“I don’t think I fully understand what you’re planning, here,” McRoy says, ticking out a nervous blink. He folds his lips between his teeth, worried I’ll lose my patience. I’m not. Not yet.
“The studio’s ready for the party, correct?”
“Yeah, but we don’t ever take it this far, not even for full-length wrap parties.”
“I’m aware. Listen.” I grab the front of his shirt and pull his scrawny self closer. He gasps warily; I’ve been known to throw a friendly punch when he’s been too stubborn. “It’s the price I pay for business, okay? Watch and learn. Now, get all performers onsite in studio 1.”
“Yes, sir.”
I take the stairs to the second story. About thirty girls and six of my male actors are already there, with a few more corralled in from makeup by McRoy.
The studio has been transformed into a club. We’ve got hired help playing music, high-quality speakers in each corner, and a bar that looks anything but makeshift lining the entire back wall. Yep, my event girl has knocked this out of the park on short notice.
We have a dozen round tables at the center, but it’s the purple couches, enormous roman-style ones that are impossible to just sit on, that make all the difference. They’re covered in purple and grey pillows, which match every detail in the Lucid club, all the way down to the straws. We’ve rented lava lamps, a plethora of small fish tanks with black light and purple glow fish in them. The whole thing’s damn impressive-looking, actually.
“Wow,” Belen purrs, sauntering in. What she wears can hardly be considered a tube top. A silk band. A ribbon, maybe?
The deejay is in sound check. I signal for him to cut the music. McRoy turns on the light, and some of the girls aww with disappointment.
“Don’t worry, I’ll dim the lights again once we’re finished, here, and when Clown Irruption arrives, it’ll be free-for-all. Clothing optional, basically anything you can do to impress and make the night memorable for the band and their crew, is on.”
“Oh my god, Clown Irruption!” Irene hollers, and Ana chimes in, wiggling her hips. They trigger an impromptu applause. In the back, I even see our voice-over guy, Ciro Silveira. From what I hear, he used to be a damn good performer.
“I need everyone on your best behavior,” I say. “Or worst behavior, whatever works.” I wink.
“Wooh, yeah!”
“Careful with the band wives. You do not want to mess with them.”
Belen groans out loud.
“Belen?” I stare her down.
“Yeah, yeah.”
“Everyone: do not go after the married guys unless they explicitly ask for it.” I meet my female performers’ gazes, until I still on Belen again. She rolls her eyes.
“Their tour manager just called. They’re done at the Greek and about fifteen minutes away from here.” I raise my voice, continuing, “They’ll be on a high from the concert, and they’ll want to have fun. Are we going to show them how Lucid Entertainment parties?”
“Ye-e-es!”
“Are we gonna give them a night they’ll never forget?” I shout.
“Ye-e-es!”
I nod slowly. Signal for the deejay to play and for the bar to start serving. Tonight’s on me, and every performer knows it. They’re ready to have a fucking blast. And I’m ready to think outside the box.
Once I’m done here, one of the most popular rock bands in the United States of America is going to have a new promo opportunity on its hands. Once all’s said and done, they’re going to skyrocket in popularity, and they will bring Lucid Entertainment to the cover of every gossip magazine in the country. Fuck yeah, this is going to be epic.
The Clown Irruption gang is twenty men strong. There are a few wives, and sure enough, Belen grumbles behind my back. “Goddamn, I was gonna have a fling with the singer. I’d hit that stud hard.”
The guy’s wife has the gaze of an assassin. Zoe Something has already sized up her competition in the room and is lowering her lashes against Belen in particular. She smells it, I’m sure.
The lead singer, Emil, guffaws at Ciro’s joke. The voice-over-dude hitting it off with the lead singer? Guess it’s not so strange. For now, I’m observing, discussing Sweden over a glass of whiskey with Bo Lindgren. I went to their home country a year ago for business.
“You have a beautiful wife,” I tell him.
“That I do. I still can’t believe I caught her. Nadia, you’ve met Isaias di Nascimbeni, right?”
