Switching Gigs

Almost in an instant, the three of them were surrounded on all sides. Tourists, bikini-clad white women, party staff, event photographers with cameras—all sorts of people crowded around them.

Taylor turned people down several times, but in the end she couldn't resist their enthusiasm. She finally decided to join the party as a private guest. She certainly wasn't going to eat the sizzling American-style barbecue ribs dripping with garlic sauce, so she was forced to serve as a prop for on-the-spot photos.

Ryan got to enjoy the perks of being with her, too: a free barbecue, which he and Abigail happily tucked into.

"Try this." Abigail held out a ranch-dressing-covered grilled chicken leg to Ryan.

Ryan reached to take it, but Abigail insisted on feeding it to him herself.

Ryan had no choice but to take a bite. Abigail then continued eating the chicken leg he'd bitten into. Maybe she was getting revenge for the "sausage incident" a few days ago. Then she had Ryan feed her a piece of cut steak, which she chewed with relish before turning to the person behind him. "It's delicious. You have to try some."

Ryan turned around and only then realized Taylor was standing behind him. For a moment, he looked awkward.

Taylor still wore the forced smile she'd been using to entertain the crowd. She seemed to have only just noticed what was going on, belatedly nodding. There was an empty seat beside Ryan, but she walked around the table and sat down next to Abigail instead.

"It's pretty good, but I can only have this little piece. I have to stay slim!" Taylor set down her fork.

Abigail wasn't surprised by this and didn't try to persuade her.

Ryan, on the other hand, breathed a sigh of relief. Taylor seemed pretty calm.

A little while later, a plump, middle-aged white woman came over to greet the three of them. First she asked how they liked the food, then she checked whether they had a way to get back, whether they needed a car, where they were staying that night, how long they'd be here, and other ordinary questions.

As they talked, she noticed Taylor was hardly eating any of the fatty barbecue. She immediately called over a waiter and asked him to prepare a salad and whole-grain bread, specifically requesting light seasoning and no salad dressing.

As for Abigail and Ryan, she treated them just as warmly as Taylor, without the slightest hint of neglect.

Then she tactfully made a request, hoping Taylor would sing a couple of songs on the spot. She added that she would pay Taylor a fee, but emphasized that it wasn't payment for singing. Her two daughters were huge fans of Taylor's and had been deeply inspired by her songs, so it was simply a personal thank-you. She also said she had some local connections, and that Taylor could contact her anytime if she wanted to hold an event in the area, such as a fan meet-and-greet.

She'd taken care of both the show and the substance of the offer. Taylor couldn't very well accept the money, of course, so she went straight up onstage and sang a couple of songs a cappella.

Ryan saw the woman stop the photographer from recording the performance. After all, Taylor was visiting as a tourist.

Besides that, the middle-aged "auntie" flitted from table to table like a butterfly. From children of seven or eight to old white men with snow-white hair, from middle-aged couples to young lovers—there wasn't anyone she failed to look after.

Who said foreigners didn't know how to handle social niceties? This ordinary-looking but remarkably capable woman was a perfect example, Ryan thought.

At one point, the woman even called over two bikini-clad girls and arranged for them to sit beside a middle-aged man. Her role was obvious...

Although Taylor repeatedly refused, the middle-aged woman still arranged a private car to take the three of them back to the hotel.

"Mary Entertainment Marketing Promotion Company... Mary Jane." In the car, Taylor looked over the business card that had just been handed to her.

"She's a party promoter," Ryan said from the front seat.

"This card is pretty fancy. It even has rhinestones along the edges. Her office is in Orlando," Abigail said, taking the card and examining it with interest.

"I should hold on to this card. It might come in handy later. My manager once told me that if I wanted to sell five hundred thousand albums, I'd first have to meet five hundred thousand people," Taylor said.

"There's not much to do at Mud Park. How about we head back to Orlando tomorrow? There's a lot more to do there," Abigail suggested.

"You two go ahead. I have work to do, so I have to get back to Nashville." Taylor yawned.

"Didn't you say you'd stay for at least three days?" Abigail asked suspiciously.

Taylor turned toward the window and gave a light laugh. "Plans changed."

"What about us, then?" Abigail asked Ryan.

"In that case, let's head back to school." Ryan shrugged.

"Okay." Abigail leaned her head back and habitually took Taylor's hand.

Taylor interlaced her fingers with Abigail's, and the two exchanged a smile. Ryan's arrival clearly hadn't affected their relationship.

"Hi, it's Taylor. What, miss me already?" Taylor's voice came through the phone, brimming with energy.

"But I'm sorry, I can't take your call right now. Maybe I'm recording a song, maybe I'm sleeping in, or maybe I just forgot to turn on my phone's ringer. If there's something you want to say, leave a message. Beep..."

It turned out to be her voicemail.

Ryan lowered his phone, frowning slightly. He wanted to ask Taylor about Myspace. He wanted to make his page look a little nicer.

But it had been three days since they'd returned from Florida, and Taylor still hadn't answered his calls.

"What's wrong? Did a classmate dump you?" Joel asked from beside him, sipping a Blue Can Red Bull.

"Dumped? Don't make me laugh. I'm the one who dumps people." Ryan gave a soft snort. "By the way, the Canadian distribution contract's been signed. When will your remix be ready?"

Deadmau5 had sent someone to Nashville. Trey had asked a lawyer to review the contract, and after it was approved, Ryan had officially signed the Canadian distribution agreement for Tremor's single album.

Under the contract, the record label Deadmau5 had founded would promote the single in Canada. Basically, they'd send it to radio stations. A label of that size couldn't do much else.

In the record industry, radio was the most basic and direct channel for promotion. Radio had been around in Europe and America for ages. For nearly half a century, people had listened to new songs on the radio and, if they liked what they heard, gone to brick-and-mortar stores to buy physical albums. Even as technology advanced and other promotional channels emerged, such as television and the internet, people's habit of listening to new songs on the radio never changed. It had continued to this day.

The record label would handle the single album's packaging and all the related odds and ends, including the cover. Ryan just had to take care of producing the other two versions, which wasn't difficult for him.

The single album would also include remixes by two other DJs. Deadmau5 had claimed one spot, and Ryan could easily have chosen someone better known for the other. He could have picked a more famous DJ, for example, but he didn't. He gave the spot to Joel instead. It would bring Joel some extra income and give him a proper start in the DJ scene.

"Within the next couple of days." Joel raised his Red Bull and placed his other hand over his heart. With utmost sincerity, he said, "Thank you, Ryan. You helped me make my dream come true."

"Your dream was to buy a huge house in Ibiza, wasn't it? You're satisfied already?" Ryan chuckled. "Don't get all sentimental. I can't handle that."

Besides wanting to show his gratitude to Joel, Ryan had done it with his own interests in mind.

For one thing, he knew next to nothing about the equipment. With Joel guiding him, he'd get twice as much done in half the time.

Joel nodded, then suddenly leaned closer and spoke to Ryan in a low voice. "You've performed at Ultra Music Festival, for God's sake. You're worth a much higher booking fee, and this little nightclub can't afford it. I'll ask around through my colleagues at Blackbird over the next couple of days. We can jump ship to somewhere with a better scene..."