Chapter 10

After meeting with various professionals and other musicians with home studios, hiring contractors and choosing everything from equipment to carpeting to wall panels for sound proofing, the studio was complete.

The windows were coated with a think tinting, so that the musicians and producers inside wouldn’t have to think about all the fun they could be having out in the sunshine, or swimming in the pool, and certainly not think about how late the night was getting as they worked for hours and hours on one song. The walls were covered with a padded foam material, which was a shade of dark red. It looked like someone had painted the walls with a glass of red wine, before placing abstract shaped pillows on the walls. The lights were thought up by Jean Marie. She had been playing around with a string of Christmas lights in the baby nursery one day, and had tossed them under the dresser while looking for an outlet. When she plugged the lights in, she noticed how they created an interesting effect with the shape of the dresser. So, in the studio, there was a cornice in the ceiling, and recessed into this was a string of lights. It made the ceiling look like it was suspended over the room, appearing disconnected from the walls. The carpeting was black which made it appear less worn and abused than it was. Furnishings were placed to allow people to listen to the music in the sound booth – a large chenille sofa and a lounge chair that was actually a rocking chair were behind the sound editor’s board. The musicians had wooden stools to sit on, if they needed to. All the sound equipment and recording equipment was bought through suggestions by the other musicians.

Frank had also heard about this project of Charlie’s through the grape vine. He had called Charlie up a few weeks after he found out.

“Hey Charlie – I hear you’re going to open a private recording label!”

“Aw, well, not a label – just building a recording studio. You heard about that?”

“Yeah, I was working on some paper work at the old label and someone mentioned to me that they were going to suggest to Charlie Clark that he use a soundboard that they liked. So, is it finished yet, or did you just start?”

“Well, we’re all finished actually.”

“Have you made any hits with it yet?”

“In due time, I’m sure. You should stop by and check it out, if you’d like.”

“Are you sure?” Frank had heard about his blow-up with Terry and knew that he hadn’t talked with any of the other band members since he was thrown out. “I wouldn’t be imposing?”

“Nah, it’s alright. Come on by this Friday or Saturday – you’ve got some time?”

“Ok, I’ll come by Saturday. Say hi to Jean Marie for me.”

Charlie told Jean Marie about the impending visit, and wanted to ask her if she thought they should tell Frank about the baby.

“I don’t think it would hurt anything, do you Charlie?”

“Well, you’re not really looking pregnant yet. We could wait until it was more obvious if you’d like.”

“Do you think it matters to tell him? Are you still upset with Frank?”

“I don’t think I am upset with him still, but there is a part of me that doesn’t want to forgive him, you know?”

“Well, perhaps we should wait until a little later when things have settled down for sure between you two. You do think things will settle down, don’t you.”

“We’ll see what happens on Saturday.


Frank came over bearing a basket of fruit for Charlie and Jean Marie. “My mother always told me never to visit someone empty handed!” he said, handing the basket to Jean Marie as she let him in the door.

“Please come in. Thank you,” she said to him. “Charlie’s in the living room right now, just over there.” She pointed down the hallway towards that room.

“I can hear him in there, watching the TV, huh? Hey Charlie!” He shouted across the hall as he made his way towards him. “How are you doing?”

Charlie stood up from the couch and walked towards Frank. “Hey man, long time no see.”
“Yeah – you’re looking really healthy, old man. I haven’t seen you since you had the bandages taken off. How are you feeling?”

“You really want to know, Frank?”

Jean Marie heard this and decided to make her way upstairs, to let these men have out with their past and hopefully move on with their lives. She said a silent prayer that things would go smoothly, and that Frank would understand how hurt Charlie was.

“Let’s sit down, Charlie. Let’s have a chat.”

“Well, Frank,” they both sat down in unison, Charlie on the sofa, and Frank sitting to his left on the love seat. “I have to say, the whole business with Terry taking over my spot in the band, that was real crappy.”

“Well, you're still getting royalty checks, right?”

“Yes, they are still coming. But, Frank, why did this happen? You know, Terry tried to call here a couple of months ago, but I just couldn’t listen to that asshole.”

“I know, he told me. Well, I was hoping to get to talk to you about this sooner than now,” Frank leaned back into the cushions, as he was trying to stay relaxed before telling Charlie all the gory details of what transpired without his knowledge. “You know, I want to tell you first off that I am sorry that things happened the way they did. I didn’t ever think that something like this would happen to Accelerator, and certainly not with you laid up in a hospital bed.”

“Yeah, well that makes two of us.”

“The guys, I don’t know. I think seeing you and Sheila get into that fight after the show really made them think that you were going to get rid of her. I know that sounds ridiculous, but I think you know how Sheila was making everyone feel on edge and at war with each other, especially with you.”

