Bill Fitzhugh - Fender Benders (37 page)

“The guy’s a weasel.
 
Unwashed.”

“Perfect,” Jay said.
 
“Thanks.”
 
He clicked off then
started dialing again, trying to think of how to finesse the information he
needed.

“Herron and Peavy Management,” a woman said.

“Hi, this is Jay Colvin in New York.
 
Mr. Herron and I met yesterday while he was
in town.
 
We discussed a publishing deal
for his client, Eddie Long.
 
I know he’s
on his way to Dallas, but could you
do me a favor?
 
When he calls in for
messages, would you ask him to call me as soon as
possible.
 
I have some good news for him.
 
Thank you so much.”

60.

Halfway through the flight from New
York to Dallas,
Eddie was still staring at the screen on his laptop.
 
He was trying to get started on a new song,
but nothing was coming to him.
 
Out of
the corner of his eye he noticed Megan looking at him.
 
After a moment, he turned and looked into her
violet eyes.
 
“Can’t seem to get started
on this song,” he said.

Megan nodded.
 
“Don’t
worry, it’ll come to you.”
 
She looked at
him for a moment before leaning toward him slightly.
 
“You know what?
 
There’s something I’ve always wanted to do…”

Eddie closed his lap top.
 
He wasn’t getting anything written anyway.
 
“What’s that?”

Megan leaned closer still and whispered something in his
ear.
 
Eddie just about blushed and his
eyes popped wide.
 
“Get outta town!”

She winked at him as her right hand slid down to his
lap.
 
“Give me five minutes,
then
knock twice.”
 
She gave him a gentle squeeze then casually got up and went into the
lavatory nearest the cockpit.
 
By the time
she threw the latch Eddie was so hard a cat couldn’t scratch it.

Five minutes later he was at the door.
 
He looked around to be sure no one was paying
attention.
 
He knocked twice and a second
later he was inside, free and clear.
 
Megan was wearing a short skirt and a sleeveless pullover knit top.
 
Eddie saw her panties on the counter by the
sink.
 
He took that as a good sign.

Megan started rubbing against him.
 
“Good Lord,” she said, “is that a gun in your
pocket?”
 
She smiled and offered up a
sultry smile.

Eddie rubbed back.
 
“No ma’am.
 
I’m just damn glad to
see you.”
 
He looked down and Megan
pulled her skirt up.
 
“Damn glad,” Eddie
said.
 
She unhitched Eddie’s big rodeo
belt buckle and popped the buttons on his jeans like a pro.
 
A second later she had one foot on the toilet
seat while the other was braced against the wall.

“I don’t have a condom,” Eddie said as he, “oooohhhh,
baby
.”

Megan gasped.
 
“Ohmygod, I don’t care.
 
Yessssssss.”
 
She
pulled him in as close as she could and started breathing harder.
 
“Just like that, Eddie.
 
Just like that.”
 
Her arms reached out for something to hold on
to.
 
She grabbed the handicap grip.

Eddie was watching everything in the mirror.
 
He started to
preen,
like a star in his own porn film, only this one was going to be a short.
 
Without warning, Eddie grabbed the hot water
faucet, rounded third, and headed for home.
 
“Ohhh!
 
Ohhh!
 
Ohhh…”

Megan bucked and squeezed for all she was worth.
 
“Yeaahhh.”
 
Then she threw in a few sexy noises to make
Eddie think he’d done his part.
 
She was
considerate that way.
 
Afterwards, they
huffed for air as their tensed muscles began to relax.
 
The intimate confines of the lavatory made
the post coital moment somewhat awkward.
 
It really hadn’t been designed for cuddling.
 
Fortunately, the plane hit some turbulence
and the ‘fasten seat belt’ sign came on.
 

Like a gentleman, Eddie handed Megan her panties.
 
“Here you
go,
cutie.”
 
Then he bent over to retrieve
his jeans.
 
The instruction for passengers
to return to their seats hastened things.
 
As Eddie buttoned up, Megan leaned over and kissed him.
 
“Me and you, babe.”
 
She looked into his eyes.
 
Then she tilted her head just so and
smiled.
 
“Some things are just meant to
be.”

61.

Big Bill was on the phone when Eddie slipped out of the
bathroom.
 
He could see Megan in the
background.
 
Eddie knew he was busted, so
he looked over at Big Bill and winked.
 
He figured that sharing the conquest, one good-old-boy to another, was
the best way to avoid
a you
-need-to-think-about-your-image
speech.
 
Eddie needn’t have worried,
though.
 
Big Bill played along
instinctively, winking back and flashing a low-key thumbs-up.
 
But he didn’t like what he’d seen.
 
Megan was shaping up as a major pain in the
ass, he thought, potentially a very disruptive force.
 
Big Bill had seen this sort of thing dozens
of times in his career and he knew it rarely worked out good for the
manager.
 
Unfortunately he couldn’t
afford to bump the jukebox at the moment, so for now he’d let Megan have her
way.
 
He’d find a way to undermine her
later.

“Mr. Herron, are you still there?”
 
The voice came from the phone.
 
It was Big Bill’s

assistant
in Nashville.

“Yeah, sorry,” he said.
 
“Any other calls?”

“Whitney Rankin called three more times,” she said.
 
“He sounds upset.”

“I bet.
 
Anything else?”
 
He
listened for a second then wrote, ‘Jay Colvin.’
 
“A publishing deal, huh?
 
What’s
his number?”
 
Big Bill figured this
Colvin guy was calling to get the rights so one of his authors could do Eddie’s
story.
 
