Center Stage
Copyright© 2025 by Lumpy
Chapter 11
Saturday, I was in New York. The first two shows went reasonably well, with a good crowd and no major disasters aside from Vince and Julie still not wowing the audience. Word must have been getting around because I noticed a lot of people out of their seats both nights while Vince and Julie were on stage. It seemed like fans had decided that was a good time to make a run for drinks, merch, or the bathroom.
There wasn’t anything I could do about that, and my part of the show had the people on their feet, dancing along, so there wasn’t really anything I wanted to do about it either. I figured it was better to just stay out of the way and focus on my own performance.
Besides, I had something else taking up space in my head. It was time for the party, and I really didn’t want to go. Most everyone on the tour, the performers at least, were going, and they seemed incredibly excited about it. Mostly for the free booze and the chance to see celebrities. I think it was telling, though, that Dexter was absolutely not planning on going, telling me he’d rather be caught dead than go when I asked him about it.
Dexter was recovering from substance abuse himself after a very rough twenties and thirties, and I got the impression he thought there would be too much temptation there. Which made me want to go even less.
Worse, Warren couldn’t go. He called me just before the show started to tell me his flight was canceled, and he wouldn’t be able to make it out the following day. He said if I really didn’t want to go, I could skip it, but enough people had made a big deal out of it that I felt like I had to go. Besides, I wasn’t a kid anymore. I didn’t need to hide under the covers from monsters. I had responsibilities to the band, the multiple people working with me, and I had to start making moves to be able to afford these new PR and security people everyone wanted me to hire.
So, if I had to go out and hustle, even in an environment I didn’t want to be in, that’s what I would do.
Still, I’m a poor kid who grew up in crappy bars and then a tiny trailer in a small town in Appalachia. Sure, I’d stayed at some nice hotels and played at some classic venues, but a hotel room is a hotel room and a stage is a stage. This was different.
Stepping into this party was like stepping into another world.
It was an incredibly high-scale event, the kind of thing you only see in movies or on TV. There were several open bars scattered throughout the massive room, each one staffed by a team of bartenders. At the far end of the room, a DJ was spinning tracks, the bass thumping so hard I could feel it in my chest.
And the people, my God, the people. Everywhere I looked, there were celebrities. Actors I’d seen on the big screen, musicians whose albums I’d owned, models I’d seen on the covers of magazines. It was surreal, being in the same room as all these people.
To say I felt out of place would be an understatement.
“Charlie! Hey, Charlie!” I heard someone calling over the music.
I turned to see Eli Sampson from Nightshade waving at me from across the room. I made my way over to him, grateful to see a familiar face. We weren’t exactly friends, but he knew who I was and we’d played together. Which was enough.
“Man, it’s so good to see you,” Eli said.
“You too. This place is wild.”
“I know. I hate these things, but my agent says I gotta show up to them.”
“Yeah, mine too,” I said, which wasn’t exactly true, but was close enough.
“I’ve been following your success, dude. I’m so happy for you.”
“Thanks, man,” I said. “So, how’s Bradley? I saw he was touring with y’all again.”
“He’s doing really good. He gets his one-year chip next month and we’re all so proud of him.”
“That’s amazing. I know he doesn’t know me, but tell him congratulations for me. I know how big a thing that is.”
“Yeah, I heard,” he said, kind of looking down and away for a second.
“It’s okay,” I said.
That was the weird thing with having parents who died, especially how mine did. People didn’t know how to react, so they usually just shut down for a second. I knew he was trying to find a tactful way to say sorry, and it was best just to let him off the hook.
We talked for about ten more minutes, just about the industry, the new album they were working on, and the tour. I’d really liked Eli when I’d met him in Nashville, but we hadn’t really had a chance to talk much, so this was, by far, the longest conversation I’d ever had with him. We only stopped talking when his agent came over to pull him over to a conversation with someone else. We promised to keep in touch, and I hoped we would. He was a good guy.
I just started to turn around to see what else was going on, and practically smashed face first into Julie, who came bouncing up to me with a big smile. She’d been like this since we started the tour. One moment trying to be all buddy-buddy with me and the next making small digs to cut me down and, I guess, make herself feel bigger.
“Charlie! You made it!”
“Uhh ... yeah,” was all I could manage.
“Can you believe this? I love these parties. I just had a long talk with Douglas and ... my gosh, I don’t have to tell you what a character he is.”
She kind of did because I had no idea who she meant by Douglas.
“Cool,” I said instead, wanting more than anything to get out of this conversation.
“So, tonight while you were on stage, I had the most fabulous idea. You, me, and Vince should collaborate on a song to perform at our last tour stop. It would be amazing!”
“Yeah, maybe. I’m in the middle of setting up a tour for after though, so I’m not sure if I’ll have the time. But we can talk about it,” I said.
She seemed to accept that, although there was no way she didn’t hear what I really meant. I’d rather chew glass than collaborate with either of them on a song, but I guess there were some things you just don’t say.
“Wonderful. I’ll talk to Vince and see if we could make something work,” she said, as if I hadn’t said anything.
I was about to try and set her straight when her head shot to the side and she said, “Gotta run. I think I see Tina and I just have to say hi.”
She was gone before I could respond, disappearing into the crowd. I had no idea who Tina was either. I made a slow circle of the room, seeing a few people from the show, but they were all in conversations with other people. I was a little thirsty so I went to the bar and got a coke. I turned around to start circling again and came face to face with Kent Graham. I hadn’t seen him since MAC cut my contract, and my surprise must have been evident, as I immediately froze, caught in one of those fight or flight moments.
