“If you have me investigated, I will end you,” she threatened.
So much for my good idea.
◊◊◊
Caryn had booked me in first class to LA. For a flight that long, it was worth the extra money. My seat was in the last row, next to the window. I put in my earbuds, turned up the music, closed my eyes, and relaxed.
I started when someone touched my hand. The flight attendant leaned over, and I pulled out my earbuds so I could hear her.
“We’re about to take off,” she told me.
I put my seat back up and noticed a girl about my age was seated next to me. She looked totally out of place in first class. The girl had orange, green, blue, and purple streaks in her hair, and she looked like she’d just crawled out of bed. I glanced across the aisle and one row up, and there were three other girls who looked similar to the one next to me. They had to be together.
My view out the window showed we were taxiing to the runway. The girl next to me looked like she was going to be sick.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
She had wild eyes; that concerned me.
“I’ve never flown before.”
“It’ll be fine. I’ve done this a lot,” I reassured her.
It looked like we were third in line for takeoff.
“Why are you going to LA?” I asked to distract her.
“We’re going to sign with a record label,” she said and then leaned over me to peer out of the plane. “What’s taking so long?”
“Amy, settle down,” the girl on the aisle across from us said.
That girl was kind of hot in a messed-up way. She had this deep red hair that was obviously out of a bottle, but she had a cute face. The girl next to her had the blackest hair I’d ever seen. It was so black that when the light from the window hit it, you caught a glimpse of deep purple. Their bandmate one row up had pure white hair that reminded me of Suzanne.
Amy turned to me and latched onto my arm.
“Have you ever been on a flight that had problems?” she asked.
“Only when we didn’t go fast enough,” I said.
“We’re not going very fast now,” Amy whined.
Of course not. We were just moving into takeoff position.
“Yeah, at this speed we’ll never get off the ground,” I said.
“Hey, shut up. You’re freaking her out,” Red said.
That was when we began to accelerate down the runway. If I’d known how scared Amy really was, I would have never teased her. She let out a scream that about made me deaf. I grabbed her hand.
“Look at me,” I ordered her. “We’re fine.”
She took a deep breath, and our eyes locked. That was when we lifted off.
“Look out the window. We went fast enough,” I said and smiled at her.
Amy peeked out, then let out a long breath and began to shake. When we reached altitude, Red switched seats with her and the girl with black hair give her a pill. Whatever it was had her asleep in no time. They should have given that to her before she boarded the plane.
I put my earbuds back in, turned on my music, and settled in for a long flight. When the stewardess brought me a drink, I looked at Red, and she smiled at me.
“You seem familiar,” she said.
“I have a movie coming out. You might have seen an ad for Star Academy.”
“I’m Jett,” she said, offering her hand.
“David.”
“We’re going to LA to sign with a label,” she said.
“That’s what Amy said. What’s the name of your band?” I asked.
“That’s Not Toothpaste.”
I wrinkled my nose. Jett threw her hands up.
“It sucks, right? I told them that was a terrible name. I wanted to call us ‘Stop Laughing!’ but they don’t like it.”
“That’s not good either.”
She pulled out a crumpled piece of paper that had a list of band names on it. Most were terrible. Then I saw ‘Birthrite.’
“I like that one,” I said as I pointed at it.
“Birthrite’s not bad,” she admitted.
Jett told me that the girls in the band had met at a Catholic high school. The group had talked their parents into giving them a year to see if they could make a go of it. If they didn’t make it, they would go to college. Things hadn’t gone as expected, and the band had struggled. Then they’d played at an open-mic night at a local restaurant and were discovered by a talent scout. The next thing they knew, they were offered a trip to LA to sign a development deal. I noticed she didn’t say anything about making a CD.
“So, what do you get with a development deal?” I asked.
“What do you mean?” Jett asked.
“Are they going to have you cut a record and promote it? Or are they going to have you play at some bars to see what you can do?”
Jett looked concerned.
“I don’t really know,” Jett admitted.
I remembered what had happened to Eve Holliday when she made her first try at Nashville. She’d gotten tied into a shady manager who kept her doing bar gigs so he could make money. He never seemed to come up with a record deal. Honestly, the last thing I wanted to do was play the white knight and come to these girls’ rescue. After all, I didn’t even know them. But Jett’s eyes showed the same desire to make it that I’d seen in the eyes of my ‘Country Girl’ when she left for Nashville.
“Do you have an agent?” I asked. “Someone who knows the business and can advise you?”
“No. Do you think an agent would even talk to us? I thought that was what the record label would do,” Jett said.
I pulled my phone out and scrolled through my numbers. The only music agent I knew worked for Tom Dole.
“Take this number. This is an agent who represents a friend of mine. Her name is Angelina Hargrove; she goes by Angel. Give her my name and ask her to help you. At the very least she can look over your contract and explain what they’ll do for you,” I explained.
“Do you believe she can help us?”
“Angel used to find talent for Stone Mountain Records. She now represents talent, so she’d be someone you could talk to who knows both sides of the business, and she’ll give you good advice. You might even want to hire her to be your agent.”
Jett then wanted to know about me. I explained why I was going to LA. By the time we landed, we’d agreed that when they had their first gig, I’d come and hear them play. I gave her my number and honestly thought I would never see her again.
◊◊◊
Fritz found me at the baggage pickup area. I was embarrassed when we had to get a cart to get all my luggage to the car. Halle had packed for me, and I knew better than to reject anything she put into my garment bags or suitcases. She didn’t pack any of my athletic gear or anything for just goofing off. I ended up having to borrow my parents’ luggage to get everything I wanted to bring.
“I don’t believe Halle had this much,” Fritz said.
“Who do you think packed most of this?” I shot back.
We both recognized there was no sense in arguing about it. Fritz insisted on pushing the cart.
“David, we need to get something straight. While you are the guest of Rita James, I need to treat you as if you’re one of the family. I work for them. That means I’ll handle your bags, and when we get to the car, you’ll ride in the back seat. I realize you’re not used to that, but I must insist.”
When we found the car, a large Range Rover SUV, Fritz had me sit in the back while he loaded my luggage. I thought a Range Rover was an alternative to a Jeep. This was nothing like my Jeep. It looked like what I would expect a high-end luxury carmaker like Rolls Royce would put out. Then I remembered that this was Rita James’ car. If you were made of money, you would only want the best.
Fritz ignored me as we exited LAX and began our journey to where I’d be staying. I quietly took in the city I’d be living in for the next several weeks. This was certainly not where I grew up. Our destination was the hills that overlooked LA. When we pulled through the gates, I did a double take. This house looked familiar. When we stopped, I got out.