Reporters mobbed him on Wednesday afternoon when he arrived at the National Records building for a meeting called by Steve Crow. They shoved microphones in his face, snapped pictures of him, and demanded over and over that he tell them how many times he'd hit her, if he had ever tried to contact after throwing her in the river, if his high-priced lawyers were the reason he was never arrested for the offense.
"No comment," he said, over and over as he linebacked his way through the crowd and into the building.
By the time he made it into Crow's office on the twelfth floor he was fuming and wishing for a drink. He glared at Crow as he walked in, his eyes shooting daggers at the A&R rep.
"Are you okay, Jake?" Crow asked, a bit nervously.
"How in the hell did those reporters know I was going to be showing up for a meeting here today?" he asked. "Did you tell them?"
Crow managed to do a credible job of looking surprised. "Reporters?" he asked. "Are there reporters downstairs? I have no idea who might've told them."
"Yeah right," Jake said, knowing that arguing the point with Crow would be a waste of time. "You got any beer in this place?"
"Uh... sure," said Crow, who knew that Jake, as well as the rest of the band, typically eschewed any form of intoxicating substances when they were in a meeting with the record company. He rang his secretary and told her to bring a Corona with a lime for Mr. Kingsley.
Jake drank it down while Matt, Bill, and Pauline came into the office one by one. All of them eyed the bottle in Jake's hand but said nothing. All of them had been subjected to reporter mobbing when they'd arrived as well. Crow offered the rest of them drinks and cocaine. All turned him down. Jake declined the offer of a second beer. That would have to wait for the limo drive back to his house.
"So what the fuck, Steve?" Matt asked when the meeting was called to order. "You made us burn a jam session so we could come meet with you. What's got your cock ring on so tight this time?"
Crow blinked a little. He was still not quite used to Matt's unique method of terming things. "Actually," he said, "I brought you here to share some good news with you. I've talked to Mr. Doolittle at length over the past few days and we've finally decided to grant one of the song requests you've been pushing so hard for ever since your first album."
"Oh?" said Jake. "And what might that be?"
"We want you to record It's In The Book for the next album. In fact, we strongly recommend that you make that particular tune the title cut of the album."
The three musicians and their manager all shared a knowing look with each other. It's In The Book, written by Jake back in the D Street West days, was a song that National had consistently vetoed and refused to accept as an Intemperance song on the grounds that it was too controversial since the subject matter was the negative passages in the bible. It was also the song that Michelle Rourke alluded to in her article — the one that finally gave her the courage to break up with Jake and bring Jesus back into her heart. Though there was no way Crow could know for sure that It's In The Book was, in fact, the song she mentioned — she hadn't named it after all — it didn't take a rocket scientist to figure it out. Michelle had mentioned an anti-biblical piece and It's In The Book was an anti-biblical piece — one of the few tunes in which the record company had actually guessed correctly about the meaning of the lyrics.
"Wow," Jake said, lighting a cigarette and dropping the match into Crow's pencil holder. "And what made you decide, just now, to finally allow us to record this song?"
"Yeah," said Matt. "I'm sure it has nothing to do with that article penned by that bible thumper bitch."
"Look, guys," Crow said. "I'm not gonna blow smoke up your ass. Now that that article is out in print people will want to hear the song that finally made the little Catholic girl go back to Jesus. If we put it on the next album, use it as the title cut, and, most importantly, don't release it as a single, the album will sell like mad. It will probably go platinum in the first week."
"Uh huh," Jake said. "And how will people know that It's In The Book is the song Michelle was talking about?"
"We'll let it slip to the media about a month in advance of the album release," Crow said.
"No," Jake said. "Absolutely not. Maybe it's time that song was allowed to find it's way into the garbage bin. We've matured since then. We have a lot of better tunes developing now."
"Jake," Crow said, "let's be reasonable here. Didn't you always say that It's In The Book was one of the best tunes you ever wrote? You said that when we were putting together Balance and that was only a year ago."
"Look, Crow," Matt said. "I think it's a rockin' ass tune too. It was always one of my favorites that Jake did, but we don't want you using it as nothing but exploitation to sell albums. You go telling everyone that the tune is the one that convinced the bible-thumper bitch to break up with Jake no one will give a faggot's rimjob about what the true meaning of the song is."
"Who gives a shit what the true meaning of the song is?" Crow nearly screamed. "If you do what I say your next album will go platinum in a week! A week! Don't you understand what that means? Don't you realize what kind of royalty checks you would be looking at in the quarter that followed the release?"
"Our next album will go platinum no matter what," Jake said. "We don't do this for the shock value, as much as you like to think that we do. We do it because it's our music and we're proud of it. The money is nice, don't get me wrong on that, but we're not willing to sacrifice our integrity for money like you are."
"Try it once," Crow fumed. "You might like it."
The meeting was effectively over at this point. Under the old contract Crow and National Records could have forced Jake and Matt and the others to record It's In The Book because it was material that had been submitted on a demo to them and therefore their property. Although the song was still National's property the current contract gave the band (and the record company) veto power over any tune. There was no way Crow could compel them to record any song they did not wish to.
Los Angeles, California
February 18, 1987
7:30 PM
"Shall we commence with our pre-Grammy award party tradition?" Matt asked, breaking out two fat joints as the limousine pulled away from his Malibu beach house.
"Fuckin' A," Coop said, whipping out a Zippo lighter with the Intemperance logo stenciled upon it. "Let's burn them bad boys."
Janice Boxer, their publicity manager, and Steve Crow both rolled their eyes upward and shook their heads. It seemed that the band had not matured much since their last trip to the prestigious Hollywood party.
"Jake," Janice said, trying to appeal to his sense of decorum. "Do you really think that smoking weed on the way to the party is a good idea? Think of the impression your young lady friend will be making if she comes out reeking of cannabis."
"It's okay," Rachel said quietly, fussing with the hem of her skirt. "I don't mind."
Janice gave her an ugly look but let the subject lie. Coop and Matt each fired up a joint and began to pass them in opposite directions.
Jake took a large hit when the first one came his way and then patted Rachel on the leg. "You don't have to smoke any," he told her. "It can make you real uncomfortable in social situations if you're not used to it."