Chapter 8: Wrap it Up

Coos Bay, Oregon

February 25, 1992

The Water’s View Restaurant on the west side of Coos Bay certainly lived up to its name. Perched on a cliffside over the rocky shore, its huge westward facing windows offered an impressive vista of the rolling blue ocean stretching off to eternity. And though the sky was overcast on this late winter day, there was just enough of a break in the clouds off to the west for a decent sunset to occur as the party truly got rolling.

Jake and Greg had rented out the entire top floor of the exclusive eatery for the evening. The cause for celebration was threefold. The first reason was that two days before, Greg, Celia, Pauline, and Jake had come to an agreement with Obie over manufacturing, distribution, and promotion of the two albums. This came after a lengthy series of negotiations and compromise that had stretched at times the friendly relationship they had developed with the country singer. The forty percent royalty rate, which Obie had offered in that initial meeting with Pauline on New Year’s Day, had only been the starting point for the deal, and, though that number did not change (nor was it ever suggested by either party that it should change) there were dozens of other numbers and directives that had to be presented, squabbled over, re-presented, modified, and then, one by one, agreed upon. The fact that all of that was done and a deal was in place, with contract signed by all relevant parties, was cause for celebration in and of itself.

The primary reason for the gathering, however, was to serve as the wrap party for the band with no name. As of that very afternoon, at 1:30 PM, the last overdub of the last song had been laid down. It had been a backing vocal track by Phil, Jake, Celia and Pauline singing in harmony for the outro to Jake’s tune Hit The Highway. As of the moment that Sharon and Nerdly approved of the take and committed it to the digital memory of the studio, the recording process was officially over. The band had completed their mission, although there was still at least a month of tedious post-production mixing that would start in two days, and then the final mastering after that. Only Jake, Celia, and the Nerdlys were going to be involved in post-production, however. Almost everyone else would be flying out on a chartered aircraft in the morning to head back to their respective homes and lives. That lent credence to a third aspect of the party. It was a goodbye celebration for a group that had been through quite a lot in the last five months.

Ben had already gone home in mid-January. He was now back at his gig teaching community college students the finer points of guitar playing, and staying up late at night with the infant baby girl his wife had delivered on February 10. Aside from him, however, every other member of the crew was here, seated at the long table, eating seafood or steaks (or, like Jake and Ted, both) and drinking expensive wine. Obie was here as well, having been invited by Pauline. He was not a wine drinker and was instead swilling down whiskey sours like they were going out of style.

“You know what this reminds me of?” Ted, who was sitting across from Jake and Laura, suddenly asked.

“Whatever it is, it’s probably a Rule 3 violation,” Jake told him.

“No, no,” Ted said, shaking his head. “It’s not gross at all, I promise.”

“You’ve said that before, Ted,” Laura told him. “And the stories are inevitably gross on some level, even if you think they’re not.”

“Yeah,” Ted said, “I guess I do have a different standard of what gross is than you all. But even if it is, Rule 3 doesn’t apply here. We’re all done eating, right?” And indeed they were. All the plates had been taken away by the wait staff and everyone was just enjoying their drinks at this point.

“Well ... that seems a bit of a technicality,” Laura said.

“Screw it,” Jake said. “Tell the story, Ted. We’ll stop you if it gets too gross.”

“All right,” Ted said happily. “This one is actually kind of funny, in a weird way. I was working with Maureen States this one shift. She’s a cute little redhead EMT, or at least she was cute when this happened. She got into drinking and popping pills a few years later and well ... she ended up pretty haggard once that shit started—got fired about a year ago after she passed out behind the wheel at post and they found narcotics and alcohol in her system. Last I heard, she was living with some loser dude she met in NA and collecting welfare to get by. Anyway, back then she was still straight in the head and cute as can be. Whenever I look at you, Laura, you kind of remind me of her back then.”

“Uh ... thank you,” Laura said slowly. “I think.”

“So, we get this call for a fall in a shower. A common thing, right? But usually when there’s a fall in a shower it’s some old geezer. This time, however, we get there and find this woman in her early forties, naked as the day she’s born, on her back on the floor of the shower. She was a fatty, you see. At least three and a half bills, maybe even pushing four. She had big old fat rolls, floppy titties that you could’ve wrapped around her waist if you’d wanted to, acres of cellulite, the whole bit. Not exactly someone you really want to see naked, you know what I’m saying?”

