Lawyers, Guns, and Money

There actually were oysters, the big ones with cheese melted on them, and flutes of champagne, and a slightly fidgety caterer standing there watching over the spread in a tuxedo shirt and striped apron, with matching striped bow tie. He had extremely short hair and a single diamond (or rhinestone) earring.

“Let me guess,” I said to him as I picked up a flute of champagne, and out came this opening line: “you’re really just here to make sure no one burns themself on the canned Sterno.”

He laughed a little nervously. “Pretty much. Though I’d be happy to serve you an oyster if you’d like one. Sir,” he added, a little belatedly.

I snorted. “Save the ‘sir’ for the guys in suits. What’s your name?”

“Michael. Um, pleased to meet you.”

“Daron,” I said, like he didn’t already know. I held out my hand so he could shake it.

I held his hand a little too long. Or maybe just long enough. He blushed.

“Can I ask when you get off? Shift. I mean.” Oh god I was terrible at this.

“Oh. Um.” He actually made a little dip, like a curtsey. Or like he had to pee. “I don’t know. I mean, I know when, obviously, I just… I’m sorry.”

“It’s all right,” I said. “It’s not like you’re the first guy to ever shoot me down.”

“Understand, it’s not that I wouldn’t want to,” he said, in a kind of whispered rush, “it’s just, you know, I could lose my job.”

“It’s really okay.”

“B-but thank you. It’s… it’s very flattering.” He blushed again, looking at the oysters instead of me.

I almost took one, but something that was supposed to be an aphrodisiac was the last thing I needed right now. I ended up pouring out the champagne in the bathroom sink, too, and at Bart’s suggestion getting some seltzer with a spritz of cranberry juice in it so it wouldn’t look like nothing.

“Not to sound like I can’t talk about anything else,” I said to him, “but what did you think of tonight’s show?”

“Awesome. Which reminds me, where’s Louis? I want to see what it looked like.”

We looked around, walking through the room and into the next one, but neither he nor Christian were in evidence. For that matter, I didn’t see Lacey either. Bart and I ended up drifting apart, and Remo and I got to talking again. The gold record was there, too, on display, and we chatted about that a little, too. Remo had a couple of those on his wall already, but he sympathized with the excitement of the first one.

So I kind of forgot about my angst for a while. It was hard to be angsty with Remo. When it was starting to get a little late, though, he left.

By then, Ziggy had returned to the party, presumably freshly shagged. He was alone, though. I stood nearish the gold record, letting various people approach me, natter, and then move on. They could say they had met me now, I guess. Perfectly nice people, if not particularly memorable. I can be a good schmoozer when I put some effort into it.

That left me pretty exhausted by the time things started to thin out, though. Which might have been why I missed Digger sitting down next to me.

“How’s it hanging, kiddo,” he said, in a sort of hangdog Bogart voice.

I gave up. I sat down next to him. “A little to the left,” I said, sounding pretty hangdog myself. I looked at him. “Looks like you sobered up a little.”

“Yeah, too much too fast at the start there. Champagne always kicks my fuckin’ ass.” He stretched and cracked his knuckles. “Did you see the papers today? They’re all over the kid from the ambulance.”

“Yeah?”

“Perfect. Can’t manufacture publicity like that. I’m betting those photos will end up in People and Us, too. And maybe Teen Machine, I think there was a Sterling’s guy there.”

“I’ll pretend I know what you’re talking about.”

“Guys who sell to a lot of the magazines were there. That’s all that matters.” He waved toward the gold record. “Can you believe that? Pretty exciting, huh?”

“Yeah,” I admitted. I kind of had goosebumps looking at it again now. “But what about the record that’s on sale now?”

“1989 will go gold before you get to New York. I guarantee it.”

“You do?”

“I do. They award these things based on distributor buys, and with the tour selling out and extra dates being added, they’re waking up and smelling the coffee. BNC’s sales department is all over it, thanks to me.”

I raised an eyebrow at him, but he didn’t seem to notice. “Distributor buys?” I asked instead.

“Come on, you worked at Tower. You know what that means. The number bought by the chains and wholesalers. Which they then sell to the public. But it’s the number shipped to the warehouses that determines the gold or platinum status.”

“You mean even a gold record could end up in the bargain bin if they guess wrong.”