“She certainly was not a diplomat. I know. That’s what the fight was about actually.”

“So why didn’t you leave her then?”

“Oh, come on Frank. You knew what kind of hold she had over me. Especially back then on that tour. Things were such a mess with me and the other guys, it was like she was the only one who would talk to me after the shows. I wasn’t gonna just ditch her out of popular opinion.”

“I know, I get it. Well, looks like you’ve changed your mind about that now, with Jean Marie in your life.”

“Yeah, I think the divorce papers are being delivered to Sheila on Monday. Shouldn’t be a big surprise for her. She actually had her lawyer over here right after we got back from the hospital, to talk about getting a divorce.”

“Wow, that’s one way to welcome you home.”

“No kidding. That’s after I got the boot from the band, to get back to the subject.”

“Oh, yes. Well, so when you and Terry had your fight at the restaurant that night, I think Terry had it in his mind to either quit the band after the tour, or after the next show.”

“What a guy,” Charlie said, rubbing his hand over his shoulder.

“I know, he really screwed with you, too. At the hospital, after you came through and we knew you had a lot of healing ahead of you, I was panicking about the tour. Sheila and I were both. The promoters were calling us, then calling the label. And the label was calling us. Everyone was threatening everyone else. It was just ridiculous.”

“I see. A bloodbath.”

“Well, then Tim mentioned that if we didn’t finish the tour, we’d all be financially wrecked. And Terry suggested going on without you.”

There was a long few seconds of silence. Charlie was staring out the back door, looking at the water shining in the pool, refracting the sun on its surface. Frank was staring at his shoes. Finally he said, “It was all just a big snowball. Once we hit the road, Terry’s head grew bigger and bigger, if you can imagine that, and he just steamrolled the rest of the band into deciding to leave you out for good.”
“And what did you think of that?”

“I knew the fans wouldn’t like it, and I knew you would be devastated. I knew it was a bad idea. But with all three of them agreeing, and still selling out the shows, what could I do?”

“You could have stopped them, you know that.” Charlie turned to give Frank a stare.
“You know you could have stopped them."

Frank sighed. “I know Charlie, I know I let you down. I don’t feel good about it, and I am sorry,” he was looking right back at Charlie’s glare. “I am really, really sorry about it all. If it makes you feel any better, the new album is sinking out there. No one is buying it, except for the novelty factor, you know?”

Charlie nodded to this. “Well, I can’t say life has totally screwed me over. I’m healthy now, and I have Jean Marie and the new studio.”

“I hear you’re getting a lot of work in, too. I heard what you did with J.B. and with the B.E.B guys. It’s all really great stuff, Charlie.”

“Thanks.”

“Can you show me the studio?”

“Yeah, let’s take a tour.”

Charlie stood up and Frank walked behind him out to the patio. Charlie explained about the dark windows, and Frank nodded in agreement. They walked in and Frank inspected the sound board.

“This is really nice, Charlie. How many channels?”

“40. And what’s really neat is that you can save up to 90 scenes in its memory. Very cool.”

“Yeah, I heard about that. Very cool.” Frank stopped and plopped down into the sofa. “This is nice. Did Jean Marie pick it out?”

“Nope, this is all my vision. Except the lights – she had the idea for that. Pretty nice, huh?”

“Ingenious,” Frank said, looking up to the ceiling.

“So, how are things going then? Are you two looking to get hitched sometime soon?”

“Well I am expecting her to get the papers soon, and after that Jean Marie and I can think about making our plans. We don’t want to get too wrapped up in things before they’re at least a little bit solid, you know?”

“I hear you. I’m sure Sheila will be professional about it all – I mean, I hope she will be.”

“Me too.”

They walked back out to the patio and sat down beside the pool.

“Let me just stick my feet in here, Charlie,” Frank said, as he took off his shoes and socks, and rolled his pant legs up.

“That’s fine with me – I‘ll join you,” and Charlie did the same.

“There’s something else I didn’t tell you earlier. Some news I just got a couple of weeks ago, that I’m pretty sure you didn’t hear about yet,” Frank said.

“What is it?”

“Well, it’s about Terry.”

“No, haven’t heard anything about him lately. I basically told him never to call me again last time he tried. What’s the news about?”

“Well,” Frank swung his legs in the water, making swirls and pools around his calves.

“It’s not good.”

“Oh, just say it already man,” Charlie was tired of Frank’s pausing and thought he was being dramatic.

“Fine. Terry has cancer. Of the stomach.”

Charlie froze, and Frank turned to look at him.

“He found out about it three months ago, and his doctors think he’s going to go pretty quick.”

“What did you just say?”

