After dropping Jolie at the bookstore, Corbin called Seth Butler, his dad’s attorney, to make an appointment. He was thrilled when the receptionist told him to come in later that afternoon.
“It’s an impressive contract, Corbin. How did you get them to agree to let you retain the rights to your songs?”
“I didn’t. I think they knew that would be a deal breaker.”
“Talk about sweetening the pot.” Seth nodded as he scanned the final page. He had poured over every inch of the contract for more than an hour. “That’s a lot of money for three months.”
“It’s the only reason I’m considering it.”
“What about this option to extend the tour if sales are steady? Does that concern you?”
“No. I honestly don’t expect anyone to come see me play.”
Seth chuckled. “Still, it’s included in the contract. If you don’t want to chance it, you’d better tell them before you sign.”
“Okay, I’ll mention it. Anything else?”
“No. Looks good.”
Corbin nodded.
“You don’t look happy.”
“I’m happy to make music. I’m not happy about going out on the road.”
“Then why do it?”
Corbin pointed at the dollar signs on the contract.
“That’s why.”
“Understood.”
They shook hands and Seth walked him to the door.
“Hey, I just had a thought. If you sign, you’ll need a manager, right? I didn’t see that in your contract anywhere.”
“I will, yeah.”
Seth pulled out his phone. “I have a friend you need to meet. She owns an agency in Nashville and works with a lot of famous musicians. Her name’s Karin Gracin. Tough as nails. Want me to make a call?”
“That’d be great.”
“Happy to do it. Best of luck to you.” Seth handed him a business card. “Keep that. Just in case you ever need anything.”
Translation: Just in case you get in trouble out there on the road.
“Thank you, Seth. For everything.”
“I can’t believe she wants to see you tomorrow,” Jolie said, curling her legs beneath her on the couch.
An hour after leaving the attorney’s office, Corbin had received a call from Karin Gracin’s secretary, asking him to be at her office tomorrow afternoon. He hadn’t expected a call so soon, and he certainly hadn’t planned on driving to Nashville tomorrow.
“You could come with me. It’s just a four hour drive.”
“Tempting. But I have a business to run. For now, anyway.”
“For as long as you want. We’re going to fix it. Remember?”
Jolie nodded and forced a smile. It was the same look his parents gave him this afternoon when he told them the news. Everything was moving fast . . . already, and he hadn’t even signed the contract.
“Nothing’s set in stone, Jolie. I’m just going to talk to her.”
“And you’ll be home tomorrow night?”
“Yes. It’ll be late, though.”
“I don’t care. I want you to come here as soon as you get back into town.”
“Okay.”
Jolie sighed deeply and reached for his hand. Needing to be closer, he gently tugged her into his lap.
“You’re worried,” Corbin said softly.
“I’m trying not to.”
“What’s worrying you?”
“Everything’s just . . . this is really happening.”
“Nothing’s happened yet.”
“But it will.”
“Not if you don’t want it to.”
She shook her head. “This has to be your decision, Corbin.”
“No. This affects you, too. I want us to make this decision together.”
Jolie whimpered softly when he kissed her, and it took all his self-restraint not to lower her down on the couch. Instead, he let his fingers drift along her spine as she pressed her body closer to his. No matter how much he wanted her—and he did—Corbin knew one of them had to control themselves. And, by the way she was sliding her body against his, he knew he was going to have to be the responsible one tonight. Things were just too uncertain. Too emotional. And he cared about her too much to take advantage of the situation.
Corbin slowed their kisses, and when Jolie pulled away, he saw tears in her eyes. He stroked her cheek as they gazed at each other.
“What are you thinking?” he whispered softly.
Jolie smiled sadly but didn’t say anything. She didn’t have to. Corbin knew exactly what she was thinking, because he was thinking it, too.
How would they ever be able to say goodbye?
Corbin usually liked to listen to music when he was behind the wheel, but today, he needed peace and quiet as he drove through downtown Nashville. His nervous stomach was making him nauseous and apprehensive. Before he could totally second guess himself and find the nearest exit, he whispered the words that had become his mantra.
