Unwed 💍

Chapter Thirty-One: I'm Moving On

Wes leafed through the last of his money, blowing a sigh of relief when he came across a five dollar bill to pay the waitress. Patsy eyed him from across the checkered table of the diner, her pink lips pressed together.

"You still haven't talked to him, have you?" she said, flipping her golden hair over her shoulder.

"I will," said Wes, folding his wallet and slipping it into his back pocket. "I just haven't found the right time."

Patsy cast him a wry look. "Wes, you have exactly two dollars left to your name. I'd say now is just as good a time as any."

The cheeseburger Wes had just consumed bubbled in his stomach as he thought about the betrayal Judd would feel when he told him that Wes and the Flames was moving on to a different producer. Earlier that morning, he and the boys had met with Patsy's producer at RCA record company.

The halls of the RCA enterprise were lined with framed top hit records. Just walking through it, Wes felt like he was finally on the path to stardom. He could physically feel his dreams looming on the blank spaces of those walls.

Jack Corbin, the Carmody Sisters' producer, sat at his office at the end of the hall, like a king behind a shiny mahogany desk. A savvy man with jet black hair greased back and a flashy polka dot polyester suit, he bolstered the image of a rock and roll icon.

He'd jumped up to greet them when they arrived, exuding youthful energy that spread like wildfire to the rest of them. "I just have one question for you," he'd said, looking each of them square in the eyes. "Are you ready to do what it takes to be superstars?"

There was no question as to whether they were ready. It was what they lived and breathed every single day. Filled with renewed excitement, the boys had signed the contract within minutes. And they were talking about headlining gigs before the ink dried on the paper.

Leaning back against the diner booth, Wes folded his arms behind his head, attempting to stretch his turning stomach. They had to think about their careers, not their personal loyalty to Judd, he told himself.

Regardless, it still felt like a betrayal. They'd gone behind his back, sold him out and word would spread quickly. He'd need to tell the old man before he found out through the grapevine.

He was sure it wouldn't come as a surprise to other bands in the business, they would all understand. Judd was a good, honest man, but he wasn't meant for Hollywood anymore.

Their song hadn't lasted on the radio. Within a few weeks it was gone all together. Patsy was sure it was because no one knew who they were. The gigs they were doing weren't drawing large crowds and Judd wasn't promoting them. Exposure was everything, and Jack Corbin had promised to make them headliners.

Under Jack's management, Patsy had recorded a hit solo record that was climbing the charts. As they spoke, it sat at number five on the top ten most played songs on the radio. Although her sisters felt understandably snubbed, she'd worked hard to get where she was, and he admired her for that.

She was a hot commodity and she knew it. Everywhere they went, men's eyes were locked on her, secretly wishing they could be in his shoes.

His eyes met hers across the table. She smiled, her long dark lashes accenting her deep blue eyes. She reached out a thin, manicured hand to his and he grasped it, smiling back at her. She was stunning, the definition of perfection.

He hadn't thought much about their relationship until that point. Most of their free time was spent together. She was easy to be around, engaging and smart. She understood the music business and she'd taught him—the rookie that he was—a lot.