"That's a lot of money," Jake said with a whistle.
"It's considered a good investment in the business," Celia told him. "With the amount of special effects and cinematography coupled with that fact that Greg Oldfellow is the star, they're figuring to pull in close to $300 million during the first run and maybe another sixty or seventy million when it's released to home video."
"That does sound like an impressive profit margin," Jake agreed. "How much of that does Greg get to keep?"
"They paid him eleven million up front and he gets a percentage of the profits," she said. "He's very excited about the whole thing. It's all he's been talking about for months. He's convinced it will be the film of the decade, one of those films they're still watching in sixty years, like Gone With The Wind or The Wizard Of Oz. He's even got a place on the mantle all picked out for his Oscar."
"Well, if sheer money spent is any guarantee of success, I guess he's got it made in the shade," Jake said.
"That seems to be the angle they're shooting for," Celia said.
"Glad to hear things are working out in his career," Jake said. "What about the you and Greg thing? I haven't talked to you much since the wedding, but I remember you expressing some concerns."
"Yes," she said, a slight smile on her face. "That was right before I kissed you, wasn't it?"
Jake felt himself flush a little. Celia's kiss that night — the night before her wedding — was a powerful memory; one he did not allow himself to access too often for fear of spoiling it. "Yes," he said. "It was."
"I really shouldn't have done that," Celia said. "Not that I didn't enjoy it, mind you, but anyone could have walked out and seen us — including Greg or Helen."
"Well... we'd both had a bit to drink that night," Jake said.
Celia giggled. "Okay," she said. "We'll go with that as an excuse."
"Sounds good," Jake said, returning her laugh with one of his own.
"Anyway," Celia said. "Going back to your question, it seems like a lot of what I was worried about that night turned out to be pre-wedding nervousness on Greg's part. Once we were done with all the pomp and ceremony and made it to Scandinavia, we had a wonderful time. Since we've come home and picked up our lives, he's reverted mostly back to the man I fell in love with and agreed to marry."
"Mostly?" Jake asked.
She shrugged. "There's the whole learning to live together bit," she said. "Remember, we didn't 'live in sin' before we stood together on that alter. After we came home from the honeymoon was the first time we actually... you know... set up housekeeping together."
"So there are some quirks to iron out?"
"Just the normal stuff, I suppose. Leaving the toilet seat up or down, whether or not the toothpaste should be recapped after use, where we put towels after a shower, who gets to be the boss in the relationship."
"Who gets to be the boss, huh?" Jake said. "And what did you decide in that?"
"We're still working on that one," she said. "Vegas has the odds on Greg though."
Though she obviously meant for this to come out jokingly, Jake was able to hear an unmistakable undertone of bitterness in her tone. "He's pulling out the big guns, is he?"
She shrugged again. "It's not all that," she said. "Since he's the one with the income and I'm basically nothing but a high-class housewife, he's the one who makes all the financial decisions. I've conceded that point. Why shouldn't I? It's not like he's a nag about how much I spend or anything. Some of the other things he wants to take control of are what gets my butt in a pucker though."
"Like what?" Jake asked.
"Like my career," Celia said.
"That sounds kind of serious."
"Seriously maddening," she agreed. "He doesn't know much about the music business or music in general, yet he keeps trying to tell me what direction I should go when my La Diferencia contract expires next year."
"What direction?"
"Yes," she said. "He's had some of 'his people', as he calls them, looking into this 'whole music thing'. They've decided I should go country when it's time to start performing again."
"Country?" Jake said, appalled. Among those with actual musical talent and integrity, country music was considered pretty damn close to the bottom of the barrel in the musical hierarchy. Only Top 40 pop aimed at the teenage girl crowd was more notorious for being targeted to a specific demographic by using over-formulation of a lyrical and musical pattern. Most country lyrics these days were aimed at the conservative, blindly patriotic crowd and were written for the so-called artist by a small group of commercial songwriters.
"Yeah," Celia said. "Isn't that the most ridiculous thing you've ever heard? Celia Valdez doing country music." She shook her head a little, as if warding off the very thought. "Not only do I loath the very sound of country music, not only do my politics almost completely disagree with everything the genre represents, but I'm a freaking Venezuelan! I'm not from this country."
"It seems to me that would present a problem," Jake said.
"It presents a big problem," she said. "Greg and his managers and publicists are looking at it from a strictly commercial viewpoint. They want me to do what they think will make the most money. And since they have statistics showing that country music is undergoing a big surge in mainstream popularity, they want me to get in on it. They want me to compose songs about how great it is to live in America, how I've been embraced by the great arsenal of freedom and democracy. Don't get me wrong or anything. I love living here in the states, but this country has more than its share of problems and sleaziness. I can't compose songs about how I live in the greatest country on Earth when I don't believe that to be true."
"Did you tell Greg that?" Jake asked, knowing that Greg, like many Hollywood actors, was actually more than a little on the left-leaning side.
"I did," she said. "He told me it doesn't matter. He said I don't have to believe in all that crap, that I just need to write some songs that cater to the tastes of all those idiots who do. I've tried to explain to him that I can't write songs to specifically target a particular audience. I have to write songs from my heart."
"And what does he say to that?"
"He says I should try putting my heart into country music because that's where the big money will be over the next ten years."
"Very flexible of him," Jake said. "So what are you going to do?"
"I'm not going to do country, that's for damn sure," she said. "I'll allow myself to sink into musical obscurity before I do that. Greg just needs to realize that I will be the one to be in charge of my solo career, not him."
"That is why they call it a solo career," Jake agreed. "So you're really going to stick to your guns on this?"
"No worries there," she said. "I'll settle for Greg leaving the goddamn toilet seat up, but I will not compromise on my music."
"Good girl," Jake told her. "Your mother would be proud of you. My mother too, for that matter."
Celia laughed. "And speaking of solo careers," she said. "Is it starting to look like you might be pondering one as well? According to the gossip columns, you guys are beating the hell out of each other every time you're in the same room together."
Jake frowned a little. This was not exactly his favorite topic of conversation. "It's not quite as bad as that," he said. "There haven't been any actual physical fights. A couple of pushes and shoves, maybe, but nothing that qualifies as a punch has been thrown — yet."
"But the arguing and name-calling?"
"Yeah, that's been pretty bad," he admitted. "The composition process was very unpleasant, but we worked out somewhat of a solution."
"What kind of solution?"
He told her about how they had basically divided the space on the new album into two categories: Matt's songs and Jake's songs. Matt would assume all composition decisions for his songs and Jake would do the same for his.