The High Notes: A Novel(11)

“Don’t worry, he’ll be back again. He shows up whenever he feels like it, just to beat us down, particularly if the press and the audience are loving us. I don’t think there’s a decent manager in this business.”

Pattie was right with her prediction. He showed up again in Dallas and Atlanta, and was just as insulting. There was talk of a European tour by then, which all of them would have liked to do, but it was only a rumor for the moment. There was another rumor about an Asian tour, to Tokyo, Hong Kong, and Seoul. But Iris had no idea if she’d be asked to go on either of them, and neither did Pattie. But it was something to dream of.

The tour ended in Boston right before Christmas, and Pattie flew home to Biloxi to spend two weeks with her son. Not knowing where else to go, and not wanting to stay in Boston, knowing no one, Iris flew back to Las Vegas. She had no one to spend the holidays with, and hadn’t heard from her father in three months, ever since she told him she didn’t want to be his cash cow, and didn’t want him as her agent.

She had sent him a couple of text messages, but he hadn’t answered. When she stopped at his stripper girlfriend’s house on the outskirts of town, she told Iris coldly that he didn’t live there anymore, and she had no idea where he was. She added that he was a drunk and a deadbeat and Iris was better off without him. Iris couldn’t disagree with her, but he was her father, whether he acted like one or not.

Pattie called her on Christmas to make sure she was okay. Iris went to a church she knew, and sang with the gospel choir that day, and got to sing “Silent Night” solo. It was the best moment of the holiday for her. The rest of the time, she didn’t know what to do with herself, and wandered around the city and did some shopping. At least she had money in her bank account, since her father couldn’t access it, not a lot, but enough to make her feel comfortable. It was the one advantage of signing a contract to tour. Her only friends were on the tour now, and she missed Pattie and the boys in her band. They had all exchanged small gifts before they left.

She spent the rest of the vacation working on new songs and lyrics, and had three ready to try by the time they left on tour again. She tried them out during a rehearsal with one of the band members accompanying her on piano, and she was pleased with how well they had turned out. She was going to sing two of them at their first performance. They were starting in Washington State this time, in the dead of winter, then on to the Dakotas, over to Michigan, eventually Chicago, and a number of smaller towns. The weather was going to be miserable, but the audiences would be grateful to see them. She and Pattie went shopping for warm down coats and boots before they took off. The drives would be even longer, and some of the roads dangerous. It seemed particularly cruel to book them into that part of the world at that time of year.

Iris hadn’t heard from her father at all over the holidays, and she had no idea where he was, or even if he was alive. She doubted if anyone would call her if he died. It was a strange feeling not having any family at all now. She didn’t know if she had a father or not.

“He’ll probably turn up when you least want to see him,” Pattie tried to comfort Iris when she mentioned it to her, “and he’ll want money from you, from the sound of what you’ve said about him.”

Iris smiled. “That sounds about right. What’s upsetting is that he could be dead and I wouldn’t even know it.”

“How old is he?” Pattie asked her.

“Fifty-four, but he’s led a hard life, and he drinks a lot.”

“You’ve led a hard life too,” Pattie reminded her, “thanks to him. He’s probably fine, just pissed off somewhere that you won’t let him rip you off anymore.” Iris knew it was true. She also realized that she might never hear from him again.



* * *



—

By the second year of Iris’s contract with Glen Hendrix, he promoted her to a featured act. It was a major step up, and she and Pattie celebrated that they were still on the same tour together. She got a raise to go with it. What Iris really wanted was an album. The scout who had found her for Glen Hendrix had hinted that that might be a possibility one day, but there was nothing about it in her contract. Her name was known in the smaller cities they went to, but an album would multiply ticket sales exponentially. And a hit album, or hit song, would catapult her to a whole other level, but there was no one to produce one for her.

Three years into her contract, Iris and Pattie and several of the bands Hendrix had under contract were sent to tour England, Ireland, and Scotland for six weeks. They had a great time, but it didn’t change anything about how well she was known. The fans loved Iris in England, but back in the United States, having toured the U.K. didn’t change anything. None of it stopped Glen Hendrix from showing up to insult them whenever he felt like it. He rained insults down on them to the point of abuse. Iris still wasn’t used to it. Even more shocking to her was the fact that she hadn’t heard from her father for three years. He had totally disappeared and she was beginning to be convinced that he was dead. Surely he would have surfaced by now if he weren’t. She went to his favorite bars when she was in Las Vegas between tours, and one bartender said he hadn’t seen him in about a year, the others said they hadn’t seen him in years.

“Maybe he went back to Texas,” Pattie suggested. Iris wondered if that might be the case.