She-Rox: A Rock & Roll Novel (20 page)

The shoot was proving to be very productive, both Milos and Max had smiles on their faces . . . and then Vince showed up. He was carrying three guitar cases and Ginger’s drum stick bag. He set them down on the deck and began opening the cases.

Coming up from behind, casting a shadow over Vince, Milos snarled, “What do you think you’re doing?”

Squinting and putting his hand up to shield the sun, Vince answered, “I brought the girls their guitars for the shoot.”

“I didn’t request any guitars for the shoot.”

“I don’t know if you noticed, but these girls are
a band
, which means they need their instruments for the pictures.”

“I’ll repeat myself one more time—
I
didn’t request any guitars for the shoot.”

“Did somebody all of a sudden die and leave you king or somethin’?” Vince slammed.

“
Excuse me?”

“I just fought two hours of L.A. traffic to and from the band room to get this stuff.”

“I’m the guy paying for this shoot, the house—the entire deal.”

Vince trumped, “And
that’s my band
out there.”

“That’s not your band, Vince. They don’t belong to you.”

“
Oh
, and I suppose they belong to you, ‘cause you’re a big shot magazine publisher from New York, then?”

Max had stopped his clicking and joined the Katz as they watched the mini clash of the titans unfold before their eyes.

“
What did you say to me
?” Milos simmered.

“You heard me.”

Milos didn't want to get into a shoving match. He ordered, “
Get this guy off my set
!” as if some bodyguard would magically appear and haul Vince away like trash to a dumpster.

“I’m not going anywhere,
pal,”
Vince said. “Not without my girls I’m not. If I leave,
they leave
. They’re under contract with Astral Agency and can’t so much as bat their eyelashes unless I say so.” He stepped off the deck and headed over to the girls. “
Get dressed! We’re leaving!
”

The command caused blustering among the Katz as Vince made quick strides to the tent and came back out with an armload of clothes. Dumping them at their feet, he again commanded, “
Put these on, now
!”

The girls didn’t budge. Max pointed his lens and covertly pressed the button on his camera, stealing a few shots here, catching the authenticity and proof (should there be a fist fight) of the moment there.

Raven was first to make a move. In her shimmering orange bikini and five inch heels, she walked over, bent down, picked up the clothes with one quick sweep of her arms and hauled them back to the tent. Throwing them back inside, she returned, her heels clicking out a message of righteous indignation as Max shuttered his camera furiously, getting the caramel-skinned goddess in all her frustration and glory. Standing back in the spot where Max had placed her, she smiled sweetly and told Vince, “We’re not going anywhere.” Glancing to the others, she purred, “Right?”

Stepping back into position, Ginger agreed, “Right.”

Not afraid anymore, Eddie acquiesced, “Right.”

It was Gretchen’s turn. She wanted to join them, but the fury in Vince’s eyes told her there’d be hell to pay.

“
Gretchen,”
hissed Raven, “get over here.”

Gretchen looked at the man she’d been carrying on a relationship with and giving him a weak smile, said, “Sorry, Vince” and took her place next to Raven.

The shoot resumed its previous pace.

Vince turned to storm off the grounds, but stopping in his tracks, he then turned and yelled, “THIS AIN’T OVER, GRETCHEN! NOT BY A LONG SHOT!! THAT GOES FOR THE REST OF YOU AS WELL! YOU ARE ALL UNDER BREACH OF CONTRACT, AND WHEN YOU GET BACK TO THE HOUSE YOU’RE ALL GONNA BE BUSY PACKING!!”

Continuing his stomp off the grounds, a wild slam from the wrought iron gates was heard rattling the trees, followed by the sound of squealing rubber tires as Vince barreled down the hill, disturbing the tranquility of La Punta Drive, sending the guard dogs next door barking at full tilt.

Quietly changing in the tent, Gretchen knew Vince would make good on his threat. A big, fat tear of remorse came running down her perfect face as she envisioned a filthy Greyhound bus back to Nebraska.

Ginger stepped inside the tent and seeing the sorrow on her sister’s face, she lightly asked, “You ready to go?”

“Ginger, can you
please
tell me what just happened out there?”

“You were being Gretchen,” she said. “I’ve been expecting something like this for months now.”

“Vince has the Grammy,” Gretchen whispered.

“
Shut up!”

“Ssshhh, I don’t want the others to hear. When we were gone over Christmas, he came in and found it. Tore the place apart and then hired a cleaning lady to put everything back together.”

“How did he even know you
had
it?”

“He got a phone call from Todd a while back. After that Entertainment Today interview, he suspected us of taking it. We were the last appointment he had in his office that day. It was between us and a couple employees, but he was pretty sure it was us. He called Vince and asked him to look around for it—said he was tired of all the publicity. He also told Vince that coughing up twenty grand for the booty on his Grammy was going to put him in a really bad mood, hint, hint.”

“Hint, hint, what?” Raven and Eddie stepped in.

The volume began to grow in the small tent, going from discussion to out-and-out bickering. Milos was ready to leave. “Hey, girls—” Getting no response, he raised his voice over the fighting. “Ginger, the limo’s waiting!”

The hysteria halted and a flap whipped open. Sticking her head out, Ginger ordered, “Hang on, just a sec
.”

“What’s going on in there?” he asked, irritated.

Ginger once again flipped back open the canvas doorway and pleaded, “We’re sort of having a meeting. I’ll be out in a minute.”

