Tiger Moths (18 page)

Neither Johnny nor Ben had any idea that they had been watched. Jason had warned Johnny hundreds of times that he should never assume he was alone. Johnny listened, or at least pretended to, but never let the advice alter his lifestyle. But tonight was the night all Jason’s warnings had been about. There were indeed people out to make money off of him.

Wilson Wright slid the camera back into its case, happy he had invested in the night vision lens. He knew he had a roll of real money- making pictures this time. He would sell them to the highest bidder, and there was sure to be some high bidders. His speed shuttle had captured about three dozen shots of Johnny Clark, the hottest name in country music. The photos showed Johnny in intimate, and somewhat compromising, positions with one of the big guys who worked on his crew.

Wright had been following Johnny for some time now, trying to get the big picture, and tonight was the mother lode. The guy with Johnny was an employee who frequently accompanied Johnny to bars and private parties. His research had traced the two back to their college days together, and had identified Johnny’s buddy as Ben Barr. There was plenty of information for an interesting, and controversial, article to accompany the night’s covert work. The amazing photo shots would seal the deal.

The journalist thought for a moment about the title. Maybe something like “Johnny Clark Comes Out in Big Way,” or even “Clark Gives Personal Performance in Dallas Parking Lot.” More work needed to be done on that. He patted his camera case and laughed.
Thank you, Johnny boy. You are going to make me a big chunk of change.

Wright tossed his gear into the front seat, and fell in behind the steering wheel. His rotund belly juggled, and he grunted loudly. The man who had hired him to follow Johnny paid him a flat rate and allowed him to sell what he got to the highest bidder on top of the salary. He pulled out his list of phone numbers and fixed on the third one down. It was hard to know if excitement or exertion made his pulse race. Whatever, it did not matter to him right now. What mattered was that there was money to be made. Big, fast, easy money. He drove south for two blocks, struggled out of his car, and went to the pay phone. In five minutes the deal was made. For thirty-five thousand dollars Johnny Clark’s tainted reputation would be on the front pages of the magazine tomorrow morning.

The beat-up Ford made its way through the alley and directly to the magazine headquarters. They would have to act fast to get the story in the issue due tomorrow, but when they had a big story like this, they could move mountains. Wright turned on the radio and took his last draw on his cigarette. He laughed with maniacal delight when he heard Johnny singing about some lost love. “Oh, Johnny, just wait until tomorrow, buddy. I don’t think you will be singing so much about tonight, huh? Ha, ha, ha, poor Johnny. Poor chump.”

Morning came too quickly. Johnny lay sprawled in his bed, the same way he had landed last night. His shorts were still damp from the rain, and his foot, sticking out from under a sheet, had a big gash out of it. He was semi-awake when he heard a light tap on the door. Jason tapped on the door a second time and walked in, uninvited. Johnny merely winced in pain.

Jason leaned over and shook him hard. “Johnny, get up, we have a lot to talk about. Come on, you have no time to sleep. We have to fix this mess you have got yourself into.”

Johnny roused and opened one eye. “Jason, what are you doing here? Are we already in Chicago? What time is it?” Questions spilled out as he tried to understand what was going on.

“No, we are still in the parking lot in Dallas. It is eight o’clock in the morning of one of the worst days of your career, thanks to your poor judgment and that so-called friend of yours.”

Johnny rose on his elbows and stared at Jason. His head was groggy; he hated the lack of clarity. Vague recollection of the evening made him angry with himself. But still, he had no idea what Jason was going on about. He got up and washed his face, while Jason kept yelling at him.

Jason suddenly turned and walked back out to where Big Ben was still sleeping. Johnny, still perplexed, followed.

Big Ben was awakened rudely by a violent tug on his leg. Half in and half out of the bus seat, he opened his eyes to see Jason Crownfield glaring down at him.

“I knew I should have never let Johnny hire you. You have been nothing but a liability waiting to happen, and now you did just what I knew you would do. You and your selfish partying ways have ruined Johnny. Everything I have done to build his reputation has been ruined by you. I want you off this bus and off the payroll now. If you know what is good for you, and for Johnny, you will get as far away from him as you can and stay there. You have hurt him badly and I’m not sure how we are going to repair this PR disaster.”

Ben struggled to get up from between the seats, but his size worked against him. He was still in pretty good shape, but not nearly as agile as he had been in his playing days. Neither he nor Johnny had an idea what Jason was talking about. But it was evident that as soon as he got up, he was going to shut Jason’s mouth with one good punch.

Jason turned back to his client again. “Johnny, what were you doing? What were you thinking? Don’t you understand how important and fragile your image is? Don’t you know that all you have to do is listen to me? And if you do everything I say you will be a star for a very long time.”

Johnny’s face colored in a rare burst of anger. He growled at Jason, “All I understand right now is that your yelling is getting on my nerves, and I’m about two seconds from firing your butt. Now you better start explaining all of this or you are out the door for good. Because right now I cannot think of a single reason why I want to keep you around here anymore.”

Jason gritted his teeth and grunted. “Here, see if this is a good enough reason to keep me around. I’m not the one who needs to be packing his bags, Johnny boy.”

He threw the magazine he had been holding onto the seat in front of Johnny. It opened to some odd pictures of what appeared to be two men in some kind of embrace. Johnny reached over and picked up the tabloid.

“What’s this? You know I never pay any attention to this garbage. Oh!”

Johnny looked at the rag and saw himself and Big Ben in what looked like an intimate embrace. He shook his head in disbelief. The headline read “Say It Ain’t So, Johnny!”