Frank pulled his legs out of the pool and swung himself to look at Charlie.
“Terry has cancer and is going to die soon.”

"I can’t – I can’t believe it.”

“I know. I mean, I knew he couldn’t be doing himself any favors with the way he drinks and lives, but cancer?”

“Wow, stomach cancer. That’s terrible.” Charlie was completely stunned. It was as if the full weight of his body was coming to rest on him, and he thought he would fall into the pool. He scooted himself back from the edge and leaned on the palms of his hands. “You said he found out three months ago?”

“Yup, that’s what he told me.”

“So that’s probably why he called me. I thought he just wanted to wave his success in my face. What an idiot!” Charlie shook his head. “I can’t believe I told him never to call me again.”

“Don’t be mad at yourself, you didn’t know what he was going to say to you. I would have been angry too, if I were you.”

They sat there, beside the pool, for another twenty minutes. Nothing was said between them, as they just were quietly thinking about Terry and this lot in his life.
Finally Charlie said, “I did not think I would care about him like this, after what he did to me. But I guess I still think of him as one of my friends.”

“I think he wants to be friends again with you, Charlie. Maybe you guys should talk again?”

“Could you swing that by him, man? See what he thinks about it? I can just see him getting mad back at me and cussing me out on the phone. No – I want to see him. No phone calls, will you tell him that?”

“Yeah, sure – first thing tomorrow morning, ok?”

“Yeah, that’s great. I don’t want to try to get him to apologize to me, so tell him that. I just want us to get back to being normal with each other. I think that would be good, don’t you?”

“I think so, too, Charlie.”

Just then, Jean Marie walked out to find the two men. “Here you are. I thought you’d both taken off for Shanghai, you’d been gone for so long!”

“Hey stranger,” Charlie said to her. He got up from the pool and walked over to her, giving her a hug and a kiss. “No, we were just catching up on things.”

“Oh, good.”

“Yeah – well, now that that’s done, I guess I should just take off now,” Frank said.

“Oh, why don’t you stick around for dinner. I think we should order some food in for the night, and maybe we can eat outside – it’s so lovely out here today.”

“Sounds good to me, Frank. Come on!”

“Alright, you twisted my arm. You can tell me some more about the songs you’re working on. If you ever need representation, you know who to talk to Charlie.”

“Yeah, and I’m sure I’ll get a good deal on it too, right Frank?”

Chapter 9

The day was warming up, and Charlie woke up from his sleep to see his bedroom filled with bright sunlight. He left the room, took a shower in the bathroom, and went downstairs to go over the notes and tunes he had worked on until 2 am that same morning. It was now 10 o’clock.

Jean Marie was already up and about, picking up after their dinner last night of chicken and mashed potatoes – a comforting meal to help Charlie relax after working so hard on his new songs. He had now written nearly ten songs – some were complete works, with lyrics and arrangements for other instruments, while others were melodies without lyrics, and some were just outlined lyrically that he had only one riff in mind for. She noticed his presence when she heard him singing out some lyrics to one of these songs.

You can heal the pain in my heart
By just lookin’ in my eyes
But you break it all over again
When you tell me your lies…

“Sounds really nice, Charlie,” she said.

“I think it’s too – I don’t know, cheesy,” he responded, still plunking his fingers on the piano keys. “I am trying to write this song about a guy who has spent all of his time chasing this one gal, and every time they see each other he falls in love with her. But she can’t be straight with him.”

“Does she love him, too?”

“I think so,” he looked up from the piano to make eye contact with Jean Marie.

“So she doesn’t know what she wants, then?”

“That’s a good line…” Charlie returned to the piano.

When you gonna know what you want
Can’t I make you understand
My mind is made up
You’ve gotta join me in the land

“Oh, that’s crap!” He slammed his hand on the piano keys.

“Well, you’ll come up with something,” Jean Marie knew when Charlie was having creatively challenges moments, and also to let him be alone during these times.
Charlie had started to call up several of the musicians that he had played with in the last several months. They had set up gigs together at different clubs, playing with a blues band one night and then a rock band the next. Charlie would ask to rehearse some nights with the bands so he could sit in and play with them for more than one song. He would only, on rare occasions, play an Accelerator hit from the past. When he did so, he would dedicate the song to Jean Marie.

