Travis Starnes
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Fanfare (Country Roads #2) - Chapter 10
🕑 Added 2021-08-31 16:20:05 +0000 UTCOver the weekend I followed Mr. French’s advice and slipped one of my new songs into our setlist. I’d already started brainstorming more songs, since I needed to get a bunch more written and didn’t have a ton of time to do it, but he’d also said I’d need to work them out a bit in front of a crowd to get them really ready. I didn’t want to have to play a bunch of new songs all at once, which meant I needed to start playing the stuff I had now, if I wanted to get them more or less locked by the time the others were ready to be played for an audience.
The band didn’t seem completely sold and made some suggestions I hadn’t thought of. I suggested pulling the song back out, but Willie told me to leave it in. He said even if it didn’t land all the way, it wasn’t bad and it would give us some variety.
I could see the argument. Even though we added in a new song or two every week, switching out with something that had been in the setlist the longest, the music still could get a little monotonous if you listened to it enough. That wouldn’t be a problem in bigger cities, where the audience mostly changed out for every show, but Wellsville was a small town. Even with tourists stopping in after seeing the music advertised on the sign, the audience was still mostly locals looking for some weekend entertainment. That meant they were mostly seeing us play every weekend, and were hearing largely the same setlist from one week to another.
We switched up the order and sometimes changed out a few more with stuff from weeks before that we still had down, but it didn’t keep it as fresh as I would have wanted.
Overall, I did think our shows were good and everyone seemed to have a good time each night, but I did want to keep things fresher.
I brought it up with Willie and he said, “Haven’t you ever thought why you didn’t ever see acts stay in one place, playin’ regular shows, until later in their life?”
“I would have thought it was because of the money. If they’re playing the same place all the time, they can’t draw the huge stadium crowds they would if they tour through a bunch of major cities and don’t come back every year. Scarcity and all that.”
“That’s the biggest part of it, no doubt, but it’s not the only thing that does it. Think about how you felt playin’ different clubs with me. It was excitin’ playin’ at a new place, wasn’t it?”
“Yeah, I guess. You know, you’re the first person I’ve ever known to have a home club to play at every weekend. When Dad played, it seemed like everywhere had different acts every weekend. Sometimes acts would rotate through the same places over and over, but they still spread their shows out so that one audience didn’t see them for months at a time.”
“Like I said, money’s the big reason for that, but it’s also the changin’ times that does it. It used to be a lot more common, in the old days when it was slower to travel around, I’ll give you that. It still happens though, and not just with ol’ timers like me. I guarantee you have heard of acts playing the same places night after night. That’s what they do in Vegas, after all.”
“Yeah, but the audiences there change out a lot, since it’s mostly tourists who see the show, so it’s okay to do the same set every night. If the audience is always changing, the show doesn’t need to.”
“Well, I don’t know about that. The band’ll get bored if you don’t switch it up enough, and the audience can tell if the band isn’t into it. There are more folks out there like me than you know of though, and all of 'em have enough options to keep the shows changin' up all the time. You’re just startin' out, so the only way you can make that work is to keep doin’ covers, but that won’t be enough to get you really discovered. I think Kevin’s right; you gotta start gettin’ your own music ready if you want to break out. Let’s take a look at the songs you got and see if we can’t jazz 'em up a bit.”
It was weird to hear someone use a teacher’s first name, but I was glad he agreed and wanted to work with me on them. Although I already had Mr. French working with me on them, it helped to hear someone else’s point of view, especially since Willie came from such a different point of view than Mr. French. While I didn’t want them to change my music into something that wasn’t me, I did want to hear different ways of coming at writing a song, to know what my options were.
He had a lot of thoughts on the new songs. Some would have taken them too far from the pop base and into blues for me, but others were interesting. I tried working out some of the changes Sunday night, but Mom had chased me off to bed when she got home and I didn’t get to fully work out everything he’d suggested, so it was still rattling around in my head when I got to school Monday. The office was on the busy side and the person who was supposed to escort me was in a meeting. I asked the secretary if I should wait and just get a tardy slip, but she told me he was almost done and to go ahead and go to class, and he’d catch up before I got there.
I didn’t think anything of it and started to class, not really paying much attention, until I heard Aaron’s voice. I’d been running late waiting at the office, so the halls were mostly empty. I was at one corner of the school, so I tried to just avoid him by turning and continuing down the hall to my class, which was pretty close. I must have really been in my head, because it wasn’t until then that I noticed Harry had gotten around me.
I backed up a step, looking down both hallways, trying to find an avenue of escape, and not having any luck.
