My thanks to Bek, today's sole customer, who bought three books on business.
Here's an excerpt from
Rising Star, my most disappointing book in terms of sales. Although it is profitable, I was sure it would attract more readers than it has. Oh, well,
c'est la vie. The clip is about a ten-minute read and involves the band's leader asking a woman to manage them:
He was waiting in front of the theater, dressed neatly in a beige polo shirt, clean jeans and sneakers. His fingers were drumming on a manila envelope tucked to his chest. She wasn't sure it was the same guy. He was more attractive and masculine than she recalled, although still light years from star-quality lead guitarist.
She flicked her cigarette into the street. "Sorry I'm late. I was tied up with somebody else."
"Five minutes is not late, especially for a woman." He was surprised at her rasp, which he hadn't detected in the noise of the club. He assumed she was a heavy smoker.
"It is for me. I hate to be late."
"Are you okay?" He was concerned, appalled by her paleness. She'd seemed so attractive in the club, when he hadn't been wearing his glasses. Apparently, he'd overrated her appearance considerably. "You look so different than you did the other night. Would you rather meet some other time?"
She realized she hadn't applied makeup and wanted to die. "I had so much on my mind this morning I forgot to put on my face." She tried to laugh it off, hoped she wasn't red with embarrassment.
"As long as you're okay."
They entered a nearby restaurant.
"Are you sure you'll have the time to represent us?"
"If you're good I'll find the time."
When they'd ordered their meals, Susan excused herself.
"I'm a chauvinist when it comes to women and makeup," said Paul, deadpan, wondering why her looks should matter to him.
She stared, smiled, then turned away. He was relieved, having feared she would be offended. Unlike most women, she'd understood his sense of humor immediately. He moved her ashtray, as the smoke was curling toward his face. He smiled upon her return, although he was disappointed she hadn't been as attractive without makeup. Gina was beautiful without it. Bitch, he thought. Suddenly he found himself fantasizing about Susan, a prospective associate, and he admonished himself.
"You don't talk like a native New Yorker. Where're you from?"
"Connecticut."
He was relieved she wasn't from the Upper West Side or another rich Manhattan enclave he considered the un-New York.
"Is that a point against me?"
"That remains to be seen. How old're you, if I may ask?"
"You already have. Twenty-five. Why?"
He checked himself, having been about to say she seemed older. "I was wonderin' how much experience you had."
"More than three years worth, with no major successes. I've yet to run across a band with the potential for major success. Do you realize what it takes to make it in the business?"
"We know what it's like to fail, if that's what you mean. We've been together eight years, even though we haven't had much work. We just love to play. The gigs we've had've been in dives. We made a pact last night -- one more year. And we want you to represent us."
"To what do I owe this honor?"
"You're the only one who's asked." He loved her quiet smile. "I have a feeling about you. I think you'd work as hard as we do. With you and John, we have a shot."
"I have reservations. My biggest is the bassist. He has 'choke' written all over him."
"I grew up with him and Richie, the drummer. We met Mitchell in high school. That's when we started the band."
"Sentimentality will get you nowhere."
"He's okay. He just needs his confidence boosted once in a while. From what I've read that's not uncommon in show business. I'll take care of that."
"He's also married."
"His wife's behind us a hundred-percent. She's no problem. We even practice in their garage. What else?"
"The music. Not many clubs feature metal any more.”
“Is that what we play?”
“That’s how it will be perceived.”
He shrugged. “So be it.”
“Try getting airplay on the radio. I get a lot of work for pop-rock or alternative bands."
"We play what we like. If we tried to do what was in, we'd be miserable, and it'd show in our performance."
"I just want you to know what you're up against."
"We know that already."
The food was served. They paused to satisfy hunger.
"About the name," said Susan, picking at her salad. "I hate it. It's so pretentious."
Paul waited until he'd swallowed the bite he'd taken from his burger, then said: "We like it. If we're gonna make it, it won't be because of a name."
She was surprised at his resolve, which was in stark contrast to his reticence and politeness, and at his intelligence. "You're not cooperating."
"If you expect me to roll over and kiss up, forget it. Nobody knows the band better than I do. What we need is your know-how in gettin' dates. It's not my nature to break down doors. That's probably why we get so little work. We're as good as any band I've seen out there."
"To tell you the truth, I think John's the spiritual leader of the group, even if you're the leader in name."