Now that he had a camaraderie with musicians other than the boys from Accelerator, he had been asked to write and work on songs for some other bands. J.B. Parker had worked with Charlie on a recent track, called Tear Jerker for J.B.’s latest album, Heart-Stompin’ Shoes. The single started at #5 on the Rhythm and Blues billboard sales, and jumped to sit at the #1 spot for the next six weeks. There was talk about awards, and it was permanently added to J.B.’s play list and rights were being issued for various endorsements – from car commercials to television shows. Peter Smith, of B.E.B. – a rock band that started out ten years from when Accelerator was created, and had zoomed into stardom after their first album, No One Knows You, hit platinum and was reaching diamond status – had called Charlie up on to their stage at a recent show to play with them on their song Listen. Charlie played guitar and sang some of the vocals, and the band riffed out of the song into the lyrics of Accelerator’s song Broken Ear. After the show, Peter Smith had talked with the rest of B.E.B. and asked Charlie to work on their next album with them. Charlie then wrote three songs for the album with Peter; My Highway, Pony, and Paper Life. Charlie sang a duet with Peter on Paper Life, which was released as the first single from the album (called Veneer) and gave the band another #1 hit.

Working with the other bands was not only exposing Charlie’s music to other audiences, but was also giving Charlie a taste of other genres and ways of working with sound. The bands that used Charlie’s songs did so because of his characteristic way of working with the rhythm section to create punchy lyrics to play on the beat and back beats, as opposed to sing-songy lyrics which can make singers sound “too sugary,” as he put it. Charlie was also learning from the musicians how to take this sound and apply it to blues rhythms and pop/rock, dance rhythms.

The credit always lied with Jean Marie, since it was her influence that lead him out to the clubs to begin with. Her reward was the excitement and happiness that it brought to Charlie. He was so sullen before, feeling robbed by Terry and Frank, and swindled by Sheila. To have these relationships, that were built on over two decades of living and working closer together than any kind of family, suddenly dissolve into nothing more than bitter memories and physical scars on his body was shocking and nearly debilitating to him. Jean Marie had seen the light come into Charlie’s eyes when he heard the old Accelerator songs being played on the radio, and knew how much those years of work and fun meant to him when he told her all of his stories in the gym while they tried to repair his body together.

He was still hammering out chords and working on lyrics when she slid in next to him on the piano bench.

“Still working on this one?”

“Yeah, how long has it been anyways?”

“It’s been,” she looked up at the clock on the fireplace mantle, “3 hours. Are you tired?”

“I could use a break.”

“Let’s go sit on the patio and have a drink,” she said as she got up from the bench. She reached out her arm to him and playfully helped to pull him up from the bench.

“Look at that!” she said, pointing to the indentations on the leather cushion on the bench.

“A perfect fit!” he said, laughing at the sight of his two butt cheeks on the cushion.

They went out to the patio bar, and Charlie made himself a soda and poured Jean Marie some water with a lemon wedge.

“Charlie, I have been thinking about something for a while now, and I want to hear what you think about it too.”

“Oh god, you’re not getting a tattoo are you? I have enough for both of us,” he said, gesturing with a head nod to his arms.

“No, no thanks. No tattoos for me. It has to do with the gym.”

He placed the drinks on the table and sat down next to her. “Do tell.”

“Well, you’re really getting back into your music now, and I don’t know why you don’t have one already but I think that you should scrap the gym and build a recording studio in there.”

“Really? Wow, I hadn’t thought about that,” he said, scratching his head. “That would be a better use of the space. But you still use the gym – what about you?”

“I could move all that stuff into one of the bedrooms. We don’t need everything in there, but I think it would all fit into the guest room upstairs.”

Charlie gave it some more thought, and got up from his seat and walked into the gym. He pushed the doors open and looked around at the room. He tried to imagine the room empty of all the equipment, and pictured where he would put a sound booth, a keyboard, which wall he could hang his guitars on. It was exciting to him to think of this transformation.

Jean Marie walked in behind him, after watching him examine the room for a few moments. “What do you think? Would it work?”

“Oh yeah – there’s plenty of space for a studio in here. I think it would look really cool. Would you want to help with it?”

“What? Why would I want to help? I don’t know the first thing about recording studios!”

Charlie turned around in the room, and stopped, facing Jean Marie. “You know, Sheila
would have never told me about this, if she had this idea. I would just come in one day and * poof * there would be a recording studio.”

“Well, first of all I am not Sheila,” she crossed her arms at her chest. “And secondly, I don’t want to surprise you with something that I have no business doing in the first place. But you love working on your music, and you’re always complaining about having to rent space somewhere to lay down a track. So it just seems to me, use this room for a studio and you can work whenever you want.”

Charlie walked right up to her, and pulled her arms apart. “I know you’re not Sheila,” he said, kissing her right hand. “And secondly,” he held up her left hand, “you can surprise me anytime you want, whether you have any business doing so or not,” and with that he kissed the back of her left hand.

“Do you love me, Charlie?”

“You know I love you, I love every bit of you.”

“Are you going to divorce Sheila?”

