“Right. Sorry.” His fingernails found the scab.
“You’re an incredible talent, J. T.”
J. T.’s eyes nearly fell out of their sockets. “You—you think so?”
“I do. Don’t you agree?”
He shrugged, clearly unsure how to respond.
“First piece of advice,” Colton said, leaning his arms on the table. “Own your gift. Believe in it. This town is full of people who are going to do everything in their power to make you doubt yourself and tell you you’re not good enough. Shitting on other people’s dreams is practically its own industry in this city. Don’t make that easier by agreeing with them.”
J. T.’s head nodded up and down in rapid tremors. “Okay.”
Colton drummed his fingers on the table. “Good. So do you want to know why I called?”
“Yes.” The word came out a squeak.
“I’d like to work with you.”
J. T. turned gray. And then green.
Colton puffed out a laugh. “You okay?”
“You—you want to work with me?”
“I do. I’d like to collaborate with you. I have some new stuff that I’m going to be taking to my label, and they’ve asked me to work with a songwriter on some other stuff I already submitted. I’d like that to be you.”
J. T. damn near fainted. Colton tried not to laugh. “Put your head down for a minute.”
“I—I’m okay.”
He didn’t look it. Colton caught Duff’s amused eye and motioned for some water. Duff rolled his eyes but brought it over anyway. He was smiling when he left the table.
“Drink it,” Colton said, sliding the glass across the table. J. T.’s hands shook as he gulped it down.
“Here’s the thing, though,” Colton said as the kid recovered. “I need you to think about this before agreeing to anything.”
“What’s there to think about?”
“A lot, actually. You’re going to have a lot of opportunities. Don’t just grab the first one that comes along unless it aligns with the vision you have for your career.”
J. T. nodded, but it was clear by the empty look in his eyes that he didn’t quite understand.
“It’s okay if you’re not sure what that vision is yet.”
“Did you know?”
Colton kicked back. “At eighteen? Sure. I wanted it all. Stardom. Adoring fans. Girls screaming my name. A mansion in Nashville. Enough money to light it on fire and not even miss it.”
“And you got it all.”
“I did. But there’s a price to it as well. Don’t let anyone force you into something you’re not ready for yet.”
J. T. bit his lip. “My dad said I’d better get a manager soon or I’ll miss my shot.”
“A good manager who recognizes talent won’t get sick of waiting.”
“But my dad said—”
“Who wants this, J. T.? You or your dad?”
“I do. But, I mean, he wants it for me too.”
“But he doesn’t have to do the work. He doesn’t have to pour his heart out into a song and then hear people trash it. He doesn’t have to spend months on the road touring. He doesn’t have to carry the burden of knowing that other people’s lives depend on your success. It’s your life and your music. Don’t let anyone else craft an image for you just because they think it will sell. Sooner or later, that image will start to feel like a costume that you just don’t want to wear anymore. You gotta do what makes you happy.”
A snarky pft from the general direction of the bar told him that Duff was listening to every word.
Colton sat back against the booth. “So after all that . . . would you like to work with me?”
J. T.’s mouth spread into such a goofy, earnest grin that Colton had to hide his own behind his disgusting beer. “Is that a yes?”
“Yes.” The kid let out a whoop. “I can’t believe this. Holy shit.”
Colton felt like Santa Claus, like he’d just delivered the season’s most sought-after toy that had been sold out for a month. A lightness he hadn’t felt in a long time about his career spread through his chest.
“Go get set up,” he said, rubbing his hand over the spot in his chest that suddenly felt warm. “I’m in the mood for a jam session.”
“You—you want to play with me right now?”
“Why not? Let’s see what we can do.”
J. T. tripped over his own guitar as he awkwardly slid from the booth. He’d barely vacated his seat before Duff claimed it. The old man plunked a bottle of CAW 1869 and a sort-of clean glass in front of Colton.