AT 29 (75 page)

McCabe put his fork down, picked up his napkin and wiped his mouth. “We've been through this before, Mike.”

“I get ten percent. In return, I push everything Blossom does now and everything that comes later. Remember, I'm syndicated across the country. Plus, I've got all my buddies in the boondock stations. Advance copies to all of them with a push from me, and it'll be gold everytime you put a record in the stores, even the ones that stink. You've seen what I can do.”

“You are the brashest guy I've ever met.”

“I'm a product of the business.”

“I won't give you a piece of my company, Mike. After that stunt you pulled the first time we met, I could never trust you.” Miles shook his head. “I like everything you've said, but it's out of the question. No partners.”

“So you'll stick with your boy Ellis even if the difference between him and me could mean millions?”

Miles sipped some water. “Your proposal has merit. I'd welcome your help with Jimmy's tour. Like you say, Ellis is a better fit for the others, but I won't give up any part of Blossom Records.”

Winfield sighed. “You know that detective you sent to talk to me?”

“I had to get you off my back.”

“That's when I realized you know how to handle things. Maybe I push too hard, but when it comes to the music business I know how to handle things, too.”

“I know you do, Mike.”

“Okay, so how do we make this work? Set the trust issue aside for a minute. I can still help you make more money, but I have to get something, too.”

“What do you think Jimmy's tour can bring in?”

“With Ellis doing the negotiations?”

“Don't be a wise guy.”

“Millions. Now, with me, you get the best venues in every city. I know all the ticket brokers so sellouts come well ahead of time. You're a businessman so you understand what that means for cash flow. I'm talking minimum crowds of five or ten thousand everywhere. Nothing comes out your pocket, either. The promoters foot the bill for hotels, food, transportation, set-up, security, everything. First class all the way.
Back and Blue
goes platinum days after the Grammy Awards come out, even if he loses. The
tour kicks sales up another million. With me pushing super hard, it goes triple platinum by the end of the year. Forget the singles sales of
Peg
. That's gravy.”

“How many shows?”

“Three or four a week.”

“Is that normal?”

“Not for super groups. They do one, maybe less. Buckman will be one of them when this is over, but now's the time to work him hard. He can rest a year from now then he can do another album and follow that with an even bigger world tour.”

Miles chewed some food, mulling Winfield's words. Living with Cindy had settled his nerves, he no longer worried that he'd bitten off more than he could chew. Finances remained tight, but he was managing. The holiday dip was a thing of the past. He hadn't missed a single bi-weekly payment to the bank. If sales continued strong he knew he could weather the storm until the Grammy Awards. That still left the tours, Jimmy's was the most important, but the other groups needed to be considered as well. Rebellion, with Kate getting increasing attention, was a sure headliner. This opened the door for the Blossom Presents strategy. Now, he had two acts that had the power to bring notice to the up and comers.

Nigel Whitehurst was the wild card.
Yarra
's quick leap to the charts came as a surprise. He still didn't know what to do with him. Certainly, he knew it was a good album, but he never expected it to meet with success so early. Putting him on the road with Rebellion had been the plan, but now Miles had second thoughts. With
Yarra
's sales it didn't look like Whitehurst would need the kind of exposure that touring with Rebellion could provide. MacGregor was ready. His album would come out just as soon as the label had the cash. Touring with Rebellion seemed to be a better fit for the Canadian. Whitehurst goes out with Weak Knees. That is, if the Riland brothers clean up their act. Then Jimmy could bring the kids along. It's just what Miles wanted, his whole stable on the road making money.

“What happens to your morning show at WAGZ?”

“That's why I have Loren. She anchors the studio, I call-in every morning from wherever the tour happens to be. Half the time I'll have one of your players on the line with me doing interviews. Maybe we get some fans involved, too. These are all details I can work out. Right now it's all a pipe dream if we can't work out a deal. Say twenty five percent of the ticket sales.”

Miles shook his head, laughing. “Two.”

“Twenty and I start tomorrow.”

“Five.”

“Done.”

“Of the tour ticket profits only. Not the gross or anything else. And, we don't settle up until the tour is finished and all receipts are tallied by my accountants.”

