First Chapter of Colt's Magic
CHAPTER ONE
Colt Cavanaugh was a reasonable man, or so he had always thought. This contract business with his manager, Rod Hampton was an absolute mess. On-The-Fly Records wanted Colt to create his first greatest hits album, but wouldn’t add anything new. Rod preached that the market was saturated with new wanna-be artists who couldn’t hack it, but had one hit wonders that were being played over and over again. Air time was valuable as were the radio jockeys who created the playlists.
“Rod, I don’t want to hear about it today.” Colt ground out, handing his guitar off to one of the technicians. “I haven’t been in this business long enough to create a greatest hits album.”
“Is that what’s bothering you? The fact that you’re too young to be a big hitter?” Rod asked, his grey mustache twitching under his thin nose. Colt had this theory that Rod dyed his mustache and hair to look older. Apparently older meant that he was wiser. Colt wasn’t so sure on that.
“Today, you are bothering me.” Colt looked straight at his manager and shook his head.
“You hired me to manage your career, and I’m saying this is a good move. It will get you back out into the spotlight where you need to be if you are going to keep paying your band and your crew.” Rod looked smugly at Colt, knowing he was playing on his client’s top priority. In the beginning Colt was always paid last, if he was paid at all. It was the way he ran his business still, although it was easier on the pocketbook if there was padding.
“I hired you to listen to me and figure out how best to get me what I want in this industry.” Colt adjusted his cowboy hat, settling it lower on his eyes. They glinted like newly minted steel and some women had even told him that they reminded him of a wolf. Lobo they called him. “You haven’t been listening to me in a while, Rod. It may be time to go our separate ways.”
The stocky, pinch-faced man took a step back with his hands raised defensively in front of him. “Now wait a minute, I am only looking out for you. You can’t get out of this contract with On-The-Fly for another year. They own anything that you create and give to the air waves.”
Colt walked off the front of the stair and down the stairs to the center aisle of the Hawthorne Music Center in Atlanta, Georgia. It was the last stop on his Kickin’ It Down tour. If Colt said that he was more than ready to be finished on the road that would be a gross understatement. He was ready to head home to his ranch in Montana and he had invited his son, Drew to come visit on spring break. He was so glad that he and Nora, Drew’s mother, had been able to work out a visitation schedule.
“I need some time to think about this, Rod. Stall the company for as long as you can. I need a break.” Colt threw over his shoulder as he walked towards the exit. “I really just need a break.” Colt murmured to himself as he stepped out into the southern sunshine and its humidity.
The building had been barricaded off for tonight’s concert, but it hadn’t kept die-hard fans from camping out for the last couple of days. Colt shook his head at the occasional flashing lights of a police car. When he began his career in Nashville, singing every night in one of the many bars, Colt had been so delighted to even be noticed. He could remember what a shock it was to hear that fans were waiting to see him and it had gone from small theaters to state fairs and then to large outdoor arenas that held thousands and thousands of people. Colt took a deep breath through his nose and let it out through his mouth. Today he wished he could go back to those small, face to face venues that allowed him to be the artist he wanted to be.
“Beat, I don’t need you right now.” Beat’s real name is Gary Clive, but he had been Colt’s drummer since they had launched Colt Cavanaugh and the Fleet Street Band. Beat fit the man so much better than Gary.
“I didn’t say anything, did I?” Beat was in his mid-thirties, just like Colt and he had a family to think about as well. Beat didn’t pressure Colt the way the other band members would for information or the skinny on future plans. No, Beat would quietly offer unsolicited advice on any subject he saw fit to sanction and Colt would somehow see the merit in his friend’s words. It drove Colt crazy, even though he appreciated the wisdom.
“If you said anything any louder, my head would split.” Colt hissed, knowing his anger was misplaced, but not able to keep it inside. Beat nodded his head as if he understood the whole thing. Colt would have liked to think Beat didn’t know a darn thing, but somehow the man always found out everything. Colt pressed the button to open the doors of his tour bus. They swung open and he climbed up the stairs as if the weight of the world were on his shoulders. Beat followed him inside and closed the doors. The interior was remarkably quiet and it soothed some of his frayed nerves.
