Chapter 38

I dropped my backpack on the floor as I walked in the front door. It had been a long day, and I was ready to grab a snack and veg out for a bit before starting on homework. Over the end of last week and today, I’d learned there was a big difference between missing a week in the middle of the semester, when stuff can be pushed back a little bit or finished up a little early, and the end of the semester. Worse, all of my teachers had apparently decided that, if I was going to get special treatment, I was going to have to deliver special results. The demand that I not only perform but get straight A’s on everything was uniform enough that I felt the hand of the administration in it. I wasn’t mad at Dr. Wallace, exactly. I knew he wasn’t doing it to hurt me or as a gotcha, and my teachers weren’t being unfair about it; but I could have done without the extra pressure. Doing well at the competition, and knowing what was ahead for me, and what it could mean, had really put on the pressure. I had been going hard and fast to get ready for it, ever since I got back. Since I wasn’t sure what they were going to throw at me for the finals, Seth and Lyla had been running me through everything we could think of.

We were working out genres, specifically stuff like bubblegum or the more synthetic music that I didn’t do well. It had almost taken me out at the last challenge, and I didn’t want to get waylaid like that again. I’d also asked them to push me, hard, and they’d taken me seriously. They knew this was as big of a chance for them as it was for me, but they were in the worse position of having it completely out of their hands. They just had to hope I was ready, and did well enough that I’d win. Lyla, in particular, had taken that to heart and had become an absolute ball-breaker at practice, coming down hard on every mistake. I appreciated what she was doing, and I knew in the end it would push me to the next level; but in the moment, I was very much not enjoying it. So, after a long day of school, and with just over an hour until I had to be at band practice and homework to do in between, I just wanted ten minutes to drop onto the couch and stare at the ceiling, doing nothing and letting my brain get some rest. Which is why it made total sense for my phone to start ringing when I was about two steps away from my goal.

“Charlie, I have Arthur for you. Hold a moment,” Toni said, and then put me on hold before I could respond. Mr. Eaves didn’t call without a good reason, but part of me just wanted to hang up. By the time I thought that through, though, he came on the line.

“Charlie, I have some news for you. I’ve found an entertainment lawyer like we talked about. He’s actually more into TV and movies than he is music, but he does have a handful of big-name musicians as clients and has contacts in the industry, so I think he’s a good fit.”

“Are you sure he’s a good fit?” I asked.

“Wouldn’t it be better to have someone who mostly did music stuff?”

“That’s what I thought at first, too. That’s why this took so long. I spent a lot of time looking for, and talking to, guys with music industry experience. After talking to some people I trust, and thinking over what they told me, I’m not sure just sticking with someone who specializes in the music industry is the way to go. There seems to be a general consensus that once you sign with a label, they’re going to handle a lot of the back-end stuff for concerts and labels. You want to have someone look those contracts over, of course, but that starts stepping more into contract law, since it’s going to be tied up a lot with whatever your record contract says. What I’m told the big thing you’ll need to deal with on your own, on a case-by-case basis, is stuff like commercials, endorsements, and any non-music appearances, all of which are common for people coming out of reality TV.”

“If you think so,” I said.

“I do. His name’s Benny Levine, and everyone I’ve talked to who would know, says he’s the guy you want,” he said, and then hesitated for a moment.

“I should add, they also warned that he has a ... reputation.”

“What kind of reputation?” I asked warily.

“Apparently, he’s a massive asshole. Obnoxious, arrogant, pushy, abrasive ... the kind of lawyer that gives the profession a bad name. But everyone says he’s also damn good at what he does. My friends in and around the entertainment industry all say the same thing: Benny Levine is one of the absolute best entertainment attorneys out there. A real bulldog when it comes to negotiating for his clients. Studios hate him, which is a good sign, in this case. I’ve also been told he’s as honest as these kinds of guys get, and very loyal. People say he can be trusted.”

“Well, that’s going to be fun,” I said. I told him I wanted someone good and trustworthy, and he sounded like he found both, but right now, I didn’t know if I had the energy to deal with someone who people called a

“massive asshole.” Sure, people’s reputations could be blown out of proportion, but that was the kind of descriptor that suggested it very much wasn’t being exaggerated.

“The other warning is that I’ve looked at his fee schedule, and he doesn’t come cheap. He’s going to ask for a very big cut of any deals he works out. Maybe as much as fifteen percent, which is more than you’re paying Warren. Or will be paying Warren.”

“If he’s so expensive, will I even be able to afford him?”

