Center Stage - Chapter 27

Since the weekend, we’d really picked up work on songwriting, going from essentially the moment I got home from school until well into the evening. It was more than a month until we needed to be ready to be at the studio, but I wanted to really polish as much as we could before that moment.

We were in the garage again, the AC I’d bought and convinced Mrs. Phillips to let us install so we didn’t melt trying desperately to cool the enclosed garage down now that the temperatures were starting to pick up as we got close to summer.

The previous summer, we’d dragged in an old couch for Kat to sit on as she took up her place as our groupie, even though we weren’t doing any touring then. Now it was all but filled up by Mana, who’d quickly become my favorite of the three guards. I wasn’t wrong when I’d thought he sounded a lot different than his physical bulk implied. He really did personify the gentle giant thing, except his wit could be kind of cutting and he was pretty blunt. Both of which I found endearing.

Honestly, I kind of worried that the couch would collapse under his weight, and it did noticeably sag every time he dropped his huge frame onto it, but I kind of liked him there.

We’d just finished doing a run-through of Wild Fire Heart, the latest song Lyla had brought us the week before, and it was really in her wheelhouse.

“How do you keep doing it?” I said as we finished up. “I swear, you never have a bad song.”

She waved me off. “It’s okay.”

“No. I’m serious. Each is fun and upbeat, and yet you keep making them original and not sound like copies of each other. Seriously. You are so good at this.”

She kind of shrugged and said, “I try. But you’re what sells albums.”

She couldn’t hide her smile though, and I knew she appreciated the validation. She had a weird dichotomy for an artist, needing strong validation about her music but an insane amount of confidence and bravado in everything else.

“I don’t know about that. Look at Crossroad Heartache. I mean, it’s good, but it’s a deep cut at best. And not a good one. Feels like I’m trying to channel Willie with End of the Blues, you know? Especially since we’ve already got that in the can ready to go on the album.”

“No,” Lyla said. “It’s way more pop than End of the Blues. Besides, your blues stuff is where you shine. It’s the sweet spot. And you’ve got Starlight Fever, which I think rocks harder than mine. It’s so fast.”

“I’m not going to lie, I was channeling you.”

“She’s right,” Mana chimed in from the couch. “That one’s got good vibe.”

“See,” she said, pointing at him.

“You haven’t ridden in a car with him and listened to the music he plays. It’s not as much of a compliment as you think it is.”

“Brah?” he said, holding up his hands in a what-the-fuck gesture.

“Ask Malik. I see it on his face when it’s both of you. He agrees with me.”

“Psh,” he said, waving his hand in a dismissive gesture that caused me to laugh.

“Okay, so, Starlight, Crossroad, Wild Fire, the three form the EP, plus Lightning Whispers and Smallville Dreams gives us eight. So we need four more, at the very least.”

“That’s pretty good though. Four in a month is doable at the pace we’ve been going,” Lyla said.

“I know, but I want more than just four. I want options when we hit the studio, you know? Room to play. I’m not sure if we end up with Tran or someone else, and if we can’t get a song to work for whoever we get, I want the option to just bail and switch to a new one.”

“Okay, that’s a good point.”

“So, uh, I’ve got an idea for a song,” Seth said.

“Awesome. What’ve you got?” I asked.

“It’s called ‘Velocity.’ It’s about living life in the fast lane, chasing thrills, that kind of thing.”

“Sounds like something I’d write,” Lyla said.

“You haven’t even heard it yet. Hit us with it.”

“Okay, so it starts with this melody...” he said, starting to hum the melody and singing off the words.

As soon as he started singing the melody, I froze. I recognized it instantly. It was a slowed-down version of Rage of the Forgotten by Black Horizon, a metal band from the mid-nineties. I was never into metal much, although I appreciated the guitar work, but this song had been huge and was one of those songs that just lived in the public consciousness.

Which meant he probably hadn’t done it on purpose. I tried to keep my face neutral, but when I glanced at Lyla, I saw the recognition in her eyes too.

Seth finished his description, looking at us expectantly.

“That’s... really good,” I managed, forcing a smile.

“Yeah, totally,” Lyla chimed in.

Seth beamed, clearly happy to be contributing more, and I felt bad for not calling him out on it right away. He’d just been so cautious to even mention it, I didn’t want to hurt his feelings.

