Chapter 13: Please Allow Me to Introduce Myself

Warwick, Rhode Island

June 1, 1999

The Gulfstream IV charter jet landed at T. F. Green International Airport south of the city of Providence at 4:35 PM after the five-and-a-half-hour flight from Burbank Airport on the west coast. It taxied over to the general aviation terminal where a black stretch limousine was waiting to take its passengers to the Westin Providence Hotel downtown. Jake and Laura Kingsley, minus their daughter, who had stayed home with Meghan the nanny, were the first to deplane. Following them was Celia Valdez, who had just returned from finishing out her postponed tour dates two nights before. After her came Bill and Sharon Archer, who had left their five-year-old son in the care of their long-time nanny as well. Coming out last was Pauline Kingsley, who had left her daughter in the care of Obie back in Los Angeles. All of the voting members of KVA Records were here for the meeting that was scheduled for noon tomorrow at their hotel.

For now, however, all of them were out of sorts and jetlagged from their day of travel. They had left the Pacific Time Zone at 7:55 AM. It felt like early afternoon to them. All of them were veteran travelers, however, and they knew what steps they needed to take to synchronize their body rhythms as quickly as possible. First of all, they did not nap upon arrival at their hotel. Napping would only desynchronize them further. They did have a light lunch-like meal in the hotel restaurant with plans to have a heavier dinner around 9:30, just before the restaurant closed for the evening. And they did have some alcoholic beverages in the bar to catch a buzz and then maintained that buzz throughout the evening hours. This would serve to make them sleepy as the east coast night went on and would allow them to retire for the evening at what would have been two or three hours before their typical sleep times.

And, naturally, Jake, Laura, and Celia found a way to keep themselves awake and entertained in the Kingsley’s suite on the 24^th floor of the hotel. They had, after all, been apart for several months and only recently reunited. They still had lots of catching up to do. As such, the three of them were quite satiated and had sore and abraded genitalia as they met the others in the restaurant for the evening meal. At least they were freshly showered though—which the other members of the meeting greatly appreciated.

“The plan is still to be direct and to the point with them?” asked Celia as they waited for their meals to be served.

“That remains the plan,” Jake agreed, taking a sip from his thirty-dollar glass of Merlot. “It makes no sense to take any other approach.”

“Agreed,” said Pauline. “We’ll be giving them what basically amounts to an ultimatum. While such things can be done gently, I think the most respectful method of delivering one is to just come out and do it.”

“That makes sense,” Celia said. “I’ve just never been one who enjoys playing hardball in these situations; especially not in a situation where they will be meeting me for the first time.”

“I would not refer to the ultimatum at hand as playing ‘hardball’,” Nerdly said. “We are simply advancing a business-oriented reality.”

“I suppose,” Celia said, taking another sip of her wine and then shifting a little in her seat. Her nether region really was aching and sore right now—though it was a good kind of ache. A satisfied ache.

After the meals were consumed, they all went to the bar for after dinner drinks. Jake and Celia had some cognac. Pauline had a glass of sixteen-year-old scotch, neat. Laura had another glass of chardonnay. The Nerdlys both had green crème d menthe with a little brandy floated on top.

Jake, Laura, and Celia retired to the suite that was assigned to the Kingsleys. Pauline stayed alone in the two-bedroom suite where the hotel staff was under the impression that Celia would be staying with her. The Nerdlys retired to their own suite. Everyone went pretty much immediately to sleep, even Jake, Laura, and Celia, who were too tired and sore to engage any further.

The members of Brainwash arrived on time as a group. Jim and Marcie Scanlon, Stephanie Zool, Jeremy White, and Rick Jackson. All were dressed casually as they entered the restaurant, where Jake, Celia, Pauline, Laura, and the Nerdlys were already waiting. They all looked pretty much the same as the last time Jake had seen them. Marcie had maybe lost a little weight and Jim had maybe gained a little, Steph was wearing her hair a little longer and had added a few tattoos to her arms, but Jeremy and Rick looked no different at all.

“Hey, guys,” Jake said as the group stood up. “Good to see you.”

