by Leah Braemel
“And you’re going to need better merchandise. T-shirts, ball caps. And that all has to be paid for in advance,” Paige added. “So if you get something that doesn’t sell, you could be out a lot of money.”
“Don’t forget, if we’re an opening act, the headlining band may not even let us sell any of our merchandise. Remember what I told you about that band back in the nineties whose tour brought in over twelve million dollars, but the band members themselves made less than what you bring home in a year.”
“All right, get it looked at, but I can’t afford to pay for a lawyer. As long as I make what I do right now, I’m in.” Drew shoved the extra copies of the contracts across the table and stood. “I gotta get going. My shift starts in an hour.”
“I gotta go too. He’s my ride.” Hunter scooted out of the booth, with a muttered, “See ya, Jake” and chased after Drew.
Jake met Cam’s even gaze. “Do you think we should sign it without getting it looked at?”
“No. I think you’re right.”
“But?”
“But I’m worried that even if you find us an agent, and they get us a good deal, then you’re going to wimp out.”
Son of a bitch. Jake snorted.
“Dude, you still haven’t told Ben about being in the band. Signing this contract, getting a real tour manager. That means going out on the road and then you’re gonna have to tell him and soon.”
Crap. As much as Jake wanted to argue, Cam was right.
Cam shifted in his seat, not meeting Jake’s gaze. “I’m also worried you’re going to say the ranch comes first. And I get it, especially with your dad not bein’ there anymore, but Drew’s right. This is a dream contract for the rest of us and we’re depending on you.”
“I’m not going to walk away because of the ranch. Ben’s the operating manager and Gabe’s there now too.” He’d leave them shorthanded, but he wouldn’t be gone for years at a time. “But I’m not going to sign the contract until I’ve made sure all our rights are protected.”
“Fair enough.”
They discussed what agents to approach, Cam adding names he’d already contacted to Jake’s list, along with questions they had about the contract. After an hour, Cam rapped his knuckles on the table. “I can’t think of anything else. Guess everything’s up to you now.”
Once they were alone, Paige gathered the contracts into a pile and stashed them in her purse. “You’re doing the right thing, Jake. You can’t just sign over the rights to your music.”
While his logical side knew she was right, his creative side howled that Cam was right, that his responsibilities at the ranch might keep him from pursuing his dreams. He pressed the heel of his hand against his forehead and groaned. “I know.”
“What Cam said about Ben? Is his approval so important to you, you’re willing to give up your dreams?”
“It’s not just about my dreams. I’m a part owner of the ranch. I have responsibilities to it.”
“Even if it means giving up your own dreams? I can’t believe either Ben or Gabe would expect that of you.”
If Pop had still been alive, he’d have told him to sign the contract once it got checked out, without worrying about the ranch, that they’d manage. Momma would too. So the question was, just how badly did he really want this?
Chapter Nine
Three days later
“It’s a fairly standard contract, but like with any contract, there are always points that are negotiable.”
The agent Jake had contacted reminded him of a weasel, sharp-faced and bright-eyed. But of the musician friends he’d spoken to, those who had agents or were in the hunt for one, all spoke highly of Ruben Dotson. Words like ethical and straight-talking eased his mind before he’d initially phoned the Dotson Entertainment firm.
Jake clicked to enlarge the entertainment agent’s webcam window which in turn minimized his own. Seeing himself staring out from the monitor was a little freaky. While his ribs weren’t broken, his nose had been, again, which left him with a pair of raccoon rings beneath his eyes. The swelling was just starting to go down—maybe when the doc had set it he’d managed to fix the slight twist from the time Gabe had broken it the first week he’d arrived at Bull’s Hollow.
He ran a hand over his jaw, amazed that Paige had asked him not to shave, saying she liked the stubble. Damn he’d gotten lucky with her.
Paige, who had decided to stay out of view of the webcam wrote a question on a pad of paper and held it up. That’s great, but will Southern Gents be open to negotiate?
Good question, so he repeated it aloud. She’d had a lot of good questions about the industry, searching the internet and even signing up online for an entertainment accounting course.
“That depends upon how much they want you.” Ruben frowned. “I won’t pretend there’ll be a lot of demands you can make. For a fairly untested group, they’re not going to be very flexible but I’ll get a better deal. I’ve sent your demo tape to Roy Knapp—that’s the tour manager Southern Gents generally uses to set up their tours. He’s got spots to book you in right away.”
“Wow, that’s great.” Shoot. He’d hoped he’d have some time to ease into traveling.
“Now listen, it means playing every weekend, a lot of weeknights too. And it means traveling. Not just within Texas. Can you handle that type of schedule?”
His heart rate kicked up. Shit was getting real. It still hadn’t settled on him that music might be an actual career. Drew, Cam and Hunter would have to take time off work, and their employers were less flexible than Ben. From the figures the agent had quoted they wouldn’t be able to support themselves on what they’d make just from singing. “I’ll have to talk to everyone and make sure it’s do-able.”
Ruben leaned closer to the screen, a frown creasing his brow. “Son, if you’re serious about making a career in music, you’ll make sure it’s do-able. Or am I wasting my time here?”
