From the Top - Chapter 32

Wednesday, I was back in school … and back in the principal’s office; where, at this point, I might have spent more time than in actual classrooms. At least I didn’t dread coming to the office anymore. Dr. Wallace had been pretty good at working with me and hadn’t treated me like a leper, unlike the previous administration. I was pretty sure I’d taken care of everything he’d asked for, but he’d wanted me to stop back before returning to class, which meant sitting under Mrs. Morgan’s watchful eye until he got back from bus duty, getting kids shepherded inside.

The first bell had just rung when he came sweeping into the office.

“Come on,” he said, almost casually.

I guess he allowed for a bit of familiarity for students who made the office their home, so I got up and followed him back to his office, taking my normal seat across from his desk.

“Well, Mr. Nelson. I have to say I’m impressed,” he said, walking around his desk and dropping into his big leather chair. “According to your teachers, you’ve stayed on top of your schoolwork and emailed all assignments, turning them in even before you had to, today. That shows real dedication and maturity on your part.”

“I tried,” I said, giving what I thought was a non-committal shrug.

In reality, it had been a massive pain in the ass to try to work on the music for the competition, and stay on top of my homework, while everyone partied around me. But, I couldn’t see the point in complaining about it.

“I can see that. I’ll admit, I had my doubts that you could really manage your schoolwork on top of everything else you had to do for your competition. That kind of environment isn’t exactly conducive to effective work and I know you’ve had some struggles with balancing your commitments in the past, so I’m glad to see you proved me wrong.”

It wasn’t exactly fair to say I struggled with commitments. I think if I’d had a fair shake the last two years, I would have stayed on top of everything. The problem wasn’t my commitments or my work ethic. It was the fact that the previous administration was actively trying to make it harder for me to succeed. But again, I didn’t see the point in saying that. He knew my history and if he still thought my difficulties were on account of my not working hard enough, then there wasn’t much I could say now to change his mind.

Instead, I just said, “Thanks.”

“I also expect you to keep up that same attitude and work ethic for the remainder of the semester. I expect you to finish out strong and set yourself up for success next semester. No slipping on assignments or grades just because your competition is over.”

“I’ll try,” I said.

“Trying isn’t enough, Charlie. You’re incredibly smart and very talented, and we both know you have a bright future ahead of you with your music, but it would be a mistake to rely on that and let everything else slip. The entertainment industry is incredibly unforgiving, so it’s critical you keep your options open. And the most surefire way of doing that is by completing your education.”

He didn’t have to tell me how unforgiving it was, although there was a chance he didn’t know about the struggles I’d had with MAC, both in and out of court.

“My mom made me promise to finish school and go to college before she ever let me get up on stage the first time. She might be gone, but I do plan on honoring that promise.”

“Good. I’m glad to hear it. You’ve only got one semester left with us here at Carr, and I’m sure you’ll be a net positive on the school and your peers. I’m not so naïve as to think this will be the last time you need some kind of special dispensation due to your career, and I want you to know I’m still willing to work with you on that, as long as I see you maintaining your commitment. Are we clear?”

“Crystal,” I said.

“Good. I’m glad we’re on the same page here. You have a lot of potential, Charlie, and I want to see you reach it.”

“I will,” I said.

“Okay then. Grab a late slip from Mrs. Morgan and head to class.”

I got up and started to leave when he added, “And Charlie. I’ll be watching, so do me proud.”

Any hope that I’d return to classes and go about my day as normal went out the window as soon as I made it to my first class. My lunch friends were, frankly, terrible at keeping secrets, and the news of my initial audition and getting onto the show had spread like wildfire. The reaction hadn’t been huge; I guess because just doing well on an audition didn’t really hit home for most people.

However, while I’d been gone, my friends had kept talking, telling everyone I was off in Hollywood recording a TV show. That might not seem like a big deal to kids in New York or LA, but in rural North Carolina, that apparently put me on some level just below actually being on a TV show.