“I’m doing this for her. I’m doing this for us.”
Finding a manager was the first step in that process. He wanted this to go well. He needed it to go well. Corbin had signed enough dotted lines through the years to know how the music business worked, but he’d been screwed every time.
He prayed Karin Gracin was as tough as the lawyer promised.
Corbin needed someone who’d be strong enough to help him navigate this deal with Callum Records, but she also needed to be tough enough to deal with him.
He spotted the bright red sign of Gracin Management and pulled into the adjacent parking garage. Grabbing his guitar out of the backseat, he locked the doors and walked toward the entrance. When he stepped inside the office, the first thing he noticed were the walls, covered with headshots of artists she represented. Some were familiar faces; some not so much. Still, he was impressed with the client list.
Taking a deep breath, he walked up to the receptionist. The young brunette smiled brightly and quickly dipped the brush of her nail polish back into the bottle before asking if he had an appointment.
“Corbin James. Two o’clock.”
“Yes, Mr. James. She’ll be with you in just a moment. Won’t you have a seat?”
Corbin thanked her and found the first empty chair. He smiled at the other musicians who were waiting—most of them with guitar cases by their sides. As he glanced at the hopeful, nervous faces, he couldn’t help but feel old. None of them could’ve been more than eighteen years old. Was it possible he was too old to make a comeback? Was a twenty-five-year-old musician a relic in Nashville these days?
Before he could panic, an office door flew open, and a boy with sculpted hair and flashy clothes walked out. The kid’s head hung low as he walked into the lobby. Behind him, two women stalked out of the office, the tall redhead looking particularly pissed.
“You’re making a mistake, Ms. Gracin,” she said.
“I don’t think so,” Karin said calmly. “Mrs. Jordan, you may think your ten year old is the next Justin Timberlake, but I assure you he’s not. Chris can’t sing. Can’t dance. You’re wasting your time and doing your son no favors by dragging him to every office on Music Row. It’s not going to happen. Stop trying to make it happen.”
“But—”
“He’s an honor student and loves baseball. Please nurture those gifts and talents and stop trying to turn him into something he’s not.” Karin placed her hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Chris, I think you’re an exceptional young man with a killer curveball. I bet you love baseball, don’t you?”
The boy nodded.
“What about music? Do you even want to be a singer?”
The boy glanced at his mom before answering.
“No. I just wanna play ball.”
Karin beamed. The mother fumed.
“See? Now leave the boy alone and let him be a kid. I promise you’ll thank me someday. Have a nice day.”
Corbin cringed as the mom grabbed her son by the arm and angrily steered him toward the door.
Karin waved a finger at her receptionist. “No more kids. I refuse to sign ten-year-old pop acts, especially those with zero talent. I’m good, but I’m not a magician.”
Suddenly, she turned toward the potential stars sitting in her lobby. If they weren’t nervous before, they sure were now. Karin’s eyes lit up like a kid’s on Christmas morning when she saw Corbin and his guitar.
“Corbin James! Thank God. Finally someone with some real talent. Let’s do this, shall we?”
“Let me see if I understand,” Karin said, staring at him over the bridge of her rimmed glasses. “You want your contract amended to say that your tour ends in three months, regardless of ticket sales?”
“That’s right.”
“Why? You don’t like money?”
“I love money. I don’t like the road.”
Karin nodded and jotted down some notes on the document.
“What about the one-album deal. You’re good with that?”
“I am.”
“I can’t believe they offered to let you retain the rights to your songs. That never happens. They must be eager to sign you.”
“That’s what she said.”
“Who said?”
“Ashton Rhodes.”
“Hmm . . . yes, I know Ashton.”
Corbin couldn’t help but notice the venom in the woman’s voice, especially when she wasn’t trying to disguise it at all.
“Is that going to be a problem?” he asked.
“Not if you hire me, it won’t.” Karin continued scanning the contract. “At the completion of the tour, you’d like a development deal with their publishing house?”
“That’s right.”
“So you want to be a songwriter. Not a singer.”
He nodded.
“Why not just negotiate a publishing deal and skip the album and touring altogether?”
