Chapter 6: Learning to Fly

Los Angeles, California

March 9, 2003

It was just after 5:00 PM in Los Angeles and the floor of Staples Center, home arena of the LA Lakers, the LA Clippers, the LA Sparks of the WNBA, and the LA Kings of the NHL was empty except for the band Intemperance, their crew, the arena security members, and a sixsome of LAPD cops that would supplement them. Amazingly, none of the professional sports teams were having home games this week even though it was both basketball and hockey season. All were on road trips for the week, which was why National had been able to book the large capacity arena for the final three nights of the United States Never Say Never tour. Soon, almost twenty thousand people would enter, all of them having paid top dollar (most of them grumbling about it, but doing it anyway) to witness the event. A good number of them were already lined up outside even though all seats were reserved and the doors would not open to the general fans for another hour.

Jake, Laura, and Celia were sitting in the SVIP section while the roadies and techies were moving around up on the stage and out on the floor on the soundboard, getting done all the tasks that needed to be done before the crowd came in and eliminated their free travel between the two places. Lights were being tested, the video screens were being tested, the cameras were being calibrated to the producers’ panel. Jake was dressed in his stage gear already—a pair of ripped jeans, a black sleeveless undershirt, and a black button-up short sleeve shirt over it. The overshirt would be shed by the fifth song of the concert as it would become intolerably hot about then. Laura and Celia were both wearing loose fitting, comfortable jeans and sensible shoes. Celia had on a maroon maternity top that hung low on her and kept any skin on her bulging belly from being revealed. It also showed off her large boobs rather nicely. Her hair was down and she was looking particularly adorable. Laura had on a green, sleeveless top and her hair was arranged in pig tails. She looked quite cute as well. Neither of the women had any makeup on save for lip gloss.

Four people were led into the SVIP section by Jamie Woods, one of the security guys. Jake, Laura, and Celia stood as they entered. Jake recognized Angie and Helen. Angie, he had obviously seen two days ago. Helen, he had not seen in years. She was still very attractive. Not petite by any means—she never had been—but she was well-formed, had large breasts, and a pretty face with a bulbous nose. Her dark hair was down around her shoulders. Jake smiled as he saw her. With her, was a man in his early forties, trim, in reasonably good shape, with a close cut crop of reddish brown hair. His eyes looked a little nervous, as if he felt out of his element. With Angie was a balding man in his mid to late forties. He did not look like a square though. His face was handsome, his body with only a small amount of middle-aged pudge. He too looked out of his element.

Celia was the first to react. She squealed and rushed to Helen, throwing her arms around her and giving her a big hug, which Helen returned happily.

“Look at you!” Helen told her when the embrace broke. “You are soooo fucking cute pregnant. Congratulations to both of you!”

“Thank you,” Celia said, actually leaning forward and giving Helen a kiss on the cheek. Her presumed boyfriend looked on in amazement that his girlfriend had hugged and been kissed by Celia Valdez-Kingsley. The Celia Valdez-Kingsley. He knew from talking to Helen that she knew the famous singer—as well as Greg Oldfellow, the famous actor, and had been in a relationship with Jake Kingsley, the infamous musician—but to actually see them behave like that was astounding, as if it had just confirmed something he had not entirely believed in until now.

Jake was the next to step forward. He smiled and gave Helen a big hug of his own, knowing her well enough to know that she would not date anyone who would have a major problem with such a display of affection.

“You look good, Helen,” he told her. “The years have been kind to you.”

“You too, Jake,” she said. “It looks like you’re all recovered from that insanity that occurred because of our stalker.”

“Yeah,” he said with a serious expression. “It took a while, but I’m all recovered now.”

“I’m so glad that crazy-ass bitch is in prison now.”

“Me too,” he assured her soberly.

“How about we do some introductions here?” Celia suggested.

“Good idea,” Jake said. He turned to his left. “This is Laura Kingsley. We were married for quite some time and have a child together. We’re still really good friends with each other, still live together, still raise our child together, and she and Celia are best friends as well—strange as that may sound. You know how we Hollywood people are—although we don’t live in Hollywood, or even go there unless we have to.”

“Nice to meet everyone,” Laura said, a faint smile on her face, nodding at them.