I cleared my throat. “Hey, would you mind if we took a few passes at it? You know, tighten it up a bit?”

“Sure!” Seth agreed eagerly.

Over the next half hour, Lyla and I worked to transform the song. We changed the chord progression, tweaked the melody, anything to make it less recognizable. I tried to make it seem offhand, like it matched what we thought his vision was, but he could see we were changing everything up.

“Why are you changing everything?” He said angrily after I altered yet another piece of the melody.

“We’re just... refining it.”

“No, you’re completely rewriting it. What, you don’t think it’s good enough?”

“That’s not what we’re saying,” Lyla said.

“Then what are you saying?”

I looked at Lyla, not sure what to do. Maybe if I’d said something right away it would be different, but we’d kind of dug ourselves a hole.

“Man, it’s clear you guys don’t like the song,” Mana said. “Why are you two trying so hard?”

“Seth, it’s not that we dislike the song. It’s just...”

“No. He’s right, you clearly do,” Seth interrupted, pointing at Mana. “Why lie about it?”

“It’s not that we hate it, man,” I said with a sigh. “The issue is... well, the melody’s a straight rip of someone else’s song.”

“What? No, it’s not.”

“Here, listen,” I said, grabbing my guitar. I played a bit of the melody Seth had sung, then switched to a faster, heavier version. “Recognize it now? It’s Rage of the Forgotten.”

His face dropped almost instantly. “Oh shit, you’re right.”

“Ohh, that’s where I’ve heard that,” Mana chimed in from the couch.

I waved him off.

“I’m so sorry, guys. I didn’t mean to…”

“No, no,” I cut him off. “Don’t apologize. Honestly, a lot of my songs start with someone else’s and build from there. It’s how so much art is done, not just music. One person’s work influences another to have ideas.”

“Ohh.”

“Absolutely,” Lyla added. “Charlie’s right. It’s all about taking inspiration and making it your own.”

“And we’ve already changed a lot of it. The words are great. Just the melody is a problem, and we can still use it as a base. We just have to pull out everything that’s too direct and redo those bits.”

Seth frowned. “That sounds like a lot of work. Maybe we should just focus on new songs instead?”

“This is how we focus on new songs,” I explained. “The hardest part is the base idea, and that’s still good. We only need to change the melody.”

“Are you sure?” Seth asked.

“Yeah, man. Let’s make this work.” I grinned at him. “We’ve got a solid foundation here. No reason to throw it all away.”

Seth’s face lit up. “Alright.”

“Let’s get to work,” I said, clapping him on the shoulder.

***

Quinn set up our photoshoot for the middle of May, by which point we’d started to make some real progress on the album. We still were two songs short, but what we did have was getting really polished, although I knew whoever produced it was going to still have lots of changes for it.

While I’d gotten used to the security routine at home, this was our first go with travel, and Jean especially was on edge the whole time. Considering she was normally wound incredibly tight, that was saying something. Since it was a one-day trip to New York, flying out, doing the photoshoot, and flying back on the last flight out, she’d decided to leave Malik at home, I guess so he could take over when we got back.

Getting through the airport was an experience. I learned that she and Mana were both armed, which I hadn’t realized until we ended up having to take a bag with us so they could check their weapons as cargo. The upside was we didn’t have to go through normal security, which I guess would have been disruptive. The airport had this separate large room for private security screenings, I guess for celebrities or politicians or something. I wasn’t sure I rated, but it did feel like we were living a high-class life all of a sudden.

Even with all the flights I’d done going back and forth for the tour and the show, it had just felt like travel, not all that different than the families and businessmen traveling on the same flight. I had to actually remind myself that all this was just trappings and I should not take it too seriously or get used to it, cause this level of things could go away at any time.

Everywhere we went, I got stares, which had more to do with having Jean a few steps in front of me, giving everyone the stink eye and Mana towering behind me than my actually being famous. I felt a little like the pope. Soundwave got us tickets in first class, which was great.

I actually did get recognized by a few people boarding the plane, who stopped to talk to me, although kept their distance since Jean sat on the outside and was between me and everyone else. I had to splurge for first class for her and Lyla and Seth sat together across the aisle from us, but Warren only got a coach ticket for Mana. I felt bad for whoever back there was sitting next to him.

