"What the hell?" Jake muttered as he struggled to snap his trousers together at the waist. He had to pull the two ends of the fastener forcibly together in order to get them to meet. And, once they did, the waistband was uncomfortably restricting across his midsection.
He took a few deep breaths to make sure the snap wasn't going to actually break under the strain of normal respiration. It held. Still, he shook his head in consternation. "That's the last goddamn time I take my suits to Serenity Cleaners," he muttered. "How the fuck do you shrink someone's suit by dry cleaning it?"
He continued to dress, noting that his vest and his jacket didn't seem quite as loose as they'd once been either. He muttered a few more words about those goddamn incompetent dry cleaners, and then put on his dress shoes. His date for the evening — Pauline, since he was currently unattached — would be here in about ten minutes. He took the opportunity to enjoy a quick rum and coke and two quick cigarettes. His throat rasped a little harshly with the smoke — something that was happening with more and more frequency these days.
The doorbell rang and Elsa let Pauline in. His sister was dressed in a beautiful royal blue cocktail gown that showed off her cleavage and her legs. Her hair was freshly styled and her make-up was expertly applied. She even had a fresh manicure and pedicure.
"Damn, sis," Jake said when he saw her. "You're hot."
"Of course I am," she said with a smile.
Jake laughed. "And modest too," he added.
"Naturally," she said. She looked him up and down for a moment and her smile faded a bit. "Your tux is looking a little tight," she commented. "You gaining weight?"
"Gaining weight?" he asked, genuinely confused by this observation. He'd been within ten pounds of 180 ever since he was twenty years old. "I don't think so. Those assholes at the cleaners shrunk my tux though."
"Ahh," she said, nodding knowingly. "That explains it. You ready to go?"
"I'm ready," he confirmed.
They went out to the limo and climbed in the back. Jack immediately mixed up another rum and coke. He drank a third of it in one swallow before remembering his manners and asking Pauline if she wanted anything.
"Just a glass of that wine will do me," she said.
"One glass of wine, coming up."
The afternoon traffic was thick and the limo moved slowly through the streets of Los Angeles, heading for the Hollywood Hilton, where the premier was to take place.
"Thanks again for inviting me, Jake," Pauline said as she sipped her wine and puffed on one of Jake's cigarettes. "I've never been to a movie premier before."
"It'll be fun," Jake said. "Just like old times. Remember when you used to take me to the movies when I was a kid?"
"That was because Mom and Dad made me," she said. "It got us out of the house so they could smoke pot and boff each other on the living room couch."
"Okay," Jake said, wincing a little. "You really didn't have to go there, but I do consider those times to be a pleasant childhood memory, even if the house did smell a little funny whenever we got home."
"I used to meet my boyfriends there and ditch you," Pauline said. "We'd go sneak into an R-rated movie and leave you there watching Herbie Goes To Hollywood or some crap like that while we smoked pot and felt each other up."
"Oh... yeah, you did, didn't you?" Jake said. "But you're not doing that tonight, right?"
"No," she said. "And you're not either, right?"
"I have no plans in that direction," he assured her.
They laughed together, perhaps their first genuine outbursts of amusement since Darren's death and the turmoil that followed.
"So," Pauline said as they waited at the next red light, "how about talking a little business while we're waiting?"
"What kind of business?" Jake asked.
"Music kind of business, what else?" she asked. "I've got two offers to tell you about."
"Two offers for what?"
"For Jake Kingsley solo album contracts," she said. "What else?"
"Jesus," Jake said. "We've been broken up less than a month."
"Suitable time for grieving in Hollywood apparently," she said. "You wanna hear the offers?"
Jake sighed. "Why not?"
"Okay," she said. "The first is from Doolittle himself. He wants to keep you signed to National's label, naturally. He's offering — and this is just a starting point, mind you — a two option period contract with a five hundred thousand dollar advance per album. Royalties will be twenty-five percent. National pays all production and promotion costs. You have primary input on musical selections and they maintain their veto power with the same restrictions as your current contract. You maintain artistic license over video production. Tour costs will be fifty-fifty and you'll maintain artistic license over the tour content and production."
"That's not bad," Jake had to admit.
"Yeah, well, quite frankly, the Aristocrat Records offer is even better, at least on the face."
"Oh yeah?" he asked.
"Yeah," she said. "Their guy offered a three option period contract with a clean million in advance per album. You maintain complete artistic license over everything, including videos and tour content, and they have no veto power whatsoever. Royalty rate is thirty-one percent. They pay all promotion, production, and tour costs, including the band's... uh... entertainment expenses. You'll be booked first class all the way and the immediate band members will be flown from venue to venue instead of bussed."
Jake whistled. "Now that sounds pretty sweet. Is there a catch?"
"Kind of," Pauline said. "If you sign with National, they can remove you from your current contract immediately and get you right into production. If you decide to go with anyone else, you'll have to wait until November 15 before you can even sign a contract, let alone record a demo tape. Also, if you sign with National, they'll allow you to perform any Intemperance song that you wrote in any live concert. If you sign with anyone else, you'll be banned from performing any song that they own the rights to until roughly 2007."
"Ahh, I see," Jake said.
"Yes," Pauline said. "There are advantages and disadvantages to both propositions. Myself, I think you should consider re-signing with National, but only after extensive and aggressive negotiations on a new contract. We might have to give them another option period or two, but if this is there first offer, I have no doubt they'd be willing to at least match Aristocrat's first offer as a final."
"Sign on for four more years with National?" Jake asked with a wince. "Another four years of dealing with Crow and Doolittle?"
"But on your terms," Pauline said. "That's the beauty of a second contract negotiated with an established artist."
Jake took a long sip of his drink — so long that it was empty when the sip was over. He began to construct another one. "I don't know about all this," he said. "How do I even know that anyone wants to hear Jake Kingsley singing without Matt Tisdale on the guitar? Without Nerdly on the piano? Has anyone considered that?"
"You think they'd offer you a half million advance if they didn't have confidence the public would buy the album?" she asked.
"Their ability to predict what people will and won't buy is highly questionable," Jake said. "I know it and you know it. And it gets worse every year."
"True," she said. "But don't you have confidence in yourself, Jake? Don't you think you have what it takes to sell music without Matt and Nerdly helping you? Didn't you tell me that you kind of liked being able to make all the decisions on your music?"