She-Rox: A Rock & Roll Novel (38 page)

“Hey Duff, I’ll see you later,” Slade said, and walking to the bar area found Todd and Lanni standing together, beers in hand, yakking with one of their many associates. Slade, using his trump card of highest grossing act for the label, interrupted the small gathering of distinguished men. “Women belly dancing to a wall of distortion—ya gotta love that.”

“Hey Slade, have you ever met Quentin Price from Polygroove?” Todd asked.

Slade gave an obligatory chin nod. He wasn’t the least bit interested in someone low on the food chain from Polygroove. More than likely, the guy was trying to get a fatter job if he was chatting up Lanni. That’s all anybody ever wanted from Lanni—more money and a title to match it.

Lanni clapped his hand on Slade’s shoulder and said, “Let’s take a walk.” He headed toward the big soundproof door, pulled it open, and paced slowly down the hall, Slade at his side. Getting out to the parking lot, Lanni got out a pack of cigarettes and offered Slade one, knowing he indulged now and again. As Slade took the smoke, Lanni said, “I need to smoke the peace pipe with you right now.”

His somber voice alarmed Slade. “Sure, what’s on your mind?”

Lanni pointed with his cigarette and said, “Those girls in there were pretty good this evening.”

“Not half bad, eh?-”

“I’ve never seen anything like it, and, well,” Lanni shrugged, “my wife, she saw them when they did the Troubadour and gave me her blessing to sign ‘em. She seems to think a little female action on the label would be a good thing. I’m not sold, yet.” Stopping to take a drag before he continued, Lanni conceded, “
But
, it could be a good thing – a very
lucrative
thing. However, I’ve got this other problem. I’ve got my top act wanting to take them on tour with his band, and the smarter side of me says, ‘
Slade on tour with all that leg? That’s like mixing alcohol with barbiturates . . . and nothing good ever comes of that.’

“
On the other hand, I want to keep my top talent happy and I know you don’t like Dame de Mentia. I don’t really like them either. They do okay with their crowd, but I’d rather put somebody else out on the road with you, as well.” Looking Slade in the eye, Lanni confessed, “Slade, I love you like a son. The bands I sign are my children. Celina and I don’t have any kids, mainly because I’ve done nothing but work in this business, but we both think of you as one of our own.”

Slade muttered, “You know I feel the same, Lanni.”

“Good,” Lanni piped before lowering his voice again. “I haven’t decided whether I want to sign this band, but if I
do
, I’ve gotta know you’re going to behave yourself, because here’s my real concern—
girls
, unlike men,
get pregnant
, and if I’m gonna plunk down a half million dollar contract on them—”

“C’mon Lanni, whoever said—”

“Slade, I gotta know the investment I dump into a bunch a broads is gonna sprout into a money tree, not a maternity ward, or else forget it.”

“All right,” Slade consented, adjusting his tone, “if we’re going to be open about this, then I’ll clue you in on where I stand.” He dropped the smoke and crushed it under his boot heel. “I’m not interested in these girls, save one. But
she
is involved with some guy going to med school and has given me a bit of a brush off.”

Hearing such a disclosure sent Lanni into a small fit of laughter, and coughing. He spit out, “I’m sorry—” cough, cough, “I just never—” cough, “that’s unbelievable—” He looked at Slade and marveled. “You got dissed by one of those chicks in there?”

“See, nothing to worry about,” Slade said.

“I don’t believe you.”

“However, that doesn’t mean they couldn’t get knocked up by some other sod, but it won’t be me.”

“Yeah,” Lanni said. “Just to make sure though, I’m gonna have legal put in some kind of clause.”

“You can do that?”

“It’s not for the girls . . . it’s for everybody else. Anybody caught fooling around with them will be immediately kicked off the tour and that includes roadies, band members, stylists, bus drivers—I don’t care who you are. If anyone messes with those girls, they will be fired immediately—
that I can do!
” Showing his resolve, Lanni said, “Even you, Slade. I won’t have it.” Lanni searched Slade’s face for any sign of backing out. “You still want ‘em?”

“I’ll bring Bebe on tour.”

“Excellent idea,” Lanni said. “Tell whoever’s representing those girls to call me tomorrow morning. Maybe we can work something out. I’m going home.”

As Lanni walked to his car, Slade went back inside where he found everyone crammed in the dressing room, holding up a glass of champagne.

Giving a congratulatory toast, Rachelle said, “Working with these girls has been a revelation. There have been times when they’ve completely amazed me with their abilities and I stood in awe. Other times I’ve wanted to bitch slap them into another time zone. However, I’d also like to recognize that the night went on without any sound glitches—we can thank Duff for that.” Applause went up for Duff, and Rachelle, finishing her toast, continued, “There weren’t any wardrobe malfunctions, broken strings, forgotten lyrics or cracked vocals. You sang like angels. Cheers, Katz!”

The people all cried, “Cheers,” as Slade made his way to Rachelle and said, “Lanni wants to talk numbers. Call him in the morning.” Rachelle emphatically nodded over the din. Slade turned away, wanting to congratulate Eddie, but didn’t see her anywhere. He left the small dressing room and found her bent in the main room. “I’ve been looking for you.”

Eddie shot up. “I’m just getting some programs to send back home to my parents. I want them to see my name in black and white.”

“Sit down, Eddie,” Slade ordered. He took the programs from her grasp, looked them over and said, “Hopefully, you’ll find your name on a lot more than just this program. It was a great show. The songs, the dancers, it was brilliant.”

“I’m not sure if we’ll even get a deal,” Eddie commented, staring off into space.

