Chapter 4: Making Plans

Los Angeles, California

October 13, 1994

The twin engine, propeller driven King Air 350 that belonged to Peterson Aviation Services Incorporated touched down gently on Runway 16R of Van Nuys Airport in the San Fernando Valley one hour and forty-two minutes after going wheels-up from San Jose International Airport in the San Francisco south bay area. The aircraft rolled out and exited the runway quite routinely and then navigated slowly along the taxiways until it arrived at the primary general aviation terminal. The engines shut down one by one and the door was opened from the inside, folding down to make a series of steps for easy egress from the fuselage.

It had been a routine flight in all aspects except one. For the two pilots who had been flying the aircraft these last six months and the group of musicians who had been the passengers on those flights, it was the end of their last trip together. Though there were two more nights of shows to be done—both were at The Forum in Inglewood, just outside of the Los Angeles city limits—there would be no more need for flying on the tour.

For Coop, Charlie, Liz, Little Stevie, and Dexter Price, this final flight meant little to them beyond relief to finally be back in Los Angeles where all except Charlie maintained a steady home and they would be sleeping in their own beds for the first time in months. They simply shook hands with the flight crew, exchanged a few parting pleasantries (including Charlie’s sincere gratitude for the crew’s fastidious attention to the non-existent HEPA filters which had kept him safe from high altitude microbes during the tour), and then gathered up their baggage for the walk to the terminal and the limousine that was waiting for them on the other side of it. For Natalie and Mark, on the other hand, there was a little more emotion attached. The two of them had fallen in love with each other during the tour—or at least deeply into lust—and they did not know when they were going to be able to see each other again. They stood together near the nose of the aircraft, holding each other tightly and whispering things into each other’s ears, and occasionally sharing soft, loving kisses. There were tears running down Nat’s face in a steady stream.

Celia witnessed all of this because this was a bit of an emotional moment for her as well. She was about to walk away from Suzie, the woman she had developed a considerable amount of infatuation for herself. She did not know when, if ever, she was going to see her again. She lingered inside the aircraft with her after everyone else had gone.

“Well ... it’s been fun, Suzie,” Celia told the pilot now.

Suzie smiled. “It could have been funner,” she told her.

Celia gave a sad chuckle at her words. Suzie had offered her mouth and her body to her indirectly many times and, when that produced no results, quite directly, coming right out and offering to service her in any way she wanted to be serviced. That had been last week, in Portland of all places! In the same hotel where she and Jake had come together one snowy night not so terribly long before. Suzie, of course, had no way of knowing or even suspecting what had occurred between her and Jake, so the offer coming in that city, in that hotel had been nothing but a coincidence, but it had still been a little shocking. She had been tempted—very tempted—to take Suzie up on the offer. Just a little lick between the legs. That wasn’t really cheating, was it? Certainly not after what she and Jake had done, right? But, in the end, she simply could not do it. She politely declined Suzie’s offer and spent the night alone in her hotel room, performing her own maintenance yet again.

“Yeah,” Celia acknowledged now. “It could have been, but alas ... it was not. No hard feelings?”

“I would think you’d know me better than that,” Suzie told her.

“I do. Just wanted to make sure. Any idea what your next assignment might be?”

“Returning the aircraft to San Diego,” she said. “After that, I have a few weeks off. I’ll get my apartment back in order, make sure all my bills are paid.”

“No trips?” Celia asked.

“No trips,” Suzie said. “I’ve done so much traveling on this assignment that staying home will be a novelty.” She gave a hopeful smile. “Maybe we can get together sometime. San Diego is not that far. I could drive up here in a few hours.”

“I’d like that,” Celia said. “For the friendship part though. Not for anything else. I enjoy your company. I’d like you to meet Greg. And I’d like to see what you’re like after a few drinks.”

“I enjoy your company as well, C,” she told her. “Even if it doesn’t include anything else. I’ll be looking forward to the visit.”

“I’ll call you as soon as things get settled,” Celia promised—and she was quite sincere about this. “And if I don’t, you have my personal number.”

“That I do.”

“Just don’t give it to the fine people of the entertainment press,” she warned.

“I would never do that,” she said.