“I presume that the two ladies have introduced themselves to each other,” Jake said carefully.

“We did,” Helen said. “We met outside at the will call booth and talked some before they let us in.”

“An interesting conversation,” Angie said, but explained no further. She did not really have to. Helen knew the story of Jake and Angie and Angie would have had to be a nun out of communication with the world not to have heard the story of Jake and Helen.

“I’m sure it was,” Jake said, wondering what the two of them had talked about.

“I’m Randy Baker,” the man with Celia said. “Helen and I have been dating for about six months.

“Nice to meet you, Randy,” Jake said, holding out his hand. The two of them shook. “I understand you do check rides for the FAA.”

“That I do,” Randy confirmed. “I do at least two every five day workweek throughout Ventura and Santa Barbara counties.”

“You’re a pilot then?” Jake asked.

“Absolutely,” he said. “Rated IFR, multi-engine, commercial, pressurized, and instructor. I’m type-rated on 18 different turboprops and business jets. All requirements for the position I hold.”

“Isn’t it terrifying to get into the cockpit with rookies day after day?” Jake asked him.

Randy shook his head. “I always have the option to take over for them—whether they want me to or not. I’m sure you had that speech in your own check rides.”

“I did,” he said. “Have you ever had to do it?”

“More than a few times,” he said. “Never with any of Brody Flight School’s newbies though.”

“Helen was a badass instructor,” Jake said. “I still hear her voice in my head when I’m doing my preflights and putting together my flight plans.”

“I understand you have an Avanti-180?” Randy said.

Jake nodded. “Bought it a few years back.”

“Sweet plane,” Randy said, obviously envious.

“It really is,” Jake said. “Fast and fuel efficient and decent range.”

“And it has a bathroom,” Laura added.

“It does indeed have a bathroom,” Jake said.

“I’ve used it more than once,” said Celia. “A little cramped but much better than trying to use a female urinal.”

Angie’s husband introduced himself next. “Robert Brooks,” he said. “It’s nice to meet you, Jake, Celia, Laura. I’ve enjoyed your music for years.”

They all shook with him.

“Angie tells me you’re a partner in a stockbroking company,” Jake said.

“I am,” he confirmed. “Been involved in the game since 1985. Climbed my way up the ladder.”

“We all know what that’s like,” Celia said after shaking with him. “Not in the same way as you, but we had to do some climbing ourselves.”

“Seems like you all did pretty well for yourselves,” Robert told them. “Let me know if you ever need any investment advice. I’d be happy to consult with you.”

“We’ll do that,” Jake said, with absolutely no intention of doing so. The accounting firm of Yamashito, Yamashito, and Yamashito was doing quite well for them in that department—especially since they had enough personal wealth that they could afford to be very conversative in where they put the vast majority of their money. They were linked primarily to the S&P 500 for their stocks and had more than forty percent of their non-disposable income in bonds and treasury bills; a distribution that would likely make a professional stockbroker wince.

“Why don’t we show you around backstage?” Jake suggested. “I know Helen has been backstage of an Intemp show before, but nobody else has, right?”

They all agreed they had not.

They made their way into the stage right area. “You’ll all have free access to this area during the show,” Jake told them. “There’s a bathroom here, a full, self-serve, complimentary bar—including sodas and non-alcoholic drinks—and some pretty good snacks put out by the catering company. You’re free to come in here at any time, but try not to linger. A few members of the crew work in here during the show and having people just hanging out can get in their way.”

He led them around to the larger, stage left area, where a dozen roadies and techies were working on things. It was a much more bustling place than stage right. Randy, Rob, and Angie all looked around, quite interested.

“This area will be off limits to you all once this tour is over,” Jake told him. “Stage left is the primary working area for the crew and the staging area for us in the band prior to the show and during the breaks. It’s where additional instruments are stored, where our band assistants hang out during the performance, where most of the packing equipment is stored. Those big-ass wire spools sitting on their sides are the preferred seats for those who hang out back here. This is also where we do the meet and greets of the ordinary backstage pass people, most of whom get them from radio station contests as opposed to paying whatever outrageous price we’re charging for them.”

