Johnny Greer’s Blues - Part 18

Generated Image

A free version of this story is available for a limited time at The Howling Monkey website.

Suitcase in one hand and guitar case in the other, Johnny began to walk up the gravel driveway to the small red brick house he had grown up in. He hadn’t made it three steps before the front door burst open and his mother - a woman in her forties who didn’t look a day over 35 - ran out to grab him in a fierce hug.

“I’m so happy you’re are home!” she said, tears of joy rolling down her cheeks.

Johnny’s father followed a few moments later. He was a tall man in his mid-forties who still had the build of a younger man.

“Let the boy get to the door. And let him breathe. You’re squeezing the life right out of him.”

Johnny and his mother laughed.

“Good to see you, Johnny,” his father said, clapping him on the shoulder.

“Good to see you too. Both of you,” Johnny said.

Johnny’s father grabbed the suitcase from his son. “Come on, let’s let you settle in and wash up. Your momma has dinner ready.”

Smells from the kitchen engulfed Johnny as he walked in the front door. The aroma made him smile. He hadn’t had a home-cooked meal since he took to the road, and hadn’t had a good one since he left Birmingham.

“That smells so good, Momma,” Johnny said. “How long til it’s ready.”

“Soon as you are ready,” she said.

Johnny followed his father to his old room; he’d grown up in this small bedroom with Michael until he suddenly had it to himself. He would have given anything for the room to have been cramped for those remaining years instead of it being filled with memories and loneliness. Johnny hadn’t been gone that long, but was still surprised to see that nothing had changed since he took that Greyhound to Memphis what felt like a lifetime ago. “I thought you and momma were going to turn this room into something else,” Johnny said.

“She won’t let me touch it. She - well we - want you to have a place you can come home to whenever you want,” his father said.

Johnny looked at his dad, on the verge of tears. His father, in an effort to avoid an emotional moment, said, “Go on and wash up. Your mother made her smothered pork chops and greens for you. Don’t want those to get cold.”

“No sir, I do not,” Johnny said, his stomach rumbling in anticipation.

The pork chops were every bit as good as Johnny remembered, if not better. Johnny ate every bite on his plate, even the greens which he would have protested having to even look at a few years before. The tea was sweeter than Johnny remembered. He could feel the sugar like electricity on his teeth. He probably downed three glasses.

Over dinner, the family talked about everything but Johnny’s work. Dad still worked at the utility company. He had been a foreman for about three years, and was one of the more experienced hands in the department. His mother had a part time job as a secretary at the steel plant. It was mostly filing and sorting out paperwork than anything else. They talked about how various neighbors and relatives were doing, and Johnny’s mother hinted that one of her co-workers had a daughter about Johnny’s age.

Johnny laughed and declined to be set up. “Well, you got a girl in Memphis?” his mother asked.

Johnny shook his head. “No. Not now anyway. Maybe.”

“Sounds like you are sweet on someone,” his father said. “Watch out for those big city girls. They can be trouble.”

“Leave him alone,” Johnny’s mother laughed. “Want any more to eat?”

‍ ‍

“This was so good, but I can’t eat another bite,” Johnny said.

“That’s too bad, ‘cause I got some peach cobbler and vanilla ice cream,” she said.

“Well, maybe another few bites then,” Johnny said.

“Help me clear the table so you can work up enough appetite for those few bites.”

Over cobbler, the conversation turned to Johnny’s music. “Well, I heard you on the radio. You sounded good, son. I’m proud of you,” Johnny’s father said. “And I know Danny would be too.”

“You think so?”

“I know it.”

“We are all so happy for you,” Johnny’s mother said. “You’re going to be a big radio star!”

“I don’t know about that, but It’s going well,” Johnny said.

“I love how you are taking those old songs Danny taught you and making something new,” his mother said.

Johnny nodded. His face grew serious as his spoon picked at the cobbler crust. “You think he’d be mad that I was changing them like that?”

“Hell no,” Johnny’s dad said. “I guarantee you he’d say that those white boys have been stealing the blues all along. What do you think Led Zeppelin and the Rolling Stones have been up to? Hell, that’s not to mention Eric Clapton. No, we need someone to take back what was ours in the first place. Danny would be happy.”

“Thanks, Dad. That means a lot.”

“Now, I don’t want you getting too rock and roll and get all tied up in that degenerate lifestyle,” his dad said, still smiling but a hint of sincerity coating his voice. “I’ve been known to have a drink or two, and God knows your uncle Danny had a whole lot more.”

“And then there are those fast women and the hard drugs,” his mother said. “No good comes from either of those.”

“Well, some good,” Johnny’s father interrupted with a laugh.

“Hush. I’m serious. I’m not going to waive a Bible at you, Johnny, and tell you the danger those things can be to your soul. It’s the earthly dangers that worry me. Did you see that story out of Biloxi.”

“What happened?” Johnny asked.

“Five people overdosed on heroin and ended up in the hospital. Three of them died.”