“You think you can get in some cheap shot at me and get away with it,” Aaron said, edging towards me.
He’d learned his lesson from the last time and wasn’t just charging headlong. I could see him looking from me to Harry, apparently trying to keep me between them so I couldn’t get him locked up like I did last time. It just went to show how little Aaron knew about actual fighting, or he’d realize I couldn’t take him to the ground like I had in the parking lot without opening myself up to a beating from Harry.
“I thought we were supposed to stay away from each other,” I said, fainting towards Harry a step, forcing him to take a step back.
Aaron remained cautious, pausing to see what I was going to do instead of taking the opportunity to rush me as I fainted towards Harry.
“No, you’re supposed to stay away from me. Wait till I tell my dad that you got within five hundred feet of me. Maybe they’ll arrest you for violating the restraining order. That might make what you did worth it. I bet my dad can get the sheriff to put you in a cell with some big men who like little bitches like you.”
“You’re not very smart, are you?”
“What the fuck did you say?” Aaron snarled.
“I said, you’re not very smart, are you? I’ve already kicked both of your asses and now you’ve got me backed into a corner. What do you think I’ll do this time? Since I’ve already violated the restraining order, I might as well make the most of it. Since I’m already in trouble for permanently injuring your throwing arm, how about we do it for real, so I can get the most out of this.”
Aaron blanched and took a step back. I don’t think it occurred to him until that very moment that I’d fight back if he cornered me, rather than take the beating. He’d somehow imagined the restraining order protected him even if he already forced me to be in violation, and kept me from actually hurting him.
I could see him working through if he should run and lose face or try me now that he had Harry with him. He’d beaten me when it was three to one odds, so maybe he thought he could take me. Honestly, I wasn’t sure if he was right or not, but I knew I could make it costly for both of them. I knew Harry was the weaker of the two and I’d seen him run at small injuries before, so I’d already decided to get in my first shots against him. He had his hands up, but wasn’t actually protecting himself in any way. If he did come in, I was pretty sure I could get a good shot in against his head and, if I aimed it right, maybe even break his nose. That would almost certainly take him out of the fight unless he’d grown a pair in the last several months, leaving me and Aaron one on one again.
I was just preparing to pivot and strike out at Harry when a voice came down the hallway towards us.
“Hey, what’s going on?”
Looking past Aaron, I saw the teacher who’d supposed to have escorted me to class jogging towards us. Harry did what Harry does best, turning tail and running down the hallway away from the teacher and us. I don’t know what Harry was thinking. The teacher was close enough to see him, so running away would just get him in more trouble, but then Harry was never much of a thinker.
Aaron, always willing to double down on stupid, looked like he was going to try and have a go even with the teacher right behind him.
“Mr. Campbell, you need to go right now or I’m going to haul your ass into the office.”
Aaron gave me another hard look before turning and walking away past the teacher. To my utter lack of surprise, the teacher didn’t do or even say anything else to Aaron, instead closing in on my, finger already lifting to waggle as he lectured me.
I stood there and took it, since arguing back wouldn’t help my case. It seemed impossible to miss the fact that I’d been cornered by the two of them and clearly had not picked a fight, but I guess he needed to save face from telling me to go to class on my own and trying to catch up after the fact.
I also had bigger problems than dealing with him anyway. Aaron might be a blowhard, but he wasn’t bluffing about talking to his father. He’d probably call his dad before he even went to class, which meant by tonight or tomorrow at the latest I’d have to deal with violating the restraining order. I didn’t know if that meant getting expelled from school or going to jail, but I knew it wasn’t going to be good.
Mom was going to be pissed when she found out. At best, I was going to get my ass chewed out when I got home and at worst I might have to give up playing again until I was out of the house. Mom wasn’t unreasonable and I knew she’d listen to me when I explained how they cornered me, but that wouldn’t change the fact that we couldn’t afford to get bailed out if it came to that. My biggest worry was she’d just give in and call Aarons’ dad and tell them she wasn’t going to fight the lawsuit.
I kicked myself as I finally got to my first-period class. I should have just waited in the office for my escort. Aaron had almost certainly been waiting for an opportunity like this, and I’d just handed it to him like an idiot.
“I need some help,” I said to Mr. French when he met me after my English class to take me to lunch.
He listened as I explained what happened with Aaron, not interrupting me as I explained everything.
“I’m sympathetic, Charlie, but I’m not sure what I can do to help. I could step in and say something if he just reported it to the administration, but I can’t keep him from telling his father or their attorney about it.”
