Climbing the Charts Ch. 01

The social media buzz exploded, with photos of Libby fronting the band appearing more numerous every day. The diner was packed, and yet Betty always found a way to get Eric a table. Soon, Libby's cut from the band equaled her salary at the diner. It never crossed her mind to ask Tommy for more. She was in heaven as it was.

Libby was at Eric's large house one day after work when her cellphone rang. It was Tommy.

"Hi, honey. What's up?" she said.

"You won't believe this, Libby," Tommy said. "I just got a call from a woman with the Cincinnati Reds. They had a band cancel on them at the last moment. They want Gunpowder Creek to play at the next Diamond Jam! Can you believe it?!"

Libby let out a shriek. She had often gone to the post-game concerts as a teenager.

"Oh my God, Tommy! They get, like, ten thousand people for those shows."

"I know. And they'll pay us."

Libby laughed. "They damn well better. This is incredible!"

Eric got a rehash of the call when it was over. He hugged Libby and told her, "This is it. This is the beginning of the rest of your life, babe. Get ready."

Within a week, posters promoting the post-game concert were hanging in the diner. The smallest print went to Gunpowder Creek, the first of three acts that would perform that day. The headliner was an up-and-coming guy that every country fan in the tri-state area was aware of.

The excitement at the diner and O'Hallohan's was palpable. Everyone had an opinion of what was in Libby's future. Nothing less than stardom at the Grand Ole Opry was the norm. Views were mixed on whether the future included Gunpowder Creek as a group or Libby as a solo artist. Either way, she would be the star.

Eric's debit card took far fewer hits now that Libby could afford to buy a few outfits on her own. Still, he helped her with the added expenses of babysitting for Emma and other things that popped up. The stock market was doing well, which meant Eric's clients were earning money. Eric's share of that grew in return, so he willingly eased as much of the financial burden on Libby as he could.

It was a warm, cloudless day when the Diamond Jam arrived. Libby, Tommy, and the band were ecstatic to mingle with professional artists prior to the show. As confident as the group was of their ability to play, when they walked out onto the outfield stage and saw thousands upon thousands of people in front of them, they got chills.

Libby wore a ruffled, short denim skirt, calf high boots, and a form fitting top with long sleeves. She looked incredible, as always. Nobody knew, but she was shaking as the first number began. But as the now-familiar role of singer took over, she relaxed. The audience gave polite applause after the first few numbers, but after Libby wowed them with her favorite ballad, the crowd's appreciation grew. When the quick set was over, a loud ovation accompanied the band's waves leaving the stage.

Eric met them backstage with high-fives and a hug for Libby, spinning her off her feet while praising her.

"See. You can do this," Eric told her. "You looked and sang great!"

"I was SO frickin' nervous, Eric. I didn't want it to end, but I'm kinda glad it's over."

"There will be more, babe. I promise you."

Eric was trying to be positive, but he had no clue how prophetic his words would be.

It was Monday back at the diner that the future hit Libby straight between the eyes. Near the end of Libby's shift, Betty drew her aside and said, "A man wants to see you. I'll cover for you for just a moment."

Libby approached the well-suited, middle-aged man and introduced herself.

"Oh, I know you," the man smiled. "My name's Peter Strovak. I'm with Bluegrass Records in Lexington. Can we talk outside for a minute?"

Libby's heart skipped a beat as she followed the man outside.

"We saw you at the Diamond Jam," Strovak told her. "You have an amazing voice. We would like to talk to you about signing a contract with us...as a solo artist."

She didn't know whether to laugh or cry. Here was the chance of a lifetime, but she dreaded having to tell the band she was leaving. It was an easy choice to make.

"That's wonderful," Libby exclaimed, "But I need to have my manager with me before I sign anything."

"I understand. Here's my card. Call us as soon as possible so we can meet," Strovak said, handing over his business card.

"We will. Very soon," Libby promised. "I'm afraid I can't talk more. Betty's covering for me."

Strovak laughed, shook Libby's hand, and they parted.

The moment her shift was over, Libby was on the phone to Eric.