I spent all morning fielding questions from the nonsensical, like if I’d slept with a list of some of the most famous women in the country, to downright technical, like one of the theater tech crew kids who asked something about if they used ETC ColorSource Pars, which I honestly didn’t even understand. Even my teachers were asking questions. While it wasn’t too disruptive, it was a novel experience for me. They were all put to shame by my lunch friends, though. I should have seen it coming after Cameron’s reaction, but I honestly had been so distracted with Chef’s business and how slow things had gotten that I hadn’t even thought about it until I sat down at the lunch table.

“Charlie, you’re back!” Joseph called out as soon as I set my tray down.

“Hey, look who it is, the big TV star graces us with his presence!” Peyton teased.

“You saw me at the party yesterday, Peyton,” I said.

I hadn’t gotten that close to the newer kids at our lunch table yet, but Mrs. Phillips knew Cameron, Peyton, and Joseph and had invited all three to my homecoming party.

“Yeah, but everyone wanted a piece of the superstar yesterday, so I didn’t get to talk to you or grill you about anything. Or give you shit. So I’m making up for it today,” she said, looking pleased with herself. “So spill. What was Hollywood like? Did you meet any celebrities?”

“You know I can’t reveal anything about the competition. It’s the same as with the auditions. I can’t say who did what or what’s going to happen. They made me sign all kinds of paperwork promising to keep my mouth shut.”

“We know, we know,” Cameron jumped in. “But surely you met some famous people who weren’t part of the show, right? You’ve got to give us something here!”

“Honestly, I didn’t have time for anything but the competition,” I said. “It might look glamorous on TV, but we shot like ten episodes worth of material in a week, and that’s just the stuff you see on TV. There were way more hours of rehearsals, practices, and interviews... it was non-stop.”

“Ugh, lame! I wanted some juicy details,” Lilly said.

“Sorry to disappoint. My life was going studio, practice, perform, sleep, repeat.”

That wasn’t entirely true. There was a ton of drama at the house. The partying, Lilly going to the hospital, all kinds of stuff, none of which I could talk about because it was part of the show.

“Fine, if you won’t dish gossip, at least tell us about what happens next!” Peyton said. “How did you do? Who got eliminated? Who are you up against in the finals?”

“See, that sounds a lot like you just rephrasing your question from earlier. I promise, as soon as I can tell you something, I will. Until then, I’m sorry, but I’ve got to keep it quiet.”

Peyton fake pouted, but I knew it was mostly for show. She didn’t love being told no, and this was some of the best gossip she’d be able to get her hands on.

“I do have some actual news I can share with you,” I said, changing the subject. “I talked to Chef about setting up a viewing party at the Blue Ridge for when the show airs. He’s getting a whole setup to project it up onto a big screen and everything. There’s going to be food and drinks, and we want to pack the place and make it a big event.”

“Really?” Cameron asked.

“Yeah, Chef and I thought it would be a fun way for everyone to watch it together, kind of a way of giving back to the community for everything they’ve done for me. We’re going to decorate the place, have themed drinks and appetizers, the whole nine yards. It’ll be an event.”

“Okay, that does sound fun,” Peyton said, abandoning her fake pouting.

“And maybe after the show, if you have questions about behind-the-scenes stuff that happened in that episode, and only that episode, at least until we finish the audition and prelim episodes, I can talk about it.”

“Count me in,” Joseph said. “Sounds like fun.”

“I hope so. I love that you guys are so supportive and I really wish I could tell you everything because it’s a lot. But we can have some fun, eat some food, and you can all give me shit for however they decide to edit me.”

“All right. But we’re going to hold you to that,” Peyton said.

While that didn’t end their pestering of me, or they're trying to weasel details out of me, it took the spotlight off a little bit as topics switched to more standard high school one’s like who was dating who and who did what at the last party.

Honestly, it was nice to get back to just being a kid, even if only for lunch.