Greetings, hugs, and handshakes were exchanged. The band was introduced to Celia, who had never actually met them before though she had profited quite nicely from them and had heard a ton about them. They all seemed a little starstruck by her presence. Steph and Marcie both declared they were big fans of her work, going all the way back to the La Diferencia days.

“Thank you,” she told them as she shook everyone’s hand. “And I’m a big fan of your work. I’m sorry I’ve always been out on tour when you were in the studio, but I’ve listened to all of your work and have been following your progress pretty closely.”

Everyone grabbed a seat. Since this was a business meeting where negotiation might very well take place (or it might very well not, Jake knew) everyone abstained from alcohol for now. Iced tea was the drink of choice for most of the participants. By unspoken agreement, they did not launch immediately into business talk. Instead, they caught up on each other’s lives and families and other accomplishments while browsing the menu. It was a pleasant talk. All of them except Celia had spent a lot of time together with the members of Brainwash and their families up in Oregon.

“All right,” Jake said once everyone had placed their orders. “How about we get down to it?”

“Sounds good,” said Jim, who was the unofficial spokesperson for Brainwash. “But isn’t it a little bit of a late start to get anything recorded this summer? We’ve been rehearsing on the weekends and I don’t think we’ll need all that much time to finish the pre-studio workups, but that does take some time.”

“Yes, it does,” Jake agreed.

“And it takes a week for us to pack everything up and get it shipped to LA,” added Steph. “Even if we went home and started doing that tonight, it’ll be well into the second week of June before we could even show you what we’ve come up with.”

“That is also true,” Jake said. “We are not prepared to move that fast. There is another major factor involved in when you can actually start recording.”

“What factor is that?” Jim asked.

“We do not currently have a studio for you to record in,” Jake said.

Five sets of eyebrows raised in unison. “How’s that?” asked Marcie.

“KVA is no longer able to utilize Blake Studios for recording,” Jake told them.

“Obie kicked you out?” Steph asked, incredulous.

“Not exactly the term we would use,” said Pauline. “It was a business decision and it has been in the works for some time now. You see, we’ve outgrown using Obie’s studio and Obie’s label—Blake Family Records—has gotten too large to accommodate us whenever we need studio time. As such, we—KVA the entity—have purchased a winery in San Luis Obispo County just outside of the town of Atascadero. We closed escrow on the property last month and are currently in the process of turning the main house into a recording studio and living quarters.”

“When will it be done?” asked Jim.

“It won’t be done for well over a year, maybe more,” Jake said. “We are on track, however, to have one operational studio and rudimentary living quarters in operation by the first of August.”

“The first of August?” Marcie said. “We need to report back to our school for pre-term meetings by August 25^th. There is no way we could record an entire CD in that amount of time.”

Jake and his sister looked at each other for a moment and then back at the members of Brainwash. “Yes,” Jake said. “We’re aware of that.”

“What are you saying then?” asked Jim. “We put off the new album another year? Record it over next summer instead of this one?”

Jake shook his head. “No,” he said. “That will not work for a variety of reasons.”

“What kind of reasons?” asked Rick.

“First and foremost is that it is simply too far downstream from your last release and even further downstream from your most successful release: your debut album.”

“You’re saying that no one will want to buy our CD if we wait another year?” asked Steph.

“Probably not as many people,” Jake said. “I have never been a proponent of the industry’s school of thought that believes you must get the next CD out as soon as the previous one starts to wane or everyone will forget about you. But three years between releases is an awful long time. The suits we deal with at the record companies for MD&P will likely not be as willing to sign a contract favorable to KVA after that much time. Their promotion apparatus might not be as enthusiastic as they should after that much time. The people who listen to you on the radio might not be as willing to buy the CDs right away even if you blow them away with your first release cut. And that means that program managers might not be as willing to keep promoting.”

“This is all hypothetical, of course,” Celia said. “I have no doubt that KVA will make profit on any new Brainwash CD no matter when it is released, it’s just that we’re in a much better position all around if we can get the CD out before the end of the year instead of waiting until close to the end of next year.”