“I am going to divorce her, yes.”

“When?”

Charlie rolled his eyes and stepped back from Jean Marie. “Well, darling, when do you want me to do it? It’s something I am really dreading, because I know she’s going to turn it into an ordeal.”

“I’m sorry, but I think it’s got to be done fairly soon.”

“Well, I guess I need to call up my lawyer and make an appointment to draw up the papers…”

Jean Marie interrupted him, “Because I’m not going to have a baby with someone who won’t marry me.”

“…and figure out what exactly she’ll get from me. Wait. What? What did you say?” His eyes were large and his body froze in place.

“I said, ‘I’m not going to have a baby with someone who won’t marry me.’ Ok?”

“Does that mean that you are planning to have a baby with me, or does that mean that you are having a baby with me?”

“Hmm, well…” she rubbed her belly with her hands, “I think the latter statement is more fitting.”

“You’re – you are pregnant? With my… I mean, our…”

“I am pregnant with our baby, Charlie,” she said, holding his face in her hands.

“Holy shit! I mean, oh my god! Jean Marie!” He grabbed her shoulders and pulled her in close to his body. “Maybe we need to make this into a nursery then!”

Jean Marie laughed and cried, saying “No, we can use the room next to ours for that. I’ve been thinking about that, too.”

“Well, you’re just a little decorator now. Come here my designer, I think we need to celebrate.” He kissed her face and neck and belly, and walked in to the house giving her a piggy-back ride. He plopped her on to the sofa, and sat there with her. “I don’t know who to call. My parents are both dead and gone. Should we call your folks up?”

“That can wait,” she said, pulling him closer to her and kissing his head.

Chapter 8

Through the following weeks, Charlie and Jean Marie would go on numerous dates. Dinners at restaurants, drinks at bars, and once Charlie’s injuries were nearly all but a memory they would go to clubs to listen to musicians and bands.

It was Jean Marie’s suggestion, to get back out into the clubs to hear what people were doing with music. Charlie was reluctant to go, at first.

“Why do I need to hear what other people are doing? I’m tired of hearing all the crap that’s coming out on the radio today,” he had told her.

“Don’t play that game with me,” she said back to him. “I hear you go down to your guitar at night. And the piano.” This is where Charlie would turn his head and try to wave her off. “You know you want to keep playing.”

“Well, playing at home in – what I thought was privacy – is completely different than playing at a club.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, mister. No one’s invited you to come and sit in on a stage.”

Jean Marie had not only noticed his clandestine playing at home, but also caught him watching television programs of artists he loved, and some he’d collaborated with. She wouldn’t say anything, but she took mental notes of how he would stare and watch hour-long programs, when he couldn’t stand to sit still for dinner for more than 30 minutes at a time. If he knew she saw him watching these shows, or listening to records of past shows and recordings of Accelerator, he would quickly switch off the television or the stereo.

“Let’s just go listen, and if they stink we can make fun of them under our breath,” she said.

Finally, he relented, and they were off to a nearby blues bar.

The band was rolling into their set when Jean Marie and Charlie walked in. It was J.B. Parker and his band, and they were getting to the end of their classic song, Lullaby Baby. Charlie was recognized by some of the audience members, and perhaps it was one of them who approached J.B. himself to tell him that Charlie Clark from Accelerator was in the crowd.

J.B. said in the mic after their song, “Charlie Clark, are you out there?” He peered into the audience, while his band mates were caught off guard by J.B.’s question.

Charlie blushed and felt the weight of his legs in the chair. Jean Marie was ecstatic, picked up Charlie’s hand from the table and waved it into the air. Charlie was at first shocked that she was trying to embarrass him, but looked at her face and saw the huge smile that was plastered all over it. He stood up and waved on his own volition at J.B.

“Get yo ass up here, man!” J.B. said. “Ladies and gents – this is Charlie Clark, from that rock band you all know and love, Accelerator.”

Charlie walked up to J.B. and gave him a hug. They exchanged some pleasantries to each other, and Charlie walked over to the guitarist and shook his hand. Then J.B. started to play the beginning chords of Linda’s Eyes, and looked to Charlie to start in with the vocals.

Well I said I’d be around
Until the end of time
But look at us now, kid
Anyone can see the signs

My heart’s made of gold
And your love was made to last
But tell me how I’d know
You just couldn’t shake the past

I’m looking right into
Linda’s eyes
I’m seeing into her soul
You know I could just die
Staring into
Linda’s eyes

Through the song, Charlie kept his eyes closed behind his sunglasses. He didn’t see how the crowd, mainly filled with blues fans and bar hoppers, responded to his heart-felt singing. His voice had so often filled stadiums and amphitheaters, to be broadcast in this small venue made the crowd feel immersed in his voice. People were singing along with him, remembering how young they were when they first heard this song on the radio. It reminded people of their first dates, or their first break up, proms, after school make-out sessions behind the school. People learned to play the guitar with this song. Countless boys and girls had sung along with Charlie and the band in their rooms, singing to their imaginary audiences from their stage in front of the bed.

