“But you are okay now, right kid?” Johnny asks.
“All is good.”
“So, what are you going to do now? You still want to play?” Mick asks searchingly.
“I’m just now starting to think about it. It was pushed to the back burner with everything else, but I’ve got to make a decision on what to do next.”
Johnny and Mick glance to the stage and my gut tightens. I know what they are going to ask.
“We are getting old,” Johnny says.
“You aren’t that old,” I argue.
“We still like to play, and take our places back sometimes, but we can’t do this five nights a week anymore. We are in our seventies and it’s time to bring in the young ones to replace us.”
“Junior and Oliver?” I confirm.
“And you.”
I let Johnny’s words sink in. Do I want to play here? Come back to the place where my love of music began? Full circle? It’s something I’ve never even thought about, but it doesn’t take long to warm to the idea. But, playing five nights a week with only Sunday and Monday’s off? That’s a lot, but it’s better than touring across the country.
I turn when I hear the start of Sleeping Alone and can’t help but smile. When I was a kid I never dreamed I’d hear these guys play a song I wrote.
“Isn’t that one of your songs?” Bethany asks.
“Yep. I gave the guys permission to play it a long time ago.”
“What about that band you were with? Do they have any rights to it?” Mick asks.
“Nope. I kept the rights on all of my songs.” Only two have ever done anything. “I knew the group wouldn’t last when I wrote them.”
Johnny and Mick look at each other, nodding.
“That explains a lot.”
I have no idea what they are talking about. “Explains what?”
“A music producer has been coming around for like the last month. He’s looking for you. Said you haven’t returned their calls,” Mick says.
“Well, that isn’t why he was in here the first time,” Johnny clarifies. “He came in just like everyone else, but after we played Sleeping Alone, he came up and asked if we had permission to use that song.”
“You should have seen Louie get in his face and give the man a piece of his mind and how the band doesn’t perform anything that they don’t have permission for or songs that are no longer under copyright,” Mick grins.
“The man backed off after that,” Johnny laughs. “But then he started asking about you, but none of us would tell him where he could find you. The man went back to the bar and took a seat, but he got information out of the bartender that you usually show up here a couple of times a month, usually on the weekend so he’s been coming back ever since, waiting for you to show up and asking the bartender if you’ve been in.”
“Fuck!”
Johnny and Mick spear me with a disapproving look. They hate that word, and a few others, but they really hate that one and I think it’s a generation thing.
“Sorry,” I mutter.
“Don’t apologize to us. Apologize to Bethany,” Johnny orders.
I look at Bethany. “I apologize, Bethany.”
She gives me a small smile and ducks her head.
“It’s a wonder she’s sitting here with you if that’s the kind of language you use around her.”
Her face starts to turn pink, and mine’s a little hot too.
Totally a generation thing, but that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t watch my language because there are other words I could use for this situation. Not that I can think of anything at the moment, but I’m sure there are.
I glance over at the bar, wondering if the guy is here tonight. The bartender is talking to some guy in a suit and pointing in my direction. I turn quickly. “Is he here now?”
“Yep. That’s him.” Johnny answers after he looks over.
“Fu….Crap!”
They both grin and nod as if in approval of my altered words.
The producer must want Christian bad if he’s going so far out of his way to find him. “Why didn’t they just call you?”
“I don’t know if it’s the same guy, but one of the producers who met with Grey has been calling me for weeks. Since I don’t want to be a part of that group, or tour, I’ve just ignored it.”
“Maybe they want something else.” It’s none of my business, but shouldn’t Christian at least talk to the guy?
Christian shrugs. “I’ll talk to him later, just to get him to stop calling me, but I’m not going back with that band.”
“Still, it’s got to be nice to know that a producer is interested.” Isn’t that what all musicians want?”
The side of his mouth tips. “Yeah, it is. Not that it makes a difference, but it does feel good.”
The band starts playing something from the sixties and I look to Christian. They just played a newer song, but I assumed it was because Christian wrote it, because everything else has been older.
“We do all eras.” He answers the question he must have read in my eyes. “As long as the song works with the guys and vocals aren’t necessary, they’ll add it to their repertoire.”
That’s good to know, and maybe that’s why this place remains popular. I glance around. The place is packed, and got that way in the last half hour. There isn’t one free seat, well, except the empty ones for people dancing. And, it isn’t just an older crowd, like I expected, but college age too and almost every age between twenty-one and past retirement. Bee Bee’s isn’t as big as the Poison Apple, but it’s just as crowded as that place gets on a Saturday night when a band is performing. However it isn’t as loud. I can still enjoy the music, but I don’t have to scream to be heard either. That is really nice.
“Okay, Christian, I’m going to lay it out for you before that producer gets a hold of you,” Johnny says.
“I’ll talk to him, but I don’t want what the other guys do, so don’t worry.”
“We’ll we don’t know what he’s going to dangle before you, so hear me out.”
Christian takes a deep sigh, his shoulders rising and falling. “Okay. What do you want to say?”