“That’s just the primary reason,” Jake said. “There are some others. I’m about to release my new CD. Assuming negotiations with the suits at National go well, I’ll start getting airplay in the week before Fourth of July and the CD will hit the shelves on July 19^th. It is very likely that I’ll be going out on tour at some point. That tour will likely be taking place into the summer of 2000. I do not want to have you guys record another CD under the KVA label if I am not heavily involved in the production. Your last CD was good, but I think it would have been better if I had not been so focused on the TSF and had been able to do my job.”

No one disagreed with this statement. All five members of Brainwash definitely wanted Jake to produce their next CD.

“Where does that leave us then?” asked Marcie. “We can’t possibly get a CD recorded this summer but you don’t want to wait until next summer.”

“That’s right,” Jake said. “That is what this meeting is about. The five of you are going to have to make a choice.”

Jim looked at him pointedly. “You want us to quit our jobs,” he said softly.

“Or find a way to get a leave of absence,” Jake said. “The only window KVA has for you is going to be at the end of this summer into the fall. If you can’t accommodate that window, then we won’t be able to sign you for the next CD.”

“There’s no way in hell our schools would grant us a leave of absence,” Jim said.

“Hell no,” agreed Rick. “They’re just itching for any excuse they can to fire us because we’re Brainwash.”

“Steph quit her job,” said Laura. “You’re doing all right, aren’t you, Steph?”

Stephanie nodded. “I’m doing all right,” she confirmed. “The royalties from Brainwash and Brainwash II come rolling in every three months. They’re not as big as they were in the beginning, but they’re still respectable and I have a shitload of money in savings from when we were at our peak. I have no trouble paying my bills. In fact, my only worry is that we won’t put out another CD and those royalties will eventually trickle down too much.”

“Which is all the more reason to get that next CD out,” Celia said.

“Quitting our jobs is not the only factor,” Marcie said. “We have children in school. What are we supposed to do about them while we’re on the west coast recording?”

“Well ... there are several options,” Pauline said. “You could hire a nanny to watch them while you’re away.”

Marcie and Jim and Rick were all shaking their heads vehemently at this suggestion. “No way,” Marcie said. “I’m not going to leave my kids in someone else’s hands for that long. They go where I go.”

“Then what about school?” asked Steph. “If they go where you go, where will they go to school?”

“This a deal breaker for me,” Marcie said sadly.

“For me too,” added Jim. “I won’t be away from the kids.”

“Maybe you don’t have to be,” suggested Laura.

“What do you mean?” asked Marcie.

“Just move to San Luis Obispo and enroll them in school there,” Laura said.

“Move to San Luis Obispo?” Jim asked incredulously. “All the way across the country? Just so we can record a CD? That’s insane!”

“What’s so insane about it?” Jake asked. “Professional athletes do it all the time. Just rent a house somewhere in driving distance of the studio. Hell, maybe you’ll even like it there and decide to move permanently.”

“We can’t afford to do that!” Jim protested.

“You can’t?” asked Jake. “Seriously? I’m the one who signs your royalty checks, remember?”

“Yes, I know we’re making good money,” Jim said. “But we still have a mortgage on our house! We can’t pay a mortgage and rent at the same time—especially not if we’ve quit our main jobs.”

“Not even for one school year’s worth of time?” asked Pauline. “Not even when the end game is going to give you a whole fresh influx of royalties?”

“Well...” Jim said hesitantly. He was, after all, the one who did the family finances. And he knew that they had well over a quarter of a million dollars in savings and investments at this point.

“Maybe we could afford it,” Marcie said softly. “But I just don’t know about moving across the country, taking the kids away from all their friends.”

“And my wife has a good job at the hospital,” said Rick. “She makes more money than I do ... well ... at least more than I make teaching.”

“They need nurses in San Luis Obispo County too,” said Laura. “And I’m sure they get paid more there than they do in Providence.”

“I ... I just don’t know,” Rick said. “I can’t make a decision like this without talking to her first.”

“Me either,” said Jeremy.

“No one is asking anyone to make a decision right here and now,” Jake said. “We understand that this is a lot to absorb, a lot to talk about. The purpose of this meeting is to convey the situation to you. Take your time talking it over among yourselves.”

