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Smoke
Sloane
After spending most of the weekend fending off angry board members about the Blindsided article on Cooper, it’s almost a relief to come into the Foundation on Monday morning. My responses to their concerns were a mix of half support for Cooper being a great mentor and half ‘I told you so.’ The Board chose him without my input to be the featured mentor this session, so I reminded them I had nothing to do with it, and if anything bad happened because of it, it was their fault, not mine. Needless to say, they weren’t happy with me either.
Barry especially got a piece of my mind. I don’t care who pays for their breakfast in Paris. This program and these kids are my priority. They should be his, too.
When I get to the piano studio to prep for Penny’s songwriting class, I’m surprised to find yet another coffee waiting for me in front of the door. It is as if nothing happened over the weekend, and things are status quo. Outside having Ethan pass on a message, I’ve still yet to thank Cooper for the coffees, though I’ve been meaning to.
Today’s as good a day as any, and I want to talk to him about the article, too. I need to let him know about the Board’s change in attitude after the bad publicity. The sound of a guitar is clear from across the hall, so I quietly approach the room, just out of sight, so I can listen for a few moments before going in and interrupting.
“Okay, that was good, but you’re bending the string on the wrong note. It’s like this.” It’s Cooper talking and then playing a section of a song perfectly.
Is he working with Ethan this early? It’s at least a good half hour before classes are supposed to start. I lean on the wall just to the side of the doorway to listen and barely peek into the room to watch.
He and Ethan are sitting facing each other with guitars on their laps, extreme focus on both of their faces. Ethan, in particular, seems incredibly determined to master the song.
It looks as though Cooper has taken the student feedback seriously and is working on the piece more, not the ‘stupid form practice’ as requested by Ethan. Even though I never said it was his complaint, he immediately knew who it was. I’m glad to see he took the request to heart. It shows me he gets it’s not all about him. Sometimes, we need to bend for these kids.
I sip the still-hot coffee and watch for a few more minutes. I think I have some time before Penny shows up for her class.
Cooper runs a hand through his hair as he listens to Ethan struggle with a particular section of the song, but instead of getting frustrated, he’s encouraging and offers productive and positive feedback. It’s a side I don’t think I’ve ever seen of him. A side I honestly didn’t know he had.
He’s usually cocky and overly confident, straddling the egotistical line. Always the tough guy. The rockstar. The bad boy who doesn’t give a fuck about anything or anyone and is always in control.
This is different. This is real. He’s relatable, fallible, vulnerable, and sincere. Caring. This is the genuine Cooper Davies, and I have to say I like it.
I shouldn’t like it.
What the hell, Sloane?
I need to remind myself that while this version could be near perfection, the one in Saturday morning’s Blindsided article is also true. They aren’t mutually exclusive. He has faults, and they’re big and loud, self-destructive, and public.
I force the thoughts away. I can’t consider a relationship with Cooper. My own track record is abysmal. After what my parents put me through, I swore off getting close to anyone in the music industry again.
My parents were supposed to protect me, but instead, they sold my songs and sold me out. Collateral damage in their thirst for fame and fortune. The people I should have been able to trust the most betrayed me in the worst way.
They profited from my passion and left me broken and barely able to create music. It completely shattered my ability to trust anyone.
I haven’t let anyone get too close since. At first glance, Cooper seems just like them - an ego-driven musician unable to commit. I know it’s unfair to compare them, but the fear is too ingrained now.
And there’s the industry itself - toxic and soul-crushing. It chews people up and spits them out. I’ve seen what it can do firsthand. Even if Cooper is different, that world would find a way to destroy what we might have.
With that history, how could I open myself up again? I’d be a fool to think it would be different this time. I need to protect myself and stay detached, no matter how tempting it is.
Cooper Davies is off-limits.
For both our sakes.
* * *
By the end of the day, I miss my opportunity to talk to Cooper about the article but watch as he leaves the building and is instantly swarmed by reporters who have apparently been lying in wait in the parking lot. My first instinct is to dash outside and assist, but I restrain myself. My curiosity about how he handles this is bigger than my need to get involved.
“First of all, you guys really need to get off private Foundation property. Your First Amendment rights don’t supersede trespassing laws.” He completely ignores the barrage of questions being hurled at him and is somehow able to physically fend off the cameras in his face without hurting anyone. “Second, leave the Foundation out of it. Whatever the fuck I do outside of here shouldn’t reflect on this place at all. Got it? Not a fucking word.”
The press around him doesn’t acknowledge that they’ve heard him.
But I have.