***

By the end of the day, I was wiped. It wasn’t just my peers’ excitement, either. While I’d gotten all the assigned work my teachers had given me to work on since I was gone, they seemed to feel like I hadn’t done quite enough, since they piled on more extra work only I had to do now that I was back. I got their point—that they wanted to make sure I understood everything I did while out in Hollywood and they didn’t want me to just catch up but get back to excelling—but honestly, I could have done without the extra homework.

I also couldn’t get straight to it when I got home. I hadn’t gotten to talk to Warren at the party, and after I’d gone to bed early to get my sleep schedule fixed for waking up at the crack of dawn for school.

The whole point of doing the contest was to get my career back on track, and now that the first step was done, I really needed to talk to the man I paid to manage that career.

Dropping my bag at the kitchen table where I’d do homework once I finished, I dialed Warren and flopped into a chair.

“Hey, I wondered when you’d call,” Warren said when he answered.

“Hey. Sorry we didn’t get to really sit down and talk last night. It was just so busy catching up with everyone, the day kind of got away from me.”

“Don’t you worry about it,” he said with a chuckle. “It was your coming home party; you were supposed to enjoy yourself, not work. Business could wait. That being said, I’m glad you called. How did the show go? I’m going to guess good, since you seem in a pretty good mood.”

“Honestly? It went a lot better than I expected. The whole thing moves so fast, it’s crazy. We had barely any time to prepare between challenges.”

“So, I take it you made it to the finals, then?”

“I did. I actually came in second place on the first challenge, and first in the other two, so these episodes should be really strong for me.”

“That’s what I was hoping to hear. Being on the show is good. Getting through to the next rounds is better, but standing out as the talent in the bunch is something I can take to the bank.”

“Well, you may want to wait until you see the footage. The stuff on stage was good, but there were a few altercations outside of the competition that might make your job harder. Apparently, not wanting to drink and being the youngest made me a target for a few of the others. I don’t know what all they’ve got planned, but I can guarantee I’m going to show up in a few of the episodes with stuff not involving music.”

“That’s good. Performance-wise, if you can show you’re better than the other competitors or not, that can matter for getting booked. Everything just adds to name recognition, and bookers don’t care if it was good or bad. Think about all the musicians who’ve been on the news throwing chairs out of hotel windows and punching photographers. None of that hurts their bookability, and I’m sure nothing you did went that far.”

“It didn’t. There was only one physical thing, and it wasn’t a fight, and no one got hurt.”

“Then it’s just gravy. It’ll make it easier, not harder, to get you booked. So let me ask you honestly, now that you’ve seen the competition, how likely do you think you are to win the whole thing? And before you answer, I want you to really think about it. I know you like to be humble and downplay your skills and success, but that doesn’t help us here. I need a no-shit appraisal. Do you think you can win this thing?”

I’d almost said I don’t know because he was right. I didn’t like to toot my own horn. It felt too much like something Vince or his ilk would have done. I’d rather not say anything and let my actual performance show what I was worth.

But I also trusted Warren, and I knew he wasn’t just going to talk me up and kiss ass. If he was asking, it’s because he felt like he needed to know.

“Yes, I’m going to win the whole thing,” I said, and then decided I should add a caveat. “Assuming they don’t throw any monkey wrenches in the way. At all the competitions we didn’t just sing. They had us jump through hoops, and it didn’t matter how good you were. There was one guy who was really going to give me a run for my money, and even straight-up beat me on the first performance. He was good, but the second challenge got him, and he went home. I don’t know what they plan for the final, but I know they’ve done that kind of thing in the semi-finals before, so it’s not out of the realm of possibility.”

“Noted. This is all good for us, Charlie. You went and did exactly what you needed to do. Even if this is as far as you go and you get out at the semi-finals, it’ll still be enough to get past the roadblocks MAC has been throwing up. Win the whole thing, and it doesn’t just make getting you gigs again possible. It’ll change the entire trajectory of your career.”

“I’ll do my best,” I said. “So, what are the next steps?”

