by Neil Plakcy
Everyone laughed, and Gavin admired his dad’s smooth delivery. As a teenager, he’d thought his father the epitome of fakery, the way he always had a smile plastered on his face even when delivering bad news. Now, though, he saw that ability to charm people as an asset and recognized that he’d inherited it. Most of the time, he was so casual about beguiling teachers, service people, and cute guys that he hardly noticed he was doing it.
Gavin’s mother stood to clear the table, and Erica jumped up to help. “Thank you, sweetheart, but you stay here,” his mom said. “I know you two and Richard want to talk business.”
“There isn’t much business to talk,” his father said. “If all three of you don’t want to perform, there isn’t a group. Unless you have someone else who could take Archie’s place.”
“We’re going to see him tomorrow,” Gavin said. “We’ll work on him.”
“His parents are pretty clear they don’t want him giving up his career at the bank,” his father said. “And everyone in this family knows how iffy the music business can be.”
“You didn’t want to be a car salesman when you were my age, did you, Dad?” Gavin asked.
“When I was your age I didn’t have a wife and family to worry about.”
“Exactly,” Gavin said. “Just like the three of us.” His mother returned with an apple pie. “Mom, tell Erica the story of how you and dad met. She’ll think it’s really romantic.”
“Oh, that was so long ago,” his mother said as she began to slice the pie.
“I’d like to hear it, Aunt Natalie,” Erica said.
“I was living in Chicago and studying to be a runway model at John Robert Powers,” Gavin’s mother said. “A couple of friends and I used to go for walks along the lakefront in the summer. One day I saw this handsome man in a very snazzy sailor’s uniform.”
“And he introduced you to Uncle Richard?” Erica asked with a grin.
“He was your Uncle Richard,” Natalie said. “He was the first mate on a big yacht moored at Belmont Harbor, and he invited us all to come aboard and see what a luxury yacht was like.”
“Slick, huh?” Gavin said to Erica. “So you see, after college my dad decided he wanted to see the world, so he got this job.”
“And I saw a lot of Lake Michigan,” his father said.
“The point is, you took some chances while you were young. And if you’d never done that, you would never have met Mom.”
“Your son takes after you, Richard,” Gavin’s mother said. “He has that same honey tongue. Now, everyone have some pie.”
After dinner, his father went into his study and printed out the contracts that Gavin, Erica, and Archie had signed—one with Miles Goodwin, the other with the Grand Music Theater.
They had to wait to read them until after his mother had finished bustling around getting Erica settled in Gretchen’s room. “We’re thinking of converting Gavin’s room to a nursery, if Gretchen wants to come back and stay with us,” she said to both of them.
“Then where will I stay when I come home?” Gavin asked.
“There’s a sofa in the family room. Or perhaps you can find a friend to stay with.”
She winked at Erica, and Gavin pretended to be mortally wounded. They went downstairs to the living room and started to read the contracts. Gavin used his cell phone to look up legal terms on the Internet. There were a bunch of clauses neither of them quite understood, but the intent was clear. They had agreed to let Miles Goodwin manage them as a group through the performance at the Grand Music Theater and given him the right to produce music based on that show and anything “derivative,” whatever that meant.
They finally gave up around eleven and went up to bed. Gavin lay there, surrounded by the debris of his youth, and thought about his parents as young people, the way they had both gone out to seek their future and found each other.
Was that going to be his story with Miles—the “meet cute” at the coffee shop, the way they had bonded over music? What if their relationship didn’t work out, though, and they had to work together? He circled back to what Miles had said at the get-go, that it was tough for an artist and a producer to work together if they were dating at the same time.
Then he reminded himself that if he could convince Archie to be in the group, he needed to talk to his father about those contracts. Were they locked in to working with Miles?
What exactly was going to be in his future? Suppose this opportunity was the only big chance he’d get. If Archie wouldn’t sing with them and they couldn’t make the group work without him, then he’d be back behind the counter at Java Joe’s, working as a barista until he finally gave up every other dream and ended up back in Eau Claire, glad-handing potential car buyers and turning into a bad, gay imitation of his own father.
Four Pairs
Gavin spent a restless night, and he was up early, making coffee for everyone.
“This is a nice change,” his mother said when she walked into the kitchen. “Usually I’m the first one up.” She peered closely at him. “Who are you, and what have you done with my sleep-in-till-noon son?”
“Funny, Mom,” he said, handing her a cup of coffee. “Dad said the same thing at Starlit Lake. I have to be at work at seven most days. And sometimes when I’m not at Java Joe’s, I have a modeling call and I have to be dressed and ready at sunrise.”
“It’s always nice to have you home,” she said, kissing his cheek. “I hope Gretchen will come back. Though I wish she was bringing a husband as well as a baby.”
“You really want her to come back here?”
“‘Home is the place where, when you have to go there, they have to take you in,’” his mother said.
His mother had always loved poetry. She’d recited poems to him and Gretchen when they were little and rewarded them with candy when they memorized one. “Is that Robert Frost?” he asked.
“‘The Death of a Hired Man,’” she said. “You remember it?”
“Just that line.” He sipped his coffee. “You think Gretchen will come back?”
