She-Rox: A Rock & Roll Novel (19 page)

Vince’s Mercedes, En route to Jerry’s Famous Deli, Studio City, Saturday, 1:10 A.M.

Winding through Laurel Canyon in his Mercedes, Vince asked Gretchen in a looming voice, “So, you wanna tell me what’s going on?”

“What do you mean?”

“You want to play it that way? Okay, we can play it that way.” He continued to steer the car, watching the road as he chose his words. “This Milos and Clay—that whole Exposure thing—it wouldn’t have anything to do with the way you left me hangin’ the other night at the Catalina, would it?”

“C’mon Vince, you know how guys are. They just want to be seen in public with us, boost their ego kind of stuff, that’s all. Ginger and I, we really wanted this Exposure deal.” Remembering what Ginger had said, Gretchen swayed, “They’ve got over ten million subscribers. Do you have any idea what that could mean for the band? It could make us into a sensation overnight. Isn’t that what we’ve been working for?”

“There’s nothing
overnight
about this band at all, Gretchen. I’ve been busting my balls for three years to get you this deal. You think you can nail down one spread with Exposure and
bam
its goodbye Vince? You think it’s that easy? You can just go it alone without me, flying solo?”

“Who said anything about flying solo?”

He stopped for a red light, his suspicion growing larger. “So, where were you last weekend when you didn’t come home?”

“I told you, we were out hanging flyers – like you told us to do. And after we met the two from the magazine, we discussed business with them. That’s it.”

“Where did you meet them?” Vince pushed.

“In front of The Rainbow.”

“I’m going to assume they invited you in for drinks?”

“It was just to exchange information.”

“Sure, Gretchen—how many drinks did you have with ‘em?”

“I don’t remember.”

“Two, three, five?” He knew how Gretchen got drinking Red Lotus Martinis. He knew because that’s what he did to get her all ready for playtime. “Are you honestly gonna sit there and expect me to
believe
that all you did was discuss business with those two hound dogs in suits?”

“That’s what I’m telling you,” she stated, sticking to her guns.

“That Milos character practically had his tongue in Ginger’s ear. And that other guy—Mr. I’m-Undressing-You-With-My-Eyes. Those two were awfully friendly. But nothing happened, huh? You
n-e-v-e-r
left The Rainbow with ‘em, is that it?”

Gretchen didn’t dare look at Vince, keeping her eyes out the passenger window of the car.

“Man, you must think I’m a real douche, baby,” he said, glancing at her from the corner of his eye. She was still dressed in the silver cat suit. He admitted to himself that any man would try and get some action from these broads. They were on fire. He also had received two offers. One of them, the guy low-balled, but the other was respectable; definitely a bargaining chip. “You don’t want to fess up about where you were that night, that’s all right with me, Gretchen. I can’t make you be square if you don’t want to.”

He pulled into the deli, put his car into park and turned off the motor. Then he barked, “But maybe you’ll listen to this.” Grabbing Gretchen’s chin, he turned her face to look him square in the eyes. Having her full attention, he loosened his grip and jeered, “Been missing something, lately . . . something small, gold,
say statuesque
, with Todd’s name on it?”

He saw the look in her eyes go from one of disgust to fear. “Yeah, that’s what I thought,” he insidiously chuckled. “I gotta hand it to you, Gretchen—you sure know how to put on a show. Whether it’s the Troubadour, the bedroom or the boardroom, you got us all spinning. But here’s what we’re gonna do—or rather, what
you’re
going to do. On Monday, I’m working a deal out with Todd. He’s probably going to want to buy out your contract from Astral, but
you,
Gretchen, dear,” he said, tracing her face with his finger, “are going to make sure that Moonshine agrees that I stay put as The Katz manager with all the requisite monies and position that go with it. If you don’t, I tell Todd you took his Grammy and an entire media blitzkrieg, that is bound to happen, will come crashing down on all your intricately laid conniving little plans.
You got that?
”

Gretchen nodded. She was in no position to bargain.

“
You sure?
”

She nodded again. Vince gave a little peck on her nose and said, “Good girl. Oh, and one last thing—don’t even think for a second that we’re over. What we got goin’ on between me and you,” he whispered. He turned to clutch the door handle. “Now, how ‘bout we go inside and get us something to eat. You must be starving after all this play acting of yours.”

Todd’s Maserati, En Route to Jerry’s Famous Deli, Studio City, Saturday, 1:10 A.M.

Eddie and Raven jumped into Todd’s over-the-top Maserati. The car made Eddie think of Slade’s Aston Martin. “Heard anything from Slade?”

“I’m assuming everything’s okay. Last I heard he was in Bucharest. He told me that after they finish, he’s going to stay in Europe for a month or so and visit his mother in England. I do know something that might interest you, though,” Todd enticed. “I sent him your new tracks.”

