Elegy - Chapter 20

Warren had picked me up early that morning for the drive to Asheville. It seemed crazy that he’d driven up from Asheville to Wellsville just for us both to go back, but I guess this was official, and he felt he needed to get me prepped for the interview.

I did wonder briefly, what with his cast, how he was going to drive us, but that was explained when he showed up in a town car with a guy wearing a suit driving the car while he was in the back. It seemed like a bit of an unnecessary expense. I’d driven to Asheville a bunch of times by now and was used to it, but who was I to question how the record industry worked?

I was at least glad he didn’t bother to get out of the car. Having been on crutches the previous year, I knew what a pain it was navigating your way in and out of a car while dealing with them. Instead, the driver got out and opened the passenger door for me to slide in next to him. For a kid who grew up in a broken-down RV, this was quite the step up.

The whole trip we went over what to expect from the interview. Warren had a bunch of questions that he thought Rivers might ask, so he made sure that I wouldn’t be surprised and that I had some idea how to answer them. Several were indeed shocking, which I guess should be expected from a shock jock, leaning into the most horrific parts of that night. While I didn’t love talking about that, I was glad Warren had brought it up now, so I wouldn’t be caught off guard. We also went over some strategies for redirecting the conversation, although that was less predictable, so instead of role-playing our way through it, we went over general tactics and guidelines.

Finally, we were dropped off in front of a dingy, old-looking building with a sign for the local rock station. I don’t know what I expected for a radio station, but this wasn’t quite it. Of course, this was a small market, and country was much more popular out here than rock or pop, so maybe it was just the area.

As we stood out front, taking in the building, and giving me time to build up my courage, Warren clapped me on the shoulder, giving me an encouraging smile.

“You can do this. You play in front of crowds two or three times a week. It’s just a conversation, and I’ve seen you charm rock stars. Rivers is small potatoes compared to Ronnie Ralston.”

“Easy for you to say,” I muttered, wiping my sweaty palms on my jeans.

Last spring, I’d been a mid-act at a concert event and had a run-in with Ronnie Ralston, who was just about as big as you could get in our business, and the interaction had gone okay. Of course, that was a completely different situation. For one, our conversation was more like a handful of sentences and lasted maybe two minutes. This was completely different.

It also wasn’t a crowd where I was performing. Sitting alone in a studio, talking into a microphone with a million-plus strangers listening in … that was a whole other level.

We pushed through the dark glass doors into another world. Gone was the bleak concrete and nondescript brick, replaced with lush carpets, warm paint, and what I could only assume was expensive furniture. The walls were covered with signed pictures of famous musicians going back forty years, some of whom I recognized and some I had no idea who they were.

The station manager greeted us and led the way into the studio, chatting enthusiastically the whole time about what an exciting opportunity this was and about how many listeners Axel Rivers commanded. None of which did anything to calm my churning stomach.

“Have a seat here, Mr. Nelson,” the manager said, gesturing to a padded chair in front of a fancy-looking microphone. “We’ll have you on with Axel in just a few minutes. Do you need anything before we get started? Water or coffee?”

“Uhh, no. I’m good, thanks,” I said, stumbling over my words.

My mouth had gone dry, but I doubted I could swallow anything right then.

“Great. I’ll leave you to it then,” she said, giving me an encouraging thumbs up and leaving.

Alone in the studio, I took a deep breath and did my best to center myself, thinking of some of the techniques Chef taught me. I assumed the advice about keeping calm before a fight, keeping my wits about me, and trying to stay ahead of my opponent applied to this just as much as a fight.

I wanted to do well. This was a huge shot for us. Sure, the circumstances leading up to it weren’t ideal. No one wants their music to get exposure because their concert venue nearly burned down, but I’d take what I could get. All I had to do was not make an idiot out of myself, talk up the band, and who knew where we might end up after this.

First, though, I had to manage not to throw up or pass out. Every time I looked at the dark screen on the wall across from me, that the station manager had pointed at, I thought about all the people who’d be hearing me. A crowd of thousands was one thing. This was … something else.