“Uh ... yeah, I know what you’re saying,” Jake said. “And you’re edging into the land of gross here.”

“Hey, at least she was clean, right?” Ted asked. “Anyway, she’s not hurt or anything, just too fuckin’ big to get up out of the shower on her own. She’d been sitting on this shower chair deal because she had a hard time standing for the amount of time it takes to shower. Anyway, she fell over backwards—was being really vague about exactly what had made her fall—and that chair is all tangled up between her legs and shit. So, the first thing we do is get that chair out of there. That took a minute or two, and all the time she’s moaning about how she can’t get up. Once the chair was free, me and two of the fire guys get hold of her arms and pull on her until she’s kind of in a sitting position on the floor. We can’t get her up any further than that, though, because she’s so fuckin’ big and she’s slippery—got soap and water and fuckin’ baby oil all over her.”

“Eww,” Pauline said. “Do you have to go into so much detail, Ted?”

“I gotta tell things like they are,” Ted said. “That’s what makes a good story. You gotta set the scene. Anyway, we realized that someone needed to get behind her and push her from that direction while the rest of us pulled and kept her feet braced. Now it was me, three fire guys, and Maureen on the call. There wasn’t much room behind this fat chick, so Maureen had to get in the shower stall with her and get around behind her. She was the only one skinny enough for it.

“She gets into position and me and the guys take our spots. We count to three and everyone puts their asses into it. With Maureen back behind the fatty, she finally comes up to her feet. And then we hear this big thunk from underneath her.” Ted looked at them and grinned. “It was a fuckin’ eight-inch vibrator that made the thunk. It had been stuffed up inside of her the whole time, but we couldn’t see it or hear it because her big old stomach rolls were covering her fuckin’ hoo-haw while she was down. Once she was up, however, gravity pulled that thing right out and it landed exactly between Maureen’s work boots, and it was still buzzing away, jittering around back and forth like them little tiny magnetic football players on that old game we used to play as kids, remember that? Anyway, Mo—that’s what we called Maureen—was still holding this bitch up, but she don’t want that fuckin’ dildo touching her boots. So she starts dancing around back and forth, trying to avoid it. She even screamed at one point. Me and the fire guys, meanwhile, we’re just staring at the fuckin’ thing, still trying to process what we’re seeing for a minute, and then trying not to fuckin’ laugh as we realize what was going on. That’s why the bitch fell in the shower. She was hammerin’ herself and overbalanced when she had the big O.”

“Jesus Christ,” Jake said, grinning. He had to admit, this one was pretty funny, as promised.

“Wasn’t she embarrassed?” asked Laura, her eyes wide.

“She really wasn’t,” Ted said. “She just kind of shrugged it off and said, ‘oops’.”

“Wow,” Jake said. “And just looking at Laura reminds you of that?”

Ted nodded solemnly. “Almost every time,” he said.

Laura chewed on her lip a little. “I’m not sure how to feel about that,” she said.

“It’s no big,” Ted assured her. “Like I said, Mo was really cute back then, just like you are now. I’m sure you’re not going to start popping oxy and pouring vodka in your Big Gulp, right?”

“My Big Gulp?” Laura asked, her eyes flitting to Jake for a moment, her face blushing. “You’re not talking about ... you know...”

“Uh ... no,” Jake cut in, picking up on her thoughts. “That’s not what he’s talking about, hon. A Big Gulp is a drink.”

“A drink?”

“Yeah,” said Ted. “A thirty-two ouncer from 7-Eleven, to be exact. The lifeblood of a medic crew. I like a mixture of Pepsi and Dr. Pepper in mine, sometimes with just a splash of Sprite.”

“I see,” Laura said slowly. She really didn’t though.

Jake decided this was a good time to share a few things with the group. He picked up his wine glass and rapped his finger against it in the traditional manner of telling everyone it’s time to listen to me for a minute. The conversations quickly died down and everyone gave him their attention.

He stood, keeping glass in hand. “Sorry to interrupt, everyone, I just wanted to say a few words before we finish this thing up and start heading back to the house for the last time. First of all, to all of us here. It’s been a long road, full of twists and turns, but we’ve come to the end of it now. Soon, we’ll be hearing ourselves on the radio.” He held up his glass. “To success!”