“Okay,” Jim said slowly. “But this is how it’s going to be? We either take the deal to record in late summer and fall or we have no contract for the next CD?”

“That’s how it’s going to be,” Pauline said plainly. “Of course, you are still free to sign with another label if you want. I’m sure all three of the bigs would happily put you on their payroll at this point. National has even told me as much. But their reason would not be to help you get that CD out or to do it under your terms.”

“What do you mean?” asked Jim.

Jake handled this one. “They would want you to pump out a new CD as quickly as possible so there would be justification to send you out on tour. That’s how they fancy they make their money these days and it’s becoming a self-fulfilling prophecy. They would want you on the road within five months and they would send you everywhere in the freaking world to cash in on you. We’re talking major US tour, Canada, and then probably Europe and South America.”

“We don’t want to go out on tour,” Jim said. “Certainly not for that amount of time.”

“Then none of the major labels will sign you,” Jake said. “Any contract they offered would have touring provisions as a major part of it. Like I said, they feel that touring income is their bread and butter now. They believe the CDs are there to promote the tour, not the other way around like it used to be.”

“So ... the only option we have to get our next CD out is to sign with KVA under your terms?” asked Steph, perhaps a bit of hostility in her tone.

“The only terms that are non-negotiable with us are the dates,” Jake said soothingly. “We’re not here to be hard-asses. I hope we’re not giving you that impression. We’re not here trying to exploit you. We will offer you favorable royalties on your next CD because we have faith that it will make money. The dates are just the reality that we’re dealing with here. You five have reached a point in which if you want to be heard further, if you want to put out another triple platinum CD, you’re going to have to move on a bit from your old lives and into a new one.”

“That’s a big step,” Marcie said nervously.

“It is,” Jake agreed. “There’s a saying that all of here employ quite frequently: The life we choose. We use it to acknowledge the bad things that go along with the paths that we have all chosen in our lives. Yes, I’m rich and famous. That’s the life I chose. So, when I’m stalked by the pap, when me and my wife are accused of keeping a Venezuelan transgender captive in our home, when the cops show up at our house to make sure we really don’t have a Venezuelan tranny living there, when a couple of hippies sling diapers over our gate in the middle of the night, we have to shrug it off and say, ‘well, this is the life we chose’.

“Hippies slinging diapers over your gate?” asked Steph, her eyebrows going up again.

“It’s a long story,” Jake said dismissively. “Let’s just say that you should never be quoted as saying ‘fuck the environment’ in California. My point is that you five are at a crossroads in your music career and you need to decide what to do next. Do you not make any more CDs, continue your teaching jobs, and enjoy a nicer than normal lifestyle thanks to what you did manage to put out before reaching this point? Some might say that’s the wiser course of action. You get to keep living like reasonably normal human beings, you get to stay in Providence near your families, your children get to stay in their childhood homes and schools, and you can happily retire from the music industry knowing that you’ve already done so much more than most bands could ever hope to.”

“That is a possibility,” Jim said slowly.

“And there will be no hard feelings if you choose that life,” Jake said. “The other road you can travel, however, is that you quit your comfortable lives and take a chance with us. I think you have several more triple and quadruple platinum selling CDs in you. I think we can all make a whole assload of money if you sign with us. But it will mean leaving your old life behind and moving into a new one—one where you’ll be rich and famous, but one where you will have to deal with all the negative things that go along with that, one where you’ll have to relocate to the west coast for at least a portion of the year, one where your kids will be uprooted and moved around. That’s the deal we’re laying out here.”

“I see,” Jim said slowly.

“Like we said,” said Pauline. “No pressure. We don’t need an answer right here and right now.”

“That’s a good thing,” Steph said, “because we have a lot to talk about.”

Jake, Laura, the Nerdlys, Celia, and Pauline all flew back to Los Angeles on another Gulfstream IV the next morning. Brainwash had still not given them an answer but Jake had left them with somewhat of a deadline. “If we’re going to do this,” he told them, “then we’ll want you in LA doing workups by July 15^th. That means we need to know your decision by July 7^th so we know whether or not to start putting the wheels in motion.”