Blowing out a slow breath, I leaned forward in my seat. This was what I’d signed up for.

The screen flashed to life, making me jump. There was Axel Rivers staring into the camera with a sly grin. I realized I’d never actually seen a picture of him, just heard his voice. He looked nothing like what I had pictured. If anything, he reminded me of some of the older guys on the back end of their music careers that I used to see at the places Dad played when I was a kid. He had long, curly brown hair, already going gray, and a scraggly half-stubble, half-beard, also starting to turn gray.

After a second, I realized he wasn’t looking directly at me, but at someone else in the room with me. The camera eye-line was looking directly at him, but a little higher. It gave the impression he was talking to me when he was, in fact, just looking straight ahead, probably at a producer or a computer monitor. It was clever placement.

“Good morning, America, and welcome back! We’ve got an exciting guest for you all today. Fresh off a fiery show in Raleigh, literally, please welcome Charlie Nelson, frontman for Charlie and the Wild Cats!” I winced at the pun but managed a smile.

“Hey, Axel, thanks for having me.”

“We’ve already covered the fire a few times and talked to a few survivors, but I’m dying to hear how it appeared from up on the stage. So we’re gonna start with what everyone wants to know. What was it like?”

“To be honest, Axel, it was a nightmare. We’d only just gotten through our first song when one of the projectors at the front of the stage started sparking. It happened so fast I barely had time to figure out what was going on. It only took a minute before the entire stage was on fire. Before we knew it, the fire had started climbing up to the ceiling and people were panicking. If it wasn’t for our tour manager, Warren, getting everyone out of there, it could have been a lot worse.”

“I heard that if it wasn’t for you, things could have been a lot worse. People on the scene tell us you got a rear door open and were leading the crowd out.”

“It wasn’t just me. Two of my bandmates, Marco Manning and Seth Bell, were the ones who fought through the smoke to get the doors open, and if it wasn’t for Lyla Grant, who plays bass for us, our tour manager would have bled out. They really came through.”

“Didn’t you go into the crowd, directing people out through the doors?”

“I had to. Two of my best friends were working our merch booth at the back of the room. My only thoughts were to get them out, really. Honestly, anyone else would have done exactly what I did.”

“Maybe, although this reminds me of that fire in Los Angeles last year. Unlike what happened in Raleigh, thirty people died in that fire, including two of the band members. From what I’ve heard, this fire was just as bad and could have gone the same way.”

“We just got lucky, Axel,” I said, pushing the raw emotions that still came with remembering seeing the venue burn down. “I’m just really grateful for everyone’s support. The guys from the Raleigh police and fire departments responded incredibly fast and are the real heroes here. I also want to give a shout-out to my label, MAC Records, for making sure we had everything we needed after this happened. They were really there for us. Honestly, we’re just looking forward to moving on from this. Our album came out in September and is still doing great, and we had another show the week before Raleigh in Charlotte that was amazing. We all see this as a small bump in our story, thankfully one that ended more or less happily.”

“That’s incredible. I’m glad to hear you all made it out safe. And your fans too, of course!”

“So are we, Axel. Our fans mean the world to us, and I hope to get a chance to meet more of them under better circumstances,” I said, struggling to steer the conversation away from the fire without sounding callous about it.

“What I think our audience really wants to hear, though, is what it was like in there. You were in the middle of the flames and just barely made it out. Paint us a picture.”

That was literally the last thing I wanted to do. I’d thought for a second there that I’d managed to steer him away from the fire and maybe even ready to talk about something else. Clearly, I hadn’t satiated their morbid curiosity. I could see Warren through the glass partition, standing behind the audio engineer or whoever. He could see me struggling to answer.

“It was … intense,” was all I managed.

“That’s an understatement. Sources say at least a dozen concertgoers had to be hospitalized for severe burns and smoke inhalation. A few are still recovering in intensive care units across the state. Did you see any of that up close? Witness the injuries and suffering firsthand?”

