Diamond in the Dust (Lost Kings MC 18)

He grins and sets his guitar down. “I sense a but comin’.”

The man’s no fool. I return the grin. “Well, I’m not a city girl. So, there’s that. But, and I mean this in the nicest way—”

“You’re here for your honesty, Shelby.” Dawson wiggles his fingers in a give-it-to-me-straight gesture. “I can take it.”

“Well,” I hedge, “you have a large catalog of material that already covers those…themes.” Dang, I need to find a pair of waders to slog through my own bullshit.

“‘Cause they sell,” Dawson says in an even tone. “People like stuff that’s familiar.”

All right. He’s got me there. He’s sold more records than me. Can’t dispute that.

“It might be a little too familiar,” Chaser suggests, easing his way into the conversation. “You know as well as I do, there’s a lot of grumbling about country music returning to its roots. You’re in a perfect position to do that with this album, Dawson.”

Obviously, Chaser’s had a lot more years in the business to learn how to sugarcoat things a lil’ sweeter.

“What do y’all have in mind?” Dawson asks, his gaze swinging between the two of us.

Chaser nods my way, giving me the floor.

Thanks, I guess.

“Well, uh, to me, country has always been about life, love, heartbreak, telling a story that people connect with. Our average listener isn’t tossing their three-hundred-dollar Yeti cooler in the back of their seventy-thousand-dollar pick-up truck to go on a guided hunt, ya know?” I chuckle to soften my criticism. “At least not in the Texas town I’m from. A good ol’ Igloo from Walmart will do ya just fine.”

He glances down at the notebook in his hand. “Shoot. Guess I am gettin’ predictable.”

No need to peek at his lyric sheet to know there was a Yeti cooler reference a-comin’. Dawson’s last three albums were full of ‘em. Trent and I joke all the time that he must own stock in the company or something.

Damn, I miss working with Trent. This is all so unfamiliar and downright strange.

I risk peering over at Chaser whose jaw is set so tight, it looks about ready to crack. From holding back his laughter. God, I envy his carefree attitude. Having this conversation with Dawson feels like I’m dancing on the tip of a needle.

We run through a few more ideas.

Before I know it, hours have passed.

Once I push through the awkwardness, lyrics and melodies flow easily. I’m scribbling lines in my notebook at a burning pace. Whatever doesn’t work for my tracks with Dawson, maybe I’ll use later.

I think we’ve nailed most of one of the songs we’re collaborating on. Except for a sticky part we can’t figure out.

“Why don’t you let it rest,” Chaser suggests. “Forcing it will only make it harder. Take your mind off it and it’ll probably come to you.”

That sounds like good advice.

“Why don’t we all go to dinner,” Dawson suggests as he stands and stretches. “That way if we’re inspired, we’ll all be there. Be a nice way to cap off our first night.”

“Sure.”

“Logan’s still around, right?” Dawson asks. “Bring him.” He rattles off the name of a restaurant I think I’ve heard of.

“I’m going to run back to my room to get Mallory,” Chaser says.

I hadn’t realized his wife had come to Nashville with him and now I feel bad our session ran so long.

“Your ol’ lady like to keep tabs on ya?” Dawson jokes.

Chaser slides a less-than-friendly look Dawson’s way. “We spent a lot of time away from each other when I was touring. You must know how that is.”

Ouch.

“Can’t say that I do.” Dawson spreads his hands wide. “Got no one worrying and waitin’ for me at home.”

“If I’m going to be away more than a night, I like to have her join me,” Chaser explains in an unapologetic way that reminds me an awful lot of Rooster’s directness.

I barely hold back the “awww” threatening to escape my rogue mouth.

Dawson nods as if he respects that. “That’s says a lot—you two making it work for so long. Especially around this business.”

Chaser’s answering shrug is somehow both polite and conveys he doesn’t give a hoot about Dawson’s opinion.

I’m looking forward to talking to Mallory a whole lot at dinner tonight.

Dawson glances at his watch. “Let’s meet out front in an hour. That enough time for everyone?”

“That works,” I say.

Dawson waves on his way out.

Should I leave my guitar here? That’s sort of presumptuous, though. But we’ll be working here again tomorrow.

Argh! Why is all of this so hard?

“Hey,” Chaser says, breaking through my indecision. “I know I’m here to work with Dawson. But don’t feel like you can’t call me if you have questions or want to go over something, okay?”

I’m sure he has better things to do than mentor a newbie who can’t afford to pay him, but I appreciate the offer.