“That’s Matt Tisdale’s Strat,” said Randy, his voice full of awe, as he spotted the iconic black instrument sitting in a stand near the backstage door.

“Yep,” Jake said with a nod. “And that’s my Les Paul sitting next to it and Charlie’s primary bass next to that. Me and Charlie both have backup instruments in case something happens to the primary. Matt does not. If something happens to his Strat, we either fix the problem or the show does not go on. He has never, in his entire career, played anything but that particular instrument up on stage.”

“That’s amazing,” said Rob.

“How is Matt doing these days?” Helen asked. “I haven’t seen him since Bill’s wedding. He was pretty surly that day.”

“Those weren’t the best of times for Matt,” Jake said. “Anyway, he’s doing okay. Got more than a few more miles on him since those days, but he’s hanging in there. Why don’t we all go back and meet the rest of the band?”

They were agreeable to this. Jake led them out the back door, down some stairs, and through a tunnel to the home team clubhouse adjacent to the home team locker rooms. The trip alone was fascinating to everyone. Staples really was a nice arena.

They entered the clubhouse. Matt and Coop were smoking cigarettes and talking about their preferences for bongwater. Coop liked a little lemon in his. Matt was a traditionalist and wanted no flavoring in his, but was not opposed to dropping an ice cube or two in to help cool the smoke. Charlie was disinfecting his cell phone. Nerdly was drinking a bottle of water and talking to Greg Gahn about Judaism and how it was superior in all ways to Mormonism (this was a discussion the two of them often engaged in).

“Hey, everyone,” Jake said. “Got some people who want to see what we’re really like before a show.”

“Just like normal fuckin’ people getting ready to go to work,” Matt said. “No blowjobs or coke lines.”

That’s for after the show, Jake thought, but did not say.

Obviously, Helen had met everyone in Intemperance before. She hugged Matt (marveling over how haggard he was looking—he appeared to be sixty or so, not basically the same age as she and Jake) and then Nerdly and then Coop warmly. She knew better than to hug or even shake hands with Charlie. She did still greet him warmly, however. Angie, on the other hand, had only met Matt and Nerdly before, and that had been a long, long time ago. She too was taken aback by how much Matt had aged in that time. She also noted that Bill did not look all that different. He had the same haircut, the same hair color, and his body was basically the same as it had been back in 1982, when she had last seen him in the apartment that he and Jake had shared.

Randy and Robert were introduced to everyone (even Gahn) and hands were shaken all around.

“So...” Matt asked the two men, “how’s it feel to follow Jake Kingsley’s nut?”

Jake just looked at the floor for a moment and shook his head. Neither of the men had an answer for him. Robert was not entirely sure what that expression even meant. Angie would have to explain it to him later.

They made a little small talk for a few minutes (with Matt using the word ‘fuck’ or one of its derivatives nineteen times) and then Greg reminded Jake that the meet and greets backstage would begin in about twenty minutes.

“All right,” Jake said. “I guess we’d better head back to the SVIP.”

He led the troop back through the tunnel, into the stage left area, over to the stage right area, and then down the exclusive stairway to the camera pit and back into the roped off section front and center of the stage.

“I’m glad you were all able to show up,” he told them. “In about fifteen minutes the VIP ticket holders will start to filter in. About ten minutes after that, everyone and their mother will come flooding in. Don’t hesitate to use your stage right privileges, just don’t linger there. I hope everyone enjoys the show. After, I’ll bring you all back to the clubhouse for a bit if you’d like. Dinner will be served there, although I’m sure it’s a little later than you’re used to eating that particular meal. They do tend to put on a good spread though.”

The visitors all thanked him for the tickets and tour. Jake retreated back to stage right and disappeared. Celia and Laura stayed in the SVIP, grabbing seats next to each other near the center. Helen ended up sitting next to Laura. She began to feel immediately awkward.

“I ... uh ... hear you used to be a teacher,” Helen said. She had also heard many more things about Jake’s ex-wife (most, but certainly not all, of which she did not believe), but the teaching thing was the most conversationally acceptable.

“That’s right,” Laura said. “That’s why they call me ‘Teach’. It’s been my nickname ever since I started performing.”

“That is a cute nickname,” Helen said with sincerity.