Johnny froze. “When…was this?”

“Must have been a day or two after you left there. That’s why it hit me, ‘cause I know you had been in the city and I thought how easily it could have been you it happened to.”

“How do they know it was heroin?” Johnny asked.

“That’s the sick part. A couple of them had these little paper envelopes with the stuff in it. And printed on them were these faces of Satan himself. If that’s not telling you this is wicked business, I don’t know what is.”

“Did they catch whoever sold it them?”

“Paper didn’t say. But they will. Somebody’s going to tell them.”

“Yeah, Johnny, I’m not going to tell you that you got to be a saint out there, but don’t go for any of that hard stuff. I’m not going to tell you a little reefer will ruin you, but the harder stuff can mess you up in no time flat. Besides, you got to be careful. A cop finds any kind of drugs on one of us, well, we can end up in jail. So, be careful, okay?” his dad said.

“Of….yeah, of course. I don’t play with that stuff.”

“Alright, we’ve lectured enough. Any more cobbler,” his mother asked.

“No. Thank you. No. I couldn’t.”

Johnny sat staring at the table. He wasn’t paying attention to anything else his parents were saying, catching only bits here and there. His parents chalked it up to Johnny being road weary.

A few minutes later, the phone rang. His mother answered and then told Johnny the phone was for him.

“It’s a girl, Johnny.”

Johnny’s heart began to beat faster as he emerged from his fog. Did he give Honi his parents’ number? He didn’t think so. Maybe Bones had it. That had to be it. Johnny got up and ran over to where his mother was holding the cream colored receiver to the phone screwed into the kitchen wall. His parents had the decency to walk out of the kitchen to give him some privacy.

“Hello,” Johnny said. He could feel himself out of breath.

“Good evening, Johnny,” the liquid smoke voice on the other end of the line said.

“Oh…hello.”

The woman on the phone laughed. “You sound disappointed. I don’t get that reaction too often. You’re going to make a girl feel bad, Johnny.”

“I’m sorry. I just thought….”

“Please hold for Mr. Gold.”

The line clicked and Gold’s voice came across.

“Johnny. Glad I caught you. I don’t want to interrupt time with your family, but I have some news for you that could not wait.”

“What is it, Mr. Gold?”

“TennGem wants you to cut a second album. They are offering an advance that will make you very happy. It made me happy.”

Gold told Johnny how much the label was willing to pay up front, and Johnny almost dropped the phone. That kind of money wasn’t going to make him wealthy, but it would be enough to get him out of the Rat Palace and into a rental house.

“And, of course, that’s just the advance. We’ll still get the royalties that could make that advance look like nothing. Speaking of, the sales from the first album are better than anyone could expect. I’ll make sure you get a nice check as soon as you are back in Memphis. I think we get this second album in the can, and then see how it sells. I suspect we’ll be changing to a label someone has actually heard of for album three.”

“Slow down, Mr. Gold. Isn’t it too early to be talking about a third album?”

“I’m always moving past the next deal, Johnny. I’m like a shark; I don’t stay still.”

“Okay. Great. Yeah, sounds good. Can I record the next one with Bones, and use the same musicians?”

“Of course, Johnny. Of course. I know how much you like to play with Goose, and, of course, Honi.”

“Ok, thank you Mr. Gold. Is…is there anything else.”

Gold chuckled.

‍ ‍“I think that’s enough. You good?”

“Just one thing, Mr. Gold. That business down in Biloxi. Did I, well, you know, cause those people to….get hurt?”

“Johnny. You didn’t make anybody do anything. Neither did I. Free will sometime has consequences. You do understand that, don’t you?”

“Yes, sir. But, what if that Biscuit guy gets caught.”

“As long as you work for me, Johnny, you have nothing to worry about.”

“You sure?”

“Johnny, I haven’t lied to you yet. And I’m not going to start now. As long as you work for me, this kind of thing will not be a problem.”

Johnny stood leaning against the kitchen wall, the phone held up to his ear. After a few moments, Gold said, “Tell me you believe me, Johnny.”

“I believe you, Mr. Gold,” Johnny said.

“There you go. I’ll get studio time booked starting in about three months. That will give you time to write and time for people to really start wanting your next album. This is a good step, Johnny, and it’s going to prepare us for the next one which will be a lot bigger. Your star is just starting to rise, Johnny Greer. Enjoy the ride.”

Johnny thanked Gold and hung up. Gold was right. As far as Johnny knew, the man had never lied to him. But, Johnny had the feeling that he never told the full story either. And the part he left out was the part that worried Johnny the most.

The next part will follow.

If you want to support my writing, one of the best ways to do it now is to subscribe to my Substack or buy one of my books. For now, I will keep putting stuff here for free, but will pull the pieces down after a month or so. I’ll keep the full archive of ongoing work available on Substack for paid subscribers. So, if you think this is worth a few bucks and you like receiving the content as a newsletter, give it a shot. You can get a seven-day free trial to see if it’s worth it to you.