“You're making this hard.”

“That's the best I'll do.”

“All right.”

They finished their meals and walked to the car. Miles dropped Winfield at the station for the next NJ Transit train into Manhattan. Before getting out, Winfield reached into his pocket and handed Miles a small silver plastic disk. Miles took it and flipped it
from side to side, trying to determine what it was for. Finally, he looked at Winfield with a question on his face.

“It's a compact audio disc. Digital sound. These things are the future of the music business. You better think about dumping vinyl and cassettes because their days are numbered.”

“Who's behind this?”

“Sony over in Japan. All the big guys are getting onboard. If you want to be one of them you better look at your budget.”

“How soon?”

“Who knows, but it will come on fast. Oh, and the reason is the premium you can get. What're you getting now, ten or twelve dollars? These things will sell for eighteen and cost pennies to produce.”

It was the last best time of my life, the time when I was still innocent. Not virginesque, I'd been around - not naïve, either. Yet, as I look back, I recognize that I was still reaching for the dreams all young people expect from the future. I was less cynical then
.

- Alice Limoges

The Grammy Awards broadcast arrived sooner than anyone imagined. With rehearsals, interviews and style fittings the weeks flew by. Two days before the big night Jimmy waited impatiently at JKF for Les' plane to arrive. He was as nervous as a cat with thoughts flying through his brain about the show, his performance, his prospects of winning and most of all, the woman he loved. He was desperate to hold her in his arms.

She came through customs looking like a goddess. He catapulted forward, brushing past anyone in his path until she saw him and came running into his arms. For a long while he held her so tight that people standing nearby began to take notice. Then they kissed with all the intensity that weeks of separation demanded. In that moment he almost considered giving up everything just to have her near at all times. With her luggage safely stored in the Saab's trunk, they drove straight into Manhattan and spent the rest of the day and all night in his bed.

The next morning, while Les scoured the city for something appropriate to wear, he drove to Millburn for one last rehearsal. She was nervous, too. She recognized that she was out of her element. The trendy glamour of Manhattan was a challenge, now made frighteningly urgent because she was about to accompany a star to one of the world's premier events. She feared that she did not have the fashion sense. It gripped her nerves with panic as she hustled from store to store, poring over racks of dresses, afraid to ask for help. When Jimmy returned to the apartment in mid-afternoon, he found her sitting on the couch with her face in her hands. It didn't take long for him to realize that the combination of jet lag and a fruitless search had driven her beyond frustration. He briefly regretted their endless lovemaking from the moment she arrived. It would have been better to let her sleep, but she was complicit, too. He thought about taking her out to look together, but what did he know about women's fashion? He picked up the phone.

“I'll be over in thirty minutes,” Cindy replied.

They were gone for hours. Jimmy checked his watch constantly. When six p.m. came and went, he began to wonder what had become of them. He knew the department stores, even the chic boutiques closed at six. If they found nothing there would be precious little time for Les to continue her search the next day, a few short hours before the show was to air. At eight, he started to pace. He called Cindy's apartment every ten minutes, hitting her answering machine each time. When he could stand it no longer, he took the elevator to the lobby and walked out to the sidewalk, peering in both directions for any sign of them. After another hour he returned to the apartment and dialed Cindy's apartment again. No answer.

They came through the door at ten, arms filled with bags, boxes and one long dress bag. Les was laughing, completely relaxed. Her hair was different, too, cut and shaped in a way that made her look more elegant, more beautiful. Neither woman seemed to notice him as they chatted, laughing and sharing a private conversation as they passed
him standing in the center of the room, dropped their parcels and fell onto the couch. He wasn't used to this. He didn't exist.

“We need food,” Cindy announced, glancing his way for the first time. Les also looked his way, but with a sheepish grin, one that said she harbored a secret.

“It's too late to go out,” Jimmy answered, glad to have his presence acknowledged.

“What do you have in the kitchen?”

“The best I can do is omelets and toast.”

“Your on.” Cindy dismissed him with a wave of her hand, turning back to engage Les in another deep, witty conversation.