“I know we’re not supposed to, but is it at all possible I could make a phone call?”
Mr. French stopped and thought about it for a second. I knew if it was just up to him, he wouldn’t have a problem with it, especially under these circumstances. He had to keep in mind that, even though I was being forced to eat in the choir room, the work he did with me could be seen as a form of favoritism.
“Sure,” he said finally, turning the phone around on his desk to face me.
They were in the middle of the lunch rush, so I wasn’t sure if Chef would have time to talk, but he was the only person I could think might be able to help me. I didn’t know how busy weekday lunches were, but since it took several minutes for Chef to answer after Vinney went to get him, I guess it was busy enough.
“Charlie, is everything alright?” He asked.
It was a reasonable question, since he knew I was in school and never called during a school day. I explained, again, the run-in with Aaron and the possible trouble I was in now, since I technically violated the restraining order.
“Well, at least his timing’s good. I was going to talk to you when you got here this afternoon, but I think I have a solution for you. Do you have practice this afternoon?”
“Yes.”
“Is it possible to miss it?”
“I don’t know. Coach Dean is pretty cool so if I explain it’s an emergency he’ll probably let me skip one practice, as long as I don’t make a habit of it.”
“Okay, then let Hanna know you don’t need a ride today. I’ll come by and pick you up after school in the parking lot next to the baseball field. Now, we’re pretty busy so I gotta go.”
He didn’t wait for me to answer, hanging up as soon as he finished speaking.
“Is he going to be able to help?”
“He said he had a solution, but didn’t say what it was. He’s picking me up after school.”
“He wouldn’t do that if he didn’t have a solution for you. You’ve had a tough morning, so let’s skip working on anything for today. Any work you do when you’re really unfocussed isn’t really good work anyway.”
He wasn’t wrong about being unfocused. I had trouble paying attention the rest of the day, to the point where several teachers said something when they called on me and I didn’t even notice. I was in my head about what would happen with Aaron, what Mom would do when she found out, and what the solution Chef had found was.
I doubted he’d actually found a way to get the restraining order or lawsuit thrown out. He could do a lot of things, but that seemed pretty far out of his area. My second thought was that maybe he’d found a lawyer or talked to Mom and convinced her to stop bringing up the idea of just giving in and declaring bankruptcy.
Coach Evans got on me the worst. He was completely reasonable when I told him I had an emergency and needed to skip practice, but he didn’t take my half-assed approach to conditioning. He told me that if I was going to work out, I needed to stay focused or I was going to hurt myself, and then took a page out of Chef’s book by spending the rest of class working me hard enough to forget I was upset about something.
Eventually class ended and I headed out to the parking lot. I’d only driven with Chef in the restaurant’s van on trips to pick up supplies for the restaurant, but the beat-up old truck wasn’t a surprise at all. It was probably decades old with weathered paint and dents scattered around the body of the truck, but it didn’t bellow smoke or sound out of repair. Like everything else Chef did, it was function over form.
“Jeez, you stink,” he said as soon as I slid into the passenger seat, putting my backpack on my lap.
“I have conditioning at the end of the day. Normally I go right to practice, so I don’t shower after. I didn’t even think about it.”
“It’s fine, I guess. Art’s dealt with teenagers before.”
“What, you’re saying all teenagers smell?”
“Yes. Teenage boys at least,” he said, pulling out of the parking lot and heading down main street towards the Blue Ridge, which surprised me.
“We’re heading to the restaurant?”
“Yes. You’re going to meet with a friend of mine, Arthur Eaves. He’s a criminal attorney in Asheville and he’s helped out before. This isn’t a criminal case, so I wasn’t sure he’d take it, but he said he could help out. I’d planned on taking you down there this weekend, but considering your run-in today, I asked him if he could meet us up here this afternoon. He’s a smart guy, so you need to listen to him and do just what he says. Don’t worry about the cost; he owes me a few favors so he’s doing this pro bono.”
It didn’t surprise me that Chef had a criminal attorney friend, considering how long he’d been helping out kids in trouble. It did surprise me, a little at least, that he’d managed to get us a lawyer for free. Mom might fight it, since she hated anything that looked like charity, but the cost was the only reason she was against fighting Aaron’s dad. I only hoped that, since Chef wasn’t technically paying for a lawyer for us, she’d let this slip past her anti-charity policy against accepting help.
As with the psychologist he’d had examine Kat, his friend was waiting for us up at his apartment. Also like that time, Chef didn’t stick around. I guess attorney-client privilege applied just as much as doctor-patient privilege.