“I don’t know. We’ve made the offer. But she’s being very cagey—you know your sister. The father may or may not be in the picture. The place she works has day care on the premises, even for infants, so she could go back to work almost immediately. And apparently she’s done well enough for herself that she doesn’t need money from us.”
She sat down at the table. “Was I a bad mother, Gavin? Why doesn’t my daughter want anything to do with me?”
“Oh, Mom.” Gavin put his arm around her shoulders. “You know Wretched. She’s always been this way, ever since she was a baby. Are you sure she’s really yours?”
His mother hiccupped a giggle. “I was there when she was born. Maybe I should have breast-fed. They say that helps a baby bond to the mother.”
“Please, Mom. No breasts.” Gavin held up his fingers in the shape of a cross, as if warding off a demon, and this time his mother laughed outright.
His father came in then and accepted a cup of coffee without comment. He was going over to the dealership, just to check in, and then off to an auction of hand and power tools. His mother was going to work in the garden.
“Are you and Erica coming back to stay tonight?” she asked.
Gavin shook his head. “Erica has an audition tomorrow afternoon, so she needs to be back in Madison.”
They packed up and got into Erica’s little car again. She had just turned on to Route 53 for the quick drive north to Chippewa Falls when Gavin’s phone rang. He looked at the display and then shut the ringer off.
“Miles?” Erica asked.
“Yup. Don’t want to talk to him.”
She didn’t say anything more. When they got to Chippewa Falls, they picked up doughnuts and coffee, then found the apartment Archie was sharing with a college friend. Only, the “college friend,” was Mary Anne, they discovered when she answered the door in a shortie nightgown.
Archie loomed behind her in a Wisconsin T
-shirt and boxer shorts. “What are you doing here?”
Gavin offered the coffee and doughnuts. “We come in peace.” He couldn’t help noticing that his cousin filled out his T-shirt very well.
“Any cream-filled?” Mary Anne asked, taking the box.
“Yup,” Gavin said. “We got an assortment.”
“I guess you guys should come in,” Archie said reluctantly. He stepped aside to let them through the door, and they all followed Mary Anne to the kitchen. Archie grabbed a pair of shorts from the sofa on the way.
“So how long have you been scamming your folks about Mary Anne living here?” Gavin asked Archie.
“You tell them, and I’ll kill you,” he said. “Remember, I took judo for four years when we were kids.”
Gavin remembered Archie’s judo kicks and hand swipes but doubted that his cousin could do any real damage. “Course not,” Gavin said.
“I did start out with another guy,” Archie said as they all sat down to doughnuts and lukewarm coffee. “This college friend of mine. But all he wanted to do was drink and smoke dope, and I made him move out after a couple of months. It was just easier to have Mary Anne move in.”
“How’s your job?” Erica asked her.
“I’m a case worker for the state of Wisconsin,” she said to Gavin. “I hate it. I thought I would be helping people, but all I’m doing is pushing paper and telling people that they don’t qualify for benefits.”
“Mary Anne majored in sociology,” Archie said proudly. “But she’s really good with numbers. Her minor was in math.”
“I’m thinking about going back to school for an MBA,” she said, toying with her coffee cup. “But that might just be a reaction to this horrible job.” She turned to Gavin. “So what are you guys doing up here?”
Erica looked at Gavin. “This is your show.”
Gavin decided that the best way to get to Archie was going to be through Mary Anne. “You know about the YouTube videos, right?” he asked her.
She nodded. “I think they’re awesome. I keep telling Archie he’s got talent, but he won’t listen.”
“Well, Miles created an MP3 file of us singing that cover of ‘I’m Yours,’ and he put it up on iTunes for sale.”
Archie put his coffee cup down so hard on the table that it spilled over the side, but he didn’t notice. “I still can’t believe he did that.”
“Did you ever read that contract we all signed, Mr. Business Major?” Erica asked.
“Business doesn’t equal law. Uncle Richard said it was okay, so I signed.”
“We’re all in the same boat,” Gavin said. “We trusted my father. He said we should sign, so we did.” He sipped his coffee. It was nowhere as good as he made at Java Joe’s. If things didn’t work out with the group, he could always open a franchise in Chippewa Falls selling decent coffee.
“Gavin and I read through everything last night,” Erica said. “Basically, it authorized Miles as our manager to ‘engage in appropriate activities to promote and market the group.’” She used her fingers to wiggle in the quotation marks.
“And it’s not like he’s cheating us or anything,” Gavin said. “He gets a percentage of the revenue, but most of it comes to us.”
“How?” Archie asked.
“Right now, as far as we can tell, the money goes to a bank account managed by Alan’s law firm in LA, just the way the royalties for the Sweethearts’ music does. So it’s all legit, and my dad is a trustee on the account.”
“Yeah, and your dad is the one who got us to sign that contract.” Archie looked up suddenly. “It doesn’t say anything else, does it? Like that we have to record or perform or anything?”
“There’s some wording that we didn’t quite understand, about derivative materials. But there’s definitely an opportunity for us. We could record some more songs and put out a CD. Play some concerts, see if we can develop a following.”
