More Than Anything (9 page)

I read the words and frown. Nothing to lose, huh? The concept of freedom seems remote all of a sudden, now that I’m answering to a record company, have Sebastian slotting me into his insane schedule, and have the rest of my time spoken for with appearances and events. I’m not sure how I feel about that. Being broke and free is fine, but taking a warm bath and deciding whether to go for a notebook or tablet has its plusses, too.

Which seems completely materialistic, except that I’ve spent the better part of the last six months sleeping on benches, so it’s not like I’m an unthinking product sponge. Of course, there are going to be trade-offs. I can’t just do whatever I want whenever I want– that’s the price of success.

I refuse to let my creeping doubt ruin yet another high point in my life, so I finish drying myself, scoop up my phone, and pull on Melody’s sweats and my new shirt. With the baseball cap I look like any skater chick on the street, not some freak accident celeb. I’m happy with the look.

The phone book tells me there’s an electronics superstore five minutes away. I remember passing it on the drive home. I go downstairs and tell Steve to take the evening off – he’s still waiting out front, and I wonder again about his bathroom options. He seems taken aback that anyone wants to walk in L.A., but pulls away with a shrug and a promise to check in the following morning in case I need to go anywhere.

I really need to study up and get a driver’s license. It’s not one of the things you think about when you’re homeless, mainly because you don’t have a car, can’t afford gas, and have no address to put on the DMV form. But now that I’m here, I can see that I need to be able to get around, and I add studying up on the test to my short list. I already went through driver’s ed in school, so it should be easy – I just need to find the time.

The air is balmy as dusk’s waning light fades into the Pacific Ocean. The area is buzzing with students and shoppers, none of whom give me a second glance. I feel strangely empowered to be so invisible, especially after the morning in the Haight, and I revel in my anonymity, just another bee in the hive, safe from everything by virtue of my sameness.

The superstore’s like the punchline from every joke about consumerism, with thousands of variations on widgets nobody really needs. I get into the spirit as I roam the long aisle of tablet computers and notebooks, and finally decide on a Samsung tablet, mainly because of the price – it’s marked down on sale, and my frugal sensibility can’t resist it. I’ve never used one, other than tinkering around on Melody’s iPad, so there’s going to be a learning curve with any of them.

I pay at the cash register and see a display for phones. I walk over and browse the pay-as-you-go options. One of them has a camera, so I buy that too, along with enough air time to stay on the line with New York for the rest of the year.

I take an alternative route home and stop at a Chinese fast-food restaurant, where I get a chicken bowl and a soda. I sit as traffic roars by on the busy street, reading my new phone manual, having decided that’s the easier of the two technologies to master over a lunch bowl, and I’ve texted Melody my new number by the time I take my last bite.

Outside, there’s a homeless couple playing guitars on the corner, and I stop and listen for a moment. She’s not much older than I am, and not a bad singer, but the guy’s no Derek.

I fish out a twenty-dollar bill and drop it in their coffee can. The girl’s eyes widen when she sees the denomination, and she gives me a stoned smile. I return it and move on, having done my good deed for the day. That was me only a few weeks ago, when twenty bucks would buy dinner for two, and maybe even some coffee in the morning. I feel really good about giving them the cash, which changes to embarrassment as I walk, wondering if it seems like I’m showing off, or rubbing it in that I have money and they don’t.

As I turn the corner onto my street, I decide that I’d have been ecstatic at getting twenty dollars, whatever the source, and to stop second-guessing myself. I stop outside the building and take a few pictures with my new phone, then a couple of the marble lobby, and then half a dozen of the apartment, and send them to Melody, who’s predictably blown away by all the luxury and repeats her threat to be on the next plane south. It would actually be really fun to have her here for a while, but before that can happen, I need to take care of business – at least, that’s what I tell myself.

I spend the rest of the night eating chocolate and watching videos of Derek’s performances on YouTube, my heart tugging each time I see his face, and when I go to sleep for the night, it’s all I can do not to sob into the pillow.

I call Ruby the next morning and give her my new number, and leave a message at the boarding house for ‘Delek,’ hoping he’ll call. Ruby and I agree to meet downstairs, and as a final move, I call the management companies and make appointments for that afternoon with all three, an hour each.

Breakfast is a blueberry muffin and a cup of Starbucks, and I barely make it back in time to meet Ruby, who looks nothing like she sounds – she’s five feet tall in heels, wears a size zero, and is maybe thirty. I was expecting someone like June, and I’m reminded as I say hello how Sebastian reacted when he saw me, and understand how he must have felt.

I follow her to her Lexus sedan, and we drive to Melrose, where she seems to know most of the trendy shops. Within an hour we’re new best friends, and she’s telling me insider gossip about everyone I’m going to be seated with tonight.

“Tell me about Saul. He seems kind of scary on the phone,” I say, a little anxious about meeting my new boss at the awards ceremony.

“He’s a big teddy bear, unless you cross him. But he’s fair, if kind of gruff. He loves your act, though, so that’s a big plus. You’re all he’s been talking about lately. That’s a good sign.”

“Really?”

Ruby nods. “You want him on your side, Sage. He can make magic happen.”

She tells me all about what to expect at the dinner, and by the time she’s finished, I’m way more relaxed about it. Sounds like a few minutes on the carpet so the photographers can take pictures, and then two hours of dinner and show, maybe three.

“You’ll get used to these, Sage. In this town there’s usually one every week for something – a charity, an event, a magazine, an award. Which means a lot more shopping. You don’t want to wear the same thing twice. Which reminds me – I’ll hook you up with a friend of mine who does virtual personal assistant work.”

“I don’t need an assistant,” I say. The idea is absurd.