“Did the band have a nickname for you when you and Jake were together?”

“No,” she said. “They all used to just call me Helen.”

“Maybe it’s a musician thing,” Laura suggested. “You don’t play or sing, right?”

“Right,” Helen said, wondering if the redhead was rubbing that in her face.

But Laura was not. She was just making conversation, curious about this woman her husband had once loved. “He talks about you often when we’re flying,” she said.

“Oh yeah?” Helen asked, surprised.

“Yes,” Laura said. “He has tremendous respect for you as a flight instructor. He’s always saying things like ‘Helen taught me how important the sterile cockpit is’ or ‘Helen drove it into me that you never become complacent on your preflight checks’ or ‘Helen convinced me how important it is to check your nav waypoints each and every time’.”

“Wow,” Helen said, feeling a burst of pride that she had had such an impact on her very famous student. She looked at the redhead closely. “Do you fly at all?”

She chuckled. “Not really,” she said. “Jake has talked me through takeoffs here and there, and I can tell him if the gear is down and locked or what his current altitude, speed, and heading is, but my job is normally just to sleep on the plane while we’re going somewhere.”

“You ever thought about learning?” she asked.

Laura shrugged. “A few times,” she said. “I would like to know enough to bring the plane in if there was an emergency or something. Or at least to be able to monitor things if Jake has to go take a leak.”

Helen smiled. “I’ll give you one of my cards before I leave tonight,” she told her.

“Okay,” Laura said with a smile, pondering the thought of learning to fly from Jake’s ex-girlfriend.

Celia, meanwhile, was sitting next to Angie, who was more than a little starstruck by the experience.

“I can’t believe I’m actually sitting next to the Celia Valdez about to watch a concert,” she told Jake’s current wife. “This is like a dream.”

“I’m just an ordinary person,” Celia assured her.

“You’re really not though,” Angie insisted. “You’re Celia Valdez, and you’re married to Jake Kingsley.”

“I am aware of that,” Celia said, “but I’m still just an ordinary person underneath, not much different than you. I want success and happiness in life, just like you. I want my child to grow up happy and loved.”

“When are you due?” Angie asked her.

“July 6^th,” she replied. “It’s starting to seem real now. I can feel my little passenger move and everything.”

“Do you know if it’s a boy or a girl?”

“We do,” Celia said, “but we haven’t released it to the media yet. If I tell you, you have to keep it to yourself until that happens.”

“I will,” Angie promised.

“It’s a boy,” Celia said. “We saw his little huevos on the ultrasound at the last visit.”

“That’s so exciting! Do you have a name picked out yet?”

“Not yet,” she said. “His middle name is going to be Roberto after mi papa, but we’re still talking about it. Like with Cadence, we would like the name to have musical meaning since that is what brought me and Jake together, but there aren’t that many musical terms suitable for use as a boy name. We might have to go with something else.”

“It’s fun just to talk about it though,” Angie said, remembering her own pregnancies.

“Yes,” Celia said. “It really is.”

Around them on both sides, the VIP section began to fill in. Several people exclaimed excitedly when they saw both Celia and Laura in the SVIP. They tried to push forward to ask questions but the security force kept them away. That did not stop most of them from snapping pictures, however. Soon after that, a virtual rush of people began to fill the seats in the auditorium. The noise level increased significantly, making casual conversation a little more difficult. The smell of marijuana smoke began to fill the air.

“God,” Angie said, a little nostalgia in her voice. “I haven’t smelled that in years.”

“It’s kind of the background smell of the arena during a show,” Celia said. “Even mine.”

“Do you smoke it?” Angie asked her.

“Well ... not now, obviously,” she said, “but I’ve been known to flame a bowl on occasion. It’s kind of part of being a musician—except for Massa, Jake’s violinist on his last solo tour. He’s allergic to it.”

“Bummer of an allergy,” Angie said.

“Isn’t it?” Celia agreed.

“Me and Jake’s first date way back when was to smoke a joint,” Angie said. “We were poor. It was all we could afford to do.”

Celia smiled. “Was that when you both worked at that restaurant? The one where they had a spy keeping an eye on him?”

“He told you about that?” she asked.

