“Laura got one percent of Celia’s album and an eighth of a percent for mine,” Jake said. “Ted, Ben, and the mothers of Nerdly and I all got one percent of both albums. We’re prepared to offer you royalties, but you’re going to have to come down on the hourlies and work out your retirement and your healthcare on your own.”
“I’m listening,” Dexter said.
“Seventy-five an hour, you get Saturdays off, you get time and a half for anything over eight hours in a day, not including lunch, and you get one percent royalties on Celia’s album and a half percent on mine.”
Dexter thought that over for a moment. “One hundred an hour,” he countered. “Time and a half after eight, including lunch, two percent on Celia’s album and one percent on yours. Oh ... and I get the entirety of Pride Week off, with pay.”
They went back and forth a few more times, settling at last on eighty dollars an hour, time and a half after eight not including lunch, one and a half percent royalties on Celia’s album, three quarters of a percent on Jake’s, and he got all of Pride Week off without pay.
“Deal,” Dexter said, holding out his hand to Jake.
“Welcome aboard,” Jake said, shaking with him.
“I’ll get all this written up by the end of the session today,” Pauline said.
“You do that,” Dexter said. “And, once I have my lawyer look it over, we’ll be in business.”
Albany, New York
June 25, 1993
“Nervous?” Squiggle asked Laura, who was pacing in small circles around one of the equipment boxes.
“Yes,” she answered without hesitation. “Extremely.”
They were backstage in the historic Palace Theater in downtown Albany. More than three thousand fans of Bobby Z were out in the seats, waiting for the show to start. It was Laura’s first show. They had rehearsed up the set over and over again, including three straight run-throughs of full dress rehearsals over the past two days before leaving Pittsburgh, and she had performed well, without making any mistakes, but nonetheless, she was suffering from a considerable case of stage fright right now. This was Bobby Z she was playing with here! And she had never performed before so many people before. Back in her jazz band days in college, they had considered two hundred people to be a good crowd. There were more than three thousand out there now! Three thousand!
“You don’t need to worry at all,” Squiggle told her. “You’re gonna kick some ass out there, Teach.”
She smiled as she heard the nickname they had been calling her for the past week now. It had been Squiggle who had come up with it, of course. As Laura had played with and bonded with the group during their time in Pittsburgh, any and all attempts to come up with a suitable nickname that did not somehow involve a reference to her red hair had failed. It had been noticed, however, that whenever Laura introduced herself to someone, she did not say: “I’m a saxophone player”. Instead, she would say, “I’m a teacher who plays saxophone.” And so, one day, Squiggle just started calling her “Teach”. It caught on instantly and Laura was actually quite pleased with it.
“What if I mess up?” she asked Squiggle now.
“Then you mess up,” he told her. “You cover it the best you can and play on. We’ve all done that a time or two.”
“You have?”
“Of course,” Squiggle told her. “We’re human. We make mistakes. You just try to make as few as possible and learn to cover them up when you do make them.” He reached out and rubbed her shoulder companionably. “You’re gonna be fine, Teach. I’ve watched you play. You’ve got this.”
She smiled, actually feeling a little better from his words. “I got this,” she repeated.
“Damn straight,” he said. He looked up at the timer on the wall. “Three more minutes. Did you remember to pee?”
“I tried,” she said. “Nothing came out.”
He nodded. “It happens. I like your outfit, by the way.” She was wearing a thin green summer dress that fell to just above her knees. It clung to her curves alluringly and showed off her bare legs. Her feet were clad in a pair of Nike cross trainers with ankle socks.
“It was Z’s idea,” she said. “He thought having me look cute and feminine up on stage would make the audience bond with me a little more.”
He looked her up and down appreciably. “You’ve achieved that goal,” he told her. “You are incredibly cute.”
She blushed, feeling the warmth rise in her face. “Thanks,” she said. “It won’t stop the comparisons that are going to be made between me and Dexter Price, but maybe it will soften them.”
“It’s a good theory,” Squiggle allowed. “Come on, let’s start getting ourselves into position.”
“Right,” she said.
The entire group gathered near the stage left door as the timer continued to tick down. Z, who was dressed entirely in black, was at the center of the gathering. “We all ready to do this thing?” he asked them.
Everyone gave him a thumbs up.
“How about you, Teach?” he asked Laura. “Got the nerves under control?”
“As best I can,” she said.
“You’re gonna be fine,” he said.
“It’s time guys,” said Stan Jacobs, who was hovering just outside the circle of musicians.
“Let’s do it then,” said Z. “Have ‘em bring down the lights.”
Stan spoke into his portable radio and, a few seconds later, the house lights dimmed down. A cheer came up from the audience. It was nothing like the cheers that Jake had been accustomed to in the Intemperance days, not even in the smallest arenas they had played—smooth Jazz fans were both less numerous and more sedate in their enthusiasm than hard rock fans—but it was the loudest cheers Laura had ever heard on her behalf. She felt her heart rate kick up a few notches in her chest, felt the butterflies in her stomach start to flap around a little faster.
“Ladies and gentlemen of Albany, New York,” a disembodied voice announced over the speaker system. “Welcome to the main act of tonight’s show. I give you, Bobby Z and his band! Let’s hear it for them!”
The applause from the audience picked up in intensity. Some cheers and whistles accompanied it.
“Let’s go!” Z barked at them. With that, he walked through the door and out onto the stage. The moment he stepped out there, the stage lights came on. It was showtime.
Homer and Groove followed Z out the door. Laura took one more deep breath and then, after a glance at Squiggle, who was giving her a thumbs up, she went out after them. Squiggle and Sally stayed behind, since they were not needed in the first song of the set. Z was standing at the front of the stage, waving to the audience. Homer sat down behind the drum set and picked up a pair of sticks. Groove grabbed hold of his stand-up bass and pulled it into position. Laura walked to her microphone stand. Her alto sax, which one of the roadies had spent nearly an hour polishing after the sound check, sat in a holder at the foot of the stand. She picked it up, drawing strength and courage from the familiarity of it in her hands.
I can do this! she told herself. And not only can I do it, I can do it well!
Z left the front of the stage and sat down at his piano. He adjusted the positioning of his microphone the slightest bit and then said, “Well hello, Albany!” into it.
The crowd cheered louder.
“Thank you for coming out to see us tonight on our first show after the little dramatic hiatus we just went through. We’re going to start the show with a little something from the new album. It’s called Crying in the Dark. Let’s get it on, guys.”
Homer gave them a four count with his sticks and, just like that, they were playing. Laura put her mouth to her mouthpiece and began to blow, her fingers moving over her pads as she belted out the now-familiar primary melody into her microphone while Z accompanied her on the piano and sang, and Homer and Groove laid down the rhythm.