Both girls jumped, asking, “What did he say? Did he like them?”

Todd laughed, holding the tempting information. “Well, hmmm—he said that it —hmmm, well, how best to say this—”

“He didn’t like it,” Eddie moaned.

“No—no it’s not that, it’s more—well—let me start here: He is concerned.”

“Concerned about what?” they asked.

“About a few things . . . first, he’s concerned that there are only two new songs. It’s not enough. You will need a full set of material, and all of it needs to be strong. You can’t use your old songs.”

“Is that it?” asked Raven, “just more songs?”

“He’s also concerned about whether four girls can handle the road. Once you have the songs, then you’ve got to promote them. You’re going to need road legs and four prima donnas on a tour bus may never make it to Reno, let alone cover the United States and then hit Canada. And the last thing . . . the last thing is Eddie, to be quite frank,” he said.

Raven didn’t understand, exclaiming, “
What about Eddie?”

As the Maserati pulled onto Ventura Boulevard, Eddie said, “This is about me quitting the band, isn’t it?”

“
What
—
no Todd
, she’s not quitting the band—Eddie, you’re not quitting.
Tell him,
” Raven pushed.

“Who wrote the songs ’Beauty’ and ‘In The Confessional’?”

Raven answered, “She did.”

“Those are by far your strongest songs and I need a bunch of them,” Todd explained. Looking over at Raven, he said, “If your songwriter quits the band, before you even leave dry dock, you’ve got a problem. You’ve got nothing but a name and a bunch of old material, which quite honestly, Moonshine isn’t interested in.”

Eddie offered, “Don’t I have to sign a contract or something?”

“You’re willing to sign a contract?” Todd asked.

“I’ll do whatever I have to. I want this tour.”

“You sure?”

“Of course I’m sure. If you don’t believe me, then ask Slade yourself. I told him as much.”

“I
have
been talking to him. He wants you girls to get ready for his States leg, but I’m—I’m not convinced, yet. It’s too much, too soon.”

“
Hold on—
Am I hearing this right?” Raven asked, “You’ve been talking to Slade about
us
doing his U.S. Tour?”

Milos’s Rented Limo, En Route to Jerry’s Famous Deli, Studio City, Saturday, 1:10 p.m.

It had been two of the longest hours Milos had ever endured. He couldn’t exactly put his finger on what it was about Ginger. Was it the drumming? As his limo pulled away from the curb, heading to Studio City, he pushed the button to send up the partition, and immediately turned to Ginger, getting down to business. Silently, he thanked whoever it was that put the handy-dandy pull-down zipper in the front of her liquid silver bodysuit, and without saying a word he expertly unzipped it and entered Neverland.

March 26, 2007, Exposure Shoot, La Punta Drive, Hollywood Hills, Poolside

Being allowed to enter the sprawling 10,000 square foot palatial home in the Hollywood Hills was worth losing a day of pay. Exposure had contracted the spectacle of a house for the day from a wealthy Saudi Arabian, presently out of the country. It was just the kind of setting Milos wanted. It let Ginger know his kind of power, proving he had enough cabbage to have anything he wanted, even her and her career if he wanted.

A wardrobe tent had been set up for the Katz to change into their brightly colored bikinis; day-glow orange for Raven, Chinese red for Ginger, florescent yellow for Gretchen, and Eddie, the fuchsia pink. It would make for striking photos set against the turquoise water and the stone concrete surrounding the pool, with its Grecian statues, urns and striped cabana in the background. The atmosphere was old Hollywood glamour, and with the Katz placed squarely in the center, it delineated the message, “
It’s our turn now”.

Exposures’ esteemed photographer, Max Weinheimer, had his assistants push four padded deck chairs together. “Just relax, smile, talk to each other,” he said, shuttering away.

“Eddie,” Gretchen snapped, “quit fidgeting with your suit.”

She looked down at her chest and then back to Gretchen’s formidable augmentation.

Grabbing her right breast, Gretchen smiled, “I know, aren’t they great. The best money I ever spent.”

“Yeah, after you had it done the second time,” Ginger said.

“I wasn’t about to let my little sister walk around town
bigger
than me.”

“Nobody cares.”

“
Everybody
cares. Even Eddie here probably wishes she had a set right about now.”

“No I don’t,” Eddie gasped. “Who wants to look like they’ve got a flotation device stuck to the front of their chest?”

“Maybe we should get the band booked on a cruise ship,” Raven laughed.

Watching as Eddie pulled again at the bottoms to cover her cheeks, Gretchen said, “It’s not going to magically enlarge.”

Max clicked away like a maniac, his index finger over head shouting, “
Over here, look over here.
”

Milos sat on lavish outdoor furniture, talking on his cell phone, conducting his daily schedule. He watched Ginger, knowing that once the issue hit the stands, he’d probably have to step up his game to keep her happy.