“To success!” they echoed happily, everyone taking a slug from whatever they were drinking.

“And that success is coming,” Jake told them. “I can feel it. I’m proud of all of you. You all did a bang-up job on these projects. Now then, having said that, how about I discuss a few boring financials regarding the albums?”

A good-natured groan erupted.

“Oh, come now,” Jake chided. “I think some of you will find this a very interesting topic.” His eyes flitted to Greg and then Pauline, the two people who did not find what he was about to say interesting, and had, in fact, argued strenuously with Jake and Celia about implementing either all or part of it. Jake and Celia had won.

“Let me address the mothers first,” Jake said. “Mom, Cindy, you two put down some incredible tracks for us during this process, working on both albums, on nearly every cut, and without you we would not have been able to get this thing off the ground, let alone make it the success I know it is going to be.”

“Hear, hear!” said Tom, who was working on his fourth glass of wine and feeling very festive.

“Right,” Jake said. “And through this all, neither one of you have accepted any compensation for your time. We tried to pay you what we were paying Laura and Ben and Ted and Phil, but you would not hear of it.”

“We’re your mothers,” Mary said indignantly. “We don’t charge for our time.”

“No, you did not charge for your time,” Jake agreed. “But Celia and I are going to see to it that you are compensated for your efforts.”

“Jake, that’s not necessary!” Cindy told him. “Bill, tell him that we don’t need money for what we did.”

“I cannot, in good faith, tell him that, mother,” Bill said. “He’s right. You two deserve to get paid for what you did and we are going to see that you do.”

“What do you mean?” Mary asked.

“I’m talking royalties here,” Jake said. “You, Mom, and you, Cindy, are both going to collect one percent royalties on each of these albums, in perpetuity, whether you like it or not.”

“One percent royalties?” Mary asked. “Jake, that’s absurd!”

“Oh, do you want more?” Jake asked playfully. “We can negotiate on that if you want, but I don’t know if we’re going to come up any further. You see, one percent of the wholesale rate of six dollars per CD—we’re not releasing on vinyl or cassette, as we’ve mentioned—works out to six cents for each unit sold. Now I know that doesn’t sound like a lot when you say it that way, but both Celia and I plan to go Platinum at least. That is one million units of each album sold, which means two million times six cents in your pockets if we just reach our minimum goal here. That works out to ... Bill, tell them what it works out to.”

“One hundred and twenty thousand dollars for each of you,” Bill said without the slightest hesitation, “assuming that both albums reach Platinum status. In actuality, I sincerely believe we will go far beyond Platinum with both, however.”

“We are not trying to get more,” Mary cried. “We’re trying to have you not give us anything at all!”

“No deal, Mom,” Jake said. “You’re taking the money, even if we have to go behind your back to give it to you.”

“You earned it, Mary,” Celia told her. “The albums are going to sell well because of what you and Cindy did. You deserve to share in the profits.”

“A hundred and twenty thousand dollars?” asked Stan, who was obviously warming to the idea.

“That’s a low-end figure,” Bill told his father. “It will likely be at least double that in the short term, and a number that defies current estimations in the long term.”

“Well...” Mary said slowly, obviously turning that figure around in her mind as well, “if you absolutely insist.”

“We absolutely insist,” said Pauline, who had been in favor of this part, just not the next part.

“Okay then,” Mary said. “Thank you, guys. You didn’t need to do this, but the money will come in handy.”

“Money always does,” said Greg, who had been opposed to both parts of Jake and Celia’s proposal. After all, if the mothers didn’t want the money, wasn’t that their right?

“You’re more than welcome,” Jake said. “And that brings me to our other musicians and singers here. Laura, Ted, the conspicuously absent Ben, and Phil. You guys were important to these projects as well, and your contributions also made them what they are going to be. Now, all of you were paid as we went along, and paid at a fair rate, right?”

“Hell to the yeah,” Ted said. “I made more on this gig than I would’ve made in three years as a medic.”

“And I surely didn’t mind giving up the singing waiter gig for this one,” Phil added. “It pays better and will look awesome on my resume.”

