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The memory of the whole evening chafed him. Mags had harassed him much of the night, a habit she’d perfected over time, and one he’d grown tired of. She’d been pressuring him to sign with her record label, Cheating Hearts, for years. The company was her pride and joy—and the result of her own lost dreams of stardom. While Mags was failing at becoming a singer, Eleanor Banks—Hannah’s grandmother—had become Nashville’s sweetheart. Tail tucked, Mags returned to the Bay and fell in love. The mayor had promised her the world, and purchased a record label for her.
When Cash’s brother Will relaunched well-respected Elite Records, Mags hadn’t hid her resentment. She’d made it clear that the Sutherland boys were traipsing on hallowed ground. No one had the audacity to compete with the queen of the Bay. That is, until Will had taken on Elite, Cash recorded an album with the label and subsequently won the industry’s top award. There was no stopping Elite’s success now that Will’s fiancée, Hannah, was on board. Plus, their brother Luke had launched many a new performer’s career by inviting them to play at one of his bars and Gavin, a music attorney, worked exclusively with Elite Record artists.
Town and industry history aside, the only history that mattered now was the fact that Cash’s mug shot was decorating the internet like the toilet paper he’d once strung into the trees outside of his high school. His angry expression in the photo made him appear guilty—or, if the Breathalyzer could be trusted, guiltier.
Up until that point, he’d been a bad boy with an unstoppable lucky streak. First, a hit album, then awards, soon a new tour and album with Hannah to solidify his new status, and then the world. A public shaming pulled the emergency brake on those plans.
While his biggest fans supported him, his corporate sponsors hadn’t been as loyal. A famous shoe brand canceled his contract and following that, a popular game app he’d already filmed a commercial for let him know they would not air it. Suddenly “the bad boy of country music,” who’d filled stadiums to capacity last summer, had been labeled unsafe for public consumption.
His mind a million miles from where it should be, he finished singing the final note of the song into the microphone.
Behind the glass of his at-home studio, his oldest brother, Will, stood, arms folded, a scowl on his face. His brother’s scowl had taken up residency years ago, but had receded some after he’d begun dating Hannah. Cash had thought those two would’ve been oil and water, but it turned out they had a lot in common and had fallen in love. His stoic, powerful, rigid brother in love with an explosive rainbow of color and energy like Hannah Banks? It was the stuff of fairy tales. Which was what romantic love was to Cash. A fairy tale.
Will, behind soundproof glass, pressed a button so Cash could hear him. “I’d say go again but you should save your voice for the concert on Friday night.” He made a wrap-up motion and Cash pulled off his headphones.
“Can’t wait,” Cash grumbled to himself. The concert on Friday night was a publicity stunt. He was not thrilled. When he’d imagined a shiny new career as a beloved music artist, he’d expected to glide through each and every day doing what he loved. He’d walked away from football, college, and worse—his girlfriend at the time, Presley. He’d convinced himself that breaking her heart would be worth it for both of them.
As far as Pres was concerned, he knew she was working for a huge media conglomerate. Her article on Elite a few years back seemed to do well and had painted the Sutherlands in a favorable light. Clearly, she’d moved on. He had too, though it’d been ten times harder than he’d imagined it would.
He loved performing, loved to hang with fans, but the rest of his duties could be exhausting. Living his passion came with a heap of bullshit like marketing, interviews with reporters and a recent press conference where he’d publicly apologized for being drunk when he damn well wasn’t.
Cash rested his guitar on its stand, bypassing Will, who was studying his phone.
“Want to grab dinner?” Will asked. “Gavin and Luke are at Silver Marmot.”
Not one to turn down filet mignon and lobster, Cash nodded. It’d been a long day. A long month.
“You’ll be all right,” Will encouraged as they walked upstairs and through Cash’s house en route to the front door. “The aftermath of DUIs don’t last forever.”
No, it just felt like it.
Cash wanted to believe Friday night’s performance would be the magic bullet that erased everyone’s memory of his mug shot, but he knew better. While it might not last “forever” as his brother said, it could shadow them for months to come. Or years.
God help him.
For his brothers’ sakes, Cash hoped recouping wasn’t far off. Elite Records didn’t need the bad press, either.
“Want me to drive?” Will stroked the hood of Cash’s ice-blue Bugatti, its sparkling paint glittering in the setting sunlight.
“No way your ass is touching the driver’s seat of my baby.” Cash unlocked the doors and slid in. “Not like I’ll be drinking alcohol tonight anyway.”
And in public, possibly never again.
