Clueless (Nashville Nights: Take Two #2)

Chapter 1

Chapter One

Taz

“We’d like to sign you, Taz.”

I was staring at Luc Spencer, the owner of the biggest record label in Music City, in shock and disbelief.

Guys like me didn’t get big breaks. A month ago, I’d been singing my songs alone in my garage when a buddy at work talked me into posting a few videos online.

They weren’t supposed to go viral. I wasn’t supposed to have record labels making offers I had to refuse.

“You don’t want me.” I swiped a hand over my black beard, shaking my head. “Having me on your label would be a nightmare for you, man. Trust me on that.” I stood, offering my hand. “Thanks for the offer though. I appreciate it.”

“Taz, sit down.” When I planted my feet, he added, “Please.”

I sighed before sinking back in the leather armchair across from him.

“Tell me your story.”

I shook my head, letting the shame and self-disgust wash over me. “You don’t want to hear my story.”

“Yeah, I do.”

I had nothing to lose by telling him the whole ugly truth. At least once he heard it, he would agree I’d be a lousy fit for his well-respected label.

“Taz isn’t my real name.” I looked him in the eye when I said, “It’s a nickname I was given. I grew up running with a street gang. Ended up in jail when I was nineteen. Did twelve years.”

His eyes widened but he merely shook his head before straightening his silk tie. “Go on, I’m listening.”

At least he hadn’t shown me the door yet. I had no doubt that would be his next move. “Assault, drug possession, theft over $60k.”

He drew a deep breath. “You served your full sentence?”

I smirked. “Yeah, got into a lot of fights in the inside. Wasn’t exactly a model prisoner.”

“How long ago were you released?”

“Four years now.”

“And you’ve stayed out of trouble? You’re not on parole anymore? Anything preventing you from leaving the country?”

“No. The only country I might have some trouble entering is Canada. Apparently, they can do background checks at the border, and people convicted of drug crimes could be turned away.”

“Good to know. Problems travelling to any other countries?”

I shrugged. “I don’t think so. But to be honest, I haven’t tried. I’ve just been working with my buddy in construction, trying to stay outta trouble, put a few bucks in the bank, catch up on child support—”

“You have kids?”

“A daughter. She’s sixteen, hates my guts.”

“Sorry to hear that.”

“Not as sorry as I am to say it.” I cleared my throat. “Her mama got pregnant with her just before I went away. Married some other dude, and wouldn’t bring my daughter to meet me. Not that I blame her.”

“Jesus, Taz. You’ve really been through it, haven’t you?”

“You don’t know the half of it.”

“Keep talking then.”

I couldn’t believe he hadn’t tossed me out on my ass by now. “I wrote my daughter letters, but I have a feeling her mama kept them from her.”

“You’ve tried to reach out to her since you’ve been out?”

“Yeah, sure. But she won’t have anything to do with me.”

It still hurt like hell, knowing I had a kid living in the same city who wouldn’t even give me a chance. Granted, I’d been a deadbeat loser for most of my life, but I’d been working hard to change the past four years.

“You pay child support?”

“Yeah, I’ve been working overtime so I could triple up on child support to make up for all the years I missed.” I didn’t expect money to pave the way to a relationship with my daughter, but I figured it couldn’t hurt my cause.

“That’s commendable.”

“It’s the least I can do, since I bailed on her.”

“You didn’t exactly bail on her. You didn’t have a choice—”

“I chose to commit those crimes.” Sure, I’d been a dumbass kid at the time, trying like hell to act like a tough guy, and fit in with his new street family, but I still did the crimes and deserved every day of my sentence.

“You’re right, you did. But you didn’t know your girlfriend was pregnant when you did those things. Would it have made a difference, knowing you were going to be a father?”

“I don’t know, maybe.”

Luc tapped a gold pen against his desk while studying me. “I sure as hell didn’t expect this when I asked you in here today. You’re not on social media, so I didn’t do much digging into your background. Your buddy posted those videos of you singing, right? The ones that went viral.”

“Yeah.”

“And I’m guessing we’re not the first label to reach out?”

“No, you’re not.”

“You haven’t accepted any other offers though?”