Mr. Eaves didn’t look like what I’d expected. I’d been prepared for an older man, maybe graying, wearing glasses. I think I might have been influenced by lawyers I’d seen on billboards and commercials over the years. Mr. Eaves wasn’t exactly young, but he was much younger than I’d expected, maybe in his mid-thirties. Instead of white hair, he had darkish brown hair and a neat close-trimmed beard. He was dressed the way I was expecting, however, in a very stylish light blue suit. He wasn’t wearing a tie and his collar was unbuttoned, but I’d bet he had his tie out in his car. Since he was doing this for free and it was just him and me, there wasn’t much of a need for him to impress anyone.
I realized how right Chef was. Not only did I stink, but I was pretty disheveled. Normally dressed pretty much like every other teenage boy, in random t-shirts and blue jeans, but I hadn’t changed after conditioning. I was wearing my school PE shirt and track shorts, both of which were balled up in my locker until I’d grabbed them to change before class.
“Sorry I’m such a mess,” I said. “I had conditioning and was about to go to baseball practice when Chef picked me up.
“It’s fine. I vaguely remember what it was to be your age. Hell, the fact that you’re staying so active is miles ahead of where I was; too busy getting h… Never mind. First off, I want to say this is purely informal. Normally, I wouldn’t talk to you without your mother present or at least without her permission, but Chef told me about your run-in with this other boy, today. Since it sounds like this boy’s family is going to pursue action on this, I wanted to get out in front of it. I did briefly talk to your mother an hour ago, just to formalize our relationship so this conversation could fall under privilege, but before we get very far I’m going to want to sit down with her and talk about what to expect and how we should handle this.”
“I understand and I appreciate you coming up here to see me. I called Chef right after it happened, 'cause I wasn’t sure what to do about it, and I was worried. I tried to get away, but Harry cut me off and …”
“Hold on. Let’s start from the beginning and go in order. I want to know every run-in you’ve had with this young man, his family, or any of his circle of friends, as well as any details you believe are important. I also want you to talk a little bit about the training Chef’s been giving you and how you used that against this boy. For right now, assume no detail is too small. I’m sure a lot of it will be superfluous, but let me make that determination. I’d rather you tell me about something that ends up not to matter, than not telling me something I should know.”
I nodded and took a deep breath before diving into the story. I started with the first day of school when Aaron was beating up Sam, Hanna’s little cousin, and moved forward from there. I included the run-ins that didn’t involve Aaron but did involve his friends, which mostly featured Harry, who’d been the second biggest pain in my life after Aaron.
I then went into what Chef had been teaching me, although I was sure he’d ask Chef directly later, since my descriptions were more about how Chef was teaching me than a breakdown of what I’d learned. Chef usually taught in small lessons that came together as something I could use to protect myself, but it was hard to say I learned move A that caused effect B, and how that related to my fights with Aaron. The few times I’d had to defend myself, they’d happened fast and I hadn’t put a lot of thought into the actual mechanics of it.
Mr. Eaves had a yellow legal pad on his lap, making notes as I spoke. At times, he looked out past me and I thought he might not be paying attention fully, but as I wound down clicked his pen and slid it back into his shirt pocket.
“So you’ve had quite a lot of run-ins with this boy. I’m going to be really blunt now, which I know can sometimes be difficult for younger people, but I want you to remember that I am only trying to get everything I need to help you.”
“I understand,” I said.
I didn’t actually know what he was getting at, and it’s a little insulting to be told that, because I’m young, I might break down into some kind of fit like I was a little kid, but he was doing this as a favor, so I couldn’t complain about it either.
“Your descriptions all paint you as a victim in every run-in with Mr. Campbell. I know it’s easy to present situations that put you in the best light, but the worst thing that can happen is that I formulate a plan based on one set of information, only to be presented with the truth later on by the other side. It’s important that you don’t sandbag me by trying to make yourself look good. I’m a criminal defense lawyer so I’ve had all kinds of clients who’ve done things significantly worse than what you’re being accused of, so you don’t have to worry about any kind of judgment. I need the unvarnished truth here, was everything you described to me the way you described it? Because it makes Mr. Campbell come off as somewhat sociopathic.”
“I don’t think I twisted anything to make me look better, no. I don’t think Aaron’s a sociopath but I do think he’s always gotten what he’s wanted and got used to using violence when he didn’t get it. I’ll admit on our first interaction, I attacked him first, but only because he’d didn’t want to leave Sam alone and if I tried to keep defending Sam, he was going to kick the crap out of me. There were three of them, so I decided to get a jump at them.”