“I know you wouldn’t,” Celia assured her. “And don’t feel weird about calling me if you just want to chat. Remember, I’m an ordinary person. I put my pants on one leg at a time.”

Suzie gave her a lecherous grin. “Do you take them off that way too?” she asked.

“Only if I’m the one taking them off ... not someone else,” she shot back.

They had a laugh about this.

“Well ... I guess I’d better get going,” Celia said. “It looks like Nat and Markie are done playing kissy-face with each other.” She held out her arms.

Suzie stepped into them and the two women shared a warm hug. Celia enjoyed the soft feel of her body against hers, the feminine smell of her skin. She drew back a little but did not release the embrace. Instead, she took her right hand and used her fingers to lift the pilot’s face up a bit. She then leaned in and put her lips to Suzie’s, kissing her. Her lips were soft, feminine, and felt good touching hers. She let the kiss linger for a bit before sliding out the tip of her tongue and letting it flit between the lips. Suzie’s tongue shot out to meet it. She moaned a little as they twirled their tongues together on a film of saliva.

Celia broke the kiss before it could become any more passionate. “Mmm,” she said with a sigh. “You taste like cinnamon gum.”

“What was that for?” Suzie asked, breathless.

Celia smiled. “I just wanted to see what it could be like,” she told her. She then released the embrace. “Keep in touch.”

“I will,” Suzie promised.

Celia gave her one last smile and then walked out of the aircraft. She headed for the terminal without looking back.

She climbed into the limousine with the members of her band. Instead of heading to a hotel—usually near the airport somewhere—it began to head for private houses, dropping people at their actual homes, one by one. Celia was the third to be deposited at her front doorstep.

Greg was inside waiting for her. He greeted her warmly, clearly happy that she was home. He never had made it out to see her during the tour.

“Jake came by yesterday,” Greg told her. “He just got back into town from Oregon two days ago.”

“That’s nice,” Celia said. “Let’s go to the bedroom.”

Greg smiled. “Don’t you want to see what he brought you?” he asked.

“Later,” she told him. “There’s something else I need to see right now.”

“Well ... if you insist,” he said, feigning reluctance.

“I insist,” she insisted.

She wasn’t sure if she really missed him or not—she thought maybe she did, at least a little bit anyway—but she certainly missed legally sanctioned sexual relations (as Nerdly would say).

The next hour was quite pleasurable for both of them.

Both of them dozed off after the sex was over, sleeping the sleep of the finally contented. Celia was awakened by the sound of the shower running some time later. She creaked open her eyes and saw that it was just past noon. She pondered getting out of bed for a moment but then decided she was just too comfortable. She stayed there, looking up at the ceiling fan and thinking about nothing in particular.

Greg came out of the shower room, naked as the day he was born. She took a moment to admire his form on an aesthetic level. He was thirty-eight years old and still quite hot looking. His face was handsome in an all-American sort of way, his body fit and trim from the eight to twelve hours a week he spent working out in the weight room. He was a Hollywood actor, after all, and physical fitness and attractiveness were mandatory for the position.

And then she found herself remembering what Jake had looked like naked. This sent a little burst of lust through her. Though Jake’s face was not as handsome as Greg’s, his body not as toned and tight, his muscles not as well-developed, he still cut a pretty good form. And then she started wondering what Suzie might have looked like naked. This sent another burst of lust through her as she pondered this thought.

At some point she noticed that her husband was not just getting dressed, but was getting dressed up. He had put on slacks and a dress shirt, was knotting one of his ties in a double Windsor.

“Uh ... are you going somewhere, hon?” she asked him.

He looked at her, as if trying to decide whether she was joking or not. “To Merrimack Studios,” he finally told her. “To attend the meeting with Johnny and Jerry Lancing and Frank Graham. I told you about it the last time we talked on the phone.”

“Oh ... yeah,” she said, remembering that now. Johnny was John Stapleton, Greg’s longtime agent, the man who had stood beside him even after the Northern Jungle fiasco. Jerry Lancing was one of the premier film producers of the last ten years, someone Greg had never worked with before. And Frank Graham was the head of production for Merrimack Studios, one of the more powerful media companies that operated out of Hollywood. They had a new project in the works and were interested in Greg Oldfellow as the leading man for it. They were going to meet today to talk things over. “I didn’t realize that was today.”