Archie shook his head. “Like ninety-nine point nine percent of music groups don’t succeed. It’s just too much of a gamble.”
“What else are you going to do with your life, Archie?” Mary Anne asked. “Work at the bank for thirty years and retire with a gold watch? You know that’s not going to happen. The bank could be sold to some national chain next week, and they could close down your branch. This way you could control your own destiny.” She smiled slyly at him. “Plus, you look really sexy up on stage.”
A red flush spread on Archie’s pale cheeks, a few shades darker than his hair. “Go on,” he said.
“I can be your groupie and help with business stuff,” Mary Anne said. “Like you said, I’m good with numbers. And I’m really organized.”
Gavin glanced at Erica, who quirked one eyebrow up at him.
“What do you say, Arch?” he asked. “Are you in?”
Archie groaned. “You’re all ganging up on me.”
“You know it’s what you want,” Gavin said. “I’ve seen those MadHatter videos. You look really alive on stage.”
“This isn’t going to be as easy as you make it sound,” Archie grumbled. “But I have to admit that after a year at the bank, processing loans and opening new accounts doesn’t have the same shine it did once.”
Gavin laughed and held out his hand, as they’d done at the lake. This time, there were four pairs of hands piling on top of each other. The only pair missing was the one that belonged to Miles, and Gavin wasn’t sure if he wanted them there or not.
“I need a break for a minute,” Gavin said. He stood up, walked out Archie’s front door to the small patch of grass between the parking lot and the street, and pulled out his cell phone.
Miles’s mellow voice floated into the warm air as Gavin played his message. “Need to talk to you, Gavin. We have a lot going on. Call me.”
Gavin stared at the phone after the message finished. Not the most romantic voice mail he’d ever gotten. He couldn’t get over the lingering thought that Miles had taken advantage of him somehow in weaseling his way into the Sweethearts’ orbit. He had to admit, though, that it was Miles’s coaching and his initiative that had made the concert, and the song launches, such a success.
He heard a high-pitched pattern of chirps and realized it was coming from above him, in the branches of an ancient oak. He scanned through the leaves and finally spotted a plump robin with its distinctive orange breast perched on a thin branch.
He tried to imitate the bird’s tweet, but he knew that he sounded nothing like it. At least he recognized the key, he thought. That was something Miles had taught him.
He started to walk down the street as the robin kept chirping above him. He had felt something different with Miles, something he’d never felt before. Was it love? Could he give that up? Could he even try, if they were all going to be working together?
The new Sweethearts were going to face a lot of obstacles, from their lack of experience, to their parental disapproval. But Gavin knew the toughest part would be to work with Miles without being with him.
He took a deep breath and made up his mind. Then he went back into the apartment.
Overcoming Obstacles
When Gavin walked in, Mary Anne said, “We need a business plan, right? I’ll get a notebook.”
She stood up, still in her shortie nightgown, and Gavin noticed Archie watching her walk away.
He slid back into his chair and grabbed a doughnut. “Do you guys think we can all work with Miles?” he asked.
“It’s more like whether you can,” Erica said. “Are you still mad at him?”
“Why are you mad?” Archie asked.
“I’m not sure if he really likes me or if he’s just been using me to get this whole concert-recording thing going.”
“He seems sweet,” Mary Anne said as she walked back in, having changed into a T-shirt and denim shorts. “And just from the outside, it looks like he’s into you.”
“But what if he’s just acting?” Gavin asked. “He’s a guy, after all. Guys have been known to do lo
usy things when sex and money are involved.”
“Speak for yourself,” Archie said, and Mary Anne snorted.
“Let’s just assume that you and Miles can make up and we move forward,” Mary Anne said. She waved a pen, which had pink feathers attached to the end, at them. “So where do we start?”
“We need original songs,” Gavin said. “Miles says we can’t make a CD out of covers. He knows a guy in Nashville, and he’s looking for stuff for us to sing.”
“Archie writes songs,” Mary Anne said.
“No,” Archie said.
“You do?” Erica asked. “I didn’t know that.”
“He doesn’t like to show anybody, but he’s really good,” Mary Anne said. “Go on. Sing one for them.”
“Come on, Arch,” Gavin said. “What’s the worst that can happen? We’ll laugh at you. We already do that.”
Archie kicked him under the table, and Gavin yelped.
“Fine,” Archie said. He began to sing a cappella, without any of his usual beat-boxing or other vocal techniques, and Gavin was surprised at how smooth his tone was.
The song, about walking a girl through fields of tall corn, had a mellow vibe with a catchy chorus, and Erica joined in, adding a couple of trills to her voice, as if she was the girl Archie was walking with.
“That was so awesome,” Mary Anne said when they finished. “Even better with the girl’s voice, Arch.”
“She’s right,” Gavin said. “I had no idea you were so multi-talented. I can barely read music, much less write it. Do you have others?”
“Not that I can sing by heart,” Archie said. “And most of them aren’t finished.”
“Maybe Miles can hook you up with his songwriter friend,” Erica said. “To help you finish and orchestrate.”
Gavin loved the way the pink feathers flapped as Mary Anne wrote furiously in her notebook. They spent the rest of the morning brainstorming, singing bits of music and making plans.