Facing her "client," Trey happily invited her in for dinner.
Once they were seated, Taylor tried a bite of the salad.
"This ranch dressing tastes really good. Did you buy it? I'll ask my mom to get some next time," Taylor said casually.
"You can't buy this dressing. Ryan made it himself," Trey explained with a smile.
Southern housewives often made an all-purpose dip at home. Since every housewife had her own recipe, these sauces were collectively known as ranch dressing.
"You can do that?" Taylor asked, somewhat surprised. She turned to Ryan, her impression of him improving a little.
"Onions. I added onion powder." Ryan shrugged. He wasn't going to scowl just because Taylor was there; he wasn't that petty. Of course, he wasn't going to say much to her, either.
"What brings you over so late?" Trey asked.
Taylor was eating roasted chicken, grease glistening at the corner of her mouth. "Actually, I wanted to talk to you about the script for 'Love Story.'"
The music video wasn't scheduled to be filmed for another two months, so coming over in the middle of the night to discuss the script clearly wasn't a convincing excuse. Still, Taylor had said it, and Trey couldn't call her out on it.
"Sure," Trey said with a nod.
Ryan was even less likely to say anything for Trey's sake. He got up and went to the study, where he turned on his computer and saw that "Scooter" was still messaging him, saying he had arrived in Nashville and just wanted to meet Ryan in person.
Ryan closed the chat window.
About an hour later, someone knocked at the door. Ryan didn't respond. Trey never knocked, so it could only be someone else.
A little while later, the door opened a crack, and a head with a bowl cut poked in.
"Come in." Ryan shook his head. Taylor had followed him all the way here; he had to talk to her.
Taylor closed the door and spoke before Ryan could say anything.
"Ryan, I know you probably don't want to see me, but I have two really important things to tell you." Taylor sat on the sofa across from his desk. Since she was wearing a skirt, she hugged a pillow to avoid flashing anyone. She kept her legs together and angled them to one side, sitting perfectly properly.
"First, the best record label for you will always be Big Machine. Big Machine is an imprint of Republic Records, which was spun off from Motown Records two years ago. It's now one of Universal's major labels, alongside Interscope and Island Def Jam. And Scott has promised that you'll have the same creative freedom I do."
Ryan shook his head. He had considered Big Machine long ago, but Scott wouldn't budge on the length of the contract.
"What's the second thing?" Ryan skipped straight past the subject.
"I wanted to thank you. After that phone call, I thought about it for a long time. You gave me some insight..." She spoke slowly, staring straight at Ryan. Then, as if she had made up her mind, she continued, "I've decided that from now on, I'm going to focus more on the songs themselves!"
When Ryan showed little reaction, Taylor took a deep breath. "There's one last thing."
She'd said two things, but now there was suddenly one more.
"You asked if I did it on purpose. My answer is no. I didn't have a plan. It was just because I happened to run into you that day."
In other words, if Trey had brought someone else along, none of this might have happened.
Ryan merely nodded.
"As for the two of us, we're still friends, right?" Taylor asked tentatively.
"Sure," Ryan said.
"Okay." Taylor smiled. "Since we're still friends, you can't block me again."
Ryan laughed and had no choice but to do as she asked.
"If you ever need anything, don't hesitate to call me. Remember, we're both artists now. Also, do you really not need someone to manage your social media?" Taylor brought it up again.
"Not for now," Ryan said, turning her down once more.
"Then... what about an opportunity to guest on a local Nashville radio station?" Taylor asked. She knew exactly what Ryan needed.
Ryan didn't turn her down.
Taylor nodded and made a mental note of it.
After leaving Ryan's house, Taylor hummed as she walked toward her car.
"Is there a man in this world I can't win over? No way!" She was in an especially good mood. After starting the car, she turned the stereo all the way up. As she pulled onto the road, she nearly drove onto the sidewalk across the street, but managed to correct the car just in time.
Ryan returned to the study and browsed Harlem shake videos on YouTube. In just the few days since he had last checked, hundreds more imitations had appeared. With Taylor and Miley joining in, even some lesser-known artists were following suit, filming Harlem shake videos in their recording studios. There were plenty of small-time artists like them in America, and just like Ryan, they were all struggling to get noticed.
This time, Ryan wasn't following a trend. He was creating one. And as people watched these videos, they would bring him even more income.
He opened his YouTube dashboard and saw that his withdrawable balance was nearly six figures. Excited, Ryan let out a shrill baboon scream.
The only downside was that there were still some knockoff releases on platforms like iTunes. Trey's lawyer had been busy over the past few days and had already taken down a batch, but new ones kept popping up.
Once he signed with Atlantic Records, they should help him get rid of those knockoffs quickly, right? Ryan wondered.
The next morning, Ryan went downstairs and saw Trey stuffing bread into her mouth while talking to someone on the phone.
Ryan went into the kitchen, took a box of Fruit Loops from the cupboard, poured some into a bowl, and added milk to soften them. Then he walked out carrying the bowl.
"Strange. Scott called me first thing this morning and asked if I was home. What does he want?" Trey set down her phone, looking puzzled.
The Scott she meant was Scott Borchetta, the owner of Big Machine.
"Maybe he wants to ask you out?" Ryan leaned against the table and teased her.
"I just saw his wife last month." Trey shot Ryan a scornful glance.
About an hour later, Ryan found out what the owner of Big Machine Records had wanted when he called Trey.
"Good to see you again, Ryan."
Scooter, who was the same height as Taylor, stood at the door, took off his baseball cap, and greeted Ryan.
"I know it's incredibly presumptuous of me to show up uninvited, but I mean absolutely no harm. As for how I found your address, Ryan, I have Scott to thank. I've met him a few times in Los Angeles. He founded an imprint of Republic Records, and as it happens, I founded another one." He explained.
"Allow me to introduce myself again. I was once an executive at So So Def Records. I organized after-parties for the NBA All-Star Game and stars like Britney, Eminem, and Ludacris. Later, I founded my own record company, and I'm also a manager. Before you sign with another record label, why not hear what I can offer? If you're not interested, I'll leave immediately, and I'll never waste another second of my time on you. My time is far more valuable than yours." He chuckled.
"Now, may I come in?" Scooter asked, still standing at the door.
Ryan and Trey exchanged a glance. In the end, they let him in.
For the first ten minutes, Ryan and Scooter's conversation was uneventful. Scooter merely repeated what Atlantic Records had already told him.
When he saw that Ryan wasn't interested, Scooter smiled faintly. "I can also offer you a deal you won't be able to refuse."
"My record company can offer you a short-term contract for one year, with a minimum of one EP!"
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