Chapter 5

The next morning, I was still thinking about my conversation with Mrs. Phillips. I actually felt a little relieved after talking about my dad and hearing her thoughts on my mixed feelings about the man.

Of course, that didn’t fix my anxiety about our lack of gigs. It was now halfway through June and we still hadn’t played a single gig other than the Blue Ridge shows. There were only two months left before I would be back in school, and our time was quickly running out.

I was staring at my bedroom ceiling, trying desperately to keep from spiraling again. I realized that if this was the level of anxiety that Kat felt all the time, it was no wonder she was willing to do anything she could to keep from feeling it.

I almost jumped out of my skin when my phone started ringing. Seeing Willie’s number, I picked it right up and asked, “Is everything okay?”

“Hey, Charlie,” Keenan said instead of Willie. “I know it’s early for you, but can you come down? Willie wanted to see you when you got a chance.”

“Is everything okay with him?” I asked again.

“Yeah. I won’t say he’s fine, but he’s about the same. He just wanted to talk to you about something.”

“Uhh, sure,” I said. “I’ll be there in a little bit.”

Not that I would have said no before, but I sure wasn’t going to say no to him now.

“I’ll let him know,” Keenan said, hanging up.

Actually, it wasn’t that early. I’d slept in pretty late, getting the first full night’s sleep I’d gotten in a while, which said a lot about how much I’d needed the talk with Mrs. Phillips. I still wasn’t sure if I was going to talk to Dr. Rothstein, but I was feeling better.

I got dressed and headed to Willie’s. The cabin was still shuttered tight, but I’d made the trip to his house at least once a day since finding out he was sick and was getting used to seeing it like that. Willie slept a lot these days, so it was easier to just keep it dark rather than have Keenan pull the curtains open and closed every time he wanted to sleep.

“Go on back,” Keenan said as soon as he opened the door.

Taking in how anxious Keenan looked and the sudden nature of the request, I was worried that something was actually wrong with Willie and hurried back. To my surprise, he was propped on his pillow, looking exactly as he had the day before.

“Hey there, Charlie,” Willie said, sounding about the same as well. “Have a seat, son. We’ve got some things to talk about.”

“Is everything okay, Willie?” I asked, pulling my normal chair next to the bed.

Waving a hand dismissively, he said, “Ah, everything’s fine. Don’t you worry yourself over me. This isn’t a social call. Kat came by to see me yesterday, after your visit. She told me about all of your cancellations and the problems that’s causing you.”

“I see,” I said, pressing my lips tight.

It had been long enough since we talked that I had half hoped she’d come to her senses and changed her mind. I was a little disappointed that she’d gone through with her threat.

“Don’t give me that look. She’s a good girl and did what you should have done in the first place.”

“You’ve got a lot to deal with right now; you don’t need to be worrying about my problems on top of everything else.”

“Nonsense. If you’re in trouble, you tell your friends.”

“Like you told me about you being sick?” I asked, a little more angrily than I’d actually meant to. “This is exactly what you did to me, Willie. Why can you protect me, but I’m in the wrong for protecting you?”

I wasn’t actually angry with Willie, at least not about calling me out now. I don’t know if it was my disappointment with Kat for telling him over my objection, or residual feelings about not being told he was sick, but I definitely felt like a double standard was being applied. And I didn’t like it.

“Ha,” he said, choosing to see the humor instead of my annoyance. “I can see how you might think that. This isn’t quite the same though, is it?”

“Seems a little similar to me,” I said, although I was now second-guessing myself.

“You aren’t any kind of doctor and can’t do much about a lifetime spent smoking, so telling you about my troubles didn’t change my fate one way or another. I, on the other hand, still know a lot of people in the industry and can help you with yours. That’s the difference. If you were in trouble that I could help with, but you didn’t tell me until after it was too late, I’d be highly disappointed in you.”

I still felt I was right, that he didn’t need to deal with my burdens, but what he was saying was exactly what Kat had said to me.

“I get that, but you need to be focused on getting better, not on my problems.”

“Charlie, I spend all day starin’ at the ceiling here or at that wall. Except when Keenan comes in fussin’ over this or that, or when you or Chef visit, I have almost nothin’ to do all day. If anything, this gives me something to do, which I desperately need.”

“I assume you’ve already done something,” I said, knowing him well enough to know he wouldn’t have just called me over to chastise me.

“I have. I still have a few places that owe me favors, and I thought it was about time I called them in. Since I don’t think I’ll likely ever get up on stage again, better those go to helpin’ you, rather than just fade away, right?”

“You didn’t have to do that.”

“And yet, I did. I’ve got you at the Wild Cat this Saturday. I know you’re out of town next week, so I set up the others for when you’re back, before school starts up. I also already let Chef know, so he could figure somethin’ out for Saturday.”

I wanted to be mad at him, but I couldn’t be. I felt a sudden sense of relief at finally having something for us. The Wild Cat was both bigger than the Blue Ridge and geared specifically to music, and tended to pay twice what shows at the Blue Ridge paid. Knowing Willie, I had a good guess at where the other two shows were going to be, and they’d also both pay a good deal more than the Blue Ridge. It wasn’t enough to get us out of trouble, but it was going to relieve some of the pressure. I also knew that the Wild Cat was one of the places that Warren had booked that had then canceled.

“When you talked to Eugene, did he say anything about why he canceled the show Warren set up? I mean, he’s letting us play there after all, so he changed his mind, I guess. But these cancellations have me worried.”

“I asked, but he said it was ‘just one of those things.’ Scheduling conflicts, and he had a sudden cancellation for this weekend so he had a slot open.”