“I like to think it will,” Jake told him. “In any case, we, the owners of KVA, engaged in some discussion the other day regarding what kind of bonus we were going to give you all now that your parts in the projects are complete.”

“Bonuses?” Ted asked, liking the sound of that.

“It seemed like something we should do,” Jake said. “Bonuses weren’t in the contracts you signed with us, of course, but Celia and I both wanted to add a little kicker for you anyway. Ultimately, however, when we discussed the matter with Greg and Pauline, it was decided that we would not give you simple cash bonuses after all. Sorry about that, guys.”

Ted’s face fell. So did Phil’s. Laura tried to hold hers steady, but a frown crept onto her face anyway. Jake could almost read the thoughts in her head. Why the hell did you bring up bonuses if you aren’t going to give them to us?

Jake let them dangle for a few more seconds and then smiled. “Anyway,” he said. “It was eventually decided that, in lieu of cash bonuses, we just go ahead and dial you all in on the royalties as well, the rate and linkage to the albums being tied to your participation in each.”

“Royalties?” all three of them said in near unison. Royalties for session musicians were almost unheard of. But KVA Records was not the typical record company.

“Royalties,” Jake repeated. “Ben and Ted will each get a half percent tied to both albums, since they participated heavily in both. Laura, you’ll get a half percent of Celia’s album since you were heavily involved in that, but only an eighth of a percent from mine, since you only appear on one cut there. And Phil, you contributed backup singing to both albums, but played no instruments. It was decided that a quarter percent of each album is a fair bonus for you.”

The three of them looked at Jake, mouths agape for a moment.

Jake chuckled (while Greg and Pauline frowned). “Do you want Bill to do the math for you? He will, you know.”

“No no,” Laura said, shaking her head. “I’m just trying to process this.”

“Yeah,” Phil said. “I don’t know what to say, Jake.”

“Say thank you,” Obie advised them. “They didn’t have to do this. I sure as shit wouldn’t have.”

“Thank you!” they all gushed happily.

“Happy to do it,” Jake said, smiling. “Or ... at least most of us are. Pauline will have some contracts for you all to sign with your rates and all that. The most important thing to remember is that these royalties will be reported to the good folks at the IRS and the State of California Franchise Tax Board, but KVA will not be taking taxes out as your royalty checks are issued. Be sure to account for taxes or you’ll get hosed the next year.”

“I would recommend a good accountant,” Nerdly said.

“As would I,” Jake said. “Any questions?”

There were none.

That night, after dinner, Jake and Laura were in their bedroom putting the finishing touches on Laura’s packing. She, along with the rest of the not-needed-for-mixing crew, would be flying out on a chartered business jet at nine o’clock the next morning. She had her two saxophones packed neatly and securely in their cases and all but her toiletries, the clothes she would wear tomorrow, and the clothes she was wearing currently in her large suitcase.

“Looking forward to getting back in the classroom?” Jake asked her. Her leave of absence with the school district was now officially over. She was due back in her classroom on Monday morning, just five days from now.

“No,” she said honestly. “I’m not looking forward to that at all.”

“Then don’t do it,” he told her.

“Don’t do it?” she asked. “Seriously? Just walk away from the teaching gig?”

“Why not?”

“Uh ... because I got a bunch of people—like my landlord, the bank that financed my car, and the bankers who issued my credit cards—who all prefer it when I pay them a certain amount of money each month.”

“You have enough banked from this gig, don’t you?” he asked. “That should carry you until you get a paying music gig. With those references from Nerdly and Celia and I, and with the Nerdlys using their pull down at National, that shouldn’t be too long.”

“I can’t rely on that, Jake,” she said. “Sure, I have a hefty chunk of change in the bank now, enough to pay off all of my credit card debt and still have enough to carry me for a while, but I can’t just quit my paying job. It would stress me out terribly not to have a source of income.”

Jake caressed the side of her face gently. He then kissed his finger and put it to her lips. “You’ll be fine, Laura,” he told her. “Nothing bad is going to happen to you.”

She smiled at his touch, at his gesture. “I wish I could be as confident in me as you are.”

“I wish you could too,” he said.

She looked at him for a moment, melancholy in her eyes, a little bit of fear as well. “Jake,” she said. “I know we’ve never really talked about ... oh ... you know ... where this thing between you and I is heading.”

“This thing between you and I?” he asked, raising his eyebrows a bit.

