"Relationships can last through a music tour," Celia said. "Trust me on this one. As long as you both want it to last and put in the effort."
Jake looked down at the carpet as she said this. He was still not completely sure just how concrete his relationship with Helen actually was. He liked spending time with her, that was true enough, but would he be willing to forgo the temptations that would be sure to present themselves to him on every night of their foreign tour? Would he be able to say no to a hundred English, French, German, Belgian, Dutch, Japanese, Taiwanese, Australian, and New Zealand groupies who would be begging to fuck and suck him every night? That was something he didn't know. It was a subject that he and Helen had avoided discussing to any length since the tour had been announced.
"What's the status on your tour anyway, Jake?" Greg asked, thankfully (and probably deliberately) changing the subject. "Celia said you were negotiating with National on the terms of it?"
"Yes," Jake said. "Since it's a foreign tour and it's not in response to a release of new material, the terms of it fall outside of our contract."
"So you're in a position of strength then?" Greg asked.
"Exactly," Jake replied. "Pauline, our manager, stuck to her guns and got us a pretty sweet deal on this one. We just signed the touring contract a week ago."
"What kind of deal did you get?" Greg asked.
"It would sound like bragging if I told you," Jake said.
"Brag away," Greg replied. "I want to hear this."
"Well, okay," Jake said. "But remember, you asked. Basically, National is paying for everything. They assume one hundred percent of the tour costs, one hundred percent of the travel costs, and one hundred percent of the shipping costs."
"Wow," Celia said, visibly impressed. She was, after all, under a contract that forced the band to pay one hundred percent of the touring expenses.
"That's not even the part he likes to brag about," Helen said.
"There's more?" Celia asked.
"A little," Jake said casually. "All of our accommodations are to be in four star hotels and all of our travel between venues is to be by chartered aircraft."
"No sitting on the bus?" Celia said.
"The roadies and the rest of the crew will still have to ride the busses," Jake said, "but we should never see the inside of one the whole trip. We'll travel first class commercial between continents, on twin-engine prop planes between cities, and in limousines from the airports and hotels to the venues."
"Now that's the way to tour," Celia said. "At least for those who aren't afraid to fly. When and where do you kick off?"
"We're leaving January 15 for Auckland, New Zealand. They're gonna have us knock out the Oceania portion while it's summer there. The last date there is in Sydney, Australia. From there we'll fly to Japan and hang out in some resort until our equipment — which is traveling by ship — catches up with us. We'll do three night engagements at six different cities in Japan and two in Taiwan and then we'll fly to the French Riviera for a two-week vacation while we wait for the equipment to catch up again."
"Two weeks on the Riviera?" Celia said dreamily. "That'll be fun."
"I'm looking forward to it," Jake agreed. "I've never been out of North America before. And since we're doing mostly multiple night engagements, the pace will be a lot slower then normal. I'll actually have time to do some sightseeing."
"When will you be back home?" Celia asked.
"April 29 is the last date," Jake said. "That'll be in Amsterdam. Italy, Spain, and Portugal all declined to let us play in their countries because we're Satanists."
"Prudes," Celia said with a shake of the head.
Jake simply shrugged. "They don't want us there, we won't go there. Anyway, we should be back home again by May 1."
"Perfect," Celia said with a smile. Jake didn't know why she thought that was so perfect and she didn't explain herself. Not yet anyway.
They finished their drinks and then had another round. Just as they finished up with that one, Jim came in and announced that dinner was ready. The four of them moved to the formal dining room and took seats at one end of a polished mahogany table that could have seated twenty more people.
Jim served the white wine that Jake had brought and Carmen brought in the first course — a spinach salad with slivered almonds and a raspberry dressing. All in all, there were five courses to the meal. Jake found the food nothing short of delicious — particularly the duck breast main entrée — but he felt that the portions were too small. After the dessert dishes were taken away he was still hungry. He wondered if he would be able to score a sandwich or something later on.
"Would anyone care for an after-dinner drink?" Jim asked them.
"All of us would," Greg said, before anyone else could answer. "Pour us each a snifter of that Normanden Mercier cognac."
"Yes, sir," Jim said, bowing politely.
"And bring it to us out on the deck," Greg added, getting another 'yes, sir' in return.
Greg led them out onto the second floor deck, which was constructed of redwood. A hot tub, a small bar, and some very expensive patio furniture sat out here. The night air was just on the right side of being called brisk. They gathered on the patio furniture around a table with an umbrella. Soon, Jim appeared with their cognac.
Helen had never had cognac before and wasn't quite sure what to do with it. Jake gave her the basic course.
"Hold the snifter in your hand and use your body heat to warm the cognac," he said. "That will allow the vapors to rise so you can inhale them with your nose."
"So we don't drink it?" she asked.
"Eventually you get to that," Jake told her with a smile. "After you've sniffed it and basked in the aroma, you take small sips of it."
"This is the best mass produced cognac in the world," Greg told her. "It's two hundred and twenty dollars a bottle, but well worth the cost."
Helen's mouth gaped a little when she heard how much it cost. When she finally tried a sip she judiciously did not mention that, to her, it tasted the same as the E&J Brandy she used to steal from her father's liquor cabinet when she was a teenager.
"We have some good news to share," Celia said. "We've finally set a date and a place for our wedding."
"You did?" Jake asked. Ever since becoming officially engaged they had been unable to set a date because of differing views about the prenuptial agreement Greg wanted her to sign.
"We did," Celia confirmed. "June 15th. We're going to have the ceremony and the reception at a private resort on Martha's Vineyard."
"That's awesome," Jake said. "Congratulations."
"Yes, congratulations," Helen echoed. "And Martha's Vineyard. Wow. I've heard very nice things about that place."
"All of them true, I assure you," Greg said. "The resort rental itself is costing me sixty thousand dollars."
"Quite a chunk of change," Jake remarked.
Greg shrugged, as if to say it was nothing — which, to him, it was. "And we've also decided that we would like you to be there, Jake."
Jake was quite surprised. "Me? You want me to be there?"
"And a guest, of course," Greg said. "We would be honored to have Helen attend as well. Wouldn't we, Celia?"
"Absolutely," she said.
"I... I don't know what to say," Helen said, blindsided. She had just started to get comfortable with the fact that she was sitting in Greg Oldfellow's mansion, that she was attending a private dinner party with a famous actor and a famous musician, and now... now they were inviting her to their wedding.
"What about... you know... the clash of images that my presence would cause?" Jake asked. "Won't that create a problem for you?" He was referring to the fact that Celia and Greg were both considered squeaky clean, straight arrow, virginal do-gooders while Jake was considered the hard-partying, ass-crack sniffing, spawn of Satan. The media had no idea that Jake and Celia were even friends, mostly because such an idea seemed so ridiculous.