“He did,” she confirmed. “A cool story—well ... the part about you and him, not the part about the spy.”

“We had fun back then,” Angie said nostalgically. “I don’t do any of that stuff now. It got to be a little bit of a problem later on. Not the pot, really, but alcohol and cocaine. They led me down a nasty road. And when you go clean and sober, you go clean and sober all the way or it won’t stick.”

Jake had told Celia what the two of them had talked about, but she did not want Angie to know that. She, like Jake, thought this was a bit of an overshare from someone who barely knew her, but she also understood that former addicts and alcoholics had a strange need to share their journey with others. Maybe it was the twelve-step thing. “I’m glad you were able to walk away from all of that,” she said.

“Me too,” Angie agreed simply.

“Jake is a good man,” Celia said. “Maybe the best I’ve ever known. I didn’t know him back then, but I know he has always felt bad about the way it ended between you two.”

“We talked about that the other day,” Angie said. “I told him I knew it was over once Intemperance was scheduled to go out on tour. There was no way our relationship could survive him being out on the road as a rock star. I was sad at the time, but I never had any hard feelings toward him.”

“You lifted a burden off of him by telling him that, Angie. For that, I sincerely thank you.”

Angie smiled. “I’m sorry that the burden was there in the first place.” She chuckled a little. “Although he could have given me one token call.”

The show started on time. It was as spectacular as all that had come before it. Angie, Helen, and their respective significant others watched, transfixed, as Jake and the others put on their performance. All were vaguely aware that there were video screens on either side of the stage, but they could not really see them. They did not need to. They were less than twenty feet away from the furthest of the bandmembers—Coop and his drum set—at all times. The music washed over them, pounded into them, and they embraced it. All four were familiar with Intemperance’s music and enjoyed it. Rob and Randy, however, considered themselves full-on Intemp fanatics. They both sang along with every tune, played some air guitar during Matt’s solos, and made drumming motions during Coop’s solo. It seemed the two of them were bonding to some degree.

Helen, Randy, and Laura all partook in a few mixed drinks from the stage right bar during the show. Angie, Rob, and Celia all had sodas and appetizers but kept away from the alcohol. Media people who had been invited into the VIP section took multiple pictures of the group, focusing primarily on Celia and Laura. A few of them recognized Helen from the past and took some up-close shots of her as well, deliberately making sure Laura was always in the shot with her. What a headline this was going to make, they all thought.

The closing number of the second set was Life of Toil, the six minute and thirty-two seconds piece that had never appeared on an Intemp studio album but had been featured on In Action, the live album released for the one international tour the band had played. It had been a filler tune for live performances during their second tour, recorded in Detroit and included on the live album to cover extra time. It had become a hard rock radio staple since and one of Intemp fans’ favorites. It was a grinding tune that featured Matt and Jake both on heavy metal distorted guitars with Matt laying down multiple solos throughout and then wrapping up with a pounding finale of drums, guitars, piano, and bass.

“Thank you, LA!” Jake shouted at them once the last note was played out. He and the band then left the stage unceremoniously, none of them bowing. The house lights stayed down. The stage lights stayed up. The show was not over yet and everyone knew it. They began clapping their hands and stomping their feet, shouting for more.

More is what they got. The band took the stage again and did three more songs. They did Jake’s She Cut Me Loose, Matt’s My Life, and then finished it all up with one of the most beloved road songs of all time, Jake’s I Found Myself Again. They all linked arms and took their bows after this one. The standing ovation they received lasted more than three minutes. And then the band left the stage for the last time in the United States. The house lights came up. The audience began to slowly drift toward the exits, the vast majority of them wishing there had been more.

“Anyone want to come back for a bit?” Celia asked the SVIP guests.

It turned out that all of them did. All were glowing with the excitement of having seen such an excellent performance. Celia and one of the security guys led them back into the stage right area and then to stage left, where the roadies were already starting to break things down, and then through the tunnel. In the home clubhouse they found the band sitting on the furniture, all of them drinking Gatorade, all of them still sweating freely.

“What did you think of the show?” Jake asked them as they found refreshments.

“That was incredible,” said Randy. “The best concert I have ever seen in my life, and I’ve been to a few.”