"Eric! Eric! You won't believe this," she said breathlessly. "A guy in Lexington...from a record company...wants me to sign a contract. A contract, Eric!"

"Wow! Libby, that's fantastic," Eric replied. "Don't say I didn't warn you."

"Oh, and also, you're my manager now."

Eric chuckled. "Your manager? What's my job?"

"You're coming to Lexington with me and advising me on what to do," Libby told him.

"I can do that," he said, "And nothing is being signed without an attorney I know looking it over. OK?"

"Absolutely. Oh, Eric. I won't sleep until this is done; I swear."

She only lost two nights' sleep because Wednesday was the day they arranged to meet with Strovak. Libby wore her ruffled skirt, telling Eric on the way down to Lexington that it was her good luck charm. He had spoken to his attorney friend, who provided a few tips on what a first recording contract should and should not contain.

"Don't be surprised if I jump in and demand a couple things," Eric warned Libby. "It's all part of the game. Also, you aren't signing anything without the attorney reviewing it. That should only take a day."

"A few months ago, I never dreamed this would happen. I can wait a day," Libby said cheerfully. "I may not be a legal expert, but I'm not a little girl either, Eric. Don't be surprised if I look out for my own interests."

With Eric on due notice, they walked into the modest offices of Bluegrass Records. A receptionist greeted them, offered them coffee, and disappeared to inform Peter Strovak they were here. Strovak made them wait, either by design or necessity, but eventually came around the corner into the lobby. He welcomed Eric and Libby and led them down the hallway to his office.

It was exactly how Libby had imagined it. Records adorned the wall, along with pictures of Strovak with various country artists, known and unknown to her and Eric.

"So, that was quite the performance in Cincinnati," Strovak began while they all sat. "You have one of the best voices I've heard in a LONG time, Libby."

She blushed and nodded.

Strovak continued: "Nothing against the guys you were playing with, but we have session players who are better. We want YOU, Libby."

"I understand," she replied. "I'm not sure most of the guys in that band have the time or aspirations to become professionals."

"And you do?" Strovak asked.

"Absolutely."

"Good. Because Bluegrass Records is prepared to offer you a standard first recording contract," he said, pointing to a document on his desk. "It's for one year. One album. Of course, it has the typical exclusivity clause, prohibiting you from signing with any other label during the year."

"Does it contain a minimum marketing expenditure for the album?" Eric asked.

"It does."

"And an advance?"

Strovak replied, "Ten thousand dollars, with ten percent royalties."

Libby had done just enough of her homework to know the advance would eventually be repaid from initial album sales. The royalties percentage was on the low side.

"Both of those numbers are substantially below average, Mr. Strovak," Eric said.

"Libby is an unknown artist," he quickly countered. "Outside your tri-state area, nobody's ever heard of her."

At that, Libby rose from her chair and approached Strovak's desk. She strode around it and stopped next to his chair.

"They will soon enough," she said calmly. "I think twenty thousand and eighteen percent royalties is much more in line with my potential."

Eric cringed, but allowed Libby to continue, remembering her warning in the car.

"I don't think we can do that, little lady," Strovak answered.

Now it was a challenge. Libby's life had been just hard enough to prepare her for a day like this. Her future lay in the balance, and she would settle for no less than she thought she deserved. Libby glanced at Eric, who nodded one time.

Libby leaned over, putting one hand on each of the arms of Strovak's chair, giving him a good look at the substantial cleavage inside her shirt.

"Mr. Strovak, do you want to forever be known as the man who didn't sign Libby Pike to a contract?"

He didn't reply, his attention being overtaken by the movement of one of Libby's hands down to his crotch. Peter Strovak was no virgin when it came to negotiations with female artists. However, he was always the aggressor, more than once sending a promising young singer to her back on the couch in this very office.

"Let's talk some more about twenty grand and eighteen percent," Libby told him.

But there was no talking involved. Libby undid Strovak's belt and zipper. Eric watched, a little bemused by Libby's approach to business dealings. When Libby had Strovak's cock free of any clothing, she kneeled between his legs.

