“That might just be crazy enough to work,” said Sharon.
“Now hold on a second,” Pauline suddenly cut in. “Far be it from me to piss in anyone’s bongwater, but there might be a few snags with this idea.”
“Coop’s contract?” Jake asked.
“That’s right,” she said. “He is still tied down to the Veteran contract with Aristocrat Records. Unless they release him from it, he cannot perform live or in a recording for another three years.”
“Then get them to release him,” Jake said.
“Oh ... of course,” she said with a roll of the eyes. “Why didn’t I think of that? I’ll just call up the suits over at Aristocrat and ask them to release a touring caliber drummer from contract so that we can use him to make money for ourselves. I’m sure they’ll be all over that shit.”
“I think maybe they will be if you sweeten the pot for them a bit,” Jake said.
“What do you mean?”
“Imply that maybe we’ll use them for MD&P on the next albums if they play ball with Coop’s contract.”
She shook her head. “I’m afraid that a mere implication would not fly. They would want an agreement in writing before they even considered such a thing. And if we give them an agreement in writing, they’ll have a royalty rate locked down before we even have a chance to negotiate with Obie and the other labels.”
“It certainly would not behoove us to lock down a fixed rate without exploring the offers from the other labels,” Nerdly said.
“No, it really wouldn’t,” Jake had to admit.
“However...” Pauline said.
“However what?” Jake asked.
“Maybe if I gave them an agreement that we’ll go with them for MD&P if they match the lowest offer given by the other labels ... that might convince them.”
Jake thought this through for a moment. “So ... you’re saying that we still have all the labels bid for MD&P, but we sign a contract with Aristocrat guaranteeing that we go with them as long as they match the lowest bid?”
“Right,” she said. “That way, we get to have our cake and eat it too.”
“That will pretty much depth charge Obie, won’t it?” Jake asked.
“Pretty much,” she said, her hand rubbing her belly, where the barest beginning of a baby bulge was now present. “He understands this shit though. He’s a businessman.”
“You’re sure on this?” asked Celia. “I’d hate to have this issue screw up our studio time.”
“Can’t happen,” Pauline said. “We’ve already negotiated a deal and signed a contract for that studio time. It’s written in stone now.”
“Okay,” Celia said. “I guess it’s worth a shot. What about Charlie now? Any issues with him?”
“Other than the fact that he’s about the strangest motherfucker you’ll ever meet in your life,” Jake said, “there should be no issues. I would think he’d be happy to get back in the game.”
“I’ve only met him once,” Celia said, “but I’ve heard the tales of him. Germ phobias, OCD, pathological fear of parasitic worms.”
“Yes,” Nerdly said. “He certainly has a host of psychological issues and bizarre idiosyncratic behaviors that border on clinical psychosis.”
“All true,” Jake said, “but he’s the best goddamn bass player I’ve ever heard outside of Geddy Lee, and the best I’ve ever played with.”
“Is he still living in San Francisco?” asked Sharon.
“The last I heard, yes,” Jake said. “He has two of his vegetarian restaurants up and running in the bay area—one in the city and one in Menlo Park. I believe that he’s living with the manager of one of them.”
“A male manager, I’m assuming?” asked Celia.
“Yes,” Jake said. “He came out as gay shortly after moving up north. Is that a problem for anyone?”
“I’d keep him and Obie apart,” suggested Pauline, “but being gay is actually the least bizarre of his personality traits.”
“True that,” Jake said. “Anyone else?”
Celia was shaking her head. “We all work with Phil and Dexter and we’ve never had a problem with them.”
“Correct,” said Nerdly. “Where a man chooses to insert his phallus is his own business as long as he is doing no harm to anyone else.”
“And we’ve all seen Charlie’s phallus out on tour,” Jake said. “I don’t think he’s going to be hurting anyone with that thing.”
“Okay,” Pauline said. “That was a little factoid I most certainly did not need to hear.”
“I concur,” said Sharon.
“Third the motion,” said Celia. “No more discussion about Charlie’s phallus.”
Jake chuckled a little. “Fair enough,” he said. “But are we in agreement that we give him a call and see if he’s interested?”
“You give him a call, Jake,” Pauline said. “And after that, give Coop a call as well. This is your idea, after all.”
Jake made the phone call to Charlie that night, after he returned home from rehearsal. He mixed himself a tall rum and coke and drank half of it while he searched through his old address book for Charlie’s last known phone number. He finally found it, not under the C’s for Charlie, or the M’s for Meyer, but in the F’s, for Freakboy, the name that Matt had dubbed him with shortly after making his acquaintance.
Feeling a little ashamed for classifying him in such a manner, Jake took another large drink of his rum, considered for a moment, and then slammed down the last of it. He got up and mixed up another one, this one a little heavier on the rum. If one had to talk to Charlie, it was best if one had a little alcohol buzz in one’s corner.
He sat back down at the desk and picked up the phone. He dialed the San Francisco area code and then the number. The phone started to ring. It was picked up after three rings and he was listening to an answering machine message.
“Hi!” chirped a lisping, effeminate voice. “This is Malcolm Stone!”
“And this,” said a second, more familiar voice, “is Charlie Meyer.”
“We can’t come to the phone right now,” they said in unison. “But if you leave your name and number, we’ll get back to you just as soon as we possibly can!”
“TTFN!” chirped Malcom’s voice.
Well, at least I know this is the right number, Jake thought, feeling a little nauseated at the content of the message.
The beep came and Jake began to speak. “Hey, Charlie, Jake Kingsley here. Hope things are going well for you up there in the bay area. The reason I called is I wanted to touch bases with you about a little project...”
There was a click, a whine of feedback, and then Charlie’s live voice was suddenly in his ear. “Jake!” he said excitedly. “Is that really you?”
“It’s really me,” Jake said.
“It’s good to hear from you, Jake!” Charlie said, sincerity in his tone. “I’m sorry I didn’t answer right away. We screen our calls, you know.”
“I understand,” Jake said. “How are you doing? Things going well?”
“They’re going fabulous,” Charlie told him. “The restaurants are popular and we’re looking into the possibility of opening a third one somewhere in the north bay.”
“That’s good news indeed. It would seem, based on your answering machine message, that you and Malcolm are still together.”
“We are,” Charlie said. “He is my life partner. We’re hoping someday to adopt a child or maybe have a surrogate carry one for us.”
“Uh ... yeah, cool,” Jake said slowly, shuddering a little at the thought of Charlie raising a child. It wasn’t that he was gay, it was that he was ... well ... weird. “Anyway, the reason I called is that Celia Valdez and I are putting together our next albums over the next few months. We hit the recording studio in October.”
“That’s awesome,” Charlie said. “I own the CDs of your last albums. Good shit, man! Both of them.”