LATER THAT AFTERNOON it was all business: a meeting with Hy Gordon at NTL to get Odessa's tour on the road and a new single of theirs to the marketplace.
"It's gonna cost you, Chil. Fifty grand for openers. That's to do the one region, radio stations and retail stores. Tour expenses on top of that. I can stop right now if you want."
Chili sat at one end of the sofa facing Tommy's giant desk, Hy's little head showing back there on the other side. Chili said, "No, go on."
"Cost of the tour first. They don't need a Greyhound bus. I'm leasing a fifteen-passenger van, plenty of room for amps, equipment and luggage. Dale said he'd drive. I want to tell you that kid's a find. Three weeks on the road, food and lodging for four counting Vita . . . Wait a minute, five. I forgot Curtis, he's doing the sound. Okay, with the van, tour expenses'll run about seventy-five hundred. They'll schlepp a few hundred CDs and thirty dozen T-shirts. They're black with a pumpjack on the front in red, 'Odessa' supered over it in white. Linda's idea. The merch could bring in five grand or more, depending on audience reaction, how much they like the show. They love it, it could almost pay expenses."
Hy recited this glancing at notes on his desk, not showing much enthusiasm.
Chili said, "Why doesn't that make you happy?"
"I'm concerned," Hy said. "We re-mastered the CD to add the new songs. And we're gonna do one of 'em as a single to send to radio stations. What I'm thinking is, we may be a little premature."
That didn't sound right. "Hy, they been playing together ten years. You don't think they're ready?"
Hy said, "The first question I ask myself, where does this music fit, into what format? Well, it's rock 'n' roll with a twang. Linda calls it Americana. My opinion, that's too small a niche to aim for, you fall in the crack between country and rock. So we'll prob'ly go alternative. Send the record to second-level stations with that format. It gets play, the big stations'll come looking for it. Next week they play four clubs in L.A. I'm lining up. The following week they're off on a regional tour, three weeks, never playing a venue they don't sell out. We paper the house to assure against empty seats. The idea, keep a buzz going. By the time Odessa gets to San Diego, end of the first week, alternative stations are playing their single."
Chili said, "What's wrong with sending it to every station in range of the tour? They listen to the record, they like it or they don't."
"Because they won't play it," Hy said, "unless they see it fits their format, their image, the kind of music their listeners want to hear. That's why we need the indie promoter, a guy who knows the stations and has some of 'em in his pocket."
"What's he gonna cost?"
"Twenty-five grand, and he's worth it. He gives half of it to a select number of stations to use on their promotions, attract listeners. It's how it's done now, like the indie guy represents these particular stations. He sends our record to a station's music director. 'Can you blow it out for me, bro?' The record starts to get spins and he calls again. 'I appreciate it, bro, but could you move it into drive time?' He's got guys in the field covering the other stations."
"Twenty-five," Chili said, "doesn't sound too bad."
"That's the ante. We offer him another twenty-five as a bonus, based on how many spins he gets. Then, the next part of the campaign, you lay out twenty grand to get street teams working for us, calling on the retail outlets. This is tied in with the tour. Odessa plays a town, the street team covers the record stores. They schmooze the manager, slip him some free goods to make sure he puts the CD on the shelf, try for some in-store airplay and stick this gorgeous shot of Linda Moon in the window. They pass out flyers, put up posters around town, hand out singles to high school kids . . . Give the street team twenty grand, offer 'em another ten as a bonus—based on a sales goal we give 'em—and they'll hustle the ass off that record."
"With the bonuses," Chili said, "you're talking about eighty grand. Then what?"
"We go to phase two," Hy said, "national promotion and a nationwide tour. But, only if the record jumps out during the regional promotion. It has to catch fire in phase one before we go national."
"And before we even start," Chili said, "you have your doubts about Linda."
Hy was shaking his head. "Linda's not the problem, Linda's all we've got to sell. No, I'm talking about the record. The music works in a club, but to go out over the airwaves I think it needs to be fattened up."