A few licks and more views of her tits had Strovak very hard. Libby teased him a bit longer before finally wrapping her lips around the cock and slowly taking him into her mouth. Eric knew very well what ecstasy Strovak was in. Next to singing and waitressing, this might have been what Libby did best.

Libby's skirt rose high on her legs and Strovak thought about what perfection might lay beneath it. He put his hand on top of Libby's head, feeling it rise and fall on his cock. He would have preferred her naked, like so many of the other women, but this was quite acceptable for now.

Libby tasted a drop of precum. She quickened the pace, using one hand to pump the base of the cock while sucking the rest. Strovak squirmed in the chair, getting comfortable for the inevitable orgasm. When he firmly gripped the arms of the chair, Libby knew it was time.

With loud grunts, Strovak put shot after shot of cum down her throat. He pulled her head towards him until his cock hit the back of her throat. More cum poured out and Libby took it all in. When he was done, Strovak had to tell Libby to stop.

She rose to her feet, straightening the bottom of her skirt while Strovak closed his pants.

"Well?" Libby asked.

"Twenty and eighteen it is," he sighed. "I'll have Julie make the changes."

Eric provided his attorney's contact information and the meeting ended. Libby waited until they were on the street, around the corner from the office, before wrapping herself around Eric in a hug.

"I thought that went well, don't you?" she smiled.

"Damn, girl. Who needs an attorney when they've got you."

"The last dude that called me 'little lady' got hot coffee in his lap," Libby said. "Strovak should consider himself very lucky."

There was nothing of consequence that the attorney changed in the contract. Strovak texted Libby as soon as he had it back and a date was arranged for the official signing. He told her that promotional photos would be taken that day and that they would discuss a tentative schedule for recording sessions. Strovak told her to expect the recording process and production of the album to take six to eight months.

The most exciting news, in Libby's mind, was that Strovak knew a songwriter who had a new song that would be perfect for her. The first album wouldn't be ENTIRELY covers.

So, life went on at the diner and at home for Libby, except that she had a good chunk of money to play with, allowing her to expand her wardrobe and Emma's. Eric refused any payment in his unofficial capacity as manager, content with his flourishing relationship with Libby. Betty saw a wedding in the future, but Libby and Eric did not share similar thoughts. Things were just fine as they were.

Libby and Eric talked about what she should wear for the photo shoot. Strovak told them it would be in the studio of a photographer the label used all the time. Various backgrounds would be utilized. With all options available, Libby ultimately chose to stay informal, in keeping with her day-to-day life. She wasn't yet ready to portray somebody she wasn't. Eric urged her to be more seductive.

The compromise was to take a few different outfits with her the day of the signing. She could try any combination of tops, jeans, and skirts that she wanted...or that the photographer recommended.

The actual signing of the contract came first on the designated day. Strovak, Eric, and the photographer, Stephen Jenkins, were there to document it, two with cellphone cameras and one with much more expensive equipment. Libby clapped with excitement when it was done, giving hugs all around. Her new life had officially begun.

The first activity was to walk with Stephen two blocks to his studio. Eric and Libby chatted with him along the way, recognizing one or two of the names the forty-year-old photographer said he had sessions with in the past. He made most of his money from weddings, he admitted.

The studio was larger than Strovak's entire office. Stephen used every inch of a converted old general store. Including the apartments above, which he gutted for additional space, it was three stories tall and very deep.

Stephen showed Libby a changing room on the second floor, where she left a small bag with her extra outfits. She began the shoot in her best jeans and a swooping V-neck shirt, just to make Eric a little happier.

Back on the first floor, Stephen set up some country scenes to begin with. The background was of little importance to Stephen when he had a woman as photogenic as Libby. All the lighting and angles of his shots emphasized her youthful figure. Eric was pleasantly surprised at how natural Libby appeared to be when given instructions on how to stand or sit. As with her on-stage performance, she got better with time.

Stephen worked for almost an hour before taking the first break.

"Why don't you change, Libby, and we'll start back up after that," Stephen said.

