Grace Unplugged: A Novel by Melody Carlson Page A

following his lead, she played the part of the up-and-coming musician. But by the time they finished, she felt a little tired of people making the continued reference to Johnny Trey. It was like they couldn’t forget that she was his daughter. And the fact that she was redoing his record did not seem to help matters. She wondered if they would ever accept her for who she was— Grace Trey . . . rather Gracie Trey . Of course that only reminded her that in order to stand on her own two musical legs, she would be expected to write and record her own songs. The pressure was on.

Chapter 11
    G race couldn’t wait to see the sound booth. She didn’t know a lot about this kind of equipment, but she suspected it was all state-of-the-art and expensive. Sapphire Music wouldn’t have settled for anything less. Mossy made sure they got there early enough to watch the tail end of another recording session. He felt it would be a good experience for Grace to see someone else recording. But she could hardly believe it when she saw that it was Tyson James and his band. Tyson was dressed casually in holey jeans, Converse, and a torn white T-shirt, but his long hair and multiple tattoos shouted “rocker” loud and clear.
    “Want these?” A guy wearing a faded Stones T-shirt held out some headphones to her.
    “Yeah,” she whispered as if her voice might go beyond the soundproof glass.
    She sat on the stool just soaking it all in as she listened and watched Tyson doing his final song for the day. It was even fun and educational to see the recording gurus doing their magic. And it actually looked pretty painless. They got it in the can after just three tries.
    “Let’s break,” the guy who appeared to be in charge told everyone. He came over to greet Mossy. “So this is the girl?” He peered curiously at Grace. “Johnny’s daughter—who would’ve thought.”
    “Yep.” Mossy nodded. “This is Gracie Trey. Gracie, this is Bryant Stockwell. He’s been doing this since before you were a glimmer in your mama’s eye. And, trust me, no one does it better than Bryant.”
    Tyson and the band were coming out now, and Bryant must’ve seen the eager look in Grace’s eyes. “You wanna go say hey?” he said to her.
    She was unsure. “I don’t want to look like a groupie.”
    They laughed, and then Mossy gave her a friendly push. “Go ahead. Rock stars don’t bite.”
    “Not usually,” Bryant teased.
    She knew she looked nervous and totally starstruck as she introduced herself to Tyson, explaining why she was here. “I love your work,” she said shyly. Fortunately, he didn’t seem to mind her adoration.
    “I’ve been a fan of your dad since I was a kid,” he told her. “‘Misunderstood’ is still on my iPod.”
    “Cool.” She nodded. “Hopefully you’ll like my version of it too.”
    His eyes flickered up and down, as if he was really checking her out, and then he broke into a big grin. “I have a feeling I’ll like it just fine.”
    She felt her cheeks warming. This was all so new . . . and weird . . . and cool.
    “Good luck,” he told her. “Break a leg in there.” Then he chuckled and went off to join his band.
    It took nearly an hour before everything was set up for her session, but she appreciated the extra time to get acquainted with the crew and acclimated to the studio. And to feel comfortable in her own skin. Her confidence level was high by the time she went into the sound booth and strapped on her guitar and adjusted her headphones. She could do this.
    However, it wasn’t long before she discovered that recording was hard work. In some ways it reminded her of rehearsing with the worship team—at first. But if she thought Dad was a stickler for detail, he was a teddy bear compared to Bryant Stockwell. Bryant was a Perfectionist with a capital P. By the end of the session, Grace wondered if Bryant suffered from OCD. Nothing—not a single thing—slipped past this man. They did so many takes of the