It sounded familiar, Chili remembering what Curtis had said about laying in samples. "Your engineer felt it needs some grooves."
"There you are. Curtis is all the way into what's happening with records. He told me the same thing, he'd like to work on the single we go out with, remix it. His exact words, 'I could put legs on that one and run it up the chart.' "
Chili said, "You know Linda walked out on a label that wanted to dress up her demo. Handed the money back."
Hy gave that a shrug. "She was a kid. You're the manager, the business guy, talk to her. Ask Linda if she wants to be a star or play clubs the rest of her life. Chil, I'm not saying re-working the mix'll guarantee a hit, no; but it could give the record a much better chance of getting played."
"I don't think she'll go for it," Chili said, and saw Hy staring at him, like he was making up his mind about what he'd say next, but was hesitant about it.
"You know the record company, NTL, doesn't need her permission." There it was. "We can do what we think is best. It's a business, Chil. We don't sell music, we sell records."
Chili said he'd have to think about it.
"Don't take too long. The week after next the show's on the road."
"You line up an indie promoter?"
"I spoke to Nick Car, yeah. He'd said he'd do it, but has to hear the record first."
"I don't want him," Chili said. "Jesus Christ, Hy, why would you go to Nicky, all the people you know?"
"I just got done saying this is business, right? You happen to think the guy's a schmuck is beside the point. We give Nick Car the record he'll get it on the air. That's what he does, he talks the talk and he delivers. You don't have to have anything to do with him."
Chili thought about it, Hy watching him.
Hy saying, "You don't like the idea of paying Nick, of all people, that much money."
"You're right," Chili said, "but if he's the guy you want I won't argue with you. Give him the record and offer a contract. Then I'll stop by his office. I got something I want to say to him."
"Don't blow the deal, Chil. I'm not saying you have to be entirely civil or socialize with him. . . ."
Edie, coming in the office, heard him.
She said, "I wouldn't mind a little socializing. I think you can overdo this mourning business. I've had to buy all new outfits, this one from Saks. You like it?" Edie held her hands out and did a turn. "It's cute, isn't it? Little cocktail dress. But I don't wear black that much." She sank down next to Chili on the sofa and put her hand on his knee. "You guys working or just shooting the shit?" She took her hand away and opened her bag as Hy told her they were discussing the tour and promotion ideas. Edie said, "Wait." She got out a pack of Virginia Slims, the long ones, and a lighter. Edie placed a cigarette between her lips, tried the lighter a half-dozen times, no luck, then turned her head as Chili reached over with a kitchen match, held it for her and flicked the head lit with his thumbnail.
Edie said, "Chil, you are so fucking cool." She took a long drag on the cigarette and blew out a cloud of smoke. "But you know what? I just pulled off something that is so cool you won't believe it when I tell you."
Hy said, "You've had a few drinks, uh?"
"Stingers. I haven't had a Stinger in years. I used to love them. So there I was drinking Stingers with this guy who doesn't even drink. Thirteen years on the wagon and looks great. We talked about the old days. . . . I don't even know where we had lunch, some place in Santa Monica. He loves me a lot more now that I'm rich. Which is okay, we've been friends a long time. I mean like more than twenty years. It was cool."
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Hy said, "Yeah, I'd say that's pretty cool, having lunch with Steven Tyler."
It surprised her and she dropped an ash on her black skirt. "How'd you know?"
"I read they're in town this weekend. I know you used to do their laundry and now they come to your home."
Edie relaxed as he spoke, sitting back now, crossing her legs. She placed her hand again on Chili's knee.
"Having lunch with Steven," Edie said, "is cool, yeah. But that's not what I meant. What I got Steven to agree to is way cooler." She looked from Hy to Chili, turning her head. "You ready for this?"
Chili nodded. "I'm ready."
"This Saturday night at the Forum, Odessa is gonna open for Aerosmith."
CHILI AND HY were alone again in the office, Edie off to tell Linda and her boys, in the recording studio.
Chili said, "I like Edie. A lot."
