My thanks to the young man who bought a vinyl album featuring the Ray Charles Singers sans their maestro, and to the young woman who purchased Something Borrowed by Emily Giffin. At least it was a beautiful day.
With people around the world at each other's throats seemingly infinitely more than ever before, today I'll go with an excerpt from my most disappointing novel. Although it is profitable, I hoped Rising Star, an epic about a five-member rock band, would attract more attention. This is from chapter one, moments after a performance at a small Manhattan club I patterned after Hurrah, which reminded me of a basement. It was the type of place, like CBGB, that was sort of an answer to discotheques. It featured New Wave music, what would be called alternative these days. I saw the Go-Go's there just before they broke big. The following is approximately a five-minute read:
The applause died as a dance tune came through the sound system. People turned from the stage. Some headed for the exit, others for the bar, a few danced. There was still a buzz in the air.
A blonde brought the band beer, which she deftly balanced on a small tray. "Great show." She beamed as she looked at John. Her leopard skin dress was filled with the body of a goddess.
"Sit down," said John, seated at the edge of the stage, motioning to his lap. Mitchell and Richie, flanking him, laughed shyly.
Her expression became serious. "I can't now. I don't wanna blow this job. It keeps my days free for auditions."
"An actress/slash waitress. I'd've never guessed. If things don't work out, there's always porn."
She stared, apparently unsure if he were joking. "Why don't you wait 'til I get off, that is, if you're still available? I should be out of here soon. My name's Tina."
She smiled and hurried away. Mitchell and Richie, towels in hand, roared. Suddenly another attractive woman approached.
"Can I have this one?" Richie pleaded.
"John?" said the woman, offering a business card. "My name's Susan Klein. I'd like to talk to you about representation. I think I can help you."
"You're talkin' to the wrong guy, beautiful." He scanned the card and put it into the pocket of his sleeveless T-shirt. "Talk to Paul. He's the boss." He nodded to a point nearby, where Paul was conversing with an attractive young woman in shorts, halter top and sneakers.
Susan was surprised. "Excuse me, Paul." She spoke loudly to make herself heard over the music. "John told me to see you." She gave him a card, which he scanned.
"Nice to meet you." His hand dwarfed hers.
"I enjoyed your set," she said, speaking into his ear, hoping he hadn't noticed how she'd cringed at his touch. He was sopping, his medium length hair wringing. "Too bad the crowd was so small. The place is dying and word is out."
"I know. They called us at the last minute. I don't even know how he heard about us. I didn't let on 'cause I was afraid he'd renege. Both bands they booked backed out. We got to do two sets. D'you see the first one?"
"No. Was that all original material?"
"Yeah. The keyboard player and me write it."
"It's good, clean, honest stuff. I think the trend's headed back that way."
"We're not tryin' to be trendy. We just try to play the best we can."
The young woman, who'd been leaning against one of the large pillars that supported the ceiling, walked away. Susan was glad.
"I'll see you at the van, Gee," Paul called after her, a pained expression on his face. He regretted not having introduced her.
Again Susan was surprised. She'd thought him a fool for approaching someone obviously out of his class. She did not understand what such a beauty saw in so common a man. She thought the woman had been ignoring him, as she should have. She sensed there'd been an argument. She was glad. Girlfriends had interfered in more than one of the bands she'd managed. Many men were so terrified of losing that steady piece of tail that they eschewed their dreams for the more immediate quantity. She suspected Paul would go to any lengths to keep such a woman. She was unfazed, however, certain the woman would eventually see she was far too good for him.
"Can we go out in the hall?" she said. "It's a lot quieter."
He followed her. In a dark corner beyond a spiral staircase, two women were snorting cocaine. Paul frowned.
"This's much better," said Susan, lighting a cigarette, offering him one, which he declined. "I can hear myself think. I've made a lot of contacts in this hall. I don't think your girlfriend liked the way we were talking into each other's ear. Sorry about that. Why don't you call me sometime this week?"
His eyes spread. "Sure. We've been lookin' for a manager for a long time. I'm afraid I don't cut it in that department."
"Where've you worked before?"
"Neighborhood bars. This's the highest we ever got. I guess it's not much, considerin' the crowd."
Someone tugged at his elbow. It was Mike, who spoke into his ear.
"Let's get goin'. I gotta be at work in a coupla hours. Rosemarie's gonna have a fit."
"Go 'head. I'll cover for you."
"Sure?"
"Don't worry. Get goin'. I'll call you tomorrow."
Mike hurried away.
"He's married?" said Susan, frowning at the obstacle. Inexperience, wives, girlfriends -- what else would there be?
"With two kids."
"You're not married, are you?"
"No. That was my girlfriend."
"What's that mean nowadays?"
Paul raised an eyebrow in surprise. "I could never concentrate on more than one girl at a time. It's not me, I don't care what age this is. Besides, Gina's the best. I'm not even sure she's mine any more, and I don't have a clue why. I have a good feelin' about you, though. You didn't come on with a bunch of phony compliments. You're not playin' us, are you? All the offers we've had so far've been bogus."
"I can help you," she said firmly, looking him in the eye. "I know people. It's up to you. You know how to find me."
She turned away and reentered the club, seeking John. "Look," she told him, "I'd like to talk to you alone. Can we have a drink somewhere?"
"Just a minute." He approached Paul, who was unplugging his amplifier. "What's with this chick -- she for real or what?"
Paul shrugged.
"Is it worth a shot? I can crack this waitress with ease. I'd hate to pass that up. You never know, I might be dead tomorrow."
"Bite your tongue.“ He looked at Susan. “This one's nothin' to sneeze at, either. Take one for the team. She might really know people."
"She's full of it. I can feel it. What the hell, though."
"Get goin', then. Don't make her wait. You have a phone yet?"
"No. I'll call you at six-thirty."
She was seated nearby. Beside her, there was a couple pawing at each other. She ignored them.
"Did he give you permission?" she said.
"I'll meet you downstairs."
"What're you gonna tell her?"
He didn't want the waitress to see him leaving with Susan. Usually, he wouldn't care, but he wanted to play it safe until he'd had her. He waited until her back was turned, then hurried out.
My Amazon Author page: https://www.amazon.com/Vic-Fortezza/e/B002M4NLJE
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