Milos charged in and demanded, “What the hell’s going on?” Noting Gretchen’s red eyes, he surmised the tears were for Vince the Idiot. In a manly, yet gentle tone, he said, “Aw, honey, that guy, he’s such a loser. You aren’t going to need him around anymore. There are much better, smarter men out there in the world for you.”

Raven corrected, “This isn’t about Vince.”

“Please tell me it’s not drugs.”

All four answered, “It’s not drugs.”

“Then, tell me, what could possibly be
so bad?
It’s a beautiful sunny day. You’re going to be all over the world next month.”

The girls all eyed each other.

“Mr. Ballantine,” Raven asked, “Have you been watching the news lately or listening to the radio?”

“Hey, I’m a business man—I
am
news.”

“Heard anything about a missing Grammy?”

“R-a-v-e-n?”
Gretchen cried.

“Raven what? We can’t keep doing this,” she soberly advised.

The dark eyes of Milos became very wide as his finger scratched the back of his neck. “
What
—
you know where it is?”
he pressed.
The conversation took a long pause. “Aw, c’mon ladies, if you know something about the Grammy story you gotta spill it. The whole country is looking for it.” He continued to stare down Raven.

“We do,” she finally answered.

“You do what?”

“We know where it is.”

“
And?”

“Well, actually the truth is we used to know, but it was stolen from us.”

“You know what I would really like?” Milos pleaded, “If I could get out of this hot tent, and you could tell me the straight story. Could we do that? “

“We can’t. They’re people outside, and I don’t want them to hear,” Gretchen panicked.

“Those people out there, they work for me and their loyalty lies with me.”

“Sorry, that’s not good enough.”

Getting out of the tent, Milos clapped his hands together three times and ordered, “Everybody, listen up! Take all this stuff down to the vans and get
it
and yourselves out of here. I need the pool area completely cleared, pronto!”

The power Milos had in clapping his hands together was remarkable. His minions were gone in two minutes, leaving the girls and Milos alone.

All seated on the decadent deck chairs, Milos said, “Okay, let’s have it.”

Raven looked to Gretchen and said, “This is your story, you tell him.”

Gretchen gave Milos the whole epic narration. He couldn’t have been more entertained if he was in Atlantic City with a showgirl on his lap. When she got to the part about Vince stealing back the Grammy, Milos cut in. “Are you telling me that that
idiot of a manager
now has the Grammy
in his possession
?”

“Yeah,” Gretchen confessed, coming full circle.

A smile of almost giddy proportions, spread across Milos’ superb lips, “Oh, this is beautiful. This couldn’t be more perfect if I planned it myself. Its genius!” he quipped, getting up out of his seat.

“What are you talking about?” Gretchen asked, expecting an irate pissing fest at the very least.

“Hang on a second,” he ordered, flipping open his cell. “Yeah, Phyllis, this is really important and I want you to do it right after we hang up. Go tell Marco to put the cover on hold. I have a new one. Oh, and have Clay call me the second you see him. Yeah, thanks.” He closed his phone. “I’m putting you girls on the cover. I was only planning a small feature article, but if you can swear to me that nobody else knows about this, then, I would
love
—
I would die
to have the exclusive story on the Grammy.”

Gretchen, confused, argued, “Didn’t you hear me, I told you that I don’t have it anymore. Vince took it back and he’s totally blackmailing—”

“Don’t you even worry about that—I’m going to get it back for you.”

The Katz contended, “
We don’t want it back.”

“Oh, yes you do. We are going to get it back so you can be pictured on the cover with it. This will be the big Grammy exclusive everybody is begging for, only we’ve got it and we’re gonna splash it in big bold letters across the front of Exposure.”

Still fighting his wishes, they cried, “We’ll be blackballed in this entire town. Nobody will ever sign us. We can forget free stuff.”

“Are you kidding me? Nobody in their right mind is going to dump this golden opportunity,
especially
when the reward money goes to charity. Hell, I’ll put the reward up myself.” Smiling into Ginger’s eyes and touching her little nose, he said, “You’re going to be
famous
, very, very famous and all your little friends are going to want to be
you.
But like I said, in order for this story to be authenticated, we’ve got to have the Grammy.
”

While Ginger squealed with indulgent laughter, Gretchen was far more guarded. She had heard the “I’ll make you famous” pick up line many times. “You think Vince is going to just hand it over?” she questioned.

With the kind of bravado that could only be found in the entertainment industry, Milos stated, “Oh, that’s the easy part. If he doesn’t give it back, he’ll never work in this town again. I, personally, will make sure of it. Not only will he not have a job, he won’t have a life.”

Eddie had remained silent, up until now. She didn’t trust this Milos. “You can’t do this. We’ll be out in the cold. With all due respect, Mr. Ballantine, when we get back down off this hill, our stuff will probably be out on the front lawn with the door locks changed. I’m not sure if I want to have you using what we have left of a career to sell magazine covers.”

Clasping his hands together, Milos motioned to Eddie and swore, “Tell you what . . . I promise that if you get home and you’re locked out, I’ll pay to put you up in The Four Seasons myself. However, I’m pretty sure that your manager’s blowing smoke and wouldn’t dare kick you out. No manager strangles the golden goose, but with this guy—”

“How can you be so sure?” Raven shot.

“Were you not here today? You girls are going to be the toast of Hollywood when Exposure gets through with you.
But,
I’m going to need all of you to trust me and give me the next twenty-four hours. If you can do that, then I can make everything right.”