Corbin’s ears perked up. “Can I do that?”
“We could try, but to be honest, you’d probably struggle for a few years. You know that whole starving artist thing? It’s a real thing.”
“That won’t work.”
“So, fast money is the goal here.”
Corbin didn’t know what to say. Yes, fast money was the goal. It was the only reason he was sitting in her office. But if he admitted it, would she want to work with him?
Karin sighed and removed her glasses. “Corbin, I would be happy to manage you. Your new music is fresh and your old songs are classics. Songwriting is your strength. Well, that and the fact that you’re still hot . . .”
Corbin nervously cleared his throat.
“But, to be your manager, I’m going to insist that you be honest with me about what you really want out of this deal. I can’t properly negotiate the terms if you don’t tell me what you want and why you want it. So, let’s hear it.”
Honest and direct. Corbin liked her already. He decided to return the favor.
“The thought of going out on the road scares the living shit out of me.”
Karin nodded. “With your history, I can completely understand that. So why are you considering it now?”
“Because I need the money.”
“For what?”
He understood why she was asking. Did he need it for drugs? Women? A combination of both?
“For my future.”
Corbin could tell her interest was piqued, so he told her everything. He admitted that, while he still loved music, he didn’t have the confidence or the desire to perform on stage for one month, let alone three, so the idea of extending his time on the road made him want to puke. Even though he was clean and sober now, he was terrified of the temptations of the road. Then, he told her about Jolie and Turn the Page, and how all he wanted to do was save her bookstore, buy some land, build a house, and write his songs in peaceful obscurity for the rest of his life.
Karin listened with rapt attention while he spilled his guts. When he was finished, he closed his guitar case, knowing she was two seconds away from kicking him out the door—a reward for his blatant honesty. Why would she sign him? He wasn’t in this for the long haul, and now she knew it. Why would she want to waste her time?
To his surprise, she reached into her desk drawer and pulled out a management contract.
“Feel free to have Seth look over it. I’m sure he’ll tell you it’s pretty standard.”
“You want to be my manager?”
“You’re crazy talented. Why wouldn’t I?”
“My track record’s less than impressive.”
“Because of your past drug use? The stints in rehab?”
Corbin nodded.
“Did you happen to notice the pictures on the wall in the lobby?”
“Your clients?”
“Yes. Do you have any idea how many of them have been to rehab? Some are there right now.”
“That’s . . . not really something to brag about.”
“It’s not bragging. It’s reality. Rehab has become a rite of passage for celebrities. Life in the fast lane and all that. You’re clean and sober now. That’s what matters to me. And I’m going to do everything in my power to keep you that way.”
“What does that mean?”
“That means I’m going to call Ashton Rhodes. Callum Records wants you, obviously. We’ll negotiate the extended tour, but honestly, I think they’ll want to keep that in your contract, at least until they see how ticket sales are going. They’ll want to protect their investment.”
“Then I’m screwed.”
“Not necessarily. My advice? Sign the contract. Do your tour. Make your album. Keep your nose clean and your pants zipped. We’ll see what’s happening in three months. Maybe ticket sales will tank. They won’t, but you can hope.”
Corbin chuckled. “I’m glad you have confidence. I have nightmares of being booed off stage.”
“Not going to happen. I’m thinking small venues. Crowds who are there to actually listen to good music and not to get wasted. If all goes well, we’ll have some leverage to get you that publishing deal at the end of your three months.”
“Three months, Karin. That’s all they get.”
“I understand. However, the label would frown upon your lack of ambition and probably pass on signing you if they were aware of that fact, so I think it’s in your best interest to keep that to ourselves for now.”
“Is that dishonest?”
“No, it’s business. In the meantime, Callum Records will turn a profit, I’ll get to manage a decent artist, you’ll make some money, and Jolie gets to keep her bookstore. Everybody’s happy. When all is said and done, you can go home, build your house, write your songs, and live happily ever after. So, am I hired?”
Yes. But Corbin didn’t say that out loud.
“I’d like Seth to look over your contract before I sign it.”
Karin grinned and offered her hand.
“Good answer. I look forward to hearing from you.”