We arrived at the building, a skyscraper in Manhattan, and they just left the car at the curb with Mana standing next to it talking to the doorman while Jean led us up to the twenty-second floor.

I don’t know what I was expecting, but we got off the lobby into basically a bare area with no real walls and a bunch of pre-set up camera areas, a few couches off to one side, I guess for entourages to wait, and what I learned was a makeup and hair styling area, which the receptionist rushed us to as soon as we came off the elevator.

I was about to sit down and let them do whatever they thought needed to be done to make me magazine ready when a young woman with a bit too much smile came over to me.

“Charlie! Welcome, we’re so excited to have you here. I’m Aspen, the production coordinator. We’ve got everything set up for your interview and photoshoot.”

“Interview? I thought this was just a photoshoot.”

Her perfect smile faltered ever so slightly. “Oh, did no one tell you? We added that on last night.”

“Umm, give me a sec,” I said, stepping back away from them and pulling out my phone.

Quinn picked up on the second ring.

“Charlie! Tell me you’re there and it’s going great.”

“I am here, but they’re saying something about an interview. I thought this was just a photoshoot.”

“Change of plans. They want to do a feature on you as well as a write-up for the new artist section. I might have let it slip about the stalking issues and they took the bait.”

“Quinn, I wanted this to be about the music, not my personal life.”

“Boo hoo,” she said, which kind of pissed me off. “Charlie, this is a good thing. You went from a photoshoot, which is great, to the cover, a piece in the upcoming artist section, and a feature. Artists who’ve been in this industry for decades would die for that kind of coverage. Here’s the thing, your music is great and people like it, but people want the parasocial relationship. They want the drama. It’s why the show gave you that huge boost. People think they know you, which makes them want to watch and listen to you. Now stop whining and get in there. Make my job easy.”

With that, she hung up. I stared at my phone in disbelief. Still, I was here, getting this photoshoot, and with an interview I would have killed for a year ago, so maybe she knew something and I should shut up and listen.

Mana raised an eyebrow as I rejoined the group. “Everything okay, boss?”

“Just peachy.”

I headed back over to the makeup area, where a team descended on me like a NASCAR pit crew. They had my hair sprayed, styled, and teased, and I honestly couldn’t tell a difference. The photographer, a tall, thin man with artfully messy hair and glasses named Francis, kept swinging through commenting, and he seemed to like it. The makeup part was weird, but I just let them do whatever and hoped it didn’t leave me looking like an idiot.

After what felt like an eternity but was probably only fifteen minutes, we were deemed ready and ushered over to the first photo setup. It was a plain white background with a stool in the center.

Francis swooped in and said, “We’re going to make magic today! You. Pretty boy. Sit here on the stool in front. You two stand behind him a few steps. Good. Good. Look serious. You. Punk girl. Less smiling.”

And so it went, as he just kept shouting off directions, moving us around in different configurations, and generally being disappointed in my total inability to ‘smolder.’

He was pulling on clothing a lot, adjusting it, so I didn’t think about it right away when he came over and started adjusting my shirt. He ended up pulling it a bit too high, showing my abs, and running his hand up my stomach.

“My goodness, you’re in amazing shape.”

I looked across at Lyla and Seth, more frozen in shock than anything else.

“We should do some without this, really showcase your physique,” he said, starting to lift off my shirt.

Lyla lunged forward and yanked my shirt back down, “You realize he’s a minor, right?”

“My apologies,” he said, not sounding like he was sorry in any way. “But you really should consider doing some modeling. You have the physique for it.”

“Uhh, no thanks,” I said.

If this was what that life was, I could live without it.

“Suit yourself, but you don’t know what you’re missing.”

We went through more pictures, with costume changes, and he was still a little handsy, but Lyla was keeping an eye on him now. My security was watching, but I guess they decided he wasn’t an actual threat and was ignoring him.

“Alright, let’s get you over to the interview setup,” Aspen said, swooping in as soon as Francis took his last picture.

The interview step turned out to be the couches, which Jean and Mana had to vacate, where a woman in maybe her thirties with short dark hair was waiting.

“Is it okay if they sit in the interview with me?” I asked her as she sat down, pointing at Lyla and Seth.

“Actually, we were really hoping to just have you for the interview. To get that one-on-one feel.”

I glanced over at Lyla and Seth. I was pretty sure that’s what she was going to say, but I didn’t want to keep having them sit out and get overlooked.