Over dinner he learned that Cindy skipped the stores and took Les straight to her favorite dressmaker off Fifth Ave.

“Nothing off the rack. She's too beautiful. Emory took one look at her and knew just what to do.” Jimmy looked at Les, who was glowing, but slightly embarrassed. Cindy kept on. “He fitted her and went right to work. Your date will be wearing an original creation and she's going to be the belle of the ball.”

“What did you do to your hair?” Jimmy asked, looking at Les and wondering if it was proper to ask.

Cindy responded first. “We needed to kill time while Emory did his thing. Les got a cut and shape a block away at Jerome's. He was so excited to have her that he went wild with a little color, too.”

Jimmy turned to Les. “It looks beautiful.”

“You better say that.” Cindy chuckled.

“It's true,” Jimmy answered, still studying Les' new look.

Les beamed. “Cindy made everything easy.”

Jimmy cracked a bottle of red wine. An odd combination with eggs and toast, but nobody cared. It went with the evening. A chance for all three to relax before things got hectic the next day.

After dinner Les retired to the bedroom while Cindy helped Jimmy with the dishes.

“She's a sweetheart,” she volunteered, without prompting. “Is this the real deal for you?”

Jimmy dried a dish, pondering the question. He looked at Cindy as she waited, a serious look on her face for the first time since the two women returned from shopping.

“If you're asking is it different, meaning you and me, the answer is yes.” He worried that his words might hurt.

Cindy read his mind. “I'm happy, Jimmy. Don't worry about how I might feel. I want you to be happy, too.”

“So what's going on with you and McCabe?”

“Same as you, I think. He's got some issues though.”

“Like what.”

“The age difference. He thinks he's embarrassing me.”

“Les has issues, too. The whole idea of me being in the spotlight makes her uncomfortable, like she doesn't to fit in.”

“I'll make sure she sits next to me tomorrow night. We'll keep her comfortable. Besides, she's just what I need. Down to earth. I'll have someone to talk to who doesn't have an agenda. Get ready though, she's going to get a lot of attention.”

He quietly opened the bedroom door before they went down to the lobby. Les was fast a sleep under the covers. On the sidewalk he hailed a taxi for Cindy. As it came to the curb she pressed his hand.

“It's all coming together,” she said, earnestly. “Funny, I thought you needed me to reach the next level, but it was only you finding yourself again.”

“In the hospital I thought my life was over. Now, it feels like its just beginning.”

***

The red carpet stretched for a hundred feet along 52nd street to the entrance of the CBS Building. The first notables began to arrive at four, emerging from limos mobbed by reporters and fans. The NYPD cordoned off the block, re-routing the normal late day traffic wide of 51st Street to the rear of the New York Hilton, the short-term home of many who came from out of town. Mike Winfield had a suite on the top floor. He hosted the contingent from Blossom Records, most gazing through the windows at the scene below, drinks in hand. Miles McCabe sat in a soft chair in the corner of the room, nursing a Jack Daniel's. He was unaccustomed to the swirling gaiety surrounding him. He spotted Cindy in the corner engrossed in conversation with Loren Phillips and another woman he did not recognize. Occasionally, they cast a glance his way, talking about him no doubt. It only served to make him more edgy.

Jimmy was already across the street with his band. Although he would not be performing for hours the producers wanted everyone on hand so sound checks could be run one last time before things got underway. Surprisingly, Jimmy was the one person Miles was not worried about. All concern for his star had left his thoughts after the tours in Australia and down the east coast. He had proven himself to be the professional Blossom Records needed. And, Miles concluded, he'd done as much for the label as Miles himself. In truth, the executive was starting to realize he had nothing to worry about. He'd weathered the financial constraints since December better than any of his projections had promised. The holiday dip was just that. A mere pause while the buying public caught its financial breath after the typical Christmas shopping binge. If tonight's broadcast bumped sales the way he expected, the next payment to the bank would be his last. He would be the sole owner of the company, debt free and ready to expand. Few, except the very largest labels, could say that. And, if he needed money to grow his credit worthiness was unblemished, also rare in the music business.