“Beer?” Beat asked, looking through the small fridge. It was two in the afternoon. Colt shrugged and held out his hand. Beat handed him a cold, shiny can and grimaced. “Who did the shopping this time?”
Colt cracked the can open and heard the ksshh sound. “Jason, I think.”
“I can tell.” It was all Beat said before opening his own beer and drinking out of it. Colt leaned back on the small couch, avoiding the windows and closing his eyes. He just needed to get through tonight. Then he would take two weeks to figure out what his next move would be.
“I got some news today.” His buddy said from the captain’s chair near the door.
Colt kept his eyes closed. “That good, huh?” The teasing question was left hanging as the silence wrapped around the two men again. Colt wasn’t sure Beat was going to say anything else and he was too preoccupied to pry.
“Shannon’s pregnant.”
It landed like a stone onto the weight Colt was already carrying. It was a big day for Beat and his wife, Shannon. She was expecting their first child and instead of Colt being happy for his longtime friend, he felt the pressure on the decision he had to make.
“That is some news.” Colt answered rather belatedly. He took a long drink of his beer and then set it aside.
“It isn’t the greatest timing, I know. It just happened.” Beat reflected, his comments more internally than to Colt. Shifting uncomfortably on the couch, Colt took off his hat and tossed it onto the cushion beside him.
“You’ll be a great dad, Beat.” Colt meant that. Only a year ago did Colt find out that he was a father and after the smoke cleared, he loved being a dad. His only regret was that he hadn’t been in Drew’s life from the very beginning.
“I want to be a good father, Colt.” Beat looked contemplatively at his friend and longtime band mate. He needed to say something, Colt could tell by the furrow of his brow. “I can’t come back out on the next tour. I want to be home every night with Shannon and our baby.”
There it was. It was inevitable, he supposed. Not everyone could stay out on tour for months at a time and not miss being a part of their family. Colt wasn’t too keen on it anymore either, but it paid the bills. Then again when had the music been about the money?
“I will start looking around for another drummer.” Colt sighed, leaning his head back against the cushion. “You’re doing the right thing.” Colt tried to reassure Beat and possibly himself as well. It wasn’t as if the thought of retiring hadn’t crossed his mind too.
“It’s hard to leave the band, man. We’ve had some damn good times over the years.” Beat’s voice was pained, reminiscent of the past. Colt understood that. “What if I can’t be the father I want to be? What if I’m no good at it?”
“There’s better things to come, Beat. I totally understand the scary feeling of failure, but there’s nothing like being a parent. I wish every day that I was around to hold Drew as a baby in my arms. I’d have given the whole world to do that.”
“Yeah, but Nora didn’t give you a choice back then. It’s her fault for keeping your son a secret.” Beat put his beer can on the floor and crushed it with his boot.
“You know I used to be so mad at her, but I think the man I was when we started this band wasn’t prepared to be a father. I don’t think I would put the value on it that I do now.”
“We were kids when we started.” Beat lifted his brow, leaning back in his chair and hitching his heels on the other chair.
Colt nodded. “A kid raising a kid? It wouldn’t have lasted and Drew would have paid the price. Nora did me a favor and she always knew it, even if I didn’t. She let me live my dream without sacrificing her and our son.”
“I don’t think I would be that forgiving, but you have a point. This business ages a person and a decade feels like a lifetime some days.” Beat and Colt nodded in agreement. The long hours, late nights, and hundreds of different cities made it hard to call anywhere home. Nashville had been the hub for Country music and that’s where Colt had been discovered. Now he owned his ranch in Montana, a modest house in Hot Springs, and a beach house in California. He had been blessed with ardent fans, fantastic songs, and even better friends.
“Well since tonight is your last night on tour, we better do it up right.” Colt smiled, although he could feel that it didn’t reach his eyes. Beat’s lips turned up marginally and he nodded. Colt couldn’t shake that tonight would be the end to a few things, he just didn’t know what exactly.