“Uh no, but you’ve heard my story. No way would fans get behind my music once they found out about my background. And I refuse to live a lie or keep my past a secret.”

“I respect that,” Luc said, setting his booted feet on the corner of his desk as he tipped his swivel chair back, looking thoughtful.

“I’ll have to talk to Avery McCall. She’d be your publicist. She could help us spin this story so fans would see you as a guy who’d made mistakes and was trying to do better. ”

“Wait a second.” I held my hand up. “You’re still thinking about signing me?”

“Why not?”

“Uh, because I just told you I served twelve years? That my kid wants nothing to do with me—”

“You’re honest,” Luc said, pointing a finger at me.

“I like that. Most artists would have come in here and tried to cover up a past like yours, but you came right out with it. I think you’re raw, real, authentic.

” He snapped his fingers. “And people are eating up authenticity these days, my friend.”

“If you say so.” He was the professional, but it was hard for me to believe people would pay good money to see a guy with gang tattoos and a rap sheet like mine.

“What about your family?” Luc asked. “They still in the picture?”

I nodded. “Yeah, my folks kicked me out of the house when I was seventeen ‘cause I got mixed up with drugs and they weren’t having it. That’s how I got into the whole gang scene. I needed money. Drugs. Food. A roof over my head. They looked out for me, became my family.”

“You keep in touch with any of them?” Luc asked, looking concerned for the first time.

“No, they didn’t have much use for me once I got sentenced. Haven’t heard from any of them in years.”

“Good.” He nodded. “That’s a good thing. And you’re not mixed up in anything now, that might cause a problem?”

I shook my head. “No, man. I’ve been trying to repair my relationship with my family.

My folks, my little sister. She was so young when I went away, I missed out on a lot with her.

Graduation. Wedding. The day her twins were born.

I’m trying to make up for that. And become a man my daughter might actually want to know. ”

Luc smiled. “Sounds like you’re on the right track. And you never know, if she starts hearing her daddy on the radio, she might reach out to you.”

I’d give anything for Quinn to reach out to me someday, but I wasn’t holding my breath. I kept trying, maybe once a month, but my texts always went unanswered, and I respected her decision to banish me from her life.

“These songs you’ve been writing, at least the ones I’ve heard online, they cut deep, man.”

I’d always loved music. I taught myself to play the guitar in prison, after my folks visited me one Christmas and gifted me a guitar. They thought it might help to pass the time and they were right.

“I, uh, wrote them in prison.”

“I figured as much. Guys who’ve been through the stuff you have, can write the best songs, if they’re not afraid to tap into it.”

I’d never been a big talker, and I had no interest in seeing a shrink, but writing songs had been therapeutic for me.

I’d never expected to make any money off my songs or get recognized, but I figured if they could help even one person who was feeling down, it would be worth it to put them out there.

“How many songs have you written?”

“I don’t know.” I shrugged. “Maybe a hundred or so.”

Luc’s eyes widened. “That’s a lot of material.”

I smirked. “I didn’t say they were all good.”

“Those ones you released online?” Luc asked. “Would you say they’re your best?”

“Nah, those were just a few new ones I played for my buddy. I’m still fleshing them out.”

“Jesus, man.” Luc whistled long and low. “If you’re telling me that’s not even your best stuff, we could really build something here.”

I scraped my hands over my face, trying to process what the hell had happened to my life in the past two weeks, since my buddy started posting those videos online.

One day I’d been hanging drywall and installing trim and the next I’d been fielding calls from record execs who wanted to meet me. It was crazy.

“I don’t know what to say, Luc. I mean, I’m stoked you think my music is good enough—”

“It’s not just your music. It’s your voice. Your look. Your story. You’re what country music fans want right now.”

I didn’t see why fans would want an ex-con, gangbanger, who couldn’t even man up when he was called on to be a father.

My old man had a heart attack when I’d been in prison.

My mother had breast cancer when I’d been in prison.

Yeah, I had sad stories to tell, but I didn’t deserve any sympathy.

I’d always been my own worst enemy and deserved all the punishment doled out by the system and the people around me.

“You’re not buying it, are you?” Luc grinned.

“If there’s one thing I know, it’s what fans want.