Brainwash thought that was fair enough and promised to provide an answer before then.

The group arrived back at Burbank Airport just past 11:00 AM Pacific Time. They were now jetlagged in the opposite direction, feeling like it was midafternoon instead of pre-lunch. The Nerdlys and Pauline went to their respective homes. Jake, Laura, and Celia went to Celia’s Malibu home (which she had not yet been to since arriving home from tour). The three of them had lunch and then went for a swim in her pool before retiring to the bedroom for a little threesome sex and then a nap. They then enjoyed a lazy day and early evening together, with Jake making them grilled steaks and artichokes for dinner. They went to bed early that night and slept until 9:00 AM. They then all got up and showered and dressed in their business casual outfits. There was another meeting to go to.

This one was at the National Records Building at 11:00 AM, with their favorite record company suits: Doolittle, Crow, and Baily. National, as well as Aristocrat and Columbia, had all had copies of Jake’s and V-tach’s new master CDs in their possession for more than a week now. It was time to start talking deal. National had been given right of first refusal in their previous contract, provided they matched or beat the terms of any other bidder.

“Let’s see what angle they try to screw us from this time,” Jake said with a sigh as he, Pauline, Nerdly, and Celia entered the office at 10:55.

To their surprise, Crow and the boys seemed reasonably upfront. They said they liked the new CDs—both of them—tremendously and thought they were going to be “chart toppers” and were going to “fly off the shelves”. They seemed almost sincere in this praise. They offered to sign for both CDs for twenty-eight percent royalties for promotion and three hundred thousand per CD for each million manufactured and distributed. KVA was able to talk them down to twenty-five percent royalties and a flat two hundred thousand (only slightly above cost) per each million CDs shipped. They agreed to a solid MD&P contract in less than an hour. Assuming none of the other record companies offered lower (which was unlikely), they would sign early the next week.

“Now then,” said Crow, his grin coming to full illumination. “Let’s talk tour.”

“We’ll talk about it a little,” Jake said, “but we will not open actual negotiations until we are actually ready to start planning a tour.”

“It is obvious you’ll need to get out on the road as soon as possible,” Crow said. “If you’re planning on having songs on the radio for Fourth of July and CDs on shelves by July 19^th, it would behoove everyone for you to have tour dates starting in early August.”

“That’s not gonna happen,” Jake told him.

“Why the hell not?” Crow cried, as if wounded.

“We’re getting our new studio in operation,” Jake told him. “And, if all goes well, we’ll be recording the next Brainwash release in there starting in early August.”

“So?” Crow asked. “They don’t need you there for that, do they?”

“They do,” Jake said. “We’ve been over this before, Crow. I’m the producer for all material with the KVA label on it. I made an error by not producing the last Brainwash and I think our sales and the band’s popularity suffered from that.”

“I still think it was a good CD,” Nerdly said with a pout.

“It was a good CD,” Jake soothed. “It just wasn’t all it could have been. And, before you offer again, Crow, no, I don’t want you to lend us a producer. Your producers are so out of touch with modern audiences I’m surprised you sell anything at all. Brainwash may very well tell us to go pound sand, but if they accept our offer, I won’t be able to tour until at least October, maybe even November.”

“You might very well fade into obscurity by then,” Doolittle warned sternly.

“And our terms might not be as favorable with so much time between CD release and tour,” added Baily.

“We’ll take our chances,” Jake said simply.

“What about V-tach?” asked Celia. “Any thoughts of sending them out on tour?”

“Not at this time,” Crow said. “We need to wait and evaluate how well their CD is received before we can commit to a project such as that.”

Jake nodded. In other words, they wanted to see how much people might be willing to pay for V-tach tickets before they agreed to use their precious capital to send them out. He had pretty much expected that stance. And he was expecting that they would be calling him in to negotiate a V-tach tour by the end of August once they started to get airplay. He was very confident in the new CD.

“Now then,” Crow said, “on the subject of touring, how about we discuss something more lucrative here.”

