Page 33 of The Lyrics of Love

Nash only hoped it would be good not only professionally—but personally.

He decided to call Billy next.

“Hey, Billy. Got your texts.”

“That new song is fire, Nash. You know I’m not sentimental, but my eyes filled with tears. It’s about the girl you picked up, isn’t it? The one who ran out of gas. The one you had me cut your hair for so you’d look better for her.”

“Yes. Rylie. I almost blew it with her, Billy. But I think we got things squared away. We’re going to see where it goes. I’d like you to meet her.”

“That would be great. I’m leaving today for Canada, though. My brother and I are going up to Banff to do some hiking. I’ll be back probably next weekend or so.”

“Call me when you get home. I’ll have you over for dinner.”

“You still trying to cook?”

Nash laughed at the doubt in Billy’s voice. “Yes. I’m not half bad. Talk to you soon.”

He decided to watch the video shot last night, finding it easily. The raw emotion in his voice gave the song a sweet tenderness.

Another text came in from Dart. He replied by calling his bass guitarist.

“Where the hell did you come up with that song?” Dart demanded. “It’s incredible, Nash. Wills is here. I’m putting you on speaker.”

“Hey, Nash,” his keyboardist called out. “Pretty damn good song.”

“Thanks. Billy lives a town over from where I’m renting a house. I booked it for two months. Have already written the one song and have some other ideas bubbling inside me. How are things with you guys?”

“Playing every day,” Wills said. “Picking up studio work pretty steadily.”

“When will you be ready to tour again?” Dart asked, an edge to his voice. “It’s been a year of nothing. No recording. No touring. You know I get restless.”

“No tours for another year at least,” he said. “I’ve got to write new stuff. That takes a while. Then arrange it before we get into the studio. We also need to find a new manager.”

“That’s a long time, Nash,” Dart said. “It’s not about the money for me. I know we made a ton off the last tour and CD. I’m just restless.”

Nash made an instant decision. “The band won’t be together for a while, Dart. If you and Wills want to join another one, go for it.”

“We don’t want to desert you, Nash,” Wills said. “But I miss playing with you.”

“I’m not saying we’re breaking up,” he emphasized. “But I won’t be ready to go back on the road anytime soon. I don’t want to keep either of you from doing what you want to do. Take advantage of any opportunity that comes along. I don’t want to keep you from doing so.”

“Thanks for letting us know,” Dart said. “You know Wills and I think the world of you, Nash. When you’re ready, we’ll be there for you. For now, though, we’ve both had offers for steady gigs with big names.”

“But just let us know when you need us,” his keyboardist added. “We’re committed to you.”

“Thanks, guys. I appreciate it.”

By now, he hoped to get Rylie. When he dialed her number, though, her voice-mail picked up.

“Hi. It’s Nash. I just wanted to hear your voice. I guess you might still be out on the water. Call me when you get this.”

As he finished his coffee, he scrolled through the rest of his texts. All were positive, congratulating him on Mistake and telling him it would be a big hit.

Then he saw a message from Chuck Cooper, an old friend from high school who had wound up being head of the roadies that set up for his concerts on this last tour. Nash recalled Phil mentioning that a new manager needed to be hired. While Chuck had zero experience in that field, he was street smart and someone Nash trusted.

He texted Chuck to call him when he had time.

His cell rang almost immediately.

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