“I told you on the phone it was the day you came back,” Greg said. “We even had a discussion about how we’d have to get our first relations out of the way before I left for the meeting.”

She did not remember that part of the conversation at all, perhaps because she had been about a bottle and a half of wine in and Suzie had been sitting in her sitting room at the time. “I guess I just forgot,” she told Greg now. “Sorry. Being on the road makes me scatterbrained sometimes.”

“Apparently so,” he said, though not without a degree of affection. “Anyway, I’ve got a good feeling about this project. And after the success we had—that we’re still having—with Others, Lancing is really hot to get me into this film. He says I’d be perfect for the part.”

“What’s this flick going to be about?” she asked, seeing (with a fair degree of amusement) him wince at that word.

“Project,” he corrected sternly, “or film. I do not undertake consideration to appear in a ‘flick’.”

“How about a movie?” she asked.

“Now you’re just being sardonic,” he accused.

“Perhaps,” she said. “All right. What’s this project going to be about?”

“Some kind of a cop movie,” Greg replied.

“A cop movie? Hasn’t that been quite overdone?”

“That’s what I asked, but Lancing says that this cop movie will be different. He says it will be a realistic portrayal of a long-term street cop and what he goes through. Alcoholism, divorce, family issues, psychological problems, the whole bit. And there’s only one shootout in the whole thing, and that’s supposed to be a realistic portrayal of a police shooting as well.”

“Hmmm,” Celia said, pondering. “I guess that could be interesting.”

“I agree,” he said. “But then, I said that when the Northern Jungle was suggested to me as well. We know how that turned out. I’ll reserve judgement until I actually get a chance to read the script for the project.”

You read the script for the Northern Jungle project and you still signed up for that one, she thought, but did not say. “Well, I hope it works out for you,” she said. “I’m very happy things seem to have turned around in your career.”

“Me too,” he said. “And your career as well. Did I hear your last album just cleared triple platinum?”

“You did,” Celia said with a smile. “The tour did wonders for album sales, even after we raised the prices.”

“I can’t wait to hear the numbers at the next quarterly financial,” Greg said. “You might end up pulling in as much as I do this year.”

“Or maybe even more,” she said with a smile.

“Perhaps,” he said, though he did not seem to be terribly thrilled with that idea.

“I guess that selling out and raising those ticket prices was the thing to do after all,” she said. “True, I’m accused of being a money-hungry puta by a few, I’ve had people tell me to my face that I’m nothing but a corrupt record company lackey—all of which hurts me on a fundamental level, because that’s really not what I am—but people keep listening to me on the radio, and buying my CDs, and I sold out every venue I played. Every single one.”

“Yes, you did,” he said, coming to the side of the bed. He leaned over and gave her a kiss on the lips. “I’ve got to go now. The limo should be outside any second.”

“All right,” she told him. “Good luck at the meeting.”

“I make my own luck,” he told her.

He left the room a moment later, closing the door behind him as a signal to the maid that she should not go in there just now. A few minutes later she heard the single honk of a horn that signaled the limousine was here. There was a muted beep from the alarm control box, letting her know that one of the doors had opened. He was on his way to Hollywood.

She rolled out of bed and put her bare feet on the floor. She considered taking a shower for a moment and then decided not to. True, she smelled like sex, but was that such a bad thing to smell like? Especially after so many months of never smelling that way? She thought not.

She went to the dresser and pulled out a ragged pair of sweatpants that she’d owned for years. She pulled them on over her legs without bothering to put underwear on first. She then went to the closet and pulled out a long nightshirt that was even older. It was pale blue with fluffy white clouds printed everywhere on it. There were several holes in it these days—one near the left armpit, one near the rear collar, and one tiny one just below the right breast region—but it was comfortable and familiar. She pulled it on over her head without bothering with a brassiere.

She left the room without brushing her hair or her teeth and padded downstairs to the kitchen, which was empty at the moment and sparkling clean, almost sterile. There was a pitcher of iced tea in the refrigerator. She got a large glass out of the cupboard, filled it with ice from the dispenser in the freezer door, and then poured tea until it was full. She took a sip as she walked out into the entertainment room.