“We are getting old.”
“You’ve established that,” Christian laughs.
“So is Louie.”
Christian glances to the stage.
“Five nights a week are rough on an old guy and you’re young.”
“What do you want, Johnny?” Christian asks.
He looks at Mick, who sits forward. “Well, Louie wanted to be the one to talk to you about this, but with that producer and all, we’ll say it for him.”
“You don’t have to worry about the producer,” Christian argues.
“He wants you to replace him in the band.”
Christian stiffens and then leans back in his seat. “Is he sick or is there anything I need to know about?” he asks in concern.
“No.” Johnny waves his hands. “Nothing like that. Just tired. We’ve been playing for five decades and it’s time to pull back.”
“That’s why Oliver has taken over for me,” Mick says. “And Junior for Johnny. Our grandsons know the music and learned at our knees. You’re the closest thing that Louie has to a son or grandson, and it’s only right that you take his place.”
Christian looks at me. I wish I could read what is going on in his mind, but his dark eyes are only thoughtful.
“Are guys lined up for Roy, Miles and Davey?” he finally asks.
“Miles doesn’t have anybody, but since you play all the instruments, and more, that Louie and Miles do, we didn’t think that would be a problem.”
Christian snorts. “You’ve thought this through, I see.”
“Yeah,” Mick says “We’re not just taking anyone off the street,” he assures Christian. “Roy’s grandson just graduated college, but wants to think about it, but he can sure play a mean trumpet. He also plays sax and trombone, like you, so it should all work.”
“What abou
t Davey?” Christian asks.
“Well, as you know, Davy only had daughters, and granddaughters.”
“Poor guy,” Johnny shakes his head.
“There isn’t anything wrong with girls,” I laugh.
They grin at me. “He does have one granddaughter who is amazing on the guitar, violin, cello, and drums when necessary. She’s been out of college a year and hasn’t been able to find a job that isn’t dead-end.” The two guys look at each other. “We’ve just been trying to figure out if a girl would work.”
I don’t know why I’m offended, but I am. “It is the twenty-first century,” I point out.
They laugh. “We know, and she wants to play.”
“So let her.” Christian throws up his hands and leans back.
“That’s what Junior and Oliver said.”
“They are the new guys,” Christian reminds them. “If you are all going to retire, isn’t it up to them to decide who they want to play with?”
Mick and Johnny nod.
“So, will you think about it?” Johnny asks.
“I don’t have to. But I want to talk to Bethany about it before anything is set.” He takes my hand. “I’ve learned the hard way that if I want to keep her in my life, I don’t make any decision without talking about it with her.”
I meet his dark eyes. This is his decision. Not an us decision. His career, not mine.
He squeezes my hand. “I have learned. I really have. I just need time to prove it to you if you will let me.”
With that well-placed hammer, the wall I was trying to build around my heart shatters. Mentally I try to rebuild it, but it’s not going up as quickly as I like. Of course, I worked on it for weeks, but clearly I didn’t build it strong enough.
44
I really wanted to have a heart to heart with Bethany tonight. I wanted to apologize for the way I shut her out and assure her that it would never happen again, but I’m not going to get that chance. Not with Johnny and Mick sitting with us. So, I told her the only way I knew how and I hope she gets it.
The set ends and the guys put down their instruments and head to our table.
Louie is watching the bar. “Did you tell him?”
“Yep,” Johnny says.
“Well?” Louie asks. “Will you do it? Take my place so I can rest these weary bones.”
I roll my eyes. “There’s nothing weary about you Louie.”
“Oh, the aches and pains.” He presses a hand against his lower back.
I give him a pointed look. “It’s not going to work on me.”
He winks. “Fine. So, what do you think?”
I look at Bethany again. “We just need to discuss it.”
He looks at Bethany and then slowly nods, as if he approves. It wouldn’t matter if he didn’t.
The waitress brings over tall glasses of water and shots of bourbon. It’s what the guys always do between sets. A shot and then hydrate.
“Why don’t you come by tomorrow?” Oliver says. “We can see how we sound together.” Then he looks at Davy. “Eliza too.”
So, at least those guys aren’t against a girl being in the band. I’m not either, but even if I was, Bethany would probably damage my only good ball. “Bee Bee’s isn’t open on Sundays,” I remind them.
“We can come in and play if we need to,” Tripp says.
I nod. “What time?” It would be good to play again. Play with others instead of just me and my horn at home.
“One?”
“Sounds good.”
“Excuse me.” The man at the bar pushes his way through and hands out a card. “Preston Murphy of Insight and Indulge Studios.”
It is the same guy who has been leaving the voicemails I delete. Well, the second guy that started calling, but it’s the same studio.
“Can we talk for a bit?”
Bethany squeeze my hand. “At least hear him out?”
I lean close to her. “Only because you’re asking.” Then I stand. “Sure.”
Preston leads me to the back of the bar, away from the other patrons.