Well, he was in for a
surprise.
 
‘
Sorry, Mr. Colvin, I’ve already started the authorized bio
…
’
 
Big
Bill gave
himself a psychic pat on the back for being so far ahead of the publishing
curve, then he made the call.
 

“Mr. Colvin?
 
Bill
Herron.”
 
He softened his good old boy
tone and went with more southern gentility.
 
“I understand you want to talk to me about a publishing deal of some
sort?”

“Yes sir, Mr. Herron, thank you for returning my call,” Jay
said. “First I have to say it’s an honor to speak with the man who produced so
many great records.”

“Thank you, Mr. Colvin, I—”

Jay cut him off.
 
“I’ve read all about you, Mr. Herron, and I think we might be able to do
some business together.”

“Maybe we can, Mr. Colvin, because it turns out I’ve
started—”

“Let me just get right to the point, Mr. Herron, and I’m
sorry to cut you off again, but I don’t want to waste any of your time.
 
I represent a writer named Jimmy Rogers.
 
You recognize that name?”

“Yeah,” Big Bill said slowly as it came to him, “a guy
called me one day, said that was his name.
 
I thought it was a prank, you know, father of country music and all.”

Jay Colvin had no idea what Herron was talking about and he
didn’t care.
 
“It’s no prank, Mr.
Herron.
 
Mr. Rogers has nearly completed
a biography on your client, Eddie Long.
 
And not everything in the book is exactly what you’d call
flattering.
 
In fact, it’s so
inflammatory I expect to place it at one of the top three publishers in the
city for a good six figure advance.
 
But
that’s only going to happen with your cooperation.”

Big Bill was starting to get miffed.
 
It was bad enough this fast talking New
Yorker — maybe a queer, maybe a Jew, hell, maybe a queer Jew
 
— had cut him off twice, but now come to find
out this Rogers kid was about to beat him to the bookstores.
 
He dropped back into truculent good old
boy.
 
“Well, now that’s all well and good
for you, Mr. Colvin, but I’ll tell you the same thing I told that client of
yours.
 
We intend to rigorously defend
against any unauthorized —”

“Mr. Herron, there’s no need for any of that.
 
Let me tell you what I have in mind.”
 
At this point, Big Bill was about to cut
loose on this guy.
 
He didn’t have to put
up with anybody cutting him off three times in a single conversation.
 
Big Bill was the one with the hottest country
music artist in the world and he was supposed to be the one doing the cuttin’
off.
 
But as Jay Colvin outlined his
strategy, Big Bill began to reconsider.

Jimmy’s book would essentially accuse Eddie of being a
murderer.
 
This would generate massive
publicity for both sides.
 
In response,
Herron & Peavy would file a huge lawsuit on behalf of their aggrieved
client.
 
This would generate even more
publicity for both sides.
 
Book and
record sales would benefit from all the attention.
 
After a few weeks of milking the press with
the inflammatory accusations and a ninety million dollar lawsuit, Herron &
Peavy would announce that they had reached an out-of-court settlement with the
publisher.
 
There would be a gag order so
no one could discuss the terms of the deal.
 
In reality no money would change hands as a result of the alleged
settlement.
 
But Big Bill would receive a
two percent royalty on Jimmy’s book in exchange for orchestrating things at his
end.
 
“Atlas Publishing has signed off on
this if I can get you to agree to it,” Jay said.
 
“So what do you think?”

It was such a cagey arrangement Big Bill was forced to take
a look at the big picture.
 
Whereas he’d
written only half a page of his biography, Colvin’s client was almost finished
with an entire manuscript.
 
Big Bill knew
he’d never get a whole book finished in time to compete with the Rogers
book — at best he’d be picking up the book market scraps — so participating
in Mr. Colvin’s innovative deal was clearly the best way to go.
  
“Well, I’ll tell ya,” Big Bill said, “it
reminds me of me.”

“I’m delighted to hear you say that, Mr. Herron.”

“Yes, sir.
 
It’s a fine idea.
 
Works for both sides.”
 
Big Bill thought about asking for a higher
cut of the book’s royalties, but he figured Mr. Colvin would counter by asking
for points on any increase in record sales and he knew that wasn’t in his
favor, so he kept his mouth shut.

“Terrific,” Jay said.
 
“And I think you’ll agree neither of our clients needs to know about
this arrangement.”

“Oh, I believe that goes without saying.”
 
Big Bill looked across the aisle at Megan as
she whispered something to Eddie.
 
“Makes
us both look
more.
. . indispensable to our clients if
they think we pulled ‘em out of a fire.”

62.

That night, at a sold out Texas Stadium, Eddie stood poised
to go on stage for the first show of his thirty-five city tour.
 
There were forty-five thousand frenzied fans
waiting for their new hero to come out and sing his song.
 
In the semi-darkness, the band strode on
stage.
 
The crowd saw the silhouettes and
began to scream.
 
It was the moment Eddie
had been waiting for all his life.

Megan was with him, brushing some fuzz from his hat and
primping his glittery Manuel jacket.
 
“My
God,” she said.
 
“If you aren’t the
handsomest man I have ever seen.”
 
She
put her hands on his arms and looked into his eyes.
 
She smiled.
 
“You nervous?”

Eddie looked around the backstage area.
 
The place was crawling with local radio
people, print and television media, the promoter’s staff, groupies.
 
Groupies for crying out loud!
 
And some fine looking ones
at that.
 
“Nervous?”
 
He shook his head.
 
“This is what I was made for.”

The stage announcer came over the loudspeaker system.
 
“Ladies and gentlemen…”