“Our relationship,” she said. “I’ve had a great time with you these last few months, the best time I’ve ever had in my life, as a matter of fact.”

“I’ve enjoyed our time together as well,” he said.

“But ... but now I’m going home,” she said. “And you’re staying here.”

He nodded. “For a few months at the most,” he said. “I’m still hoping we can get masters in hand before May, and CDs on the shelves by July.”

She rubbed at her eye a little bit. “What’s ... what’s going to happen to us once I go home?”

“Well, I’m going to miss you,” he told her.

“And I’m going to miss you horribly,” she said. “But that’s not what I was talking about. What’s going to happen to ... to us? Is this our last night together? Are we ever going to ... you know ... be together again after this?”

Jake put his hands gently on her shoulders and moved her to the edge of the bed. He had her sit down. He then lifted her face to his, so he could see the tears forming in her eyes, could see the nervous angst in her expression. “You think I’m going to just drop you from my life because we’re going to be separated for a bit?” he asked.

“Uh ... well, I don’t know,” she said. “I mean, I’m kind of new to this whole relationship thing. And you’re a rich rock star who can get any woman he wants, right?”

“Not any woman,” he said. “Just most of them.”

Her expression darkened.

“Just kidding, hon,” he said with a smile. He stood up and walked over to the dresser. He opened a drawer and pulled a small, black felt box out. He carried it back over to her. “I bought you a present the last time I was in Portland. I was going to give it to you right before you got on the plane, but I think I’ll go ahead and do it now.”

She eyed the box carefully. It was obviously a jewelry box of some sort. “What is it?” she asked carefully.

Again, he picked up on her thoughts. “Uh, it’s not an engagement ring,” he told her. “I wouldn’t presume to move that quickly in this thing, for a multitude of reasons. But it is something I think you’ll like, something I put some thought into.”

“Okay,” she said.

He opened the box and showed her what was inside. It was a pendant attached to a 14-karat gold chain. The pendant was a G-clef in 24-karat gold, surrounded by a silver heart studded with a half a carat worth of polished diamonds. It wasn’t the most expensive piece of jewelry Jake had ever bought for a woman, but it certainly wasn’t the cheapest either. It had set him back nearly four thousand dollars—enough to earn him a stern telephone lecture from Jill once the charge reached her.

“Oh my God, Jake,” Laura whispered as she looked at it. “It’s ... it’s beautiful.”

“And it’s for you,” he told her, pulling it out of the box and letting it dangle. “Can I put it on you?”

“Jake ... this looks really expensive.”

He shrugged. “I’m a rich rock star, remember? Now, are you going to let me put it on you? Because just having me leave it dangling here is going to get awkward in a minute.”

She looked up at him and smiled, remembering that those were very similar to the first words he had ever spoken to her, back when they’d first been introduced. The mood between them had been a bit different then. “Yes,” she said. “Please put it on me.”

He unclasped the tiny fastener with his fingernails and then leaned forward to put the chain around her slender neck. He then fumbled for a minute, trying to fasten it back together. At last, he accomplished his goal and took his hands away, letting it hang free. “You know the meaning of the G-clef, of course,” he told her. “It’s symbolic of our relationship as musicians, of what brought the two of us together.”

“I love it,” she said, lifting the pendant up so she could look at it.

“You’ll also notice there’s a heart there,” he said softly.

She looked up at him. “Yes,” she said. “I did notice that.”

“The heart is the symbol of love,” Jake said. “I didn’t choose that symbolism randomly, or on impulse.”

A nibble of the lip. “What ... what are you saying, Jake?”

“I’m saying that I love you, Laura,” he told her. He then said it again. “I love you.”

She looked at his face carefully, her green eyes looking for deceit there. There was none to be found. “You’re ... you’re serious?” she asked. “You’re not just fucking with me?”

“I’m not just fucking with you,” he assured her. “Although I was hoping to do that later.”

His joke went right over her head—either that or it wasn’t really that funny. She continued to stare at him while her face blushed bright red. A tear formed in her left eye and ran down her cheek.

“Are you okay, Laura?” he asked, wondering if maybe he shouldn’t have told her that after all. It was true, he was in love with the petite red haired saxophonist, had been so for some time now, but ... was she in love with him? Had he just committed a romantic faux pas? Was she going to say something like, That’s very nice, Jake, but maybe you’ve been taking this relationship too seriously? I was just with you because you’re good at eating my pussy out.