“I discussed fees with Warren, and he believes you’re on the verge of serious work that will be generating a significant amount of income. Yes, it’s going to hurt seeing a percentage taken for Warren, a percentage taken for me, a percentage taken by the entertainment lawyer, and the band. You’ll find you only get paid and walk away with twenty-five or thirty percent of what you were originally paid. But this isn’t Blue Ridge money anymore. If Warren is right, that twenty-five or thirty percent will still be many multiples of what you’re making now, or even what you were making at some of the better-paying shows last year.”

“If you believe this guy is the one we need, then I’ll give him a try,” I said. It wasn’t like I had a choice. We needed someone, and someone good was better than the alternative. I’d already learned from the whole Brent thing that having the wrong person supporting me could hurt a lot more than paying enough for the right person.

“There’s one more thing,” I added.

“I want to make sure you’re still my personal lawyer outside of the entertainment stuff. I trust you, and anything not related to my music and TV deals will go through you. And I might ask you for help if this Benny guy goes off the rails.”

“I understand. Although, if things go well for you at Christmas, your status is going to change. We’ll need to sit down with the partners here since you’ll become our premier client. It won’t just be about money, but we can discuss that when the time comes.”

“Whatever you need,” I assured him.

“Like I said, I trust you.”

“I appreciate that, but you also need to be careful who you put your trust in,” Mr. Eaves cautioned.

“As your profile rises, you’re going to start attracting more leeches and grifters.”

“That’s what I have you, Warren — and, I guess, Benny — for,” I pointed out.

“Okay, that’s true, but that only goes so far. You need to be careful, which means not making snap decisions. If you’re offered something, even if it makes sense or seems like a no-brainer, call us. Let us look into the details or just advise you. If you’re going to pay for advice, you need to start asking for it. You have a bad habit of working off the cuff.”

“Noted,” I said sincerely. He had a point. I actually had thought my ability to just make decisions and roll with them was one of my strong suits, but I’d already seen several times where that got me into trouble!

“Before we end this call, I want to clear up a few things,” Mr. Eaves said.

“In spite of what that other lawyer said, entertainment lawyers don’t work on getting gigs or setting up jobs. They negotiate contracts to make sure you get the best deal possible. Warren will be the one who arranges the deals. They will work together. Benny might have contacts for Warren to talk to, but the lawyer should never be arranging performances or setting up work. That’s a different skill set. Warren knows the things to look out for, that Benny or myself wouldn’t.”

“Yeah, that makes sense.”

“I just wanted to make that clear, so we didn’t have any confusion once we bring Benny on board. His role is strictly contract negotiation and legal advice. Booking appearances and managing your career stays with you and Warren.”

“Got it,” I said.

“Since we’re making things clear, even with Benny, you’re still my lawyer. I don’t have a problem with him negotiating for me if he can do the job, but I don’t know him, and I trust you.”

“I know, and I’ll still be involved as your personal attorney for anything unrelated to your entertainment career. I’ll also be around if you run into any problems with him or have questions, but I’m not going to second-guess him. I don’t want you checking with me every time he tells you something.”

“Okay, I’ll try not to be too much of a pest,” I said.

“Good,” Mr. Eaves said with a laugh.

“I want you to succeed, Charlie. That’s my job as your lawyer. I promise that for everything I push you to do, there’s a reason for it.”

“I know, and I appreciate it. I’m just a little paranoid sometimes, I guess. I mean, you know my history.”

“I do, and I get it. I’ll contact his office today and see when he’s available for an introductory phone call. Based on what I was told by Warren, there won’t be a lot for him to do until you get through the finals, but once that happens, I expect you’ll hit the ground running, and I want everything in place and agreements written up and signed, so we don’t get slowed down.”

“Okay. Whatever you can arrange. You know my schedule.”

“I do. I’ll call you as soon as I know something,” he said, and unceremoniously hung up.

“You too,” I said to the dial tone.

“Talk to you soon.”

I barely got into the parking lot on Tuesday night for the next airing of the show. As soon as I passed under the freeway, there was a line of cars I had to sit in, waiting as it slowly crept forward. I had never, in the past three years, seen traffic anywhere in Wellsville. It was a small town, and there just weren’t enough people here to ever make that a problem. The closest I ever got was after school when all the kids were trying to get out of the small school parking lot at the same time. When I finally got to the Blue Ridge, I saw Cameron standing in the middle of the street, waving cars into the grass field across from the restaurant, and wildly enough, his father and Coach Dean in the field, telling people where to park, trying to cram all the cars into the limited space. The Blue Ridge itself only had a handful of cars parked there since the tents from last week had multiplied and now took up a majority of the parking lot, cables running out from the restaurant to TVs set up in each of them. It was wild. This was more people than I’d seen in one place in this town, ever.