Page 29 of Sticks and Stones
“Like I told you the other day, losing her helped me put things into perspective. I know what’s important now.”
“Oh yeah? What’s that?”
“Her. My kids.”
“Where does your music fit into all that? And don’t tell me it doesn’t. I saw you in concert once and dude, you killed it. It was like you were born to be on that stage.”
Gunnar smiled. “So, you’re a fan, huh? Why didn’t you tell me that?”
Levi smiled. “I was a fan of the music. Didn’t know if I’d be a fan of the man.”
“And…?” Gunnar normally didn’t put too much stock in people’s opinions of him, but for some reason, he wanted the people in this town to like and accept him, starting with Levi. “Are you?” he asked finally, when it didn’t seem like Levi planned to answer him.
“So far, I am.”
Gunnar knew Levi was the type to reserve judgement until he had all the facts and he liked that about him. “Music will always be a part of me,” he admitted. “It’s hard to imagine not doing it, but it’s also hard to imagine going back to that crazy life I used to lead, and that’s what my band, my team, and my label expect me to do.”
“But what about you?” Levi asked. “To hell with what they want. What do you want?”
“I don’t know. I might want to stay here. Take a little break. Work on songs that really matter to me instead of just churning out another album for the sake of it.”
“So, why don’t you do that?”
He made it sound so simple, but it was anything but. He wasn’t just an artist, an individual. He was a corporation. One that made over fifty million dollars last year. “I’m not sure I can.”
“Come on, Gunnar. You’ve earned the right to do anything you want to do. Hell, if you wanted to pack it in and move to Alaska, you could.”
He considered what it meant to be free… something he’d never been. Free to make his own decisions, his own mistakes. He’d gone from having foster parents telling him what to do to having a manager and publicist telling him what to do and what not to do. He’d almost forgotten how to make decisions for himself. But maybe it was time he remembered.
“I guess I could, if I was willing to cut all ties to my old life.” He drained half the bottle of beer and rested it on his knee. “But if I stay with them, the band, the label, they’ll start putting pressure on me to deliver. They have expectations and I gotta meet those expectations or—”
“Or what?” Levi asked, a glint of challenge in his eyes. “What’s the worst thing that could happen?”
“The worst thing?” A few different scenarios played out in his mind and none seemed too terrible. “I guess the label would cut me loose and the band would go their own way if they didn’t want to take a risk on the kind of music I’m making now. It’s a departure from our usual stuff, that’s for sure.”
“So what?” Levi raised a shoulder. “Change can be a good thing, can’t it?”
“I think so.” He was craving change these days. He’d been stagnating in his old life and he knew that’s why he’d been having such a hard time writing music in the halls Gianna and the kids still haunted.
“The way I see it,” Levi said, “you answer to yourself. At the end of the day, when your head hits the pillow, you’re the one who’s gotta make peace with the decision’s he’s made. But honestly? I don’t feel like you’ve made peace.”
Gunnar needed someone who could be brutally honest with him now. “What do you mean?”
“You’ve done right by your kids, I assume. You’re still a part of their lives. You didn’t leave them or their mom high and dry financially—”
“I would never do that!”
“I’m not saying you would,” Levi said, raising his hand. “Just hear me out, man. You think you owe your label something? Why? Because they were the only ones who’d give you a shot way back when? Think about, Gunnar. They’ve made a fortune off you and your music over the years. If suddenly things stopped working and your fans stopped buying the music, they wouldn’t work with you to try and figure things out, would they?” Before Gunnar could respond, he said, “My guess is they’d dump you.”
“You’re probably right.” He’d seen it happen to friends of his. One day they’d been stars, the next they faded into obscurity.
“So, why do you owe them your loyalty?”
“I guess I don’t.” He’d always felt his label were the ones whomadehim, and as long as they were treating him right, he owed it to them to stick it out with them for the duration of his career. But maybe Levi was right. He should start thinking about what would be best for him, not his label.
“Then there’s your band.” He set his half-empty bottle down on the oversized pine coffee table. “Your brothers, huh?”
“They were family even before I had a family. I can’t imagine bailing on them.” That’s what made Gunnar’s decision so hard, his loyalty to those four guys.