The band was getting into the song in ways that Accelerator had never been able to. Before, with his band, the song sounded routine. Charlie knew when Terry would come in for a solo, when Twig would slam down on the tom-toms. But with J.B.’s band, it sounded like a different animal. Not completely changed, but mixed up enough to sound magical to Charlie. He could hear his song in the way they were playing it, but the drummer was using the high-hat instead of the symbols, like Twig would have. The chords were played on the rhythm guitar, but J.B. would echo strains from the harmony out from his shiny blue and sliver electric guitar. Charlie was used to hearing Terry compete with the harmony when he played the song. This twist on an old song made Charlie feel spiritually awakened, his ears opened up to new possibilities with his sounds. When Charlie was finished with the last line, he opened up his eyes, and felt tears streaming down his face. His rehabilitation was complete.

He walked off the stage to applause from the audience and the band, and gave J.B. a big hug. Finding his table, he plopped into the chair as if he had just made love and was pleasantly, but completely, exhausted.

“Are you glad we came?” Jean Marie asked.

“Incredible,” was all he could think to say. “That was just – incredible.”

They stayed to hear the end of the set, and afterwards Charlie and Jean Marie walked up to the stage.

“You guys sounded great tonight, J.B.,” Charlie said.

“Hey man! It was great to play around with you, too!” J.B. said, handing his guitar off to an assistant. “Do you come here often?”

“Ah, no,” Charlie looked at Jean Marie. “This gal suggested we go out to listen to some music tonight, and I remembered this little blues club a way from my house. So, here we are.”

“Well, mighty good thinking, miss,” J.B. said to her.

“This is Jean Marie, J.B.” Charlie said, as he put his arm around her shoulders.

“Hi Jean Marie. Parlez vous français?”

“Ah, oui monsieur! Comment sa vas?”

“Ha, ha! Bien! Bien, comme je vois une jolie fille!”

“Ok, that’s enough you two – no fair,” Charlie protested. “I didn’t know you spoke French, Jean Marie.”

“Well, my parents were Canadian, and moved to the states when I was three. So I speak French and English.”

“I’ve met my share of Cajun women,” J.B. offered. “That’s how I know what little French I speak.” His guitarist walked up to J.B. and tapped his shoulder. “Well, looks like we’ve got to hit the road now, folks. Ted just told me we’re supposed to be at the next town before tomorrow morning.”

“Oh, you’re touring?” She asked.

“Yeah, trying to find out where all our fans are hiding at! Listen, Charlie, gimme your number – we need to jam next time I’m in town!”

“Sure thing,” and Charlie wrote down his phone number on a napkin. They shook hands one last time and J.B. gave Jean Marie a kiss on the hand.

They walked out of the club and got back into their car, making their way back to Charlie’s house. “That was great,” he said to her.

“I’m glad they called you up there,” she said back. “And I’m really glad you went up there to sing with them.”

“Me too,” he said.

“How did they know that song?”

“Well, a while back when it was a big hit for us, everyone was covering it. I guess they had probably tinkered with the song, too, when it came out. What really blew me away was how new and fresh it sounded to me up there, playing with them. If you heard what it sounded like when we played it, well, you would know – it was like being on a different planet.”

Charlie went on the whole drive home, getting increasingly excited while he told Jean Marie more stories about the song, the band, and past adventures.

“One time we were playing for these drunks, in some hick town off of highway 49. Real biker-type crowd, certainly not the type to normally pay a quarter to hear an Accelerator song on the jukebox, if you catch my drift.”

She nodded along to the story.

“And we get to the part of the set where we play Linda’s Eyes, and I just knew we were going to get into a heap of trouble if we started playing this love song to these huge, burly guys – in their leather vests and drinking their Jack Daniel’s right out of the bottle. So I tell Terry, “just keep it quick this time, no solos,” and he nods at me – he’s thinking the same thing I am. We start the song, and wouldn’t you know it…”

“They booed you off the stage?” she asked.

“No, no – totally unbelievable. They got up and started to dance with each other. It was a gay biker bar! Can you hear me? A gay biker bar! These guys were waiting for love songs to come on! I nearly stopped singing when I saw them holding hands, I didn’t know what kind of trick Frank had played on us.”

He continued the stories when they got home, and finally when Jean Marie announced that she was going to bed, he walked into his library to play the guitar by himself. He stayed up playing around with his old songs and some new riffs until dawn that morning.

