Chapter 48
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
“Shit, man. You trying out for a remake of The Life and Times of Grizzly Adams?” Cory did a double take after popping his head into Jamie’s home studio the following Monday. “I almost didn’t recognize you with that beard.”
Jamie had been so busy writing and recording Honeybee, a six-song EP, that apparently, he’d made enemies of his razor and can of Barbasol. He stroked the wild, dark-blond bush and smiled. “A worthy sacrifice for my art. Is everybody here?”
As Cory flopped down on the cobalt velvet couch, Jamie winced, remembering Brinton sitting there for the first time not too long ago. Watching him pour his heart out. He missed the hell out of her.
“I think your daddy’s on the way back from picking up Mamaw, but I reckon they’ll be here any minute. Are you gonna finally reveal why you assembled us all here? I love a good mystery, but the Braves play in an hour.”
Jamie stood from the new ergonomic armchair at his desk. It didn’t smell a thing like Brinton, which made things simpler and more devastating at the same time. But the reduced distractions had served him because a lot had changed in six weeks.
The circus of the Landmark ghostwriting article had died down, and while there was no shortage of trolls on the internet who called him a jackass-Nepo-baby-phony, the truth was out there.
He had accepted that. That was, in part, thanks to a few sessions with his old therapist, who helped him sit with that discomfort.
A little whiskey under the silver moonlight didn’t hurt either.
But today, Jamie decided it was time to share his plans with the people he loved most.
“I will—when everyone’s here,” Jamie called as he walked out the door.
Cory shot up behind him. “Why does this feel like a reverse intervention?”
A few minutes later, Jamie stood in his living room by the mantle. Across from him, Emma Lou, Tex, Cory, and Sammi sat on the couch while his father was posted in the tobacco leather armchair in the far corner.
Jamie cleared his throat. This had been a long time coming, and he was ready. “Y’all are the most important people in my life, and I would be nothing without you. I haven’t always been easy to deal with”—Jamie looked directly at Tex and Sammi, who smiled back—“but I need all of you.”
His gaze shifted to his father.
“But I acted like I didn’t have a choice in how my story played out. I’m making the right choice now. Last night, I finished my first EP, which I wrote and performed…entirely. And I’m gonna release it soon. I hope I can have all your support.”
“Of course, son, whatever you need,” Tex said.
Sammi draped her arm around Tex’s shoulder. “You’re stuck with us until the end of the line.”
The invisible anvil lifted from Jamie’s shoulders. “Good. The EP’s called Honeybee. I was thinking I could play it for you now?”
The room erupted in wolf-whistles and applause as Jamie pressed play.
Not long later, Jamie’s living room buzzed with excitement. He felt good about what he’d made, but this response was exhilarating.
Emma Lou, who had recovered nicely from her accident, rose from the couch. “I think it’s marvelous. But why stop with us? The whole world needs to hear this.”
“Mamaw, please be careful,” Jamie nearly shouted as he helped her back down to her seat. “You got out of the hospital, like, fifteen minutes ago.”
“Oh, please. I’m fine,” she said, playfully waving him away. “I’ll be on the court in no time. Can’t let those old birds think I’ve lost my edge.”
Amused, Jamie rolled his eyes. He peered at his father, who hadn’t said a word since he arrived.
“We can start shopping this EP for a new deal,” Tex mused, rubbing his round chin.
Jamie sighed. He needed to get out ahead of this before history repeated itself. “I appreciate it, Tex, but I don’t want to jump into a full project right away.”
“Well, what do you wanna do?” Jamie’s father asked, finally. The room fell silent, save for the rattling of ice in Jamie Sr.’s whiskey as he sipped.
Jamie swallowed the rising dread in his throat. “I wanna put the EP out but haven’t figured out how.”
His father shifted in his seat, took a long sip. “Then we’ll put it out.”
Jamie’s heart felt like a sandbag. Ever since that night in Emma Lou’s hospital room, things had been better between them than they had been in years. He didn’t want to go back to square one by agreeing to release his most personal work on his father’s imprint.
“But not on my imprint, on your own label,” his father said, as if reading his mind. “Go independent like you wanted. Tex and I can help set it up, but it will be yours creatively. We could have it done by the end of the week.”
Jamie did a double take, Tex slapped his hands excitedly, and Sammi drew an emphatic whistle.
“I don’t know what to say,” Jamie said quietly, almost unable to process what had happened. “I would love that. And I’ll make you proud, Daddy.”
“You already have,” he said.
“We’re all proud of you,” Cory added.
Now Sammi was standing, practically levitating in her flowy red dress. “We could do an EP release show on Friday. Livestream it? Stage it somewhere classy and traditional.”
“Respectfully, forget about tradition,” Jamie Sr. said. Everyone, even Jamie Sr. himself, erupted in laughter. Once they settled, Jamie Sr. stood and crossed the room. “Let’s focus on him. Son, how do you wanna play this?”
He rested his hand on Jamie’s shoulder. Surprisingly, it settled him.
“We should stream it from my website, but I wanna perform the concert here. Call it a bonfire session, and I’ll play it all live on acoustic. We’ll invite all our friends from town.”
“Perfect,” Cory shouted, slapping his knees and stomping his boots.
Tex shot up with clenched fists, like his home team was up in the game’s final minutes. “I love it. I’ll start making some calls.”
“And I’m already on it,” Sammi said, typing furiously on her phone. “Any requests for the guest list?”
Jamie hoped Sammi wouldn’t ask him that. “I mean, the usual crowd.”
“What about Brinton?” Emma Lou asked. “I was so fond of her, and you were too. You may have fallen out, but if I know nothing else, it’s that life is short.”
Jamie squeezed her hand. “We’re not exactly on speaking terms. I don’t blame her after what I said. And now she won’t return my calls or texts.”
Cory joined Jamie at Emma Lou’s side. “She’ll come around. No one is immune to that charm of yours. The beard, though, is questionable.”
Jamie lightly jabbed Cory in the shoulder.
“I’ll try talking to her too,” Sammi said, her nails clicking on her screen.
“Just because you ain’t in the same room, it don’t mean you can’t reach her. That’s what the music’s for,” Jamie Sr. said.
Emma Lou looked at Jamie in that way all grandmothers did when they knew they were right. “I have a feeling all those songs you played for us are about her. Be sure to look after that heart of yours. She might want it back someday.”