“I don’t really … It happened very fast, and I was mostly just focused on getting my friends and all of the people in there to safety,” I said, my voice trailing off.

“How did it make you feel?” Tommy Ducks asked, piping up for the first time.

Here I thought he was supposed to be the comic relief. Instead, he was bringing me down even more.

“It was terrifying, but really our focus now is on moving forward. We want to celebrate life and follow our passions. That’s what our music is really about, finding the joy in life. We debuted a new song at the show that isn’t on our album, called The Little Things. ”

We actually hadn’t gotten to that song since it was our closer, but we had played it at the Blue Ridge once, and it was on our set list that night, so it wasn’t a straight-out lie.

“Speaking of new songs, I know a lot of the artists we talk to are inspired by events in their own lives. Has what happened that night given you any ideas?” Axel asked.

He was good. Instead of an abrupt change back to the fire itself, he took my talk about writing songs and twisted it to be about what happened.

“Not yet, but there’s a chance it might. I wouldn’t say all of our songs are based on events in our lives, since I never met Jesse James, but a lot of them are. I guess we’ll see where inspiration takes us.”

Instead of looking straight ahead, Rivers looked into the camera and gave a smirk and a small headshake. He didn’t seem particularly annoyed, and if anything, the gesture was more one of amusement, so maybe I scored some points by not giving up.

“After everything you went through, I gotta say I’m impressed you’re able to put it behind you and focus on your music. It shows some real resilience. I’ve known a lot of bands over the years who were hit something only half as traumatic, and it basically ended their careers. So kudos. It shows the mark of someone who’s in this for the long haul,” he said.

I shrugged, even though he was back to looking straight ahead.

“We’re just doing what we love. I once told one of my bandmates that nothing would get me off the stage, so I guess now I had to prove it. We took a week off after Raleigh, but then we were back to our regular weekend gig at the Blue Ridge Bar & Grill just off Exit 19 on I-26 here in North Carolina. I guess the real test will be our upcoming show in Philadelphia and our spring break tour across Georgia and Florida, where we’ll be part of the Spring Break Smash in Miami in March.”

“Jesus, listen to this kid plug like a veteran,” Tommy Ducks said.

I replied, “I don’t know. A professional probably would have mentioned that their album, Country Roads, and the dates of all their tours could be found at Charlie Nelson Music dot com.”

Kat had created a simple website for us after the album came out. It was probably less flashy than what the label would have come up with, but we had control of it instead of them, so I was happy with the arrangement.

“I think we’ve created a monster,” Axel said. “Okay, before he starts listing off their merchandise or …”

“Actually, we have shirts and …” I started to say, interrupting him, but stopped before I actually plugged it, which might have been taking it a step too far.

That got a laugh out of Rivers, an actual one that sounded very different from the kind of polite one he’d been doing up till then.

“Okay, okay. I take it back; you’re a seasoned pro at this. I tell you, with an attitude like yours, I’m expecting to hear big things from you in the next couple of years. Until then, if you get a chance, check out Country Roads from MAC Records, streaming now on all major platforms. Charlie, it’s been a genuine pleasure.”

“Same here, Axel,” I said.

The screen went dark, and the light above it went from a green ‘on the air’ to a red ‘standby.’ I sagged in my chair in relief. For a moment, I had thought the whole thing was going to go south. I turned to the mirror to see Warren jumping up and down, hands raised like a prizefighter, smiling like an idiot. Even the sound engineer, I hadn’t met, was smiling.

I guess I’d done okay.

***

Monday, I was still riding high from the interview. I had called Lyla that night, and she said they had all been listening. I didn’t ask about Marco’s reaction because I hadn’t managed to get in as many comments about the three of them specifically as I would have liked, and I didn’t want to hear him complaining about it. She was excited about my performance, especially about how I had plugged the album and shows, which was good enough.

