*****
An hour later John stood on the sidewalk looking at the sign in the window. He pushed through the door and stepped inside. The studio was cool and clean looking. At a front desk a young woman sat. John figured the twenty something, brown haired girl had to be just a secretary or something. He stepped up to the desk and looked down at her, not really knowing what to say.
“Yes, can I help you?”
“I’d like to record a song and get famous for my Momma and Daddy,” he replied honestly.
“Wouldn’t we all,” the girl mused. “Time is a hundred dollars an hour and there is a three week waiting list. Are you with a label?”
“No, I’m with Judy Rivers,” John said with a smile.
The girl behind the desk thought hard, then shook her head negatively, “Doesn’t ring a bell,” she said. “So, should I book you for three weeks from now?”
“No,” John said seriously. “I need to make the recording today. Or Misty’s gonna lose her house.”
“Well, that ain’t happening in this town, mister,” the girl stated knowingly.
“According to Misty it is!”
The girl looked at him blankly, then shook her head in disbelief. “She may lose her house, but you won’t be recording a record in this town today. It just doesn’t happen that way.”
“Well, I can’t wait three weeks either, miss.” John turned and without a backward glance went back out the door.
He walked down the sidewalk to the car, opened the door and slid inside, closing it after him. He looked defeated.
“Well?” Judy asked.
“She said a hundred dollars an hour and the waiting list is three weeks long!”
“Well, let’s try another one,” Judy said, pulling out of the parking place and entering the flow of traffic.
“There’s more than one?” John asked doubtfully.
“Hundreds, maybe,” she said, then smiled over at him. God, she loved this guy more every minute. She wondered if he had been raised in a cave, in the middle of the wilderness of the northwest. He had absolutely no idea of life and the many things he was missing. What she didn’t know was that John had never been anywhere but Wimberley, San Marcos, Euling and he had gone to San Antonio once to see George Straight in concert.
“Without a lot of money,” he said defeated, “what’s the use?”
“Someone will recognize a good thing when they see it. In this case, hear it; you. I’ll talk to them, okay?”
“Okay,” he agreed readily. “I don’t like talking to people. I’m not very smart, you know?”
“You’ll do, John Travis,” she said glancing over at him with love in her eyes and heart. John completely missed her meaning.
“I love you Judy,” he said earnestly. She felt her heart leap in her chest, then plummet when he continued. “You’re like a big sister, looking out for me.”
He failed to see her smile sag and her eyes turn misty. She wanted to be more than a big sister to him. And she had just realized it. She was in love with this big lug she had only known for three months. And he looked at her as a big sister! Well, she decided, she’d have to change that!
She smiled inwardly, pulled to the curb and parked in front of a Pawn Shop. “Wait here,” she said. “I’ll be right back.”
“Hope you’re not gonna buy a gun and shoot me,” he said seriously, pointing at the pawn shop sign.
Judy pointed to a sign that said JACKSON RECORDING STUDIO in large black letters. “Nothing that serious, yet,” she laughed pointing at the other sign. “I feel lucky,” she said confidently, climbing out of the Monte Carlo and striding straight to the door and inside without pause or hesitation.
She stepped into the clean, air-conditioned lobby and her confidence faltered on the way to the desk where a very pretty mid-twenties, black haired receptionist sat looking serious. The nameplate on the desk identified her as Sandra Jackson. She wondered if the woman was the owner, or the daughter, or wife, of the owner.
Sandra Jackson watched the serious young woman come through the door and saw her resolve falter slightly, then return. She hoped the woman had a pocket full of money she was wanting to spend on a recording session. Truth was Jackson Recording was heading for the rocks under full sail and rudderless. This woman could very possibly be their salvation. “May I help you?” she asked hopefully.
“You wanna make a million dollars before the end of the year?” Judy asked seriously, realizing she had nothing to lose by being bold.
“We all want that, Sugar,” Sandra replied with a smile.
“You donate some recording time and I’ll share my secret with you.”
“Nothing’s free, Sugar,” Sandra replied, her heart faltering, realizing this woman was wanting a freebee. “If I don’t like what I hear, who pays?”
“With my secret weapon you’ll think your investment was a God-send. Deal or no?”
Sandra started to say no. Then she saw the fire burning in this young girl’s eyes. She realized this girl was much too serious and confident. After all she would know within seconds if this girl could sing or not. She could always erase the tape and go back to sitting at her desk like a trap door spider, hoping, waiting for her next meal to come by. She had nothing to lose!
“How much time do you need and when will you be ready?” Sandra asked, deciding to give this girl a chance.
“You’ll know within the first few minutes or so. You’ve got nothing to lose, really,” Judy said, biting her lip nervously, afraid this woman was going to say no.