“Before you get started, I don’t want anything to do with Grey.”
He blinks at me.
“We broke for a reason and I don’t want any part of them.”
“We don’t either.”
I take a step back. “Then what do you want?”
“We always wanted you,” he says and it nearly knocks the air from my lungs.
“Me?”
“We just thought the others came with you, but it’s your music, what you’ve written, that got our attention.”
My brain is having a hard time taking in what he’s saying. “Why didn’t you go through Harry?” He was the agent for the band.
“Two reasons,” Preston grins. “First, he announced that he represented Grey and that you were no longer a part of them before he ever found out what we wanted.”
That doesn’t surprise me. After all, I’m the one who wouldn’t go along with everyone.
“Like I said, we weren’t interested in them without you and then when we found out they blew off already booked gigs to meet with us, we were done with them.”
“Harry said it was necessary because of your schedule.”
“Harry didn’t explain you guys had commitments when I gave him a date. Instead of asking for a later meeting, he took what was offered.”
Those guys seriously screwed themselves, but I can’t find it in me to feel bad for them. “Look, they wanted a recording deal, not me. They want to tour and I don’t.”
This time Preston steps back and frowns in confusion. “You don’t want a recording deal?”
“Not if it means touring or going to California.”
“What if all the recordings can be done at our studio in New York?”
My pulse picks up. “Touring?”
He shrugs. “It’s a way to get your name out there. Start off as the opening for a bigger band and go from there.”
“I don’t want to tour. I won’t leave New York.” I may be passing up a great opportunity, but I didn’t want to tour before I was diagnosed with cancer. That only made me fight harder for my dream. Tonight I’m starting on getting the girl back and later I’ll work on the house, picket fence and family.
“How about if we start small?” he says after a minute. “How many more songs have you written?”
I shrug. “A couple of dozen.”
Preston seems surprised. “Why didn’t your Harry get those out?”
“Money.” It costs a lot to record and then get it out there.
“Okay, here is what I propose,” Preston starts.
I can’t believe this guy is about to offer me a deal from a major recording studio. That was never on my wish list. Of course it’s great and most guys would jump at the opportunity, but there has to be a catch. There always is.
“One year contract to see how it goes.
“No touring?”
“No touring, but we’d still want you to play gigs in New York or New Jersey.”
Neither of those are touring, even if I had to go to the other end of the state. “Okay.”
“We’ll build your name, see if we like your other songs and take it from there.”
I’d be a fool to pass this up, and if I can keep touring off the table, I am most definitely interested. Glancing back I see the guy’s head up to the stage for another set and Bethany is alone with Johnny and Mick, not that I worry about anything they might say. But, I will make no decisions without talking to her. And, the guys I live with and the guys in the band.
I’m lucky to have two families, but it took Bethany and the cancer to wake me up. Despite having so many people in my life that love me and I love back, I’ve been more of a loner, just like I was at twelve and it has got to stop now.
But, hearing what else Preston has to say is not making a decision without anyone’s input. “Okay, we can talk.”
A smile breaks. “We’ll set up a meeting and I’ll get a cont
ract started.”
Johnny is watching us and I smile. “I’ll bring my attorney.”
Christian was really quiet when he returned to the table and even though Johnny and Mick pressed for information, Christian only told the guys that this Preston had given him some stuff to think about.
It was a really good night and I enjoyed being out with Christian and meeting the guys that rescued him from the alley and jail. It was also good to just be out with others and simply enjoy instead of focusing on us and our relationship. Except, that part of the night is over and we are standing outside of my apartment building. Do I ask him up or wait to talk at another time? If I ask him up, will he assume we are going to pick right up where we left off, before the pregnancy test?
“Hey, we didn’t really get a chance to talk.” Christian takes my hand. “There are things I need to say and I hope you are willing to listen.”
My heart is pounding. Am I strong enough to listen and not fall right back in love with him?
“If you’re too tired, we can talk later.”
He’s almost disappointed, and we should talk. Putting it off will only make things worse, especially since before long there is going to be a baby bump that he will be asking about. Not that I intend to tell him about the baby tonight because I still need to work up to that.
“Come on up. I’ll make coffee.” I wave the keycard so the door will open. “But it’s decaf, if you don’t mind. I think I only got through college because half of my blood was caffeine. I’m now trying to cut it entirely from my diet.” That is partially true. I was seriously addicted to caffeine and needed to cut back, the pregnancy made me cut it out for good. However, I love the taste and do allow myself a cup of decaf when I need it. I haven’t needed one for about a week, but I certainly want one now. The doctor said that decaf coffee, on occasion, was okay, but that even that contains small amounts of caffeine, so I’ve been really careful. It’s my comfort beverage, along with wine, but I won’t be able to have wine for months. “Or, I could make some tea.” My aunt has sent jars of herbal tea, all of which my doctor has approved.
Shake, Rattle and Roll: The Baxter Boys #4 (The Baxter Boys ~ Rattled) Page 26