“It’s cool, Charlie. We’ll just watch from the side,” Seth said.

He gave an encouraging smile and I reluctantly agreed. I settled onto the couch while the interviewer sat in the chair across from me and a cameraman pushed a stupidly large camera over her shoulder, facing me.

I hadn’t realized this was televised, and wished Quinn had told me a little more what was going on.

“Charlie Nelson,” the interviewer began, “thanks so much for being here. I want to start by asking, how did you first get into music?”

“It really all started with my dad. He was a gig musician when I was a kid, on the road pretty much all year. Mom and I traveled with him so I was at every show, hanging out backstage, watching him play. It was magic to me. He’s the one who first put a guitar in my hands.”

“But it wasn’t all great, was it? Your father had a bit of a troubled past, didn’t he? Some run-ins with the law?”

I couldn’t believe they were going back to the family thing. They’d just about covered this on The Stage, and it seemed unlikely there was much more they could mine out of it.

“Yeah, he uh... he struggled with his demons.”

“And then of course, there was their tragic deaths last year.”

I kept my face neutral, nodded, and said, “It was difficult.”

They were trying to get some kind of reaction out of me, and I wasn’t going to give it to them. I think she could see that because she pivoted.

“Let’s talk about your experience with MAC Records. There were some rumors of conflict there?”

“MAC gave me my first real shot. I’ll always be grateful for the opportunity they provided. The music industry can be complicated, and we had our differences, but I have no ill will toward the label or anyone there.”

She made a face that was clear she wasn’t happy with that answer, and I just met her gaze, not blinking. If they really heard the story, they’d know it was bullshit. And I didn’t care.

“And then of course, your big break on The Stage. What was that experience like?”

“Incredible. The show changed my life. Hal, Dakota, Dex - they were all so supportive and welcoming. And the crew, man, those people work their butts off. It was inspiring being around that kind of talent and dedication every day.”

“There were some rumblings about tension with Phoenix West near the end there...”

“I’m not sure who said that. I have the utmost respect for Phoenix. He’s of course one of the most influential people in the industry, rightfully so. I owe so much of my career to him and that show and I will forever be grateful.”

I was going to have to talk to Quinn when this was over. This wasn’t an interview, this was a setup to try and get me on film talking trash about someone, or saying something juicy. They’d yet to ask me about my actual music.

“I see you brought security with you today. Does this have anything to do with the rumors about you having some kind of stalker? Could you tell us more about that?”

“It’s an unfortunate reality that anyone in the public eye has to deal with sometimes, which unfortunately I’ve had to learn about very quickly. Yes, I have received some threats, but I try not to focus on that. I try and focus on the music and I’m grateful for the incredible fans who make it all worth it.”

“But how has having this security made you adapt your life? Has it changed your daily routines?”

Before I could respond, Jean said, “I’m sorry, but for security reasons, Charlie is not able to discuss the specifics of his protective arrangements.”

The interviewer looked annoyed but said, “Of course, of course. Let’s talk about something more positive then. Your new album. What can you tell us about it?”

“I’m really excited about it. We’ve been working hard on it and I hope to get in the studio by late June sometime for a July release. I think the songs are some of the best we’ve ever written and I really hope the fans will enjoy it.”

“So before the tour starts?”

“That’s the plan. We’re looking at touring from the middle of August to some point in September, but I’m not sure if that’s been finalized yet. It really depends on what they set up and how my school looks in September. But the new album will be a big part of that. Dates and venues should be announced soon. We’re really looking forward to getting out there and playing these new songs for everyone.”

“At the University of North Carolina, right?”

“Yes. I start as a freshman this fall and I’m looking forward to it.”

“You were originally slated to go to USC though. What happened there?”

“Just a change of plans. I’m really a country boy at heart so the idea of staying in Carolina appeals to me, and UNC made some compelling arguments for their program, which is very good. They’re also willing to work with my schedule, which with the tour will be important.”

“Well, we can’t wait to hear the new album and see you on tour. Thanks for your time.”

“Thank you,” I said, standing and shaking her hand.

We finished up signing a few releases and things, and then we were out the door, on our way back to the airport. I was still annoyed with Quinn for how much of an ambush that interview turned out to be.

But at least it was going to be good publicity.