Hy said, "I do too. She's a sweetheart."
"I like her new outfit."
"Yeah, the skirt."
"There's nothing wrong with the top part either."
"She thinks she's rich."
"Knowing Tommy," Chili said, "she could have it put away. I can't see him declaring everything he made."
Hy said, "You hate to see the poor girl grieving like that, don't you?"
Chili looked up as Tiffany came in. He noticed her batwings were gone. As she glanced at him he touched his nose.
"What happened to your wings?"
"They were a pain in the ass. They got in the way and they hurt." She turned to Hy. "I finished the search."
Hy said, "And?"
"There's a band called Little Odessa, another one, The Odessa File, and wouldn't you know, one called just Odessa. They've been around forever."
There was a silence.
Hy looked at Chili. "I had Tiff check the Internet just in case. You believe it? Linda must not've ever looked to see if she was the only Odessa. We got the T-shirts on order with the name and the pumpjack. The jewel box inserts for the CDs with the same logo . . . What do we do?"
20
* * *
ELAINE SAID, "What are you going to do?"
It was early Monday afternoon and they were in her office at the studio, Chili with the feeling that every time he saw Elaine now there was something else to notice about her. First her hair—now glasses he'd never seen before, little round ones on the end of her nose. She seemed alert but more relaxed, a scrubbed look about her in a starched white shirt, the top buttons undone.
"For a while," Chili said, "we thought we'd have to eat the T-shirts. But then we thought, no, they have a song called 'Odessa' about a town; you know, a mood, a feeling about a place. They'll feature the song on the tour and if it touches some hearts out there, they'll sell the T-shirts."
"But you still have to change the name?"
"It's done. You missed it," Chili said, "Saturday night at the Forum." He had wanted Elaine to come along, meet Linda, see Odessa open for Aerosmith, but there was a Tower premiere that night and Elaine had to be on hand, do the walk up the red carpet.
"What's the new name?"
"Guess. No, wait. I want to set it up."
"As a scene in the movie?"
Chili said, "It could be a good one."
He told her he got the band a stretch, a black one, so they'd arrive at the Forum looking big-time, past the marquee to see their name under aerosmith small, down into the tunnel entrance off 90th Street—the way in for performers, basketball players and Jack Nicholson—and Odessa piled out of the limo looking for the way upstairs. They could hear Aerosmith rocking, doing their sound check and Linda wanted to watch; but the security guy said no, they weren't allowed up there. Then Edie came along—Edie in a limo with Hy, Tiffany, Derek Stones and Curtis the engineer—Edie in snaky black leather, her rock 'n' roll mourning outfit. She told the security guy she was Steven's girlfriend, and if the security guy wanted them to hang around the fucking tunnel and piss Steven off, fine, but she'd have to tell Steven about it. So that got them into the arena where the roadies were still setting up and Aerosmith was doing "Love In An Elevator."
"You know that one?"
Elaine said, "I think so," not sounding too sure.
" 'Living it up while you're going down,' " Chili said.
He told Elaine they met the band, nice guys, easy to talk to, looked right at you and listened when you had something to say. Edie the most talkative. Derek sulked. Dale didn't say much of anything. They went backstage to the dressing room, the one the Lakers used, a big carpeted locker room with a folding chair in front of each player's stall, a buffet set up in the middle of the room with the usual stuff, salads, raw vegetables, chicken, shrimp, coldcuts, tea, bottled water. Chili continued, describing the scene as he remembered it:
Linda asking Steven where he got his outfits. He said, "Come on, I'll show you some," and took her over to where his wardrobe stood open.
Edie hanging on to Tom Hamilton, asking if he'd brought his whites. Sure he did, and they made a date to play tennis Sunday at the Riviera Country Club.
Speedy telling Joey Kramer he only used two drums and two cymbals and Joey saying, "That's a start," which Speedy naturally took as an insult. He said, "I notice you got a problem of speeding up when you come back from a solo." Joey said, "Yeah, but when I solo the band hangs around. What's yours do, go back to the hotel?"
