CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Buddy Collins leaned back in his office chair, his boots propped up on the massive oak desk, looking over paperwork. His entire colorful office was a shrine to country music with wall-to-wall bookshelves crammed with memorabilia and framed pictures of the past two decades of himself with some of the most successful country celebrities of all time. The decorated walls looked like a virtual art gallery, displaying vintage posters advertising events at the Ryman and more photos of famous bluegrass, honky-tonk and contemporary country artists winning awards under the Warner Music label. Mounted on the walls were several largemouth bass and the giant head of a buck with impressive antlers in between some of the posters, a testament to his love of hunting and fishing. Clay couldn’t help himself and chuckled at the sight of his bigwig friend wearing reading glasses.
“Clay!” he startled, sitting up quickly and swiping the glasses off his face. “What a nice surprise. I didn’t hear you come in.”
“Hey, Buddy. Sorry to interrupt.” He leaned over the large desk and firmly shook his hand. Clay sat in an expensive club chair across from Buddy and rested his booted ankle across his knee.
“What do I owe the pleasure of your visit today?” Buddy asked, picking up a white ceramic coffee mug and taking a sip. Clay could see the lettering on the cup and stifled another smile. The cup read, “The porch light’s on, but no one’s home.” A gift from one of his redneck hunting buddies, he supposed.
“I want to talk to you. Seriously.” He hesitated to know that Buddy would probably go out of his mind when he told him his decision. “I’m in.”
Buddy furrowed his bushy eyebrows and stared back at him with sharp eyes. “You’re in?”
Clay grinned and ran a hand through his hair, waiting for his comment to sink in. “Yeah. I’m in. The Ryman anniversary show, touring—everything your other artists do.”
The lights suddenly came on in Buddy’s eyes. “Oh! Fuck! You’re in!” He just about fell out of his chair as he struggled to stand. “Holy shit! This is great news!” The big man came from around his desk and pulled Clay to his feet, tackling him with a bear hug. “Oh, my god, Clay! This is the best news I’ve had in years! It’s not April Fool’s Day, is it? You don’t have a hidden camera in here trying to punk me or anything?” He looked around quickly.
Clay laughed. “No man, it’s true. I’m in.”
“Well, damn boy!” He squeezed his shoulder. “You certainly surprised me. This is cause for a celebration toast. Have a seat.” The big man went around the massive desk, opened a lower drawer, and pulled out a small bottle of bourbon and two shot glasses.
“Is that what I think it is?” Clay asked, eyeing the expensive bottle. He recognized the bourbon from a tasting he had been fortunate to be a part of at the Historic Hermitage Hotel a few years back with some of the label heads. He had a fondness for good whiskey and bourbon, instilled during those early days in Nashville. The bottle in Buddy’s hand was probably one of the best and most expensive bottles of bourbon in the entire state.
“Yes, it is. Jefferson’s eighteen-year-old Presidential Select. This baby only sees the light of day when something extraordinary happens. And believe me, this is it!” He poured the amber liquid into the small glasses and handed him one. “You know what they say? Nashville is a drinkin’ town with a music problem.”
Clay nodded and laughed.
“Seriously. Cheers to the future of the talented Georgia Clay finally signing with Warner Music Nashville.”
“Cheers…” They clinked glasses and threw the shots back. Clay closed his eyes, allowing the woodiness of the drink to infiltrate his system. It was damn good. “Holy fuck, that’s smooth!”
Buddy smiled and nodded toward his glass, pouring him another shot. The two men sat back down and sipped.
“Here’s how it’s gonna go, Clay. Things will move pretty quickly. We’ll get a contract together and send it over to your lawyer. Once you’re cool with everything, we’ll get on the horn and get this tour set up fast. I’d like for you to be on the road for a special holiday excursion. You’ll need to go over your current catalog and figure out what lucky bastard you want to produce your first album and what songs—”
“I’ll have a say in that?” he interrupted.
“Yes, sir.”
Clay was flabbergasted. “I don’t get it, Buddy. Most new artists don’t have a say in anything with their first record or tour. Why are you giving me a choice? What’s the catch?”
Buddy set his glass down, interlocking his fingers on top of the desk and looked Clay in the eye. “There’s no catch. Do you not realize how big you already are in this business? You’re country music royalty! Of course, Warner Music is going to pull out all the stops to make sure our new prince is happy. You have a knack for hit songs, and you’re a talented son-of-a-bitch. We’re gonna make a ton of money together.”
“Wow.”
“Yes, wow! Now between studio time recording and working with your new tour manager getting your show put together, you’re gonna be a busy guy. First and foremost, we need to sit down and talk about the Ryman Anniversary show in September. You’ve got about six weeks. Each artist on the roll call is doing two songs. I want to showcase you last as a special finale welcoming you into the family, so I’ll need four songs from you.”
“Four?”
Buddy laughed. “Yeah, four. And they need to be songs that will come out on your first record. Preferably songs that will shoot to number one.”