For the first time since my terrible date with Sydney, I was feeling more or less balanced. I still missed hanging out with her, but I guess I had finally managed to keep myself busy enough to stop moping and feeling sorry for myself. Of course, my no longer feeling terrible was apparently the precise moment she decided it was finally time for us to talk.

I was headed to the lunch table to see how many of my friends had heard the radio show on Saturday when I spotted Sydney weaving her way through the crowded cafeteria, making a beeline for me. All it took was seeing her again to have the emotions and worry flood back into me.

Worse, she looked equally nervous and determined, a combination that was a little foreboding considering how things stood between us.

“Do you have a minute to talk?” she asked, stopping in front of me.

I swallowed the lump in my throat and, tried not to sound as terrified as I suddenly felt, said, “Sure. What’s up?”

She played with the drawstrings of her hoodie, pulling one end and then the other, not making eye contact, which started to freak me out even more.

“Can we go somewhere to talk?” she said, looking around at the kids going every which direction, carrying food, running, and generally creating chaos. “Maybe out to the football field?”

“Uhh, sure,” I said, stumbling over the words.

I felt the pit of my stomach drop. This was starting to feel more and more like a breakup talk. While I appreciated her handling this a lot more gently and kindly than how Rhonda had gone about it, I also didn’t want it to happen since I still really liked her. Not that I had much of a say about it. I could be an ass, refuse to go talk, but that wouldn’t keep her from breaking up with me, and it would kill any chance we’d have to remain friends.

“Sure,” I said, putting out an arm to signal her to lead the way.

We made our way through the throng of students, occasionally getting a smile or wave as we passed people we knew. I barely returned any of them, my mind too locked in on whatever was about to happen.

The snow was gone, but it was overcast and still cold outside. Sydney had on a hoodie, but I’d left my jacket in my locker and could already feel the needle-like breeze prickling at my skin. I ignored it, following her across the parking lot and up onto the bleachers, a condemned man being led to his execution.

Settling onto the cold metal bleachers, kind of angled towards each other, she took a deep breath, I guess readying herself for whatever she was about to tell me.

“You were right, I was avoiding you, and I’m sorry,” she said, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

“Does that mean you’re ready to talk about what happened?”

“I guess so. First, I want to say I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pretended like nothing was wrong when we both knew that wasn’t true. I was just … scared, I guess, and thought if we didn’t talk about it, I wouldn’t have to deal with it.”

“You don’t have to apologize. I wanted to give you some space, but I wasn’t controlling myself well and kept pushing instead. I know I was probably making it worse, and so I’m the one who should apologize.”

She nodded almost unconsciously, looking down at her hands in her lap, which were gripping each other tightly.

“I guess what I really want to say is, I shouldn’t have stormed out on you that night. It was immature and unfair.”

“No, it wasn’t. You told me you loved me, and you were expecting to hear it back. Anyone would have reacted the same way.”

“I’m not so sure you would have. You’ve handled this a lot better than I have.”

“I haven’t been handling it well at all. It’s why I came at you so hard the other day. I may not have said it, but I really do care about you, and I was terrified we might be over.”

“Me too. When you wouldn’t say it, I thought I’d made a huge mistake, and then, instead of listening to you, I just got mad because you didn’t do what I wanted you to. I put you in an unfair position, expecting you to say ‘I love you’ when Iwas ready instead of when you were. I felt dumb and foolish and lashed out,” she said, finally looking up at me. “You could have gotten mad at me or broken up with me, but you didn’t. And you have given me time to think about what happened, which I appreciate.”

“It’s okay. You took a huge step, and it had to be scary. Hell, it scared the hell out of me, because when I realized I couldn’t say it back, I thought I’d made a mistake. I really struggle with my parents’ relationship, and sometimes I worry that maybe they messed me up, you know?”