“Did you believe him?”

“No reason not to. He’s always been straight with me. If he was lyin’, he’s got his reasons. Eugene likes you, so I don’t think he’d cancel on you unless he had no choice.”

“Should I talk to him about it on Saturday?”

Willie was quiet for a moment, considering my question, before he said, “I wouldn’t. He’s doin’ us a favor. That isn’t the time to accuse a man of lyin’. Give it some time and I’ll talk to him again. Okay?”

“Sure. Thanks, Willie.”

“I’ve spent a lot of time makin’ sure people heard that talent of yours, I’m not about to let you fade away that easy. Now, Katherine also told me about a song you’re workin’ on. Tell me about it.”

Willie seemed more relaxed as we went through my new song. Talking about music was his favorite thing, and I think it relaxed him. I even got him to smile a few times before he started to fade, the exertion of my visit getting to be a bit too much. I was still annoyed at Kat for going around me like this, but I was really happy Willie had been able to help us.

Now I just needed to figure out what was going on to cause this problem in the first place.

Sunday, I was back at the Blue Ridge. We’d left for Asheville early in the afternoon on Saturday, before the lunch rush ended for our Wild Cat show, so I’d missed the previous day’s practice. While I knew Chef didn’t mind, since he’d made it clear my music took precedence over my training, I’d found that a day without it left me feeling pent up. The exercise and stretching I got at our daily, or almost daily, practices really helped me to loosen up and feel better, so I missed it when I didn’t get it.

Chef must have seen me pull up because he was already outside when I walked around the back.

“Hey,” I said, setting my bag down next to the stairs leading up to his apartment above the restaurant. “Thanks again for letting us have last night off. I know it was short notice, but we really needed that Wild Cat gig.”

Chef waved the thought away, saying, “Don’t worry about it. Willie called me on Wednesday to tell me about it, and I know things have been really tough for you guys. Besides, it gave Dwight a chance to have some extra time on stage since he’s trying to get his own touring schedule lined up. Following in Willie’s footsteps, I guess.”

Dwight had been the piano player in Willie’s band and was its de facto leader now that Willie had retired. Since it was summer, we were playing longer sets, including Sundays, which meant there wasn’t really much stage time for them. Chef had tried putting in Thursday night music to give Dwight some more playing time, but attendance hadn’t been what either of them had hoped.

I felt bad since I’d swooped in and partially displaced Willie. I could imagine someone else in Dwight’s place resenting me for stealing what they might consider their opportunity, but Dwight had been nothing but friendly. Which of course only made me feel worse. Honestly, seeing the energy we got from crowds when we played, even though most of the people saw us play at least once a week, I was pretty sure his biggest problem was the type of music he was playing.

There just wasn’t the appetite for blues that there might be in other places. The people who wanted to come listen to music wanted something more modern sounding. I’d mentioned it to Dwight, and I know he’d tried making some changes, but he’d been playing blues for decades. Almost as long as Willie. It wasn’t an easy switch for him.

Getting his own tour set up, especially if it included some of the places Willie used to play at that specialized in blues, might be the answer for him. I hoped it worked out.

“So how did your show go?” Chef asked.

“Really good. The crowd was into it. I haven’t played there since last summer, so they hadn’t heard some of our newer stuff. It was really great.”

“Did you get a chance to talk to the owner about why they cancelled and then rebooked?” he asked.

I’d mentioned to Chef on Friday about that being the only weird part of this gig since the explanation Eugene gave Willie didn’t make sense.

“No, and that worries me. He dodged me the entire night, which included leaving before we got off stage, and leaving our check with one of his managers. I’ve played there enough times to know he never does that, and his manager seemed as confused as I was. The only thing I can think is that he really didn’t want to answer any questions about it, and that worries me.”

“Hmm, that is worrying. Did you tell Willie about it?”

“No. I mentioned it when he told me about the gig, but I don’t want to keep adding things for him to do. Warren’s working on figuring out what’s going on, and it’s only been a couple of weeks. We’ll get an answer soon, I hope.”

“Did you want to put off training today?” Chef asked, knowing how unfocused I could get when I had things weighing on me.

“No. This isn’t something that’s going to be fixed today, or probably even tomorrow. I can’t put my life on hold waiting to find out what’s going on.”

“Okay, then get started,” Chef said.

Chef ran me through my usual warm-up routine, starting with breathing exercises before moving into stretches and basic forms. The familiar movements helped settle my mind, focusing my thoughts on precise motions rather than all the other stuff going on.

After about twenty minutes, Chef had me grab my gloves and start working through practiced attacks and blocks against a dummy. I fell into the rhythm, striking and weaving in well-rehearsed combinations, with Chef occasionally offering suggestions for improvement.

About halfway through the session, Chef called for me to stop. “That’s enough of that for today. It’s time we switch things up.”

I lowered my hands, catching my breath. “What do you have in mind?”

Chef gestured for me to take a seat, so I grabbed my water bottle and joined him on the back steps.

“You’ve made a lot of progress over the last couple of years,” he began. “Your technique has improved dramatically, as has your basic speed and strength. But there’s only so much you can gain from solo drills. You need practical experience against a live opponent. Now, I know you’ve been in a fair number of fights since we started training, but I’m not counting those. Our goal should be to prepare you to fight against someone who knows how to fight, not just guys looking to brawl.”

“So, Victor’s coming back to spar?” I guessed.

Chef had me spar several times against Victor, one of his former students, leading up to the one competition I’d taken part in. Those were always one-off practices, though, since Victor lived and worked in Raleigh, making the five-hour drive between here and there a little inconvenient for anything regular.