Edie saying she used to wash these guys' skivvies, sounding proud of it, and roll joints.
Joe Perry, talking about Get Leo to Chili, saying they went to see it twice on the road.
Brad Whitford saying he used the name Leo Devoe when they checked into hotels and sometimes, for a change, Larry Paris, the name Leo used when he was hiding out.
Linda did some turns wearing one of Steven's outfits, the long white linen coat with a crimson lining, saying to Steven, "You think I should dress up?" Linda twirling around, coattails flying. Steven told her he'd have to see her show, and said, "I hear you've got what it takes." He said to Curtis, "Are you any good? If you aren't I got a T-shirt I'll give Linda that says on it 'I can't hear the fuckin monitor!'
Edie saying, "Remember how you had to have a fifth of Jack Daniel's on the drum riser? Not any more."
Curtis saying to Joe Perry, "I heard one time you put together a lefthanded Strat with a Telecaster neck and a blue Travis Bean L-500."
Perry said, "The idea was to play loud as I could and blow 'em away."
Elaine stopped Chili. "You remember all that word for word?"
"Later on I asked Curtis what it was he said. It's the kind of line I like, that describes the character, the person saying it." He kept looking at Elaine and said, "Were you ever married?"
"Yeah, to a lawyer. And he had bad breath."
"I was married once. Debbie never left Brooklyn."
Elaine said, "I know all about you, Chil."
He returned to the scene:
Tom Hamilton telling Dale what it was like to play to eighty thousand people. What it was like one time, way back, to have bottles thrown at you on the stage. Tom telling Dale not ever to use blow to pick yourself up; it made you play too fast. Dale nodding.
Edie saying, "Remember some of the more outrageous things you did? Tearing up the motel rooms with chain saws? Putting the extension cord on the TV set, so when you threw it off the balcony it played all the way down to the pool?"
Steven saying we called that period the wonder years, 'cause we wonder what happened to them.
Brad Whitford saying, "Or if they happened at all."
Joe Perry: "It's amazing no one in the band ever died."
Steven telling Linda, "You got to stay ahead. Just when you think you have it down, the rules change." He said to her, "You know what can happen? You become successful and turn over your power to managers and record companies and you stop taking risks."
Joe Perry said to her, "Don't let them take the fun out of it."
Joey Kramer telling Speedy, "Don't try to muscle it, let the sticks do
the work."
Chili said to Elaine, "I told Tom Hamilton we had to change the band's name and asked where Aerosmith came from. He said Joey Kramer pulled it out of the air. It didn't relate to anything, they just liked the sound of it." What else. "Hy spent some time with the tour accountant. I didn't listen in on that; maybe I should've. And I didn't hear what Edie was telling the laundress. She did mention a cop in West Virginia giving them pot when they couldn't get any."
Elaine said, "It sounds like Edie was having a good time."
"She did, she kept things going."
"You said Derek was there? I love his name, Derek Stones."
"Derek was intimidated," Chili said, "these guys being who they are, so he acted bored. Waited for them to talk to him. He could've asked questions, or just listened, like Dale, maybe learn something. I like him though."
"You mean for the picture."
"What'd you think I meant?"
"Maybe he'll do something interesting."
"I doubt it. He came up to me—we just got there, we're standing by the limos, he comes up to me and says, 'Ask me the question.' I know what he means, I say okay and deliver the line, 'Derek, are you trying to fuck with me?' He goes, 'If I was fuckin with you, man, it'd be the last thing you remember.' " Chili shrugged. "That's as good as he can do."
"What did you tell him?"
"To keep working on it. The poor guy, he's dying to be a star, strut around on a stage before eighty thousand screaming fans, the little girls in the front row showing their tits. . . . Imagine being one of those guys, legends, and the rush you'd get performing for all those people. I thought, why didn't I learn to play the guitar and become a rock star."
Elaine said, "Instead of a gangster."
"I'd like to be one just for a couple of days. See what it would be like."
Elaine said, "Are you gonna tell me the band's new name or not?"