“Right now, we just wait. You’re still under NDA until the episodes start airing, so we can’t make any announcements or start actively reaching out to bookers yet. I can start making plans, however. Figuring out exactly who we want to contact as soon as your episodes start airing. I’ll put together a list of venues, festivals, and promoters we’ll be reaching out to aggressively the day after that first show airs. We’ll hit them hard right out of the gate. Now, that doesn’t mean we’ll start booking things yet, since we can’t make any commitments until we know how the live episodes go, but I can start talking you up, getting your name out there.”

“I was going to say, I’m not sure I’m going to be able to play any gigs over Christmas break, since as soon as school gets off, I’m off to do the first live and then the next week, I’ll be doing the second one, and all that starts as soon as the prelims finish airing, so there’s not a lot of chances to do anything before we know if I won the whole thing or not.”

“Well, you’ll be in LA for two weeks. I could see about you playing a gig here or there in between if you wanted, but I know it’ll be kind of a whirlwind, so it’s your call on that.”

“I’ll think about it.”

“Okay. And I want to make sure you understand, when I talk about bookings, I’m not talking about the local clubs that can hold three hundred people in a basement like you were playing before. This will be more like the shows you did in Richmond, with crowds in the high hundreds to the low thousands. We’ll be able to start looking at gigs that you can fly to and do one show, and still make more than you would for an entire weekend of shows at the Blue Ridge, or even when you were touring. We could probably get that most weekends if we’re on our game. I know it means a pretty full schedule with school, but that will keep your exposure going and start to build an audience for streaming and future record sales.”

“That sounds incredible. And there’s spring break and summer too, right?”

“Absolutely,” he agreed. “You’re also looking at maybe guest opening for some other performers or featuring as a guest doing a duet. There will be a lot of opportunities.”

He’d told me the point of this was to keep MAC from blocking me from getting booked, but we hadn’t really talked about what would happen if I got beyond a few episodes. He’d clearly thought about it, and I wondered if he’d not said anything to keep me from getting my hopes up.

Either way, this was all a lot more than I expected. I’d not only shoot right back up to where I was, but maybe even come out of this in a little better shape, which had been beyond my wildest dreams.

“I can’t tell you how excited I am about this.”

“I’m glad to hear it. I ... I’m not sure I should say this, because I don’t want to put the pressure on you, but if you win the whole thing, then we’re going to have to start having different conversations. Your entire career will change. The venues will be bigger, with shows in the five to ten thousand range, not just the hundreds or a thousand like you were doing before. And it won’t just be about touring and playing gigs either. If you win and get that level of exposure, we’ll start working on getting you appearances and interviews on talk shows and morning programs. Of course, for that kind of mainstream spotlight, it will need to happen in January, as close to when the competition episodes aired as possible. We’ll need to strike while the iron is hot. But that starts putting you in the homes of people who never watched the Stage and who’d never just go to a local venue. It’ll open up the floodgates.”

“Wow, that’s ... a lot. I hadn’t really thought much past just getting back to playing shows.”

“Don’t worry. I know it sounds like a whirlwind right now, but we’ll take it one step at a time. The important thing is that when your episodes start airing, we capitalize on your momentum. I’ll make sure you’re prepared for anything that comes your way. Now, since you made it to the finals, that means you’ll be in LA, already. Maybe we can keep you out there through New Year’s, see about booking one good New Year performance, like you did last year, but with a much better spot. Get you in front of that West Coast crowd right off the bat. We can also look for something smaller in between the first two live shows, since you’ll have a week, although that’s your call. I don’t know how stressed you’ll be if you’ve still got the finals in front of you.”

“I’ll think about it,” I said, and then realized something. “Wait, there was some kind of tour after the show finished for finalists or something. I don’t remember if a date was mentioned or anything, but do we have any conflicts with that?”

“Maybe. There is a ‘winner’s tour,’ and I know it’s gotten pretty good audiences in past years since I had some clients when I was at MAC run into venue problems because of a conflict with them. I seem to remember that being in the summer after the show, but it could have been the spring. I’ll look it up and figure it out. If you win, I think you might be contractually obligated to go on it, so we won’t have much choice but to work around it.”