“Charlie,” he said, very coolly.
“Kent ... uhh, hi. Strange seeing you here.”
“It is an industry party,” he said. “I see you landed on both feet after ... everything.”
“I got lucky.”
“Very,” he said, giving me this once up and down look I couldn’t decipher. “Well, have fun.”
With that he pushed past me and went to the bartender, completely ignoring me. Part of me wanted to shove his face into the bar. I don’t know if he was still mad about screwing up how they released my contract or mad that I was doing well in spite of their trying to screw me over, but either one was bullshit. They’d been the ones to do me dirty, and here he was acting like I was the bad guy.
Still, I couldn’t exactly go around attacking people because they annoyed me, so I took my coke and started looking around for anyone to talk to. I was supposed to be here making connections and so far, I’d really only talked to people I knew. Sure, it was nice seeing Eli, but it felt like a waste. Maybe I really did need Warren, if only to make the introductions, if nothing else.
I made two laps of the room, feeling awkward, with pretty much no one paying attention to me, and was starting to look for a place I might be able to sit down when a British voice behind me said, “Charlie Nelson.”
I turned to find Hal Steiner pushing his way through a few people. He reached out, and I shook his hand. He was dressed regally as ever in what I guessed was a tailored suit. I didn’t know much about men’s fashion, but I imagined it was pretty expensive.
“Hal. Good to see you,” I said.
It was still a little weird, coming from a world where adults were Mr. so and so and Mrs. whatever to call someone like Hal, who was over fifty, by his first name, but Warren and I had talked about it, and if I was going to get respect, I had to act like their equal and not some kid.
“You’ve done very well for yourself after the show.”
“Thanks. I’ve had some good luck.”
“Nonsense. It’s more than that. I don’t know who you have doing your PR, but you’ve made some exceptionally shrewd moves of late. I’m particularly impressed with your decision to use what happened at your Los Angeles show and turn it into positive press. And then extend it by getting involved with Emerson King’s charities. He has a very solid profile, and getting your name linked with his is an excellent way to build your own profile. Really, an excellent move all around.”
“Actually, I don’t have a publicist yet, we just started looking for one last week. The Saunders family thing wasn’t about getting me more exposure ... well, not entirely. I did that because they’re good people who needed help. And Emerson, that just kind of happened. He’s a great guy, though, and it’s been a pleasure working with him.”
“Really?” Hal said, his eyebrows going up in surprise. “Well then, you have much better judgment than people twice your age in this industry. That’s a rare quality, Charlie. Don’t lose it.”
“Thanks,” I said, not sure how to respond to that.
“You know, oddly, your name also came up just yesterday. I was talking to Dakota, and she mentioned how you went to bat for her. She’s a good girl going through a tough time, and it really meant a lot to her, your sticking up for her. I know she can be a bit ... difficult at times, but trust me, she noticed and appreciated it. As do I.”
“I just tried to do the right thing. I know what she’s going through, kind of.”
I knew he was aware of what happened with my parents because of what happened on the show.
“That may be, but it’s also a rarity in Hollywood. Or New York.”
“If you talk to her, tell her I send my best and hope, I don’t know, she’s doing okay.”
“I will. I’ll be keeping an eye on you, Charlie. I look forward to seeing what you do next,” Hal said, giving me a friendly pat on the shoulder before heading off to talk to whoever he saw next.
I don’t know if I counted talking to Hal as networking or not since I already knew him, but he owned a label and was a producer, so I decided that was good enough. I could consider my job done if I didn’t manage to talk to anyone else. Part of me wanted to head back to the hotel now, as it was almost midnight and I did have a show the next evening, but there were still a lot of people here and, as much as I thought Hal counted, I probably should talk to a few more people.
I managed to work my way into a few conversations and meet a few people, but I felt awkward every time and only did it twice before I decided I wasn’t going to keep doing that. I’d seen others introducing themselves that way, but I felt so strange and out of place each time.
The party started winding down about one, with most of the older businesspeople seeming to head out, until nearly everyone around me was in their twenties. The lights seemed to get dimmer and the music louder, and everyone kicked into party mode.
I saw a lot more drinks making their way around and couldn’t help smelling the pungent odor of weed as someone in the crowd lit up. While that was a little ballsy for rural North Carolina, I’d been in California off and on for the last month and it was legal there. Vegas too. I didn’t actually know if it was legal here, but I’d seen it enough that it didn’t actively shock me, although I could have done without the smell.
The people were also looking a bit ... overdone. I saw several people ducking into the bathrooms and coming back with a very familiar glassy-eyed look I’d seen on my dad before.
I was just considering making my own exit when a woman stumbled into me, nearly spilling her drink down my front.
“Oh my God, I’m so sorry,” she slurred, steadying herself on my arm. “Wait, I know you from something, don’t I!”
Her words slurred together enough that I had to take a second to make them out ... and only a few more seconds to realize who she was. Kirsten Lindstrom had been a child star about ten years ago, and Mom had put on some of her DVDs when I’d been trapped in the Winnebago while she went out to find Dad and haul him home from the bars.
I couldn’t remember if they were any good. She looked enough like the kid version of herself that I knew who she was, but she’d grown up. Or maybe it was just the outfit she was wearing. She was also bombed out of her mind.
“I don’t know. My name’s Charlie.”
“Hi Charlie, I’m Kirstenanen,” she said, getting her own name wrong as she leaned into me. “You know, you’re kinda cute.”
“Thanks,” I said, trying to back away from her and untangle myself from her grip.
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