“You will. Just keeping track of your schedule will get overwhelming. You’ll see. And she knows all the designers, so she can get you outfits on loan for the publicity value of being seen in them. Best of all, she works cheap. I’ll see if I can talk Saul into putting her on the payroll for you for maybe ten hours a week.”

“That would be great.” I ask her about the management companies, and she frowns when she hears the first name. “They’re kind of scumbags. They’ll promise the world, but once you’re under contract, they’re late on everything. You can do better.” She’s more upbeat about the second and third. “Both quality outfits. I’d be happy with either one. It depends on how you hit it off with the person who’ll be your interface. You’re buying the person, not the company, at that point. They can both do the same things, and they’re both as good as they get. Tough choice.”

“But they’ll all take the same cut?”

“Yes. The irony is that if you are a breakout hit, there’s so much money coming in from so many different fronts it will seem like a fortune – but remember that everyone takes a bite. Your booking agent, your manager, the record company. What you’ll be left with can be either a lot or very little, depending on how you negotiate your deal. Either of the two companies we’re talking about are up on all the industry norms, so they’ll make sure you don’t get screwed, which happens a lot with new artists.” Ruby pauses. “There’s nothing to negotiate with Saul – the prize is a recording contract with the standard terms. But even in a non-negotiable deal, there’s wiggle room in the details, and frankly, these days you’ll make a lot more off live tours and merchandising than you will off your music, so think of the recording and videos as an expense to sell concert tickets and T-shirts, not as a big income source.”

I don’t understand much of what she just said, and I realize how unprepared I am for the steps I’m taking. But it’s too late now, and I’m committed.

“The management company will know all that, right?”

Ruby nods. “They will. That’s why it’s important to get a great one. They’ll want you to make money so they make money.”

“What about Sebastian? His cut, and the recording? And the videos?”

“That all comes out of your royalties, paid back as you earn income. Saul advances the money to pay for everything, and you pay him back out of your slice of the profits. Sebastian gets a piece of his own for being the producer, so you don’t have to worry about him. He’d normally get a big chunk of front money, too, but he waived it to work with you.”

“He did?”

“Yes. And frankly, you should be honored. There’s nobody hotter than Sebastian right now. He literally has his pick of artists lining up to work with him.”

“Wow.”

Ruby indicates a store with caricatures of a devil and an angel on the sign over the door. “Don’t worry too much, Sage. If you go big, which everyone’s betting you will, there’ll be more than enough to go around. If not, none of this will matter. Either way, there’s no point in sweating it. Let others do that for you. Right now your job is to look and sound awesome, which you do. The rest of it is bean counting and behind-the-scenes stuff.” She opens the door and holds it for me. “Which brings me to the looking awesome part. This is one of my favorite stores. Let’s see if we can find you some leather pants.”

“What about shoes?”

“With your figure you don’t need heels. I’d say stick with the Chucks. They’re informal enough so that you don’t look like you’re trying too hard.”

“Really? I’ve had these kind of forever.”

“Your call, but that’s what I’d do.”

We find some black leather pants that are butter soft and way too tight for my liking, but Ruby and the salesgirl think they’re the bomb. I almost choke when I see the price, but Ruby doesn’t seem concerned, and I grudgingly pay, watching my fat wad shrink as I rack up purchases. If I’d known a pair of pants would cost as much as my tablet, I would have only gotten the phone and found an Internet café instead, but it’s too late now. I swallow back the bile that’s rising in my throat and smile.

“What’s next?”

“How much time do you have?”

I look at my phone. “Two hours before the first meeting.”

“We need a top for you – something sparkly in either silver or gold, I think. And then maybe a quick hair and makeup session. We can grab lunch on the run.”

The next shop has a top Ruby’s in love with. Like the pants, it reveals too much of my figure for my taste, but Ruby reminds me that I’m now selling myself, and a little cleavage and skin never hurts. I peel off another hundred with a grimace. At this rate I’ll be back to singing on the street by the weekend.

The hair salon’s everything I expect for the area. The stylists all look like they stepped out of the French edition of
Vogue
, and the attitude is thick as smoke. Ruby knows the owner, a talkative lady named Sue, who dyes the tips of my hair hot pink after giving me a trim and touches up my blondish roots with black. I inspect the finished result an hour and a half later and smile. I’m starting to look a little like a rock star, I think, what with the makeup and hair.

I don’t spend the entire hour with the first company. The guy I meet with is young and pushy, and I get a bad vibe about him, like he thinks he’s way smarter than I am and is talking down to me.

The second company is better, but it’s another twenty-something guy and a woman about Ruby’s age, and it feels a little like they’re tag teaming me by the time we’re done.

At the third company I meet with a frazzled woman in her forties who’s no-nonsense and blunt. Her name’s Terry, and she’s got a voice like a buzz saw that sounds like it’s been seasoned by cigarettes and liquor. I immediately like her.

“They’re all going to try to screw you, Sage. Everyone. It’s how the business works. More for them has to come from less for you. My job is to keep them from doing it, or at least to minimize the damage. I’ve been at this for twenty-five years, and I know every dirty trick in the book and then some.”

She doesn’t do what the other two companies did. Doesn’t try to sell me on how they’ll improve my experience, the breadth of their reach, their network of contacts. Terry’s more like a bare-knuckle brawler who’s got the scars to prove it.

“The label says the deal is non-negotiable,” I say, parroting Ruby. Terry nods and laughs humorlessly.

“I’ll bet. If we decide to work together, I’ll call Saul and get a copy and look it over. You’re going to get reamed by them no matter what, but no point making it easy. On merchandising, I wouldn’t take the deal if they want that. I can get you a better deal in a heartbeat, and that’s your livelihood. Hopefully they didn’t stick in a clause for that, because remember one thing about all of this: you don’t have to sign anything. It was the prize, but that doesn’t mean you have to accept it.”

“Really?”