Love Power
Page 32
Gee sat curled up on the wicker couch, a fuzzy afghan draped around her shoulders and her feet tucked beneath her knees. She unconsciously chewed the eraser on a #2 pencil as she hum-tested the different melodies from the unrecorded WarBirds songs.
She looked up. “You know what, Pops? These are good. Really good. You’re a fucking genius.”
Ken stopped tuning Ramona, lowering the red jazz bass guitar onto his knees. “No, Gee. They’re fucking great.”
“Strange thing, though.” Gee frowned, repeatedly tapping a legal pad. “This ain’t your handwriting.”
“No, it’s not.” Ken sighed, closing his eyes. “That’s because Marianne Tanner wrote every goddamn one of ‘em. I never wrote a single lyric or note. It was a lie. Marianne wrote every goddamn song.”
“Excuse me?” The afghan slid to the floor as Gee sat up.
“S’right.” Ken dropped his chin to his chest. “Those songs are hers, every bit of ‘em. I used the plane crash as an excuse to quit writing because I knew fans would notice if I tried writing a WarBird’s song. Fans notice shit like that. Critics, too.” He pointed at the legal pads. “Marianne got stifled by what we did, but all of those songs and that music belongs to her.”
“Oh, Pops. That is fucking pathetic.”
“I know it is, Gee. That’s just the way it was back then. Part of the times.”
“So, who do those songs belong to now?” Jane asked.
Ken looked startled. “Never thought of that.” He idly scratched his chin. “I guess they belong to Gee. You were Marianne’s only child. She didn’t have any other family. I think that makes you her heir.”
“Really?” Gee eagerly stacked the songs, straightening them neatly. “Then I have an idea. I think you should record a comeback album, Pops. I’ll produce it - if you play bass.”
“I don’t know, Gee.” Ken looked troubled. “I haven’t recorded a note in thirty-five years.”
“It’ll come back to you.” She stood. “I know it will. You just need to practice. I’ll help.”
“We could rent a music studio from Guardian Storage,” Jane suggested.
Gee turned in surprise. “Would you really go back there after the shitty way they treated you?”
“Why not? I’m through closing doors. Fuck it. If they’ve got what we need, I say let’s use it.”
Laughing loudly, Ken shook his head, his eyes bright with excitement. “What a crazy fucking idea! But we can’t call it Blood Sport. That’s done. That’s over. We’d need to come up with a new title, something different, something fresh.”
“Street Angel.” Jane blurted. “Name it after Marianne because it’s her voice that got lost.”
“Hot damn.” Ken snapped his thick fingers. “I love this idea! What a hook! With that backstory it’ll sell like hotcakes! People’ll remember Scottie and Mick and Lemonhead again. The advance’ll cover the bail bond for your mother and Aunt Babette.” Leaning forward, he tapped Gee’s knee. “What the hell. Why stop there? We might even get enough money to open that dance club you wanted, Gee. I could invest in it, be your silent partner.”
“I’m already seriously doubting the ‘silent’ part of that.” Gee smirked. “Just saying.”
“Holy shit!” Clapping his hands, Ken popped off a crack that startled the ravens from the trees. “We might have a real shot at this!”
About the Author
Martha Reed is the Independent Publisher (“IPPY”) Book Award-winning crime fiction author of the John and Sarah Jarad Nantucket Mystery series. Her short stories and articles have appeared in Pearl 26, Spinetingler, Mystery Readers Journal, Mysterical-e, and in LUCKY CHARMS - 12 Crime Tales, an anthology published by the Mary Roberts Rinehart Pittsburgh chapter of Sisters in Crime, Inc.
She’s an active member of the Gulf Coast and the Guppies chapters of Sisters in Crime, Inc. and she fully supports SinC’s mission statement: “to promote the ongoing advancement, recognition, and professional development of women crime writers.”
She’s a member of Mystery Writers of America (MWA), a monthly contributor to the revered Writers Who Kill blog and in a moment of great personal folly at Bouchercon 2016, she joined the New Orleans Bourbon Society (N.O.B.S.)
For more information, visit her website: reedmenow.com. You are invited to follow her on Facebook and Twitter @ReedMartha.