Ben had finally made it to his feet. He stood inches from Jason. “I want to know what in the world is going on, and why I shouldn’t put you in the ground right now, Crownfield!”

“Ben, don’t!”

Johnny walked over and shoved the magazine in Ben’s gut. He could not bear to look at either of them. Instead, he just stared out the window.

Ben looked at the tabloid in bewilderment. “Johnny, what? Who?”

“I’ll tell you what and who, Mr. Barr. Because of you, Johnny has a career-threatening issue plastered all over America right now. I knew you were trouble. Look, I don’t care what you think about me, but if Johnny really is your friend, you will go now. Pack your bags and leave quietly. Just say goodbye right now and put as much distance between yourself and Johnny as you can.”

“Jason, you know there is nothing to this! Ben just found me drunk and in a mood and was helping me out,” Johnny blurted out.

“The truth does not matter in the world of image-making. People believe what they want to believe, and sadly there are a lot of people that believe anything they see in print. It doesn’t matter what really happened. What matters is that millions of people are going to see this. And who knows the impact that is going to have on your popularity and career.”

“What are you talking about? The truth always matters.”

Ben raised his hand. “No, Johnny, Jason is right. As much as I hate this guy, he is right. My presence will do nothing but feed the rumor mill and distract people from who you really are. I am not going to be the one who stands between your music and all of your fans. You know there are kids out there that really look up to you. They play their air guitars and sing into their pretend microphones. What are they going to do if they think the person they want to grow up to be is gay? I mean, I got no problem with gay people, and I know you don’t, but it matters a lot to most of your fans. I gotta go, man. I’m just sorry that this happened. If I ever get my hands on the scum that took these pictures, I will tear him from limb to limb. And I’ll enjoy every minute of it.”

Johnny did not want to see his best friend go, but he knew that Ben had become another victim of his fame. There was no reason to argue; he knew Ben’s mind was made up, so instead he just stuck out his hand.

Ben shook it and patted Johnny on the shoulder. “Good luck, man. Keep rockin ’em. You know I’ll be keeping my eye on the charts. Don’t let me down, man.”

“I won’t let you down, Ben. This is not goodbye; I’ll stay in touch.”

“Keep it true, man.” With that Big Ben turned and walked out the door.

Johnny felt more alone than he had since Kayla had left. He stood staring at the door. Staring and wondering why this had happened, and whether he had made the right decision in letting Big Ben go.

“Well that’s step one,” Jason said.

“Jason, I do not want a lecture from you, I just want you to do your job and fix this. I’ll be available for anything you need me to do.”

“I’m not going to lecture you. I know you are hurting right now. I understand you better than you think I do. You are a good guy, and friends are important to you. I get that. But this business can be brutal on all relationships. I wish I could change that for you, but I can’t. All I can do is help you navigate through all the pitfalls. I’m sorry I was so hot, but Ben’s leaving is for the best. Now we have to do something to show the fans that you really are the All-American guy they always thought you were.”

“I really think I need a break from all of this. I just need to recharge, to get some perspective.”

“I agree with you. And I think I know what we can do to accomplish both objectives. I have a friend that keeps calling to schedule you to do a concert for our military men and women. I’ve studied this a little, and I think I have the perfect venue for you. We have a two-week break in your concert series after Chicago. I can schedule you for a concert on the island of Guam in that slot. I know you love the ocean, and I hear it is an amazingly beautiful place. The arena only seats a couple of thousand people, so we could cut the stage show in half and still give them a great concert. Having you travel that far will show that you really care about the troops. It will set you apart as an innovative entertainer because no one else has been there. It’s a brilliant move.”

Johnny heard very little of what Jason had said. The man who set his own tours and produced his own records was not himself in that moment. His grief was heavy on his mind and heart. He felt physically ill over Ben’s departure. But he had picked up on the words “two week break” and “ocean,” so he was satisfied this would be a good thing.

“Sure. Whatever you say. It sounds good. Now can you have the driver get us rolling? I’m ready to get out of here.”

“Yes, let’s got out of here. I’m with you on that. And Johnny, don’t worry. I’ll take care of everything. You know that I always do.”

Jason moved to the front of the bus to give the driver the go ahead. Johnny went back to his room and just stood there for a moment. He looked at the magazine he had picked up, and felt the bus pull into motion. He walked over and touched his guitar that always sat in the same corner.
Two sides of the same coin.
How did his grandma always finish that saying?
“Remember what is printed on that coin – In God We Trust.”

Finally he picked the guitar up from its stand and began playing. What else could he do? He glanced out the window and saw a tattered lawn chair sitting alone in the parking lot. It grew smaller and smaller with each revolution of the bus tires. He stopped playing, slowly placed the guitar on his bed, and slid to the floor. On his knees he remained silent for several minutes, and then whispered the only prayer he knew. “Our Father in heaven, honor to Your name. Your kingdom come; Your will be done on earth as it is in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread and forgive us our trespasses… Oh God, forgive me for forgetting about You, for all these nights I’ve spent getting drunk and chasing women. I am so sorry. I have put my faith in my own abilities, and I’ve forgotten that You are the one who has blessed me with them. God, I know I am supposed to do something to make You the one in control. I just don’t know where to start. But, God, I want to know You better. I want to be who You created me to be. Help me find You; just give me someone to guide me through all of this, because I am so new at it. Amen.”

For a while he remained on his knees, not quite knowing what to do. When he stood, the tattered lawn chair had long vanished from sight – as had his feeling of despair. There was a different feeling in him now. He was no longer a victim, but a man on a quest to find a connection with God. A connection he had never really considered since he left his grandmother’s house.