“Nobody is.”

The light seeped through the shutters of Eddie’s window. Sitting up, she stretched her arms, and remembered last night. It had been such a high. Arriving home late, she had found it impossible to sleep and had lain in bed with the reverberations of the amps ringing in her head. It wasn’t just magical, it was spellbinding.

But last night was over and done. Time to move on and that was exactly what they had to do—move. Rachelle had instructed the Katz to get their stuff out. Astral Agency didn’t want to pay for the huge room to house equipment.

She threw her covers off, glanced at the silver cat suit and wondered if she’d be putting it back on. At first, she hated the stupid outfit—thought it was stale and flagrant. But unzipping it last night, she viewed it with different eyes. It represented much more. It was her power outfit. The only reason to don it was a gig, and gigs were potent, dynamic events.

The Katz all left for the rehearsal hall together. It was after the noon hour and they still hadn’t received a phone call announcing a final deal, which meant negotiations were still being hammered out, or worse, neither party could agree on a number. Getting
any
deal wasn’t the desired result. The number was of supreme importance. If they were low-balled, Astral would simply pass. And if Astral passed, the Katz were done. Grey Tierney had had enough.

The girls saw that the stage construction crew had been in earlier and dismantled the stage, plummeting their moods further.

Eddie got to work unhooking all her cords and cables, winding them up and throwing them into a nylon bag.

The rest of the girls followed suit. Raven finally broke the silence. “We’re legit you guys.”

“We’ve got over a million hits on YouTube. Some signed acts don’t even have that,” reminded Ginger.

“Yeah,” Eddie groaned, “everything’s gonna be fine.” Unplugging the cord from her foot pedals, she considered going back to San Francisco. But going back home to her parents, back to her old room – it was admitting failure. She didn’t want to leave Los Angeles after getting her foot in the door. The rush she got from live playing was her drug of choice.

She stepped up on her keyboard riser and felt it sway under foot. When the set crew had torn down the silver caged bars, they had also cut into the wood construction of the riser, causing it to be completely unstable. Worried all the weight from her keyboards could cause the riser to collapse, Eddie moved cautiously to the corner to where her heaviest keyboard was set. She turned to Raven and complained, “Some idiot cut into this riser and I’ve got to somehow get my stuff—”

There was a clipped yell, followed by a loud crash. The riser caved into itself making Eddie fall backwards off the stage, landing on the concrete floor, her keyboard landing on top of her.

The others rushed down the stage and to her side. The fallen keyboard had found the right frontal lobe of her head, making a tiny stream of blood.

She was out.

Gretchen shook her shoulders. “
Eddie, Eddie. Wake up.”
She shook her harder.
“She’s out! Call nine-one-one, now!!”

“Oh no,”
Ginger gasped, her voice shaking.

“
Ginger, don’t get hysterical,”
Gretchen commanded.

Raven pulled her phone from her pants pocket and punched 911. An operator picked up. “This is nine-one-one. How may I help you?”

“
Ah, I have a friend, ah – someone just fell off a stage and she’s out cold
.
We think we might need an ambulance.”

“Is your friend unconscious?” the operator asked calmly.

“
Yes, I already told you she’s out!”
Raven spat.

“Is she breathing?”

“I don’t know.”
Raven panicked.
“Is she breathing?!”

“How do I know!”
screamed Gretchen.
“I don’t think so!”

“We don’t think so. Look, you just need to get an ambulance out here immediately, like now!”

“You’re going to have to tell me your exact location.”

“What’s the address here?”
Raven cried.

“I don’t know. We’re just off Fairfax in West Hollywood!”
Gretchen stressed, hoping that was enough.
“Ginger, grab that program over there on the floor! Ginger, get the program off the floor and hand it to Raven!!”

Ginger snagged the program, looked it over, then shouted, “
We’re at 4350 Ogden Drive in West Hollywood.”

“We’re sending an ambulance right now,” the operator said. “I’m going to stay on the line, until he gets there.”

Raven handed the phone to Ginger and ran to Eddie to check her breathing and listen for any sign of a heartbeat. She began to slap Eddie’s face. “
Eddie, wake up. C’mon, you can do it.”

“Is there anybody else we ought to be calling?” Gretchen asked, “her parents or something?”

Raven’s first response was to tell her to call Kai, but he was all the way in San Francisco, as were Eddie’s parents. That wouldn’t do any good. The only other person she could think of was Slade. “Call Slade,” she said

“
Like I know his number,
” Gretchen snapped.

“Get Eddie’s phone,” Raven ordered, “his number is probably in there.”

Gretchen snatched Eddie’s bag on the couch, stuck her hand in, and pulled out the phone. Slade’s number was indeed listed. She hit the send button and got Slade on the phone.

“Hey, Kitty Hendrix-”

“Slade, its Gretchen—there’s been an accident.” She swallowed. Her voice shook. “Eddie’s unconscious. She fell off the stage, and an ambulance is on its way.”

“What?!”
he yelped, his boots came off the desktop, dragging a pile of papers with them.
Where are you?!”

“
The rehearsal hall—”

He dropped his phone, raced out of his study, across the living room to the kitchen where he grabbed his keys off the counter, and out to the garage.

As Gretchen continued to watch Raven slap Eddie’s face, she could hear an ambulance in the background and silently prayed it was theirs. It was early afternoon in the middle of a weekday and if there was any good news, it was that Cedars-Sinai Hospital was less than two miles from the rehearsal hall and the late afternoon rush hour traffic hadn’t started yet.