“Yeah. Actually, my mom pointed that out. I guess, growing up as I did, I never saw people in that kind of relationship. I just saw my parents, and they’ve always been in love, so I thought that’s how it was for everyone. My mom told me a story she’d never told me before, about the guy she dated before she met my dad in college. How they thought they were in love and everything was great, but then it turned out not to be. I guess what I’m saying is that I was only seeing things from my point of view and not yours. It’s hard to remember everyone’s home life isn’t as great as mine.”

Although the way that came out could sound a little conceited or whatever, I knew she didn’t actually mean it like that. The thing that stood out more to me was how great she thought her home life was. I’d have to agree hers was better than mine. Her parents genuinely cared about each other, and in that, she wasn’t wrong. She didn’t see how controlling they were or how stunted they made her, though. In many ways, she was very naive and had led a very sheltered life.

While I wouldn’t be one to complain about how fast she moved, I think one of the reasons for it was that everyone she’d dated before me had been approved of by her father, and she’d felt … I don’t know, safe with them, maybe. In our relationship, she’d moved things along very quickly, both emotionally and physically. While I knew neither I nor the guy she dated before me, based on how she’d talked about him, had taken advantage of that, eventually, she’d be out from under her father’s roof. I worried she might involve herself with someone less respectful of her boundaries, or who’d use her willingness to open up against her. I had a feeling that once she got to college, she’d be in for a rude awakening.

While the conversation had gone better than I feared it might, we still hadn’t gotten to the main thing I wanted to know.

“So, where does this leave us?”

“Together, if that’s still what you want. I love you, Charlie. I understand if you need more time, and I’ll wait. I just want us to be together.”

It was like a weight that had been building all week finally lifted. I hadn’t realized how hard I’d been clenching basically everything since the conversation began until I suddenly relaxed when I knew we weren’t over.

“Yes. Absolutely. I still want to be together. It’s all I’ve wanted this whole time. I missed you like crazy.”

Sydney’s face lit up, and she threw her arms around my neck. As we squeezed each other, I could smell the light floral scent I recognized as her normal shampoo. It was one of those little things I hadn’t even noticed I’d been missing until it was back. Just the way she smelled made me suddenly feel comfortable and safe. Things were right again.

“I missed you, too,” she said, not letting go of me. “Friday’s your birthday, do you have any plans?”

“My Fridays are just too busy. It’s not like I can tell Coach Dean I want out of practice just because it’s my birthday and I want to go out, and I can’t exactly call off our normal gig. Besides needing the money, the whole band relies on me, so I have to do it.”

When I finished rambling, she leaned back, hands on my arms and, with a serious expression that was undercut by the humor in her tone, asked, “So that’s a no?”

“Yes, that’s a no. I don’t have any plans, but I don’t think I’ll be able to make any.”

“What about Saturday? We could get a late breakfast and spend all day together, at least until you have to go play that night. Maybe we could see a movie, or go hiking, or, I don’t know, anything.”

“No hiking,” I said. “Once was enough for me.”

“Yeah, okay. How about this? I owe you for being such an idiot for the last week. I’ll plan our date, and it’ll be my treat, and then I’ll go to your show afterward. It’ll be a whole day, just the two of us, at least until you have to go to work.”

“You don’t have to do all that. I don’t mind planning it, and I should at least pay.”

“No, it’s my treat,” she said again, more forcefully. “This time, at least, you need to listen to me.”

“Fine, your treat. My mom hasn’t planned anything yet, so there shouldn’t be any conflict, but I have to be home by six. Mrs. Phillips still wants to do cake, presents, and stuff before I go to the Blue Ridge.”

She pressed her forehead to mine, and we both closed our eyes. Things weren’t perfect, and we still had a lot of challenges in our relationship, like her father wanting us to split up, but for now, we were okay. And that was enough.

“Thank you,” she said, brushing her lips against mine. Opening her eyes and leaning back slightly, she said, “I love you, Charlie Nelson. You don’t have to say it back. I understand you still really like me and want to be with me. I can wait for the rest. I just want to be clear about how I feel about you.”

The bell rang, letting us know it was time to head to our next class. We got up and walked down the bleachers side by side, fingers intertwined.