“But I’d want to do it, right? I mean, they have to get larger audiences than I can get on my own.”

“Maybe. If you win, maybe not. You’d be the ‘draw’ for that show, which means I don’t know if you’d do better on the tour than you would by yourself, but maybe. I’d have to do some research into their marketing and ticket sales. You’d also be getting a much lower cut than you would, even if you were touring on a label with a three-sixty deal. Besides the fact that you’d have to split the cut among a dozen or more performers, these kinds of things are usually quite usurious. I have seen the contract one of the winners got a few years ago, and I’ll say I wasn’t wowed by what they got. But then again, that was for a kid who had genuine talent but had never been up on stage before, so maybe they were just taking advantage of his naivety. Either way, I haven’t been impressed by their overwhelming generosity.”

“But we might not have a choice on the tour, right?”

“Right. Arthur would be the one to have a better read on that, though.”

“Okay, I’ll ask him. Also, there’s one other thing I wanted to talk about if you’ve got a second.”

“Sure, what’s up?”

“It’s about Chef and the Blue Ridge. I’m worried about him. Since Willie passed away, and with me being less available lately, the music nights have really fallen off over there. Chef has been too proud to say anything, but I know he’s struggling without that extra business. So I had this idea. I thought maybe you could help him out for a while. You know, help book some local acts so he has something to bring people in again. Dwight is trying, but most of the blues crowd stopped coming when I took half of Willie’s time. This would be temporary. Just until it looks like it was doing well enough for Chef to hire a booker part-time. He’s not sure enough that it will be worth it or that we could duplicate the success Willie and I had to make the leap without help, and he doesn’t really know anyone in the industry, so he wouldn’t know where to go for talent. I’d pay you for the extra work, of course. I just feel bad. Chef’s supported me so much, I want to make sure I’m not leaving him high and dry.”

Warren was silent on the other end of the line for a moment, and I worried I’d overstepped by volunteering him for something without asking first.

“I’m sorry if that was out of line,” I added quickly. “You’ve already got a lot on your plate with me. Don’t feel obligated. It was just a thought.”

“No, no. It’s all right,” Warren said. “I was just trying to think through if I knew enough acts to be able to do something like that. I mean, most of my book is still with MAC. But I do know some people I could call and get names, and I can appreciate you wanting to look out for your friend. I’d be happy to lend a hand.”

“Oh, good. I just want to make sure he can keep the place running smoothly. He’s done so much for me over the last few years.”

“I understand. Tell you what, why don’t you have Chef call me sometime this week? We can talk over what kind of acts he’s looking to book, get a sense of numbers and budget and all that. Get some basic agreements in place too, just to make sure we’re all on the same page.”

“That would be amazing, thank you,” I said earnestly. “I was going to call Mr. Eaves and ask him to get some basic contracts for Chef, since he’s been doing everything off handshakes, which isn’t good when you bring in strangers. Seriously though, let me know how much I need to pay you extra for taking this on.”

“Don’t you worry about that,” Warren chuckled. “I’m your manager, Charlie. Normally that means I get paid a percent of your earnings in exchange for getting you work. Considering I’m getting actually paid based on what you used to earn, not what you’re earning now, and I haven’t gotten you a single job, I think you have more than enough credit with me. Especially with everything still on pause until your show starts airing, it’s not exactly like I’ve got a lot of other work keeping me busy. Once the show’s done and we can really start getting you gigs again, we can reassess, but for the time being, I’m happy to lend a hand.”

“Really? Man, that’s great. I can’t tell you how much that means to me. I was really worried about Chef! This was the only thing I could think of, but the number of people I can call isn’t, you know, huge.”

“I get it, plus you’re the money maker. I’d rather you work on new stuff to record when we get out of this drought or practice or whatever, and leave the back office stuff to someone else.”

“Okay, then I’ll get back to work. Thanks again for everything.”

“Yep. Now go write a hit I can sell and make us all rich,” he said, laughing as he hung up.

It was good to have people in my corner working for me … finally.