There, sitting on the cabinet that held the house’s stereo system, she found a black CD case. The insert was simple, printed in normal script: BRAINWASH—MASTER CD.

She picked it up and opened it, revealing an ordinary looking compact disc that had the same words printed on it in the same style. She pulled out the insert and took a look at the track listing. There were ten songs on the CD. Jim Scanlon was credited with lyrics and vocals on three of them, Marcie Scanlon on three more, Stephanie Zool on another three. The tenth song—which was actually the first cut on the album—was listed as a duet of Jim and Marcie together, the lyrics credited to Marcie. Celia had never met any of them, but she had heard their demo tape multiple times. The tape had been crude, not of the best quality, and with no overdubs or even basic engineering. And she had still enjoyed hearing it. She couldn’t wait to hear what their music sounded like after being produced by Jake and engineered by the Nerdlys.

She turned on the stereo and popped the CD into one of the empty slots in the changer. She pushed the play button on the machine, adjusted the volume a bit, and then sat back down on the couch.

The music took her away, as good music always did and always would.

She listened to the CD twice and then turned the stereo back off. She then picked up the phone and dialed a number from memory. The phone on the other end of the line rang three times before there was a click and a familiar female voice said “Hello?” in her ear.

“Hey, Teach,” she said. “It’s Celia.”

“C!” Laura replied, delight in her voice. “I heard you were coming home today. Are you back?”

“I am,” she said. “Just flew in a few hours ago. Now I’m sitting around in my jammies and thinking about getting into a bottle of wine.”

“I was just thinking about doing that myself,” Laura said. “Are you excited about the tour finally coming to an end?”

“Well, there are still two more shows to do. Tomorrow and Saturday night at the Forum.”

“Oh, I know that,” Laura said. “They’ve been talking about it endlessly on the radio and even on TV ever since we got home. All the tickets are sold out, but it sounds like some of the radio stations still have tickets to give away. People are very excited about it.”

“I’m just happy I’ll get to go home to my own bed after the shows,” she said. “No more hotel rooms. No more flights on the airplane.”

“So ... you’ve seen the last of your pilot friend then?” Laura asked.

“Probably not,” she said. “She lives in San Diego. We’re going to try to keep in touch.”

“Really?” Laura said, interest in her voice. “And how did the ... you know ... the temptations work out?”

“The temptations were a very real thing,” she told her. “But I was a good girl. She made the offer more than once, but ... I never took her up on it.”

“That’s good ... uh ... isn’t it?”

“It is,” Celia assured her. “At least I think it is. Anyway, are you getting excited about the wedding?” Jake and Laura’s date had been set as November 4, at a secluded oceanside resort near the town of Haena, on the north shore of Kauai, Hawaii. That particular date had been chosen because Celia would be home and able to attend, but Sharon Archer would still be far enough away from her projected delivery date of November 30 that travel across the ocean was reasonably safe.

“I’m actually kind of terrified,” Laura said. “And I’m not even sure why.”

“Weddings are stressful,” Celia said, remembering her own. “At least yours is low key, and with only a few guests. No bridesmaids or groomsmen. Just the maid of honor and the best man and you and Jake. And I think me and Nerdly are only in those positions as nods to tradition, right?”

“Well ... kind of,” Laura said.

“That’s okay. It’s a lot less hassle that way.”

“That’s the way Jake and I wanted it,” she said. “That’s okay, right? Should we have...”

“It’s perfect if that’s what you want,” Celia assured her. “How is your dress? Have you picked it up yet?”

“I don’t have a dress yet!” Laura said. “We only got home two days ago! I didn’t want to buy my wedding dress in Coos Bay.”

Celia shook her head back and forth. “Girl, you’d better get on the ball. You are only three weeks out.”

“I know,” Laura said. “I need to get on it. Will you help me after your last concert?”

“Absolutely,” Celia said. “We’ll tear up Rodeo Drive again, just like the last time.”

“It’s a date,” she said. “And I’m not planning on anything too elaborate. It’s going to be a simple ceremony. A simple dress will do me.”