"John's great. We'd be nowhere without him, but the band wouldn't survive without me."
"Are you sure about that? This business -- money, has a way of alienating the best of friends."
"Let me put it this way -- I don't mind John bein' the focal point, but any decisions are gonna be made by me and you. I'll consult the guys and you'll consult your people."
"John'll probably outgrow you and be flooded with offers to front bands with more potential, or go solo."
He smiled, shaking his head. "I admire your honesty, but isn't it a silly way to conduct business? I bet a lotta guys woulda walked away from you after a crack like that."
"Then why don't you?"
"Two reasons. One: 'cause it's true and there's nothin' I can do about it, and two: you're all we have. Even if he leaves us eventually he might get us noticed, which might make our next incarnation easier. I always had the feelin' we'd lose him as easily as we found him, anyway."
"I have an idea for fliers and bumper stickers. Something like: 'Meet John Doe' or 'Who’s John Doe?'"
"I like it, especially if you add: 'Follow a Rising Star.'"
She was surprised she hadn't thought of that herself. She wondered if he would be of use after all. "That's one compromise I might be willing to make." She leaned forward and looked him in the eye. "You see, I know I'm more intelligent than ninety-nine percent of the people I meet. I graduated from Yale with honors. I don't take advice well, unless I value the person's opinion highly. I don't even know you."
"I went to Brooklyn College. I couldn't've got into Yale with the President's recommendation. Mitchell's the intellectual of the group. He went to Brooklyn too, but don't let that fool you. I bet he's as literate as you are. Richie and Mike're blue-collar. I don't know anything about John except that he can sing and command an audience. You don't b.s.. I like that. I'll try to earn your respect."
"Lying is beneath me." Somehow she maintained a straight face, although she was appalled at having told such a lie. She didn't understand -- how had she sunk so low?
"I like you. You're not a nice person and you're really too full of yourself, but you say exactly what's on your mind. I'll know exactly where we stand with you."
"Being nice will get you nowhere in this business. It's not for the timid. You have to be good and you have to work very hard and have a tough skin."
"You can't be good and nice?"
"You have to be so focused nothing else matters except success, and that doesn't go over too well with most people, especially girlfriends."
"Maybe I'll be able to change your opinion on that. Anything else on your mind?"
"Physical appearance. John's perfect and the drummer fits the image of his instrument. The bassist is hopeless, but you and the keyboardist can be reworked. You're too thin. You have to have presence to hold a live audience, to pull off a video, if you get that far. You need to build up yours."
"Get this straight now -- no costumes, makeup, leather or spandex."
She rolled her eyes. "That stuff's so played out. I don't want you looking like anybody else. I want a unique identity. You two should get into bodybuilding, bulk up a little, not a lot."
"Funny you should bring that up. I was wrestlin' with my brother the other day and I realized how atta shape I was. I've been concentratin' on the band so much I've neglected myself. Have any exercise tapes I can borrow?"
"I'm serious and you should be too."
"You're gonna hafta get useta my sense of humor. Half the time people don't realize I'm jokin'. I was jokin' when I said you weren't a nice person."
She looked into his eyes. "Were you?"
"Not really." He was unable to maintain a cold stare, and chuckled. "You disarmed me. I can't remember the last time that happened. I know what you mean by buildin' up, though. It's gonna be hard to convince Mitchell. In high school he always had phony doctors' notes to get atta gym. He was too embarrassed to play sports. It's the only thing he's not good at. He throws like a girl."
She rolled her eyes heavenward, clearly miffed. "Do the best you can. I think it's more important for you. The lead guitarist is so visible."
"Don't underestimate Mitchell. He's the most talented of any of us by far, includin' John. And he's handsome. Nobody'll care how thin he is."
"How many songs do you have?"
"Fifteen."
"You've been playing together eight years and you only have fifteen songs?"
"We did covers exclusively for a long time. We phased 'em out one by one. I don't see the point of writin' any more right now. There's not a whole lot of incentive."
"Good thing the great novelists didn't have that attitude."
She was right, he knew. "By the way, I brought you a tape." He opened the manila envelope.
"Good. If I like it I'll have copies made."
"We're playin' a local dive tomorrow and Saturday night. We'd like you to come. I'll even have John pick you up, if you want. He lives in the city, at least I think he does. I'd come for you myself, but I have to haul the equipment."
"Do you have any theatrics planned?"