“It isn’t great that your first interaction you were the one to throw the first punch, but because that’s not the situation you’re actually being sued over, we can get past that. You’re sure he threw the first punch in the altercation in the parking lot?”
“Yes. I hadn’t been paying attention and he was on top of me before I could find a way to back away like I’d done before. He took a swing at me and I reacted, but just to immobilize him. I didn’t want to hurt him.”
“Chef said you dislocated his arm. That seems to go beyond just immobilizing him. Was that an accident or did you do it on purpose?”
I thought about lying, but he was right. If he was going to be my lawyer for this, he needed the truth if he was going to defend me.
“I did it on purpose.”
“So you did try and hurt him.”
“Honestly, yes. I was sick of his shit and how he seemed to get away with all kinds of shit. I didn’t try to hurt him seriously, and I knew the joint could be put back without permanent damage, which I think it was. I’ve seen him around over Christmas break a few times, and he was perfectly fine. All this long-term injury stuff is bullshit.”
“We’ll have to check around on that and see if anyone else has seen him or, better yet, if there are any pictures or video of it. I’ve dealt with his father a few times over the years in his professional role and he’s no slouch, so he will probably have kept his son from posting any pictures on social media, or at least removing any that he had. They’ve got a doctor who diagnosed the injury, so that’s another hurdle.”
“So we’re screwed?”
“I didn’t say that, I just wanted you to understand the challenges we have in front of us. I’ve already notified the court that I’m appearing as your lawyer and have requested documents from D.A. Campbell, who was more than happy to hand them over. They included the allegations that Aaron went to talk to you in the parking lot about your harassment and your assaulting him, along with these pictures.”
He pulled out several pages with pictures printed. They were from an email, which explained their graininess, but he’d printed them out on a color printer so I was able to make out enough detail. Aaron was in what looked like a doctor’s office with his shirt off and a line of bruising across his shoulders and upper chest. The bruising was dark, almost a deep purple at the center, which meant these pictures had been taken shortly after the injury, so we couldn’t say they were just pictures of old bruises.
“I didn’t touch him at all on the other shoulder or on his upper chest. I had my legs wrapped around his forearm and middle and was pulling on the other arm. If anything, he’d have bruises on his forearms and abdomen, not on his shoulders.”
“My suspicion is that these were taken after a football game. I played a little in high school and these look suspiciously like the bruises that can come from a series of bad hits against football pads. Unfortunately, their doctor has sworn out an affidavit that these were taken the day after you’re confrontation, which was after the end of their football season.”
“He’s lying.”
“Maybe, but I can’t accuse them of something without some kind of proof. Generally, in my interactions with Doug, Aaron’s father, he’s been fairly up and up. A little bit of a prick, but nothing about him suggested he’d lie in court documents like this. Of course, people react oddly when defending their family, but he doesn’t have the kind of reputation where we can go after him unless we have rock solid proof that he’s submitted fraudulent evidence.”
“Okay, so it’s just my word against Aaron’s.”
“More or less. Aaron was still in practice that week, so we can counter the photos and there’s going to be more than enough witnesses to impeach Aaron’s character and show him as a bully who was specifically targeting you. With no witnesses, in the end, it will come down to your word against his. In a case like this, that helps you. I’m pretty confident that you’ll win the case in the end, although nothing is one-hundred percent in a courtroom. Doug’s already starting to pile on motions and BS meant to drive up the costs of defending the case, which I think might be his actual point. He’s aware of your family’s financial status and as a D.A. he understands the cost of a protracted trial as well as anyone. My guess is he thought you might not even fight this and, if you did, he could cause enough financial burdens to make you give in.”
“If he’s such an honest guy, why is he doing something just to hurt us, if he knows he can’t win?”
“Like I said, people act differently when it involves family. Also, like I said to you earlier, people have a way of subconsciously painting situations that make them look good. I’m sure the way Aaron has described everything that has happened makes the situation look very different than how you described it. No one wants to think of their kid as being a troublemaker or a bully, so it’s easy for him to convince himself that what Aaron says is the truth.”
“You know Chef said you were doing this as a favor, but if it’s so much work that it’s really expensive, I’m still concerned. Mom hates charity and she’s all but decided to just give in and make a deal with Aaron’s dad.”
“Don’t worry about the cost or your mother. I’m pretty good at making an agreement and I’ll make sure she doesn’t do anything drastic. Chef tells me you’re a good kid, and that’s enough for me. Chef helped out someone close to me a long while ago, so if he says you’re worth it, then I’ll do everything I can to make sure you come out of this okay.”
