and drummer pushed the tune on. "What do you think?"
Daphne concentrated, screwing up her eyes in a way that would have given Deacon flashbacks and palpitations. "Lose the steel," she said automatically. Juliette's jaw dropped, Avery flew out of his chair.
"That's what I'm talking about," he cried, "took me 2 days to get the band to agree. Juliette couldn't hear it, but you got it at once."
Daphne was struggling to see the big deal. "It's obvious," she replied, "that song's too cluttered, sometimes you have to hear the spaces in between."
Avery was a beaming, "You and I know that, but some people…" He motioned towards Juliette.
"Hey!"
"All I'm saying is that when making a record there will be times when Juliette, denies, rails, maybe even throws the odd baby toy across the room, until suddenly she sees that my idea is the best one she's ever had."
"I don't do that," the former diva protested.
"Do."
"Don't… OK maybe I do, just a little, sometimes, but you gotta admit I'm right! Please come on board Daphne, I want your ears.
"I'm not sure. It's a big decision."
"It's a perfect idea, you get to take a year out and the very best thing is that Highway 65 will be paying your wages. Zach is just gonna love that. I want this new record to be my greatest yet."
Avery smiled wanly "Which of course has nothing to do with the news that Big Machine have just signed up Layla Grant."
"Avery, I have told you before, do not use swear words in front of the children."
"You'd be awesome," Scarlett told Daphne, "And Avery can teach you so much."
"Yeah, we never did get around to that solo album of yours," Avery replied softly.
"Wait I minute," cried Juliette, "There's only room for one comeback, and after the record's done I want to take it on the road. Emily is a lovely person, but she's a rubbish rhythm guitar player and backing vocalist. I so need you with me Daphne, what do you say?"
The girl stood and thought, memories of "Nashville's Next," of being on stage with Maddie and Deacon and the tingle she had always felt watching Mom perform all flooded through her. But those were other people's dreams and life had taught Daphne the importance of being true to your own ones. The moment was pivotal, what should she do? Not for nothing was Daphne Lamar's grandchild and Teddy's daughter, rational logic begun to push aside Juliette's star dust. What would Bucky advise? More relevantly how would Glenn Goodman handle this? Hmmm.
"I'll do it only if I get to sing lead on one song in your set every night," she replied. Scarlett gasped, Avery developed a sudden interest in his lap top turning his face from the company. Daphne wondered if she had blown it, but held herself firm.
Juliette did to respond for a couple of seconds. "Well… looks like you got yourself a deal little lady."