As she climbed the stairs to the second floor, Stephen told Eric, "I'm going out back for a smoke."

Eric pulled out his cellphone and sat back to wait for everyone to return. Libby closed herself into the changing room and pulled out another outfit. She began to undress. Meanwhile, Stephen used a set of back stairs to go up to the second floor.

He stepped quietly toward the dressing room. He reached out and slowly turned the doorknob. Stephen inched the door open until he was able to barely squeeze in.

Libby was facing at an angle away from the door and Stephen went to her. When Libby spun around, she saw Stephen with his finger to his lips. She nearly screamed but didn't. Stephen shut the door.

Libby was in a bra and panties, holding a shirt in front of her body.

"Be quiet, Libby," Stephen told her. "There's no reason to be frightened. I have an offer to make."

"What is it?" Libby said tersely.

"You realize, of course, that one in a hundred women like you ever make a dime in the music business," he said. "Strovak is out looking for another sucker as we speak. But I can promise you an instant income that will make your little record deal pale in comparison."

Libby listened but did not speak. Stephen took her shirt, which Libby reluctantly gave up.

"Don't ruin this chance, Libby. Listen to me," he said, tossing the shirt aside.

He ran a finger along the inside edge of her bra, down the inside of one tit.

"I lied when I said I make most of my money from weddings," Stephen said, continuing to finger her bra. "I also take nudes. A woman like you can make six figures a year. Guaranteed."

"I don't think...," Libby began to say.

But Stephen didn't let her. He pushed Libby against the wall, covering her mouth with his in a hard kiss. His hands were all over her, pulling down the bra straps before reaching inside her panties. Libby frantically tried to kick him, but his weight was too much. Stephen had the bra down, roughly kneading both breasts while continuing to kiss Libby.

"Scream and I'll absolutely kill you, right here!" Stephen demanded after the kiss, wrapping his large hand around her neck.

Libby's bra was hanging at her waist when Stephen moved down to suck on her tits. His free hand pulled on one nipple while his tongue and lips worked on the other. One of Stephen's legs was between Libby's, pushing up on her pussy. Libby had the courage to scream, but Stephen's hand made it impossible to utter anything more than a gurgle.

His free hand was now inside her panties, clutching at her pussy. A finger entered her, probing deep inside. Libby felt his erection against her leg. She prayed for Eric to suddenly appear, at the same time struggling to breathe.

Stephen withdrew his finger and awkwardly pulled down Libby's panties, twisting her in the process so she faced the wall, his hand tightening its grip on her throat. Stephen then worked at pulling out his hard cock.

One floor below, Eric turned off his cellphone and looked around. With nobody in sight, he decided to walk up to the second floor and check on Libby. The only sound he heard was his own footsteps echoing in the empty space. He saw what he believed to be the changing room and walked up to it.

Just as he was about to ask Libby if she was OK, he heard a muffled shriek. Eric turned the doorknob.

He peeked in to see Stephen, his pants opened, about to enter Libby from behind. Eric knew from the way Libby thrashed about and the placement of Stephen's hand that she was not OK. Eric jumped in and grabbed Stephen just as he was turning around, landing a right cross directly on the photographer's chin in the process. Stephen went down in a heap.

"Oh, Eric. Eric!" Libby gasped, rushing toward him.

"It's OK, hon. Let me handle this."

Libby was pulling up her panties and straightening her bra when Stephen began to move. Eric lifted him by the back of the shirt.

"You filthy little punk. What the hell do you think you're doing?" Eric said, throwing Stephen against the same wall Libby had occupied. "You should pray a broken jaw is all you get out of this. Now, this incident will be our little secret. Understood? If you so much as touch Libby one more time, I'll show you my MMA skills."

"Alright, alright," Stephen coughed. "Just trying to help your girl out."

"She doesn't need your help, asshole."

It was a quiet ride home for Eric and Libby. He knew she was shaken, but also had a good idea of her ability to recover.

"I guess that's our introduction to the music business," Eric said. "Hang on. It's going to be a long ride."