OB2’s music was technically in the category of Outlaw Country, made popular by the likes of Willie Nelson and Waylon Jennings. His version of outlaw, however, made their version seem tame in comparison. Fond of writing songs about alcohol and drug abuse, cheating on one’s spouse or girlfriend, fighting in bars, and, in one memorable song, taking one’s girlfriend to the abortion clinic, he was the only country musician to have earned himself a Tipper sticker on his albums. Several radio corporations actually refused to play his tunes on their stations and OB2 himself had once been arrested for obscenity after a live performance in Memphis—just as Jake had in Cincinnati.
What this all meant, of course, was that his albums and singles sold like mad whenever they were released. It helped considerably that he was an excellent musician with a strong voice perfectly suited for country music vocals. He had also proven to be a shrewd businessman. He had never been subjected to a first-time contract that exploited him horribly as Intemperance and most other new acts in the United States faced. Knowing that his family connection with his father was a valuable tool, he managed to negotiate his first release contract with Mason-Dixon Records out of Nashville for a significant amount of positive revenue and only three option periods. When those first three albums went multi-platinum, and with each spawning two to three multi-platinum single releases, his second contract was even more lucrative and he became a multi-millionaire before the age of thirty.
There had been no third contract for Oren Blake II. He went independent two albums before and produced yet another multi-platinum album that made him rich beyond his wildest dreams. Using that revenue, he founded Blake Family Records, built Blake Studios in his hometown of Coos Bay, and used these assets to sign acts and record albums for up and coming country musicians that caught his eye. So far, four of those he had signed to his label had gone platinum as well. One of them—Jeffery Appalachia—had pulled in a Grammy the previous year and was considered to be the best young country musician of his generation.
Blake Studios was an unassuming building that sat in an unassuming section of Coos Bay. There were no views of the ocean or anything else that was interesting. The building itself was only two stories and looked like a government facility more than anything else. There were only a few windows in the structure and the parking lot was small and surrounded by chain link topped with razor wire. Entrance was accomplished an intercom box before an automatic gate. Blake himself met them at the front door after they had cleared the security checkpoint. His eyes went immediately to Celia, where they looked her up and down unabashedly.
“Celia Valdez!” he greeted. “It is so nice to meet you.” He held out his hand to her.
She gave him a small smile and stepped forward to shake with him. “It’s nice to meet you as well, Mr. Blake,” she said.
“Oh, screw that Mr. Blake shit,” he said. “Call me Obie. That’s the name I answer the most to.” He chuckled. “I’ve certainly been called a lot worse.”
Celia laughed as well. “Haven’t we all?” she asked.
Blake turned to Greg next. “And I have no trouble recognizing you, my friend. Greg Oldfellow, Celia’s husband and actor extraordinaire. How the hell are ya, Greg? May I call you Greg?”
“Uh ... of course,” Greg said, holding out his hand. “It’s nice to meet you as well, uh ... Obie.”
They shook. Obie then asked: “What the fuck was up with that Northern Jungle flick? Why the hell did you ever agree to be in that atrocity? Didn’t you read the fucking script first?”
This threw Greg for a considerable loop. “Uh ... well ... it’s a long story,” he stammered. “Let’s just say it seemed like a good idea at the time.”
Obie nodded. “Yeah,” he said. “I know where you’re coming from with that. Same thing I said when I got the fuckin’ Asian clap over in Hong Kong.”
Jake couldn’t help but let a chuckle come out of his mouth. This attracted Obie’s attention. He looked at him for a moment, his eyes probing. Finally, recognition seemed to creep in.
“Hole-ee shit,” Obie said. “Don’t tell me you’re Jake?”
“That’s me,” Jake confirmed. “It’s nice to meet you, Obie.”
“What the hell did you do to yourself, boy?” Obie demanded. “You look like a cross between a fireman and a San Francisco faggot.”
Jake raised his eyebrows a bit. “An interesting description,” he said. “It’s kind of a disguise. I find I can walk around in public without being recognized this way.”
Obie continued to look him up and down. “Yeah,” he said. “I suppose you have a point there. How do you get yourself laid if no one recognizes you?”
“The old-fashioned way,” Jake told him. “I have to earn it.”
This seemed to pique Obie’s interest. “Wow,” he said. “Going out and trying to get your weenie wet on your own merits, without being able to use your celebrity status. I haven’t done that in twenty years. Intriguing.” His eyes bored into Jake. “Does it make the conquest more satisfying when you succeed?”
Jake nodded. “Absolutely,” he said.
“Hmm,” Obie said thoughtfully. “Something to think about.” He turned to Bill and Sharon, who were standing just behind Jake. “And you two need no introductions.”
“We don’t?” asked Bill.
“Of course not,” Obie said. “Nerdly and Sharon Archer. You two are rumored to be the best goddamned audio engineering team currently operating in these United States. I am honored to make your acquaintance.”
“Uh ... I was also the piano player for Intemperance, and I’m one fourth owner of KVA Records,” Nerdly said.
“Yes, yes,” Obie said. “That too.” He held out his hand. “Shake with me, Nerdly. It’s an honor to meet you.”
Bill held out his hand and shook.
“And you, Sharon,” Obie said next. “It’s an honor to meet you as well.”
“Uh ... thank you, uh ... Obie,” Sharon said shyly, holding out her hand timidly.
“And,” Jake said, “I know you’ve talked to her on the phone, but let me introduce Pauline Kingsley, my sister and the manager for both myself and Celia.”
Obie then turned his attention to Pauline. He looked her up and down as appreciably as he had done for Celia. “It’s nice to meet you at last, Pauline,” he said. “You never mentioned in our conversations that you had a body that could stop a goddamn express train in its tracks.”
Pauline smiled. “I guess it never came up,” she said. “Thank you for seeing us today. Hopefully we’ll be able to do business together.”
“Perhaps we can,” Obie allowed. “I’ve heard a few tales about you, you know?”
“Have you?” Pauline asked.
“Little tales about how you managed to get a new contract for your brother and his boys a few years back. That would take some shrewd negotiating indeed.”
Pauline gave a little shrug. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Obie,” she told him. “You know that National Records would never renegotiate a first-time contract with a successful band.”
“Oh, they might,” Obie said. “They would have to have a compelling reason though.”
“Perhaps,” Pauline allowed.
Obie smiled. “Come on inside, all. Welcome to Blake Studios. How about we start this little shindig off with a tour?”
To Jake, the studio looked pretty much like every other he had been in, though perhaps a little more modern looking, and with nicer furniture. To the Nerdlys, however, it was a combination tour through the Taj Mahal and Disneyland combined. There were three complete studios on the ground floor of the building. Two of them were in use, but the third was not. Obie took them into the empty studio to show them around.