“Thanks,” Jake said. “The reason I called is...”
“That was you playing the lead guitar on both albums, wasn’t it?” Charlie interrupted.
“Uh ... yeah, it was,” Jake confirmed. “Although I’d appreciate it if you kept that information kind of tight.”
“No problem,” Charlie said. “I understand completely ... or ... actually, I don’t understand, but I’ll keep it close. I knew it was you though the first time I heard them play Celia’s hard rocker on the radio. You have a distinctive sound.”
“And you have a good ear, apparently,” Jake said. “Tell me, Charlie, are you still playing the bass?”
“Well, I’m not in a band or anything, but I still play around with it quite a bit. Don’t want to lose the calluses on my fingers, right?”
“Right,” Jake said, smiling as he heard this.
“I usually pull it out and plug in when Malcolm and I get stoned. He likes to hear me play when he’s high. Of course, one thing usually leads to another, and then we’ll start...”
“Uh ... I get the idea,” Jake cut in before too much of a mental picture could form. “Anyway, Celia and I have been using the bassist and the drummer from our last album to put our tunes together...”
“They’re not bad,” Charlie said. “Not as good as Coop and I, of course, but they put down some good tracks for you.”
“Yes ... they did,” Jake said. “The problem is that they both have other jobs they’re committed to and they also have a band they put together. Neither one of them will be able to play for us when we hit the studio.”
“No shit?” Charlie asked. “That’s too bad.”
“Yeah, so ... that’s kind of why I called you. I wanted to see if maybe you’d consider helping us out.”
“Helping you out?” he asked.
“Uh ... yeah,” Jake said. “You know? We need someone to play bass for us.”
“And you want some recommendations from me?” Charlie asked. “I don’t know that I’ll be all that useful for that. I don’t know any musicians up here at all.”
“Uh ... no, I don’t want recommendations,” Jake said. “I was kind of hoping that maybe you might play with us.”
“Me?” he asked, genuinely surprised. “You’re asking me to play bass for you?”
“That’s right,” Jake said. “We’re trying to recruit Coop to play the drums as well.”
“Coop too? No shit?”
“No shit,” Jake said. “Coop’s situation is a little more complex than yours. We haven’t quite nailed him down just yet. Whether he can do it or not though, we’d still really like to have you putting down the rhythm for us.”
“Wow,” Charlie said. “This is all kind of overwhelming. I didn’t think I’d ever play professionally again. Would I have to come down to LA?”
“You would,” Jake said. “We have a studio in Santa Clarita that we rehearse in. After we get you and the drummer up to speed with two albums worth of tunes, we’ll head up to Coos Bay, Oregon to record.”
“Hmmm,” Charlie said. “Where would I stay?”
“In Oregon we all stay in a big house on the ocean. I’ve already reserved it for the time we’ll be there. In LA ... well ... I don’t know. My parents are staying in my house and Nerdly’s parents are staying in his. We’ll find something for you though. Maybe you could stay with Pauline. If she’s not cool with that, we’ll rent you an apartment.”
“This all sounds like fun,” he said. “Would you pay me?”
“Of course we would pay you,” Jake said. “We’ll give you royalties on the albums as well.”
“How much are we talking about?”
“We paid Ben and Ted fifty an hour plus one percent royalties on each of the albums. For you, I’d say we could go seventy-five an hour plus those one percent royalties and your room and board will be covered.”
“Not bad,” Charlie said. “That beats the hell out of what National was paying me for doing sessions. Are you sure my reputation won’t drag you down?”
“Are you talking about the fact that you’re gay or the whole transvestite thing?” Jake asked.
“Both, really,” Charlie said. “I still kind of embarrassed about the tranny thing. I really didn’t know that was a dude.”
“Shit happens, I guess,” Jake said carefully. “In any case, we still went out on tour with you after that happened, remember? People still bought tickets to see us and they still bought the album.”
“They threw men’s underwear at me up on the stage,” Charlie reminded him.
“Uh ... yeah, that was a bit uncalled for, I’ll agree, but we’re not going to be touring, just rehearsing and recording. No one will throw underwear at you. I promise.”
“You promise?” Charlie asked. “Because if there is any one article of clothing that is infested with E. coli germs, it is underwear. Do you know what E. coli does when it gets a foothold in someone’s body?”
“I imagine it’s pretty unpleasant,” Jake said. “And yes, I promise that no one will throw underwear or any other articles of clothing at you while you are in the employ of KVA Records.”
“You’ll put that in writing?”
“We will put it in writing,” Jake assured him.
“All right,” Charlie said. “I guess I’m in. When should I head down there?”
Coop was agreeable to joining the project as well, though he did express some concerns about playing with Charlie again.
“The dude is a freak,” Coop told Jake on the phone. “I don’t care that he likes to suck dicks, as long as he doesn’t try to suck mine, it’s all the other shit about him. The fucking tapeworm shit, the wiping down of everything with disinfectant wipes, the fucking handwashing all the time. Does he still do all that shit?”
“I have no reason to think that he does not,” Jake said.
Coop sighed. “Man,” he said, “that ain’t the way the world is supposed to work.”
“It is not,” Jake agreed.
“It does sound kind of bitchin’ to get everyone back together again—except for Matt, that is.”
“Yeah, except for Matt,” Jake said. “Do you think you’re interested, Coop? We could really use your help.”
“All right,” he said. “I’m in, as long as Pauline can get those tight-asses over at Aristocrat to release me. They were pretty pissed off when I resigned though. They might just say no for the fuck of it.”
“I’ll have Pauline get in touch with them today,” Jake said.
Pauline did get in touch with them and they rejected her offer out of hand initially. It was kind of a knee-jerk reaction, she told Jake. She said she would call them back after they’d had time to think it over a bit.
She was correct. The next day the Aristocrats suits allowed that they just might be able to release Mr. Cooper from his contract if KVA Records would commit to signing up for MD&P with Aristocrat for both upcoming albums and lock in a forty-five percent royalty rate, the right of promotional management, and the standard rates for manufacturing and distribution.
“You guys must be smoking the good shit,” Pauline countered. “We will commence bargaining in good faith immediately or the offer is off the table.”
“Then you wouldn’t get to have Mr. Cooper play drums for you,” was the response.
“That would be a shame,” Pauline said, “but not an insurmountable obstacle. We would simply find another drummer somewhere. I’m sure either National or Blake Studios has someone they can recommend to us. And if you do not release Coop from his contract, we will not accept a bid from Aristocrat for MD&P of the albums no matter what rate you offered.”
“That’s not how competitive bidding works, Pauline,” she was told.
“No, but it’s how we work,” she said. “I think I’m offering fair terms here. You release Coop and we will sign with you provided you match the lowest bid from the other competitors. We will pay standard rate for manufacturing and distribution. All promotional decisions will originate with KVA Records and will be followed. That’s the gist of the deal. Take it or leave it.”