“I concur,” said Robert. “The energy, the sound, the set ... it was all amazing. Thank you so much for letting us be here, letting us experience that.”

“You still got it, Jake,” Helen said with a smile. “You and everyone else.”

“Most enjoyable,” said Angie, who was trying not to drool while looking at Jake’s sweaty body. Yes, she loved her husband with all her heart, but still...

Everyone found seats. Laura sat next to Jake, a strange look of wanting on her face. Celia sat on the other side of him. The two couples grabbed chairs across from them.

“I can see why you need to keep in shape to do your job,” said Angie.

“Yeah, we get in some pretty good cardio up on the stage,” Jake agreed. “Sometimes I wonder how Meatloaf does it.”

“All that cardio is probably the reason I’m still fucking alive at all,” Matt said lightly as he puffed on a cigarette. “After my fuckin’ heart took a shit on me a few years back, the doc said it was only my underlying good shape that saved my ass. Well ... that and Jimbo over there.”

“Coop has it the worst,” Jake said. “He works twice as hard as any of us behind that drum set.”

“Fuckin’ A,” Coop said. He was still working on catching his breath, still freely perspiring.

The band continued to cool down and rehydrate themselves. The food was brought in by a catering crew and set up on one of the large tables. None of the band made a move toward it just yet, but Jake told the guests to help themselves. They did so, filling up plates with brisket (with barbeque sauce), potatoes, deep fried okra, and baked beans. Celia and Laura both joined them. Matt, Coop, and Jake all switched from Gatorade to bottled beer.

“This is really good food,” Randy said after taking a few bites. “Do they set you up like this every night?”

“It’s part of our agreement with the venues,” Jake confirmed.

“This beats the hell out of the chow they used to serve us when I was touring with Bobby Z,” Laura said.

“Yeah,” Jake said with a laugh. “That was some low budget shit there. Fun though.”

“It really was, wasn’t it, sweetie?” she said, fondness in her tone. She looked at the others. “Jake came out and hung with us for a few weeks during that tour. One of my fondest memories of touring.”

Jake, Laura, and Celia all told a few tales of the tours they had been on. Jake spoke of the Philly cheesesteaks they had enjoyed in Philadelphia, the New York pizza they had had in New York City, the bratwursts they had had in Milwaukee. Laura told of the thunderstorm they had been caught in in Savannah. Celia told of the fun she had had in Caracas and Barquisimeto—her old stomping grounds. Their audience listened to the stories, very interested in the lives of traveling musicians. Thankfully, Matt told no stories about the various gash he had scored in various cities, states, and countries. Sometimes (but not often) the man did have a bit of discretion.

“Helen and I were talking before the show, sweetie,” Laura told Jake. “I was thinking about ... you know ... getting some formal training on how to fly a plane.”

Jake paused in mid-drink of his beer. “Really?” he said, eyebrows up.

Laura smiled. “Really,” she said. “You said she’s a great instructor.”

Jake’s eyes flitted over to Helen, who had a slight smile of her own. “She is,” Jake confirmed. “One of the best.”

“I think it would be fun to teach Laura to fly,” Helen said. “And, of course, she would get the friends and family discount.”

“Good to know,” Jake said carefully. He really could not object too much to the plan. After all, he and Laura were divorced and he allegedly had no say in what she did. “What are we talking here? Just the basics? Ground school and VFR until you can solo?”

“For now,” Laura said. “I might want to go IFR and multi-engine later. One step at a time, right?”

“Right,” said Helen. “That’s the way to do it. Hell, maybe once you’re licensed, you could even teach, Teach. We use our newbies as CFIs all the time.”

“I’ll start looking into scheduling as soon as we get home,” Laura said. “And then I’ll give you a call and work on availability with you.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Helen said.

Jesus fucking Christ, Jake thought, resisting the urge to shake his head. What kind of shit are those two going to talk about up in the cockpit?

Soon, it was time for the band to hit the showers. This was the cue for the guests to find their own way home. Greetings and thank you’s were exchanged. Laura and Celia hugged all of the guests and Helen laid one of her cards on Laura. Jake shared a hug with Helen and with Angie, neither of whom seemed to mind how sweaty and stinky he was.