"Not anything more than what John comes up with, and he just improvises. I think people'd laugh us off the stage if we came out with visuals before we established ourselves."
"Those visuals might get you noticed."
"I won't be reluctant to add stuff if things start rollin'."
"Okay, so I'll see you tomorrow night." She was about to rise.
"Isn't there somethin' we're supposta do?"
She stared, puzzled.
"When two parties enter an agreement...."
"There's no need to do that until substantial money is involved. A verbal agreement is good enough."
"I thought you were against bein' nice."
She looked into his dark eyes. "You don't trust me, is that it? You were only pretending to be nice yourself."
He withdrew a sheet of paper from the envelope, which she scanned quickly. She was relieved to know his name and was amazed he hadn't noticed the fault. She was a little uncomfortable with her talent for deception.
"This isn't worth the paper it's written on."
He smiled. "Indulge me. It'll make me feel like we're takin' a big step."
"You want me to indulge your illusions? This's a waste of time. Even legitimate contracts are these days. Lawyers can get around anything."
"Do it for your own protection. What's to prevent us from runnin' out on you if somebody makes us a better offer."
"Nothing. Right now I'm virtually powerless in the business." She regretted the admission. She did not know what she could have been thinking.
"You're in the same position we are. We're all hungry. Maybe we'll go up together. If you're fair to us, we'll be fair to you. I give you my word on that."
"That's easy when you're poor. We'll see if money starts rolling in."
His cheerfulness fled. "The only thing that worries me about you is your cynicism. You're young, beautiful and intelligent. You shouldn't be this negative."
She didn't like the assessment, accurate though it was. "Funny how you put youth and beauty before intelligence."
His shoulders sagged. "We're gonna be managed by a feminist."
"I'm beyond feminism. I don't need a group to succeed. I'll do it on my own. I'm an uber-feminist."
He chuckled. "You have me convinced. I hope it works with people in the business."
"Look, I've had some bands run out on me lately. Fortunately, none've made it, at least not yet. I might kill somebody if one of them did."
"My word's good. And I'll vouch for the guys. I'll have 'em sign the thing an’ give you your copy tomorrow night."
"Won't we need a witness?" she said ironically.
"How 'bout the waitress?"
"Sure. I have a soft spot for waitresses. I used to be one in college."
The attractive young woman complied when Paul added a waiver at the bottom of the contract. She smiled. "Let me know when you're playing. I'll come see you."
He watched her intently as she walked away.
"What would your girlfriend say about that, man of your word?"
His look became grave. "We broke up the other night. She's goin’ away to law school. Why'd you hafta remind me? I actually forgot it for a while."
"Ask for her number."
"I don't recover that fast."
"You could've fooled me, the way you were staring at her."
"I may be down, but I'm not dead. Besides, I'm hopin' Gina changes her mind."
"Right -- she'll forego law school to be a rock 'n roll bride."
The way his eyes went dead, she almost regretted the blow. She was glad to have a girlfriend out of the way. She snatched the bill, refusing even to allow him to pay his share. She cursed herself, however, for having extended appearances so far. She left a generous tip.
"Maybe you're nicer than you think," said Paul, holding the door for her as they left.
Her eyes constricted. "If you knew what you had to put up from customers, not to mention cooks and managers, you'd understand why you have to tip."
"Can I give you a lift?"
"No." She backed away. "I'm within walking distance. I have to hurry. I have another appointment."
"Order another salad. You don't want to ruin that gorgeous figure."
He was pleased to see her smile. "There you go. I knew you had it in you. See you tomorrow night."
She halted, took a step toward him. "By the way, do you wear your glasses on stage? I didn't notice the other night. It doesn't jive with the metal image."
"I don't need 'em to play. I'm gettin' contacts as soon as I can afford 'em, as soon as we're famous."
"Get them soon. I want you to be able to see me in the audience in case I have something to tell you."
He nodded. "I hope I didn't hurt your feelings with anything I said. I really like you. I can see you're honorable."
"I'm loyal to people I think can earn me money. Understand that right now."
"I wouldn't expect you to stay with us if we don't go anywhere."
As she moved further and further from him, tears welled in her eyes. She was sure Rising Star was another dead end. Even should she manage to lure Doe away she believed she would lose him to someone with clout. She was amazed at the arrogance of so common a man as Paul. She sensed he would be extremely difficult and doubted it would be worth the effort.