“Yes,” she said slowly. “I’m okay. I’m very okay. In fact ... I feel like I’m about to explode with emotion here.”

“In ... a good way?” he asked carefully.

She smiled, a genuine, heart warming Laura smile. “Yes, in a good way,” she said. “Nobody has ever told me that before—not in the romantic sense anyway. I’m afraid I’m a little flustered.”

He nodded, touching the side of her face. “You’re blushing like a red traffic light,” he told her.

“I can feel it,” she said. “Will you say it again, Jake?”

“I love you, Laura,” he told her. “I am experiencing romantic bonding with you on the biochemical level causing a state similar to obsessive-compulsive disorder.”

Her mouth gaped. “Huh?”

He chuckled. “Sorry, I lapsed into Nerdly speak there for a second. Maybe I’m a little flustered too. But I am love in with you.”

She took his hand in hers, her thumb caressing the back of his hand. “And I’m in love with you too, Jake,” she told him.

“Really?” he asked.

She nodded. “Really,” she said. “You’re all I think about these days. I just want to be with you all the time, and not just for ... you know ... the naked stuff ... although I really do like the naked stuff. Look at me, I’m still flustered.” She took a deep breath. “Anyway, I ... I love you.” She shook her head. “Wow. I’ve never said that to anyone either.”

Jake smiled. “I think you did a really good job of saying it,” he told her.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he said, taking her in his arms. They held each other tightly for a moment and then they kissed, a soft, romantic kiss.

When it broke, Laura looked in his eyes. “Do you want to do some naked stuff now?”

“Always,” he assured her. “But before we do, I want to tell you the point of why I just professed my love to you.”

“There’s a point?”

“There’s a point,” he said. “I wanted to reassure you that when you go home tomorrow, I’m still going to be with you, in spirit and in soul if not in actuality. I am not going to find another woman while you’re gone. I’m not going to forget about you. This is not the end of our time together unless you want it to be.”

“I don’t want it to end,” she said.

“Neither do I,” he said.

They kissed again, this time with a little more passion. When it finally broke, both of them were breathing a little heavily.

“That’s it,” Laura said. “It’s naked time.”

“Agreed,” Jake said.

She paused in the unzipping of her pants. “I’m going to keep the necklace on while we fuck,” she said. “Is that okay?”

“Absolutely,” he said, “but remember, we’re in love now. We don’t fuck anymore. We make love.”

She looked at him for a moment and then shook her head. “No,” she said. “I think we should still fuck. I like to fuck.”

Jake grinned. “Fair enough,” he told her and then began removing his own clothes. “Let’s fuck.”

They fucked, and it was very good, because they fucked like two people who knew they were in love.

The Citation business jet took off from North Bend Municipal and landed a little less than an hour later at Heritage Muni to drop off the parental Archers and the parental Kingsleys. Twenty minutes later, it was back in the air, where it flew for another seventy-three minutes before landing at Van Nuys—its home base. There, Ted, Phil, Greg, Pauline and Laura disembarked. A few hugs were exchanged—again, Laura thought it was very surreal to be hugging Greg Oldfellow just like he was a normal person—and then they went their separate ways, heading for their respective homes.

In the case of Phil and Laura, it was the same home. They called a cab and split the cost of it. The cabbie dropped them off twenty-five minutes later and they dragged all of their luggage up the stairs, piece by piece.

The apartment was musty and a little warm, since the AC had not been running, but it was clean.

“I gotta tell you again, Laura,” Phil said as he tossed his suitcase into his room. “Thank you for getting me that gig. I feel like the king of the world.”

“The king of the world?”

“Hell to the yeah,” he said, and then winced. “Jesus, I can’t believe I just said that. Anyway, because of that gig, my bank account is full and my credit card balances are not. I just got to fly private in a business jet. I have been hanging out with Jake Kingsley and Greg Oldfellow for the past two months. Most important, I really think that gig is going to help my career take off. I have credits on a Jake Kingsley and a Celia Valdez album. I have recommendations from them! No more singing in a goddamn restaurant for me. I’m going big time. I can feel it!”