“I’ll make sure they know it’s imperative.”
Ruben’s lips pressed so thin they disappeared. “Good. Once Roy gets a feel for your band, he’ll put together a longer tour after Christmas.”
“How much longer are we talking? Two months? Four? Six?” A year?
“Depending on how you guys react to the earlier venues we’re booking you into, figure you’ll be living on the road for months at a time. Playing a different venue most nights, occasionally two concerts a day. Depends what Roy can get booked.”
He gulped. “Months?” While things would slow down somewhat on the ranch later in the year, they were talking about him not being around to help in calving season, terracing the cotton fields, watching the weather for the best time to apply the fungicides and pesticides, not to mention planting the rest of the crops and...his personal demon, making sure the fences had survived the heavy fall and spring rains.
“If you want to make it in this business, kid, you’re going to have to put in some sweat equity. There are a lot of bands who are on the road two hundred and fifty, three hundred days a year.”
Sweat equity. Yeah, he was a rancher, he knew all about sweat equity. “I know, it’s just...” Crap. Living out of his truck he could deal with, but away from his family? Away from Paige?
“Come on, dude,” he heard Cam say in his head, “it’s part of the deal. Besides, it’s not like you’d want her sleeping in the truck with us every night.”
His gaze drifted to where Paige sat perched on the edge of the couch. The confident smile she flashed him eased through him as sure as a kiss. While they’d only just started dating, there was a connection forming between them he didn’t want to jeopardize by being away a lot. She had a full time job so it wasn’t like he could ask her to go on the road with him. But shit.
And what about the ranch? He was an owner now, not just a hand who could take
off on a whim. Not that a music career was a whim, but...shit shit shit.
“If you’re not prepared to put some serious work in this as your career, son, then I need to know now.” Ruben pushed so close into the webcam Jake could see the pores on his nose.
Get back in the conversation and pay attention! “Sorry, Ruben. I was just mentally reorganizing my schedule. I got some things to arrange but you can count on me.”
“Uh huh.” Skepticism filled Ruben’s voice. “What about the rest of the group? Will they cause any problems?”
“Jake, honey, how are you doing today? Feelin’ any better?” His mother called as she opened the screen door. Shit.
Paige jumped to her feet and pressed her finger to her lips, whispering, “He’s on a call, Cissy. Why don’t we go talk outside?”
“I’m here to see how Jake’s doing. I can wait.” Cissy settled in the chair by the window, her hands clasped together, with questions in her eyes. Questions he’d hoped to avoid for at least another day.
“Jake?” Ruben repeated. “What about the rest of your band? Will they agree to going on the road?”
Drew would jump at the chance, especially if he thought there was a chance at hooking up with groupies. Though he might not be so eager if they didn’t earn the equivalent to his minimum wage salary each night.
“They’ll live up to their obligations.”
“What I recommend at this point then is that you get the rest of your band to come in to my office so we can get all the paperwork contracting me as your agent signed. Then I can get to negotiating the contract with Southern Gents.” The agent turned his attention to something beside his computer. A crinkle like paper flipping told Jake he was probably looking through an old fashioned paper calendar. “How’s Friday afternoon at one o’clock sound? Or if that’s not giving you enough time, next Wednesday’s open.”
“I’ll have to get in touch with everyone, make sure they’re not working and that everyone’s in agreement.”
Ruben nodded. “Then let’s leave it at Friday at one and if you need to reschedule, just let me know. Oh, and congratulations, JT. I look forward to representing you and the rest of the boys.”
“This is more than another singing gig, isn’t it?” his mother asked quietly as he ended the call.
“Yeah. Can you hang on for a minute, Momma?” He pulled out his phone and composed a text to Cam, Drew and Hunter telling them about the meeting.
“Jacob? What’s going on?”
His stomach jittering, he blew out a breath. “Okay, so you know how I’ve been singing with Cam, Drew and Hunter?”
His mother nodded.
“There was a record label manager at one of the bars we sang at last week. He offered us a contract. So I got an agent to take a look at it and he’s confident he can negotiate a better deal for us.”
Why did that thought twist his guts? If he does get you a better deal and you don’t sign it, dumb ass, you’ll never get another chance at that shiny brass ring.
His mother pressed her fingers against her lips. “Oh, honey, I’m so proud of you. So that’s what you have to go into town to do on Friday?”
“Yeah.” If I sign it, I’d have to be away from the ranch. Not pull his weight. Give Ben another reason to bitch about him not being responsible.
So what? You plan on spending another fifty years being Ben’s fetch-and-carry boy, the chief muck raker and fence fixer? Next thing he knew Ben would probably have him white washing the barn while giving the fun stuff to the new hires. Not that he wanted to run the place, but it would have been nice if Ben took even one of his ideas.
Paige hitched a hip on his desk and stroked his cheek. “Are you still having second thoughts? You don’t have to sign it right now, you know. If you need more to time to think about it, you should tell him.”
Grateful for her support, he caught her hand and pressed a kiss to her palm. How the hell was he going to manage a singing career and keep a relationship going?