Clay’s head was spinning, and it wasn’t from the alcohol. It was obvious Buddy had spent some time already thinking about the possibility of him agreeing to his offer. Four songs performed at the Ryman Anniversary show? That was two more than some of the featured biggest names in country music. His heart was racing. Buddy seemed to sense his nervousness.
“Now don’t be getting all out of whack. You got this, Clay. It’s just like the Bluebird, only more people in the audience.”
“If you say so…”
Buddy leaned his elbows on the desk, pushing himself forward with authority. “I do say so. You were born to do this. I’m just happy you’ve finally come to your senses. What was the deciding factor, if you don’t mind me asking? Was it that pretty little Atlanta girl who came to see you a couple of weeks ago?”
Clay couldn’t help the immediate grin that spread across his face and looked down at the glass he was fingering nervously. It was hard not to smile when he thought of Katie. “It was a combination of things, I guess.” He lifted his head and looked intently at his friend. “I’ve been thinking about this since the first time you offered me a recording contract three years ago. I like to weigh my pros and cons—take my time on big decisions.”
“I’ll say! Thank god you swung my way. This sure is a hell-of-a-way to start the work week.” Buddy lifted his glass into the air in a salute before tipping it back and downing the bourbon in one swallow. Clay followed suit. “Now get outta here. I got work to do on behalf of my new male country music superstar.”
Clay stood bashfully, shifting in his boots. “Thank you, Buddy. I mean it.” He thrust his hand out across the desk.
Buddy took it and laid his other hand on top. “No, Clay. Thank you.”
***
Katie sprawled across her king-sized bed in nothing but her bra and panties, trying to cool off from the August heat. She had come home at a decent hour after work for a change, trying to coax her body into a new workout regime that included a brisk walk around the neighborhood. What she didn’t anticipate was how freakishly hot it was outside in the early evening. Every ounce of water she had consumed that day poured out of her in buckets of sweat. Her cheeks flushed, and her hair was soaked. The AC and spinning ceiling fan did little to cool her down, and when her cell phone rang, she moaned, not wanting to move.
“Hello, this is Katie Parker,” she answered with her eyes closed.
“Katie? It’s Clay. What are you doing?”
“Clay?” She sat up with a start. He normally called around ten in the evening. On occasion, he called her at the office to let her know he was pining for her. “Is everything okay?”
“Yeah. Everything is…great! I couldn’t wait to call you tonight. I wanted you to be the first to know.”
She held her breath. “The first to know what?”
“I did it. I talked to Buddy. The wheels are in motion for me to sign with Warner Music as a touring artist!”
She jumped off the bed and squealed. “Oh, my god! That’s fantastic! Was he surprised?”
Tapping the speakerphone button on her cell, she set it on the nightstand and grabbed a towel to wipe the continuous sweat that trickled from her pores. She listened intently to Clay give her a play-by-play of his conversation with Buddy. When he told her he would have carte blanche of what songs would go on his first record and he would get to pick his producer, she was in awe.
“Buddy wants to get a special holiday tour together and head out after the Ryman show. He thinks we’re going to make a lot of money together on the road.”
“Wow…,” she sighed, sitting on the edge of the bed. Her chest was heaving, and her head started to ache. A small panic button had gone off in her brain, throwing her off. She was excited for Clay, sure. But the realization that it was all happening so quickly caught her off guard. “What happens next?” Her voice was small.
“He wants to concentrate on the Ryman show and recording my debut album. We have about six weeks to put it all together. Katie, he wants me to perform four songs that night…four! The other artists only get two. He said something about saving me for last.”
“The best for last,” she interjected. “You’re gonna blow their boots off.”
Clay chuckled. “I’m just glad you’ll be there in the audience.”
Katie nodded. “Yes. I’ll be there. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
They talked a little more before Clay was interrupted with a call from a potential producer he was interested in. He told Katie news travels fast in Music City and promised to call her back later. They said goodbye and she free-fell onto the bed, puzzled by the hot tears that streamed down her cheeks. Everything was changing. How would this affect their new relationship moving forward? Would they be able to see each other at all? She wiped the tears with her damp towel and shook her head, resolved to be genuinely happy for Clay and not worry. If the universe threw them back together again after ten years apart, surely, they could find a way to make things work while he was on the road. Her cell phone rang again, startling her out of her funk. She assumed it was Clay calling back.
“Hey, Firecracker. Did you miss me?” she said seductively into the receiver.
“Who the hell is Firecracker?”
Katie sat upright, her eyes wide with surprise. “Hartford? Is that you?”
“Hey, baby girl! I’m gonna be in town for a few days. You mind if your older brother stays over a couple of nights?”
Her heart surged with sibling love. Hartford Parker was one of her most favorite people on the planet. A few nights with her only brother would cheer her up for sure.
“You better! I’ll have your room all ready for you. What are you in town for?” She could hear traffic sounds in the background of the call.
“It’s a long story. Save me some time after work so we can catch up. I’m flying in tomorrow.”