Charlie continued to find himself being invited on to stage after stage of every bar, honky-tonk, juke joint, and dive he walked in to. It wasn’t always the same.

Sometimes, the band would ask the audience to coerce Charlie up on the stage with their applause. Other times, they would send out a member to talk to Charlie during one of their breaks in the session. He wouldn’t always join in as a singer for the bands; if he felt that the crowd wasn’t going to be too happy about their beloved band inserting a different face at the head of the mic, he would grab a tambourine or a guitar and play along as best he could to one of their songs. But on the nights when the bands would do him the honor of playing an Accelerator song for him, he would proudly take to the stage and belt out the tune with all of the gusto and life he could muster.

Jean Marie started to notice that he was getting a little more reluctant, as the weeks went on, to sing songs from his old band. In the beginning, he would saunter up to the stage, wave to the crowd, give a hand shake to the various band members, and would happily sing whatever they suggested. Or, if nothing sprang to their minds, he would suggest any old hit he could think of. But lately, his walks up to the stage seemed more stiffened, almost taking on the demeanor of a pupil being called to the front of the class to demonstrate an algebra problem. Not completely dejected or deflated, but certainly not bounding out of his seat like he used to.

“What’s the matter?” she asked him in bed one night, after one of these shows.

“Hmm?”

“You know – you just seemed, I guess unimpressed with things when Johnny Mac called you up on stage tonight. Are you feeling sick?”

“No, that’s – well, that’s not it exactly.”

“Come on, tell me what’s wrong,” she turned to face him, resting her arm above his head on his pillow.

“It’s just beginning to hit me, you know? I’m not the lead singer of that band anymore. But here I am, Charlie Clark, and all anybody knows me for is the songs I had with Accelerator. I just feel like a monkey on a chain, singing the old tunes for pennies.”

“You’re not a monkey on a chain, Charlie,” she said, poking the tip of his nose with her pinky finger. “You’re my monkey on a chain!”

He laughed, and tickled the inside of her arm. “I know, I know. I’m just being sour I guess.”

“Well, if you really don’t want to sing those old songs anymore, you should just write some new ones.”

“Honey, it ain’t as easy as wanting to write some new songs,” he chided her.

“Why isn’t it that easy? I hear you banging on the piano every day, and it sounds terrific to me. You could hammer out another hit in no time flat, I bet you!”

“Your enthusiasm is very uplifting dear, but who am I going to sell my new ‘hits’ to? The label didn’t stick up for me when Terry and the boys wanted me out. Frank probably wouldn’t touch me for fear of the wrath he’d get from Terry. And I certainly don’t think that Sheila is going to help me out.”

Indeed, Sheila wouldn’t have helped him out of much lately, except perhaps to help him out of a career entirely. Since the separation eight months ago, they had hardly said a word to each other. They had tried to have a conversation over the phone several times, but usually Sheila would be in a hurry to hang up, insisting that she had more pressing matters to deal with, or that she was waiting for another person to call with this or that news. He knew she was giving him the brush off, and at times he liked to make her feel uncomfortable by purposefully not taking the hint. But most of the time, he just wanted to see how she was doing, and wanted her to know that he was doing fine in spite of their separation. If he was feeling particularly filled with piss and vinegar, he would mention something that Jean Marie had done to brighten his day. With Jean Marie in his life, things had obviously improved from the standpoint of his physical health and well being. Mentally, however, things were stellar in comparison to his life with Sheila, and Sheila understood this without having to hear it from Charlie.

“She’s been talking to Frank about me, I heard,” he continued. “He said that she called him up last week, saying that she wanted to ask him about how the tour wrapped up and how album sales were going. Then she dove in and said, ‘What has Charlie been up to.’”

“And did Frank tell her all about how I’m brainwashing you against her, in my plot for world domination?”

“Uh – no, he left that part out.”

“Oh well.”

“Anyway,” he rolled his eyes at her, “he told her that I’d been out singing at some places, and that it seemed that I was doing great and having a good time lately. I think that pissed her off, because after their conversation I only have been getting her answering machine at home.”

“Oh, I see. Is she the jealous type?”

“Are you kidding me? She wrote the book on jealousy. She can make you feel jealous, just as easily as she gets jealous.”

“So hearing that from Frank must have gotten under her skin, I suppose.”

“Yeah, that’s an understatement. So, you see why I can’t use her connections to help me get back in the game again.”

“Charlie, my dear, you severely underestimate yourself. Don’t you think that people worked with you in the past because of your personality and talents – not because of Sheila’s bribes and manipulation?”