His mother frowned. “Why wouldn’t you sign it? Singing professionally has been a dream of yours since you got your first guitar.”
“I know, but it means being on the road, Momma. You know we’re already shorthanded. I mean I know the ranch will continue, but it’ll cost more having to replace me. What’s Ben going to say?” Or Gabe.
“Your brother will be happy for you too.” Her eyes searched his face. “Oh, honey, do you really think he’d try to stop you from pursuing your dreams?”
He shook his head. “I’m not so sure. He’s never really been that supportive about my music. That’s why I’ve asked you not to talk about it around him all these years.”
His mother huffed. “Baby, he’ll be happy for you. Believe me. But even if he’s not, it’s not your problem. Now you’re going to have tell Ben sooner rather than later. Especially if you’re going to be on the road a lot.”
“Tell me what? And why is Jake going to be on the road?”
Oh shit. Ben stared through the screen door at them. Figured his brother wouldn’t leave him alone, but could his timing have been worse?
The screen door screeched as Ben opened it, and slammed behind him, echoing in the silence that had fallen at his arrival.
“Tell me what?” Ben demanded again.
Dumbass. Jake sucked air into his oxygen-starved lungs. Why was he dreading this conversation? Because Ben would think he was abandoning them. Or would accuse him of running away like a chicken shit.
Was he?
* * *
Come on, Jake, Paige mentally urged. This is the best place to talk with Ben—it’s home ground advantage. She moved to where Jake stood frozen in place, slipped her hand in his cold one and lightly squeezed in support.
“Why are you going to be on the road?” Ben asked again.
“He’s your brother, honey. He needs to know,” Cissy said quietly, though she had that unmistakable “mom” tone. “If you don’t tell him, I will.”
Oh shit. Just the type of pressure Jake didn’t need right now.
His muscles tight beneath Paige’s fingers, Jake lifted his chin. “The band I sing in has just been offered a recording contract. But part of it means we’ll have to go on the road to get our name out there.”
“You sing in a band?”
“Yeah.” Defiance filled Jake’s voice and his chin went up even higher as if expecting Ben to hit him or something.
“How long’s this been going on?”
“Since your brother was in high school.” Cissy reached for Ben’s hand. “Aren’t you proud of your brother?”
Ben ignored his mother, continuing to stare at Jake, his jaw set. “How come you never said anything to me?”
No wonder Jake was worried about telling you if that’s your reaction. Then again if Jake had been honest about his singing right from the start, this wouldn’t be an issue. Of course maybe it would be because if Ben hadn’t approved, Jake might have given up singing at all, and abandoned his dreams.
“I got tired of having you tell me how I sucked at playing the guitar, and that my voice sounded like a sick heifer with plugged teats.”
“You were eleven when I said that and your voice was changing.” Ben ran his hand over his head. “Does Gabe know you sing? Or about the contract?”
Jake’s skin sallowed, his expression looked like his lunch had solidified in his stomach. “He knows I’ve been in a band, yeah. But not about the contract or my agent or anything.”
“So I’m the only one who you lied to about singing? Why? I’m your brother for fuck’s sake.”
“Let’s change that question around.” Jake’s fingers squeezed Paige’s hard. She wouldn’t doubt the other hand had curled into a fist. “How come in the last, I don’t know, ten, twelve years you never once asked me about why I had all
these guitars around? Or asked me where I was going on Friday and Saturday nights?”
Ben’s jaw tightened. “I figured you were hitting the bars. Or were out on dates.”
Oh Ben, come on. You hadn’t noticed? Really? Paige glanced around Jake’s place. Just in that quick scan, she found an acoustic guitar in the corner, an electric one beside it, plugged into an amp. Guitars number three and four were in his bedroom, though she doubted Ben had been in there lately. Not to mention the dozens of scraps of paper to be found on every flat surface or pinned to the corkboard in the wall between the living room and the kitchen, each containing fragments of lyrics or music Jake had hurriedly scribbled. How blind could he be?
“No. Truth is, you weren’t interested. Ever since college, you’ve treated me like I was stupid. Like you’re embarrassed by me.”
“You dropped out when you only had three credits left—” Ben snapped his mouth shut. “I’ve never been embarrassed about you. Pissed as hell to find out you’d shut me out about Pop and Gabe, but never embarrassed. Crap, Jake, you’ve shut me out of that part of your life all this time? What else don’t I know?”
“I know I wasn’t caught on video having a ménage with my girlfriend and best friend.”
Holy crap. Level-headed, straight shooter Ben had had a ménage? Talk about an eye-popper. Was the third person in this threesome a girl or a guy and if it was a guy, was there guy-on-guy action because man, she’d pay good money to see that video.
“Benjamin Tyler Grady!” Cissy gasped, and swiveled to focus on Ben, the glare in her eye frightening even Paige. “What is your brother talking about? Is there really a sex tape out there?”
“It’s nothing you need to worry about, Momma.” Ben glowered at Jake.
“I very definitely do need to worry about it, Benjamin. What were you thinking, videotaping yourself like that? And a ménage? Seriously? Tell me it wasn’t with Allie.”
