"Why the hell not?" Jake asked.
"They're addicted to what they do, Jake," Pauline said. "They're afraid that if they push for more money that National will tell them to take a hike and they won't get to do it anymore."
"That's ridiculous," Jake said. "Even if National was dumb enough to do that — which they aren't — any other studio would pick them up in a minute. They could name their own price."
Pauline gave a knowing smile. "You ever try talking rational to an addict?" she asked. "They don't always look out for their own best interests."
Jake felt there was a little more to Pauline's observation than met the eye. As such, he quickly changed the subject to something else.
That something else was Coop, who was a happier story. He had joined up with former Earthstone bassist Mike Hamm, former Gold Rush guitarist Jerry Hawk, former Rhineland keyboardist Steve Carl, and former Destination vocalist Rob Wilkes to form a new band called — appropriately enough — Veteran. Pauline was their agent. They had put together a demo tape (engineered by none other than Nerdly and Sharon using their own home recording equipment) and had basically held a contract auction to see which label would offer the best contract.
"They did well for themselves," Pauline said. "I brought a copy of their demo tape if you want to hear it. It's good shit. Solid, complex music. Hawk and Wilkes are the lyricists and they know what sells. All five of them are the composers. This album is going to be big when it comes out."
"Who ended up signing them?" Jake asked.
"Aristocrat gave the best offer. Two option periods at thirty percent royalties with half a million advance and all tour costs covered. First class air travel to the venues, first class accommodations, limo service, and fifty percent of the merchandising."
"Wow," Jake said, impressed. "That's not bad at all."
"Coop is happy," Pauline said. "They're in the studio now, just starting the recording process."
And even Charlie was getting by in his post-Intemperance phase. Pauline told Jake that the suggestion to open one of his vegetarian restaurants in San Francisco had been right on the money. People in the city by the bay did not give a shit that Charlie had been caught having sex with a transvestite. In fact, many of them applauded it. So many, in fact, that Charlie decided to come out of the closet. A little more than a month ago, he publicly announced that he was gay. He was now openly living with one of the headwaiters at his place of business.
"I can't believe you missed that news, Jake," Pauline said. "It was in all the tabloids, on all of the channels."
"I've only been watching CNN," Jake said. "Mostly the war coverage. Whenever anything about celebrities comes on, I turn the TV off."
Pauline shook her head. "You turned yourself into an ostrich down here, didn't you?"
"Yeah," Jake had to agree. "Sometimes ostriches have the right idea."
Jake's dinner was up to its usual standards. He delicately brazed the filet mignons to a perfect medium rare on his barbeque and then served them with fresh artichokes, rice pilaf, and mushrooms sautéed in garlic, wine, and fresh butter. They drank a bottle of 1982 Napa Valley Merlot with the meal. When they were done eating, there was not a scrap of food left over.
"Your cooking has improved, Jake," Pauline complimented. "I mean, you were always pretty good at it, but you've gotten better since you've been here."
Jake shrugged. "It's mostly the ingredients," he said. "Everything I cook with is fresh. I've also had lots of time to experiment and practice. I like good food and I don't have Elsa here to make it for me."
"Elsa misses cooking for you, Jake," Pauline said. "She wanted me to tell you that."
"Yeah," Jake said. "I miss having her."
They sat in silence for a few moments. Jake drained the last remnants of his wine and wished that he had another glass. The two women exchanged a few glances with each other.
"All right," Jake finally said. "Let's get it over with. Why did the two of you fly halfway around the world uninvited? I'm assuming it has something to do with my finances since you're here, Jill."
They exchanged another series of looks, this set looking like a non-verbal argument over who had to speak first. It seemed like Jill lost this particular battle.
"Your finances do need some attention, Jake," she said.
"I see," Jake said. "Am I no longer filthy stinking rich?"
"You're still rich," she said. "I brought some paperwork that we can go over to..."
"I don't need to see any paperwork," Jake interrupted. "Just lay the facts on me."
"Well... okay," she said. "The fact is that you are currently spending more money than you're bringing in. If it keeps up, you will eventually run out of money."
"How eventually?" Jake asked.
This question seemed to anger Jill's accountant sensibilities. "Does that really matter, Jake?" she demanded. "I just told you that your finances are in a downward spiral. You are spending more money than you're taking in and you're eating away at your capital. The very fact that such a situation exists should scare you."
"Yes, it matters," Jake said. "If we're talking twenty years before the money is all gone than I don't have to worry all that much, do I? If we're talking six months, than I do have to worry."
"You have to worry no matter what!" Jill almost yelled. "This is your money we're talking about here! Your money!"
"Yes," Jake said. "The key word being 'my'. So how long?"
She sighed. "I don't have exact figures on me," she said. "Off the top of my head, I'd say that without a significant change in your spending habits, the cutting down of some of your monthly obligations, or a resurgence of future income, maybe five years."
"Five years, huh?" Jake said, pondering that. "That's not very long."
"Well I'm glad you're alarmed by that," Jill said, shaking her head in disgust.
"I was just asking for the facts," Jake said.
"Look, Jake," Pauline said. "The reason we came out here is to find out what you want to do about this. Whether you want to or not, you're going to have to make some decisions."
"I suppose," Jake allowed.
"Let me tell you where you stand," Jill said.
"Please do," Jake said.
"Your last album — Lines On The Map — did very well despite the break-up of the band right after its release."
"Or perhaps because of," Pauline put in.
"Perhaps," Jill said with a shrug of her own. To her, the why of the matter was irrelevant. "In any case, the album has gone quadruple platinum and has spawned four top ten singles. But that success has already gone well past its peak. The singles are still receiving lots of airplay but their sales have come and gone. The album itself is still in the top twenty on the chart, but it's not selling a hundred thousand copies a week anymore."
"So you're saying my next royalty check won't be as big as my last one," Jake said.
"Correct," Jill said. "Nor will any of the ensuing royalty checks if you don't put out some new music."
"They didn't want to record my new music," Jake said sourly. "Did we forget that part?"
"They didn't want to record the music that you wanted to play," Pauline said.
"Which is all they're going to get from me," Jake shot right back. "That, as you'll recall, is what led to the 'unbreakable impasse'."
"That's one of the points we're trying to make," Jill said. "You still have income coming in, and you will continue to for some time. All of your previous albums are still being sold and are collecting royalties. You're very fortunate that many people are replacing their vinyl copies of your earlier work with CDs. That alone has contributed to significant sales figures."
"But that money won't be enough?" Jake asked.
"That's right," Jill said. "Over the past three years, fully eighty percent of your revenue has been generated by new music releases. New releases cause your fans to buy the album in droves. It generates single sales of anywhere from three to five singles off each album. It also results in tour revenue — the most significant of which is the endorsement contract you hold with Gibson Guitars. If you don't put out new music, your income will fall by at least seventy-five percent and will continue to trickle down, quarter by quarter, until your checks are almost nothing."