“Well I – hmm. When you put it to me like that…”

“And don’t you think that if you got a hold of some of those past producers and label executives, they’d scoop up the chance to work with The Charlie Clark? I think they would.” Charlie was staring out the window, thinking about her logic. “Charlie, obviously people know you for you – they call you up on stage, not because of your band, but simply because it’s you!”

“I believe you.”

“Good. So, does that mean you’re going to write songs and send them to your friends now?”

“Right now? You want me to get up and go write a hit song right now?”

“Oh, stop it!”

They shared some more laughs, and went to sleep.

The next morning, Charlie got up before Jean Marie did and made them both breakfast. Then he sat down at the piano and started to play some chords and find riffs that caught his attention. She woke up at the sound of this music, sat at the table to eat her breakfast, and listened as he worked through his song writing process.

Several hours after breakfast, the phone rang. Jean Marie joked with Charlie that it was his agent calling, “I bet they heard your new songs, and want to book you some gigs right now!” She got up from the couch and picked up the phone. It was Terry.

“Hi, is Charlie there?”

“Can I ask who’s calling, please?”

“This is – well, tell him it’s Terry.”

“Ok…” she was puzzled by the stammer in his voice, thinking that perhaps this was a prank phone call. She set down the phone and went to get Charlie.
“Someone on the phone saying they’re Terry wants to talk to you.”

Charlie set down the pen he was using on the piano’s music rest. “What?”

“Should I just hang up on them? Do you think it’s a prank? Would he be calling you here?”

After a few seconds of thoughts, Charlie got up from the bench and made his way to the phone. Just thinking about Terry made his shoulder ache and stiffened his gait.

He picked up the phone in a swift move, and barked out a “Hello?”

“Hello? Charlie, is that you?”

“Who is this?” he replied.

“This is Terry, man. It’s me.”

There was a pause as Charlie grasped that it really was him, and as Terry waited for some semblance of a salutation from Charlie. Nothing came out of Charlie's end of the line.

“Well, anyways,” Terry continued, “I was just calling because I heard that you had healed up, and I wanted to know how, er, what you were doing lately.”

“Why?” Charlie was not in the mood to fall prey to Terry’s charm, nor to give him fodder for gossip.

“Sheesh, old man – I didn’t think this call was going to be so tough.”

“Well, for you it is. What did you expect me to do? Fall on the ground and kiss it, because Terry Friedland called me!”

“I didn’t think that was going to happen,” Terry’s voice quickly changed from light to serious as he realized what he had gotten himself into. “I thought we would just, I don’t know – catch up. With each other.”

Another pause.

“Listen,” Charlie said, “I don’t need to catch up with you, and I certainly don’t need you to tell me what you’re doing with your god-awful life. Got it?”

“Yeah, I got it.”

“And if you try to call me again, don’t be surprised if no one answers the phone.” Charlie slammed the receiver down, ending the conversation immediately.

“Jean! Jean!” He hollered her name, echoing it through the rafters on the ceiling.

“What?” Jean Marie came running back to him. “What’s the matter?”

“If you ever hear Terry call me again, if he ever tries to talk to me again, hang the fucking phone up and pull the cord out of the wall!”

Jean Marie was surprised to see Charlie’s face so red, and to hear him speaking so loudly at her, she started to feel tears well up in her eyes.

“Ok, Charlie – I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize.” He was still barking, but sincerely didn’t want to make her feel badly about the situation. “Terry is a slime-ball, and I don’t know why he called me, but I really doubt he wanted to play catch-up with me.”

“Is that what he said?” She was calming down, and reached out to hug Charlie.

“Oh, don’t bother,” he swatted his hands at her gesture. “I’m alright. Just, you know, mildly enraged!” He straightened his hair with the palm of his hand while he rolled his eyes, embarrassed at his reaction. “I can’t believe how mad I got. But as soon as I heard his voice, I felt this red, fiery rage pulsing through my veins.”

“Wow,” was all Jean Marie could think to respond with. “I had no idea he made you that mad.”

“Well, I think I knew I had it in me. It’s been festering for quite a while. But, you know what? Having told him off like that, it’s a relief actually.”

“Getting all steamed up?”

“No. Actually – yes. Getting steamed up, and telling him that I don’t trust him. Before, I was just thinking these things in my head, and I suppose it was sort of lurking in me. Just sitting in my gut like a ball of lead. But now, it’s out there, and he’s got to deal with it, but I’ve let him know where we stand. On my end, anyway.”

“Do you think he was trying to find something out about what you’re doing with your music?”

“I don’t know. Maybe Frank told him I was playing some sets around the town, and he got jealous. Maybe he’s going to try to tell me I can’t play the Accelerator songs anymore, since I’m not in the band. Who knows.”