Chapter 3
Luke closed his eyes and rested his head back on the couch. He had about thirty minutes before sound check and needed the time to decompress before he had to put on his stage face. The tail end of his first headlining tour was dragging on. He loved it, but he was tired of living out of a bus. Tired of always being on.
His fingers moved randomly over the frets as he strummed. This was when he did his best song writing. No stress to pump out chart-topping songs. Just him, his guitar, and some peace and quiet.
“Do you believe in second chances?”
More and more lately he’d been thinking about a do-over. Wondering what his life would be like if he’d kept going straight instead of taking a hard right. He might be playing professional baseball. Maybe still playing in dive-bars and honky-tonks on the weekends with his college buddies, but at least he’d still be having fun.
When did it stop being fun? Almost every single one of his dreams had come true—more than he’d ever dared hope for—and all he wanted to do was be able to walk into the Piggly Wiggly back home without getting mobbed and the police responding for crowd control.
A melody for a song began to form in his mind. He stopped playing and grabbed his phone, opening the recording app and propping it on the pillow next to him. He hummed a few bars while he played, then the words came.
I let us both down a time or two.
I’d give up everything for you.
What you need to understand
Is I should be your man.
Let’s give us a chance again.
Hmmm hmm hmmm hm hm hm…
“I like it. Girls go crazy for a good apology song.”
Luke stopped mid-strum and rested his palm over the strings.
Brett, his manager, opened the small fridge in the narrow aisle of the tour bus and grabbed an energy drink. He popped open the can and chugged what must have been most of it before releasing a huge belch.
Luke swiped a hand over his face. He hadn’t heard Brett come onto the bus. Even when he was alone, he was never really alone. Constantly surrounded by people, yet he still didn’t have anyone he trusted one-hundred-percent. Not even his long-time manager.
“The label wants you back in the studio as soon as we wrap up in Denver. They want to get the next album out within six months.”
“Jesus, Brett. The last album came out six months ago. We haven’t even released all the singles yet.”
Brett sat on the sofa across from him and propped his booted feet on the table. “Right. They want to keep the momentum going and have the next album ready to go as soon as we drop the last single. The only thing that keeps you on top is more music.”
At the moment, he didn’t care about being on top. “I need a break. Tell them I need some time off.”
Brett stared at him shrewdly and Luke recognized the hungry gleam in his eyes. “Yeah. Yeah, that’ll work. Your contract is up for renegotiation in a few months anyway. That way I can hold out for more money for you.”
“I don’t need more money. That’s not the issue. I need a break.”
“You absolutely need more money. You’re coming off your first, sold-out, headlining tour. You’ve got two songs on the top twenty country music charts and an album that’s been riding the top one hundred for five and a half months. I’m just looking out for your best interests.”
Brett was probably right—it might be time to renegotiate his contract—but Luke wasn’t as naïve as he’d been when he’d started out. More money for him meant more money for Brett. Especially since, as Luke’s manager, he took twenty percent off the top.
“Whatever,” Luke said. “Just get me at least two months off.”
His cell phone rang and he smiled when he saw the caller ID. Right on time. “Hey, Mama.”
Brett made a gesture indicating he was leaving and Luke nodded. His mama wasn’t a huge fan of Brett. She thought he was a money-grubbing glory hound. She wasn’t wrong, but he’d always done what was best for Luke’s career—even better that it usually worked out in Brett’s best interest as well.
“Hey, darlin’. Just callin’ to wish you good luck tonight.”
“I know, Mama. You call every night before a concert.”