“Yeah, but that won’t be happening this time. It’s the other way around. They under-ordered, and now they’re scrambling to catch up. They’re also placing bets on CD, tape, and vinyl. We get to add them all together. The only thing that might hold it back from going platinum is that BNC didn’t manufacture enough.” He looked around as if making sure Mills wasn’t eavesdropping on us. “The problem is that the motherfuckers didn’t manufacture enough.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah, wow is right. After they treated you like kings today, it’s a shock, right? Well, hopefully it’s the royal treatment from here on. I’m tired of having to tell them how to run their own business. When I say you guys are solid gold, it’s not just a fucking metaphor anymore.” He looked at me then. “How you holding up?”

“Me? Fine. Everything’s been great.”

“You look kind of wiped out. Pace yourself, kiddo, it hasn’t even been a week.”

“I know. I’m still jet-lagged.” I yawned. “Hey, were the flashlights your idea?”

“Carynne’s actually, but I’m the one who got them made and delivered. She’s a smart cookie.” He tapped his hands against his knees and I guessed he was wanting a cigarette. He had tried quitting and failed so many times that I didn’t say anything.

“Um, yeah, smart cookie,” I said. “Hey, whatever happened to that band?”

“What band?”

“The last time we were in LA we were on a leg of a tour where we were opening for…”

“Oh, oh, you mean MNB? You know, I’ve been wondering that myself.” He looked around again, but there didn’t seem to be anyone we knew from the record company still hanging around.

“Carynne probably knows,” I said. She seemed to have left also.

In fact, the only other person in the room I knew besides Digger was Ziggy. Who looked up at me from right by the door and held my gaze just a little too long.


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Comments 4

  1. cayra wrote:

    Finally got caught up with the last few chapters. I loved them, as always. The descriptions of that open air concert painted some very pretty pictures in my head.

    I’m looking forward to seeing J again, Daron really needs to blow off some stress (and some cuddles XD) . I hope stuff doesn’t get too tense otherwise.

    [Reply]

    ctan Reply:

    The place I put the open air concert is a real place. There are some great photos of it here: http://www.lunerssb.com/article/39-a-day-at-the-santa-barbara-bowl or just Google “Santa Barbara Bowl”.

    There’s a long way to go before they get to New York…

    [Reply]

    Posted 14 Apr 2012 at 12:56 pm
  2. Janie Friedman wrote:

    Whew! Ok, so I downloaded Part 1 from Amazon yesterday, immediately got hooked, and 23 reading hours later I have reached the dreaded most recent chapter. Augh!Now I have to wait like everyone else. :-( I am throughly hooked. Your writing is great…never a false note in description or dialogue. I love Daron. I’m still pulling for he and Ziggy, but J is so good for him…conflicted.

    Thank you for this. Payday is Friday, so I will be making a donation at that time, and requesting the extra chapters. Now to go find TPB…

    [Reply]

    ctan Reply:

    Wooo! It’s Marathon Monday here in Boston today, but you definitely deserve a prize! 23 hours! I’m emailing you a bonus chapter right now. :-)

    [Reply]

    Janie Friedman Reply:

    That was an unexpected treat. Thank you! Received it on my lunch break at work and immediately read every word. Again beautifully written. That’s definitely love…not just lust. Donation still coming on Friday.

    [Reply]

    Posted 16 Apr 2012 at 12:22 am
  3. Emma wrote:

    Ziggy, stop shagging strangers, then looking at Daron longingly. I’m sure you’re confusing him.
    That’s not how you get a man Zig ;)

    [Reply]

    ziggy Reply:

    I wouldn’t have to shag strangers or look longingly at him if he’d just get over it already. But he’s got more hangups than Imelda Marcos’s closet.

    [Reply]

    Bill Heath Reply:

    And, pointing them out to him, and jerking his chain about them, and pressuring him to discard the hangups is a great way to get the guy.

    Or not.

    [Reply]

    Posted 17 Apr 2012 at 2:11 am
  4. Yvonne wrote:

    Yea, Ziggy, stop shagging strangers and help poor Daron with his hangups. You two make an excellent couple. Love the series by the way. You guys rock :)!!

    [Reply]

    ziggy Reply:

    I’d consider not shagging strangers if Daron would, but I just don’t see that happening.

    Of course we could always go shag strangers *together* but… talk about something I don’t see happening!

    [Reply]

    Yvonne Reply:

    You will never know if you don’t try :)!!!!

    [Reply]

    s Reply:

    Oh God…wait…I’d kinda like to see that ;)

    Don’t give up on him…okay?

    [Reply]

    Posted 18 Apr 2012 at 12:09 pm

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