“Such as?” Jake asked, although he was pretty sure he knew what Crow was talking about. He was correct.

“I know, Celia,” Crow said, “that your touring obligation under our last contract is now at an end. And I know that Matt Tisdale is working toward fulfilling his by the end of August as well.”

“That is correct,” Celia said.

“There is still high demand for both of these shows,” Doolittle said. “Particularly overseas.”

“You want to talk foreign tour for Celia and Matt?” Pauline asked.

“That is correct,” Doolittle confirmed. “We all stand to make a considerable amount of money if Celia and Matt tour internationally using the new ticket-pricing paradigm.”

“I don’t know,” Jake said slowly. “What do you think, C? You just came back from a pretty grueling tour. You ready to go back out? Overseas this time?”

“I’m not sure,” Celia said with a shrug. The members of KVA had already discussed this several times prior to the meeting and Celia was perfectly willing to go back out (as long as Jake and/or Laura promised to visit her every few months to keep her from crossing the line) as was her entire band. But they needed to play it cool. “I’ve only been home four days now, and two of those days were spent traveling.”

“And she does need to start working on material for her next CD at some point,” Pauline said.

“New CD?” Crow nearly screamed. “We haven’t even promoted all the songs on the current CD yet! You’re still on top! Not even close to fading yet! This is the perfect time to cash in on your popularity.”

“Yeah...” Pauline said, “you’re probably right. But you see, the thing is, these foreign tours are very expensive. You know, shipping of equipment, dealing with all the hassles of crossing borders, international flights, foreign bus and truck rentals, unfavorable exchange rates of currency.”

“We understand,” Doolittle said. “We’re prepared to assume more of a percentage of the operational costs.”

“How much more?” Jake asked.

And thus, they entered into the longest period of negotiation of the day. In the end, however, National agreed to eighty percent financing for European, Asian, and South American tours for Celia starting in mid-July and for seventy percent financing for a Matt Tisdale Canadian and European tour starting in mid-August.

Jake, Laura, and Celia drove back to Whiteman Airport as soon as the meeting with National was over. From there, they flew to SLO Regional in Jake’s plane and arrived in Oceano in time to play with Caydee for a bit and then have a few drinks before dinner. It was now Friday night. Meghan was off duty until Monday morning and Elsa would be off as well once the dinner dishes were done and the kitchen was cleaned. Jake, Laura, and Celia had no plans for the weekend other than to spend as much time at home as possible and to do as little as they could get away with. They had been recording, mixing, mastering, performing, and traveling for months now and they wanted to hang out and enjoy the novelty of togetherness for a bit.

After Elsa left for the night and Caydee went to bed, Meghan retreated into her room to watch videos on her television. Celia and Laura went out onto the deck to drink a few glasses of wine, smoke a few bowls, and just enjoy the evening. Jake, after promising to join them later, went to his office and fired up his computer. He checked his email folder, finding there were a few dozen messages for him in there. About half of them were spam that he sent immediately to the trash bin without opening. There was one from Pauline, who was just letting him know that so far none of the written bids from the other record companies were lower than what was being offered by National. He tucked that one away in the archives folder in case he needed to refer to it at a later date. There were a few from the suits at National, telling him how honored they were to be embarking on yet another journey with him. He read these and then deleted them without responding.

The final email was from Stan Horowitz, the retired San Luis Obispo Sheriff’s Department sergeant who now owned the Pine Cove bar in SLO city—the primary cop bar that most of the law enforcement officers based out of SLO did their drinking at. Stan was in his late fifties but still quite fit and healthy. And he absolutely loved Jake Kingsley, had loved him since the first time he met him. He was not an Intemperance fan, or even a fan of Jake’s solo music, and had spent a good portion of his life believing that people such as Jake should be banned from playing their filth on the public airways or in public concert venues and that their albums and tapes and CDs should be forbidden from being sold to anyone under the age of eighteen. When he had heard that Jake and his wife were moving to a house on the cliff in Oceano, he had been appalled, had predicted sourly to anyone who would listen that a bunch of hippy peacenik freaks would soon follow behind him and turn coastal SLO County into a drug and sex haven.