Here's how not to make a name for yourself in Nashville: Book a headlining show at a hip local club. Then book two eager up-and-coming acts you've never met for support. Charge a cover and tell the other acts on the bill you expect them to help promote the show, but don't tell them you expect them to play for free. Let one of them close the show, never say so much as hello to them, then collect the proceeds from the door and slip out before said “opener” finishes their (closing) set. Then be a dick when they contact you later to ask about getting paid.

Local singer-songwriter Brian Hughes learned this the hard way in the wake of his July 29 album-release show at The Basement. The cover: $5. The undercard acts: Joel Adam Russell and Molly Brown — two recent transplants looking for a good gig on a Friday night and the exposure that might come with it. The gross from the door: $350.

The back-and-forth between Hughes and Brown — who hashed out pre-show logistics on Facebook Messenger, screenshots of which Brown provided to the Scene — began cordially enough.

“Hey Brian! We haven't formally met yet but I can't wait to share the stage with you on the 29th!” Brown wrote.

“Hey Molly! Thanks for being a part of the Basement gig,” Hughes replied. “So excited to hear you live!!” he wrote later in the chat.

The pair politely sorted out details like set and load-in times, and Hughes requested that Brown — who shares members of Hughes' backing band — help promote the show. But curiously, payment was never discussed. At least, not until hours after the gig — and not in person, but on Facebook Messenger.

“Hey Brian, great job tonight!” Brown wrote. “I'm bummed I didn't get to meet you, I think you left before I finished my set, but no worries! Joel and I were both wondering if you collected the proceeds from the door cover? … It's my understanding that each artist on the bill gets a share of that.”

“Never did I mention a pay scale,” Hughes replied, explaining that he gave away his CD to paid attendees, in addition to spending more than $4,000 on promoting the show. “Thank you for being a part of this and [I] hope that your night is great! Please do not contact me again :)”

Brown didn't contact Hughes again. But she did share screen-caps of the exchange on her Facebook page. That post (which has since been deleted) went viral locally, making its way into scores of prominent area musicians' Facebook status updates. Consequently, Hughes went from relative local obscurity to being the most mocked and hated man in the local music community.

“Never have I seen a musical career in Nashville ended or an entire town turn against someone quicker [than] with Brian Hughes,” posted one prominent member of the music community. “And I've [never] even met or heard the guy! Wow.”

As for Hughes, he says he even got death threats, prompting him to delete his personal Facebook page. “[I was] told to put a gun in my mouth,” the singer tells the Scene via Facebook Messenger.

Hughes then essentially accused Brown of online wagon-circling. “If you're looking to start hassling people to get paid in this town, good luck!” he messaged her.

“Money was never the issue,” Brown tells the Scene via email. “I made it clear in my original Facebook post that I was upset by [Hughes'] unprofessional behavior, not losing $100 or so.”

By Aug. 5, Hughes did his best to rectify the situation and “make it right” by sending both Russell and Brown $350 via PayPal. Along with a screencap of his payment to Russell, Hughes posted a lengthy update on Facebook, apologizing for his behavior and saying he had felt attacked. “If it takes a lifetime, Nashville, I will repay my debt to you as a community,” he wrote.

Talking to the Scene later, Hughes praised Brown as a “wonderful artist” and said he wished her the best, but he didn't hold back his criticism of her going public with what he calls a “HEAVILY edited” version of their conversation.

“[That] was extremely unprofessional,” he says, “that she cared more about ruining my name than me making it right.”

Joel Adam Russell, the other artist on the Basement bill, who also claims Hughes never discussed payment with him, mostly avoided the fallout. “I grew up playing in the Dallas scene,” he tells the Scene via Facebook Messenger. “At least back then, money was never a sure thing. All that to say, at no point in this have I personally felt slighted.”

But any Nashville insider could tell you Hughes' story is a cautionary tale, a lesson in poor form. Ten years ago, word of his actions would still come back to haunt him, but only as quietly as it was whispered down Music City alleyways over time. But in the Facebook age, if you fuck up don't be surprised if someone puts you on blast. And what was once a run-of-the-mill $100 disagreement over a door deal might become a viral albatross before you even make it out of town.