“True,” Sandra said thoughtfully, knowing there was no one in any of the three recording studios. “I won’t even run the tape until I’m convinced it’ll be worth it. So, let’s hear it, Sugar,” she smiled sweetly up at Judy.
“I’ll be right back,” Judy said, turning to the door in a rush.
When she was gone Sandra picked up the phone and punched three numbers. She shrugged her shoulders and smiled. She loved this business. Who knew, at any moment another Elvis Presley, or Hank Williams could walk in off the street and make her a wealthy woman. “Toby, prepare studio three for a demo, please.”
“You got a payer?”
“Maybe,” she replied, not liking to admit she is giving away recording time and tape when they were in such disparate need of money. She replaced the phone and sat waiting.
When the door opened she thought she was seeing a ghost. She had seen this man on an album cover before. Well, maybe not. This guy wasn’t near old enough to be on an album cover. He didn’t look to be more than twenty or so.
“This is John Travis, Junior and I’m Judy Rivers, his manager. He’s going to make us rich!”
“Quite a weapon,” Sandra said with a friendly smile, recognizing the name of the country star from long ago.
“And Momma and Daddy proud!” John said with a large serious smile.
When he spoke Sandra had her doubts. He sounded far too simple; maybe a little retarded. Well, she thought, we’ll know in a minute whether he’s pulling my leg or not. She knew Judy seemed convinced.
“Follow me, please,” Sandra said, leading the way to the studio door. “Let’s see what ya got, big boy,” she added with a hopeful laugh, then gasped silently when he opened the guitar case and she saw the antique Martin D-10.
At least he knew quality guitars when he chose one.
Sandra left the recording room and went into the sound booth. She and Toby watched as Judy and John prepared.
“No tape,” Sandra said. “We’ll just listen for a minute.”
“Another freebee, Sis?” Toby grinned. “Either he has it or he don’t,” he added, crossing his fingers. “Our pockets pray he does! We’re down to the bone here, Sis!”
“You ain’t gotta tell me!” she replied sadly, reaching forward and flipping a switch on the console. “When you’re ready, John,” she said.
“I’m nervous as a blind cat in a dog kennel!”
“Just relax,” Judy said. “Thin
k about your momma and daddy up there listening to you down here. Sing for them, John. No one else.” Judy stepped to one side and lowered the microphone so that John had to look up at it slightly.
John played the intro to his chosen song and got through the first line before he was interrupted by Sandra. “Hold it! Hold it!” she screamed excitedly.
John looked up nervously. Scared, starting to protest at not really being given a chance.
“Put this man on tape, Toby!” she said. “He’s a miracle! We’re talking contract before somebody else beats us to him! Pipe it through to me. I want to hear it all. We’ll dub the band over him!” she continued going out the door and back toward her desk out front. “I’m callin’ Allen!”
Toby laughed. He had never seen Sandra this excited before. Even when the real Allen Jackson had chosen their studio to record one of his albums. He wondered what the real Allen Jackson thought of their Uncle having his name.
“Do it again, John,” Toby said through the microphone, smiling. “Tape’s rolling. We’ll need ten or twelve of your songs.”
Judy began to bounce excitedly. She hugged and kissed John on the cheek and lips.
“I only have my daddy’s songs,” John said honestly, smiling at Judy’s excitement.
“We’ll record the ones you want to record,” Toby assured him.
“I want to record them all!”
“We don’t have time for that, now. Just ten or twelve of them for now.”
John shrugged his shoulders and began again. As the music flowed from the D-10 Toby began to rock from side to side with the beat of the beautiful country song he was hearing. And he didn’t even like country music.
In the lobby Sandra was talking excitedly on the phone. She was inviting musicians to come and work with a new singer they had discovered. When the last of the five had agreed she hung up and dialed one more number. A look of worry crossed her face as she listened to the phone ring on the other end.
“Allen, I need some help,” she said nervously when her uncle Allen answered his phone. “I’ve got a miracle in my studio. I need some money. Cash! To seal the deal and get him under contract! Will you help me?”
“Not another miracle, Sandra,” he replied skeptically. “I don’t know how many more I can stand.”
“Just listen to this,” she said, turning the volume up on her desk speaker and holding the phone close to it.
“Sandy! Sandy! Sandy!” Allen screamed into his phone, hearing all he needed to hear and knowing instantly that she had finally found a winner!
Sandra heard his tinny voice over John’s singing, but decided to let him get a little more hooked before she brought the phone back to her ear and lowered the volume on the speaker. “Well, what’d you think?”
“I’ll be there in half an hour with some money and a contract. Hold that boy tight, girl!” Allen said, then started to hang up.
“He ain’t going anywhere, Uncle Allen!” she promised.
“Oh yes he is, too!” Allen disagreed, then hung up.