And I’m telling you, they love new country music, but they’re feeling nostalgic too.

Think outlaw country. Johnny, Waylon, and Willie.

A voice like Chris Stapleton with an outlaw’s story. That’s country gold, my friend.”

“If you say so.” I didn’t take anything anyone said at face value anymore. I couldn’t afford to. Getting my hopes up about anything usually ended in disappointment.

“Let me talk to Avery about you. See what we can come up with. In the meantime, can you send me your top ten best songs, so I can have a look, and listen?”

“Uh.” I rubbed a hand over the fabric covering a full sleeve of colorful ink. “To be honest, those things were written on loose-leaf paper. They’re just in a binder at home.”

Luc slapped his forehead. “Dude, think theft. Think fire. What the hell? We can’t afford to lose those songs!”

“We?” I narrowed my eyes, challenging him.

“I don’t recall signing a contract with you.

Those songs are mine, and I can do what I want with them.

” I still wasn’t sold on the idea of cutting albums. I didn’t even know if I had it in me.

And when something scared me, my line of defense had always been anger.

Luc raised his hands. “I hear you. But if you think another label can do for you and your career what we can, you’re crazy.”

Crazy. Stupid. Reckless. Self-destructive. I’d heard them all. Just never been called names by a multimillionaire record exec wearing a designer suit before. And I couldn’t say I liked it.

“I think we’re done here,” I said, standing.

“I’ve rubbed you the wrong way, haven’t I?” Luc asked, before I reached the door. “You think I’d try to change you, right? Some slick, flashy brand that made you feel like an imposter?”

“Something like that.” I knew guys like this only cared about making money.

“You know of Mav Stone? You like his music?”

“Yeah, sure.” Everyone who was a fan of country music had heard of that guy. He’d been dominating the country music charts the past few years, and his music struck a chord with fans. Myself included.

“How ‘bout I set up a meeting for you two? He hasn’t been with my label all that long, but we’ve done big things for him. He can tell you what it’s like to work with me. And trust me, Mav’s a straight shooter, like you. And he’s been through shit too, Taz. You’ll be able to relate to him.”

“I don’t know.”

I had a quiet, simple life now. For the first time, ever.

I had hard-working, blue-collar buddies who kept their noses clean.

I was re-building my relationship with my family.

I had a decent job. I’d even bought a cheap fixer upper, that I was re-building, room by room.

Life was pretty good. And I didn’t know if I wanted to mess with that, to chase a longshot.

“Can’t hurt to talk to him, can it?” When I didn’t respond, he said, “And if you do decide to sign with us, Mav would probably be the guy I send you out on the road with, so it would make sense for you to meet him now.”

“You’d want me to open for Mav Stone?” This guy was crazy. How the hell could I perform in front of the kind of crowds that guy pulled in? I’d never even sung karaoke in a bar.

“Yeah, eventually. But I’d probably have you do some local fairs and festivals first, until you find your footing onstage.”

“What happened to playing bars and—”

Luc laughed. “You bypassed that step when your videos went viral and record companies started calling you.”

I would never have taken the initiative to set up gigs. I’d been born and raised in Nashville, loved country music, but never imagined I could be the guy standing on that stage. I didn’t think I had it in me.

“I’ve got a lot to think about, Luc.” I rubbed a hand over my cropped black hair. “Can you give me a couple of days?”

“Only if you agree to meet with Mav in the meantime? He’s taking a break from his tour right now, but he’s back on the road day after tomorrow and I really want you guys to connect before he leaves again.”

“Okay, yeah, I’ll meet him.” I’d never met anyone who intimidated me. Mav Stone was just another guy, who happened to sell millions of records. Man, was I in over my head, or what?

“Good, I’ll text you later with the details.” Luc pointed at me. “And those songs? Your top ten. Can you send them to me later, just so I can have a look?”

“Maybe.”

“Even better,” Luc said, snapping his fingers. “Send me audio recordings. Just on your phone. I want to hear you sing those songs.”

I rolled my eyes. “I’ll see what I can do.” I’d dealt with guys who wouldn’t back down before, and this dude fell into that category. He was a Pitbull. And I didn’t know if I liked him or hated him.