“Did you invite your family?” Celia asked, remembering she had been pondering that dilemma the last time they’d gotten together.

“I sent them announcements,” Laura said. “If any of them had bothered to contact me, I would have invited them. None of them did.”

“It’s their loss,” Celia told her. “If they can’t be happy for you, fuck ‘em.”

“My feelings exactly.”

“Anyway,” Celia said, “the reason I actually called is to talk to Jake. Is he around?”

“Yeah,” she said. “He’s in the composition room working on something. I’ll go get him.”

“Thanks,” she said.

The phone thunked down and Celia heard the faint noises of the Kingsley household. A television was playing somewhere, and there was the sound of thumping footsteps. And then, for just a few seconds, she heard the sound of a drawn-out musical note—a G major if she was not mistaken. It sounded kind of like it was coming from an electric guitar, but not quite. It cut off instantly and then, a few moments later, the thumping of footsteps could be heard again. Finally, there was a shuffling sound and Jake was speaking to her.

“Hey, C,” he greeted. “Welcome home.”

She felt a little bit of a thrill at the sound of his voice and then pretended she hadn’t. “Thanks, Jake,” she returned. “It’s good to be home. Teach said you were composing. Hope I didn’t interrupt your creativity.”

“Naw, I was just playing around with something. Gordon gave me a talk box a few months back and I’ve been practicing with it.”

“A talk box?” she asked. “Like Peter Frampton’s?”

“That’s right. It’s kind of fun to play with. I took it up to Oregon with me and whenever things got too repetitious for me with the Brainwash recordings and I needed a break I would plug it in in one of the empty isolation rooms and play around with it. I think I’ve gotten to the point that I can make something approximating music with it.”

“Think you’ll use it on your next album?” she asked.

“Maybe,” he said. “If I can fit it in somewhere. And if I can get good enough with it that I’d want to try laying it down as a track.”

“It’s good to have new challenges musically,” she opined. “Keeps us sharp.”

“I agree,” he said. “Although I really do need to start concentrating on composing some actual tunes as well.”

“You and me both,” she said. “I haven’t picked up a guitar for anything other than performing in months. After things settle down a little, I’m going to lock myself into my room and start strumming some things out.”

“No hurry really for either of us,” Jake said. “We’re both still on the top of the album charts, both still getting a ton of airplay. We still have two more songs to release for radio promotion. Not to sound like a record company suit or anything, but we’ve got at least another year or so before people will start expecting us to come out with something new.”

“True,” she said. “But still, I’ll feel better when I get a few ideas penned out.”

“Yeah, me too,” Jake said. “I have a few older tunes I could work up, and Gordon and I are still planning to put together that duet.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” he said. “We haven’t been able to actually sit down together since that night that Laura had her little run-in with the sea lion, but...”

Celia giggled into the phone. “That is such an awesome story,” she said. “I still laugh whenever I think about it.”

“Yeah, me too to tell you the truth. That was a hell of a night. Anyway, I’ve been working on my part of the tune and G’s been working on his. We’re gonna get together on Monday night and see what we’ve accomplished.”

“That should be interesting,” Celia said.

“I’m hoping so. Fusing rock and rap together isn’t easy, but I know it can be done.”

“Well, good luck with it. I can’t wait to hear what you come up with. If it’s anything like Step Inside, I’m sure people will love it.”

“That’s the theory we’re operating under.”

“Anyway,” Celia said. “The reason I called: I just listened to the master from Brainwash.”

“Yeah?” he returned. “What did you think?”

“It’s wonderful,” she said, quite honestly. “All ten tracks are muy bien. Masterpieces of composition and engineering. Especially the first cut, the duet.”

“Together,” Jake said. “That’s going to be their breakout hit. That tune is going to put Brainwash on the map.”

“It’s got energy, power,” Celia agreed. “I found myself actually having an emotional reaction as I listened to it.”

“The Nerdlys outdid themselves on that cut,” he said. “Of course, they had good material to work with, but they polished the shit out of that one. I thought Jim and Steph were going to kill them for a little bit there—all those overdub repeats, all the re-takes, all the tweaks on the bridge section—but I got a call from Jim the other day after they all got their master copies. They are quite pleased with the end effort. He said it’s hard to believe they’re even listening to their own shit.”

