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“I’ll be looking forward to it,” Steph said. “That would make it so much easier if my mortgage and my car payment just paid itself.”

“So ... anyway,” Pauline said. “Fifty K advance money works?”

“It works,” Jim said.

“That’s settled then,” she said. “Let’s move on to the next item.”

They moved on. And they agreed immediately on the clauses for how the royalties would be disbursed and distributed: just like they had been the last time, quarterly and individually. They then moved on to the next item, and then the next. And every time, there was no disagreement. In all but the signing, the entity known as KVA Records and the musical act known as Brainwash came to terms on a one CD contract and all of its provisions before their dinner was even served. This left them free to thoroughly enjoy their cuisine when it was put before them.

It was over desert and cognac that Jake brought up the actual itinerary for the summer months.

“You’ve been working up some tunes for us, right?”

“That’s right,” Jim said. “We still get together almost every weekend and jam. We didn’t tour at all last summer, so we didn’t want to get rusty.”

“No touring?” Jake asked. “Why not? I would’ve thought you would have been able to pull in pretty good money for agreeing to play in pretty much any club.”

“That’s what we thought as well,” Steph said. “And it was true. The one time we tried was at the Haymaker Club here in Providence; a place we’ve played dozens of times over the years. They offered us three grand for a Friday night show at the beginning of last summer. And they upped their cover charge to ten dollars for the event.”

“What happened?” Pauline asked.

“It was utter chaos,” Jim said. “Far too much demand and not enough supply. The venue only holds four hundred people, max. People started showing up on Wednesday night to get in line. They set up tents and had camp stoves and were going over to the Starbucks to pee and poop. By Friday morning it was insane. The police estimated there were more than two thousand people in the line. Fights were breaking out. People were getting cited for public urination. The cops and the fire department were forced to break up the line and cancel our permit as a danger to public safety.”

“Wow,” Jake said. “That’s insane.”

“After that, we didn’t even try anymore,” Steph said.

“I guess I can understand why,” Jake said. “Anyway, you’ve got at least sixteen tunes to present?”

“Closer to twenty, truth be told,” Jim said.

Jake nodded. “And you’re out of school on May 31?”

“That is our last day,” Steph confirmed.

“Will you be ready to travel on June 2? That’s the Sunday following the last day of school.”

“We’ll be ready,” Jim assured him.

“All right then,” Jake said. “Here’s the plan. You get your equipment all packed up and ready for shipping on your next weekend. Just the drums and the guitars and the piano, like last time. We’ll have the shipping company pick it all up next Monday. That way it will be in our studio in Santa Clarita well before you all arrive. We’ll charter a Gulfstream to fly you and the wives and kids to LA on June 2. We’ll put you all up in the hotel and get you some rental cars like before. Is Jenny up for being the nanny again?”

“She is,” Jeremy confirmed.

“We’ll get her the minivan again,” Jake said. “Once you’re all settled in, we’ll hit the studio and start going over the tunes. I will be involved in this process, like before, but once we make the move up to Oregon, I will be staying behind.”

“You will?” Steph asked.

“That’s right,” Jake said. “I’ve signed on to perform at the Tsunami Sound Festival down in the Vegas area in late September. And the band that I used to record my last two albums with is currently getting ready to go out on a tour of Europe. I’ll need to break in a new band and rehearse up for the show. That is what is going to be occupying most of my summer.”

Jim and Steph both seemed taken aback by this revelation. “But ... but ... we need you in the studio, Jake,” Jim protested. “You’re the one who shapes our tunes for the recording. The one who suggests when to put in slow intros, or to work up a bridge a little more, or to add those little fills here and there that enhance the tunes.”

“I’ll try to do as much of that as I can during the workup phase,” Jake promised. “But you are all professional musicians with tons of experience at putting complex tunes together. You should be able to do all of that yourselves.”

“You’re also the one who tells the Nerdlys when enough is enough,” Steph added. “The one who gets them to move on from the sound checks, when to stop making us repeat takes, when we’ve done enough overdubs.”

“You’re just going to have to learn to be a little more assertive with the Nerdlys,” Jake said. “And, besides, I’ll try my damndest to get up there a few times during the overdub portion. And I will also insist upon being a part of the mixing and mastering process. Hopefully, by the time we get there, my new band and I will be clicking together and not have to work eight hours a day, six days a week.”

“It’ll be weird not having you there, Jake,” Jeremy said.

“Yeah,” said Jim. “The Nerdlys are great at what they do, but they’re more like engineers, not architects. You know what I’m saying?”

Jake nodded. “I know what you’re saying,” he said. “But I have my own commitment I have to fulfill. The show must go on, right?”

They all agreed that the show must go on. That was sacred.

Pauline stayed in Providence to formally draft the Brainwash contract and get it signed. Jake moved on. The next morning, he checked out of the hotel and took a taxi to North Central State Airport, just north of the city of Providence. Here, there was an aircraft rental and flight school available for his use and enjoyment. He had already reserved a 1989 Mooney Bravo M20 TLS. This aircraft had a single turbocharged six-cylinder piston engine that could drive it at two hundred knots indicated airspeed. Jake had never piloted a Mooney Bravo before. Though he was not required by the FAA to be type-certified in it because it was not a turboprop or a jet aircraft, he was not a reckless fool. He hired one of the flight instructors to check him out on the aircraft. They spent two hours together, flying around the Providence and Boston area, getting Jake familiar with the controls, the stall speed, the flap settings, the takeoff speed, the fuel calculations, and a dozen other things that were unique to each individual aircraft type.

After completing a series of turns and banks, touch and goes, and two full stop landings and takeoffs, Jake felt enough confidence to solo. He thanked the instructor for his time, made the entries in his logbook, and then paid the school with his bottomless credit card. It was now time to go see his wife.

He lifted off from North Central just past noon on a beautiful spring day and made the ninety-minute flight to Bar Harbor Airport, about thirty-five miles southeast of Bangor. It was a nice flight, fast, very scenic, and very soothing to Jake’s soul. He touched down neatly and taxied over to the general aviation area where he was able to tie down the plane and rent an Audi convertible for his stay. He loaded his bag into the trunk and then drove forty-five minutes to downtown Bangor, where he drove around until he happened across Bangor Memorial Auditorium, the eight thousand seat venue where the final American show of the 1996 Celia Valdez tour would be performed on this night.

He pulled around to the back and parked amid the tractor-trailers and the roadie buses. He then walked up to the freight loading door, which was standing open. Inside, the roadies were hard at work. The stage had already been built and they were now working on raising the scaffolding for the lights up to attachment points where the climbing roadies known as “monkeys” would attach them. Dan Baldovino, head of tour security, was standing post himself, his all-access pass around his neck, his portable radio in his back pocket. He smiled when he saw Jake approaching him.