“So, they’re happy with it then?”

“Ecstatic with it. They can’t wait to hear themselves on the radio, though they’re still thinking that something’s going to prevent that.”

“Why in the world would they think that at this point in the process?” she asked.

“They’ve been told for years they don’t have the right look for success,” he said. “I guess when you’ve been held down so many times you just don’t expect anything else.”

“Well, I can’t wait to show them they’re wrong. What’s the next step?”

“Pauline and I are going to meet with the suits over at Aristocrat on Monday. We’re going to give the master to them and ask them to contract with us for MD&P.”

“And you think they’ll do it?” she asked.

“I think they’ll do it,” he replied. “As my man Don Corleone likes to say: We’re going to make them an offer they can’t refuse.”

Los Angeles, California

October 17, 1994

Jake and Pauline were led into the meeting room on the top floor of the Aristocrat Records building as soon as they arrived. Both were dressed stylishly, but not formally. Jake wore a pair of slacks and a button up dress shirt without a tie. Pauline wore a blouse with a skirt, leather pumps, and no nylons. The suits they were meeting with—Joshua Flag, the head of the A&R department; Miles Crawford, the head of promotions; and James Rigger, the head of New Artist Development—were all wearing suits, of course. This did not make them look like stereotypical businessmen, however. Rigger had a gold stud in his left ear. Flag had hair longer than Jake’s. And Crawford, the oldest of the trio, had on a pair of dark sunglasses even though they were inside and the blinds had been closed.

“Welcome!” greeted Crawford, his phony, ass-kissing grin fixed firmly upon his face. He waved at the table where glasses of ice water and a small snack tray had been laid out. “Have a seat!”

Jake and Pauline took seats across from the suits. They then refused the offer of an alcoholic beverage and/or a few lines of premium cocaine. After that, they engaged in a few minutes of preliminaries, focusing heavily on the success of the Celia Valdez tour and the ongoing sales of both Celia’s and Jake’s albums. From there, they headed into a bit more delicate of a subject.

“I hear your wedding is coming up soon, Jake,” Crawford said.

Jake raised his eyebrows up a bit. God, how he hated dealing with these slimy rats on any level, but he really loathed when they tried to be personal with him. “Where did you hear that?” he asked.

“Oh, word gets around,” Crawford said, not offering any more than that.

“I guess it does,” Jake said sourly.

“I hear it’s to be in Hawaii?” Crawford said. “In early November, correct?”

“That’s right,” Jake confirmed.

“I haven’t received my invitation yet,” Crawford told him. “I’m not sure if I’m free on the date in question, but if I am, I’m always up for a little trip to the tropics.”

Jake stared at the man, fighting to keep his face neutral. Of all the fucking nerve! “I’m sorry, Crawford,” he said. “We’re only inviting friends and family to the wedding.”

Crawford’s grin slipped considerably. “I see,” he said slowly.

“Uh ... what Jake means to say,” Pauline quickly put in, “is that it’s to be a small ceremony, with limited seating, and Jake and Laura both prefer to keep business relationships separate from personal relationships. Right, Jake?”

“Right,” he said. “And speaking of business, how about we get to it? Anyone up for that?”

“Of course,” Crawford said, his little feelers quite obviously injured. Jake didn’t care. “What was it you wanted to talk about?”

“Are you already putting together your next albums?” asked Rigger.

“We have not started on our next albums as of yet,” Jake said. “But we will start on them soon. In the meantime, however, KVA Records has another project we’d like to discuss.”

“Another project?” asked Crawford. “What do you mean?”

Jake looked at him carefully. “Are you really saying you have no idea what I’m talking about?”

“I’m sure I do not,” Crawford assured him. “Should I?”

“I guess not,” Jake said. It seemed that Crawford and his boys did not keep their ears as close to the ground as they liked to imply. True, they had known about his upcoming wedding—had probably heard about it from one of the tour managers who had heard about it by overhearing Celia talk—but they had no idea that Jake and the Nerdlys had just spent the past four and a half months up in Oregon recording and mastering an album.