“Yes, it’s nice to see you again. I didn’t know a film studio would have a club like this,” she says, smiling. If she’s shocked by the outfits some of my girls wear, she’s hiding it well.
“Oh that.” I wave it off. “It’s a special occasion thing. Many of my performers love Clown Irruption, and they wanted to make it something to remember for the guys.” I end it on a shrug, like it wasn’t my idea.
My eye is on the two single guys of the band, though. Elias is the bass player. He’s got some sort of milky-white vampire look to him, and my girls are subtly fighting over him. An hour in, and he’s already on the couches, halfway leaning on his elbows and laughing at the entertainment provided by the girls. Irene is doing an air-lap dance for him to the music, and I think Belen just pinched Vicky’s butt to get her out of the way.
After a chat with Emil and now this one with Bo, my mind is made up. It’s got to be Troy. Although Bo is the leader of the band and Emil the spokesperson, their band decisions are run as a democracy. If I can sway Troy, he’ll get me a meeting with the band as a whole, and we might be in business. This is exactly what can get Lucid on a map that’s not purely pornographic.
Troy is the black panther of the group. Rumor has it he’s a sexual man. Tall, lean, and strong, with slender ebony muscles gleaming under a rolled-up white shirt, there’s no hiding the quiet simmer in his gaze as he averts it from my girls. Two of them are slow-dancing together a few feet from him. They’re goddamn fascinating, actually. I don’t remember their names. Maybe I’ll invite them home tonight if Troy doesn’t bite.
“A tour of the studio?” I suggest once he’s off the dancefloor with Belen half an hour later.
“Sure. You’ve got a good thing going here.” His voice is hoarse, road-worn from backup vocals on tour, I assume.
“Thanks, man.” I slap his shoulder as we head off, Belen’s possessive glare following us out the door. She knows her place well enough to stay behind, though.
As I show him around, we talk about family. About Sweden, the home country of the three other band members. He’s from Los Angeles, which I already knew, another good reason to have a chat with him.
In my office, I hand him a whiskey, plopping boob-shaped novelty ice into his glass for a laugh. Once we’re done chuckling, his smile fades into lazy delight. Those long dreadlocks, dark skin, and green eyes to rival my own is part of the allure for his fans. Fuck, they’re going to be happy once I’m done.
“You’re living the life here, aren’t you?” He studies me calmly, intelligence and self-control evident in his gaze, a lethal combination. I have to be cautious.
I half-ass a shrug. “It’s a business. Lucid Entertainment was doing okay, but I can make it better. That’s the rush, man. As soon as the challenge disappears, I do too.” I flop my hands open and clasp my glass again. “Pussy’s a short-lived rush.”
He ticks his head toward the hallway. “Unless you have what a couple of my bandmates have.”
“Yeah? What’s that?”
Troy lets out a quiet chuckle, looking into his glass. “Love.”
“You believe in love?” It sounds ridiculous in my setting. Not that I haven’t seen it. Ma and Il Lince have it.
“Try being around Bo and Nadia, or crazy-ass Emil and his nut job of a wife, Zoe, and you’ll see people who don’t run out of the rush.”
“Maybe marriage is all about the steady flow of pussy?” I wink at him.
He chuckles again. “Right. That’s probably it.”
“So no old lady for you at the moment?”
“Nah.” He pulls a good drag from his glass, tipping his chin back and letting the burn trickle down his throat in a swallow. It’s a good look. Gay and straight alike will fall over themselves for a close-up like this. “Only ever been seriously interested in someone once. Lots of great ladies out there, ya know, but they’re not her.”
Good. Now we’re getting somewhere. I lift my glass in a toast. “To the ones who got away.”
“Anyone for you?” he asks, eyes on me again.
“Sure,” I half-lie. “I had my indiscretion in Italy a few years back. Romeo and Juliet thing, only neither of us died.”
“Interesting.” Troy nods slowly, dance-like. Damn, I want to turn on that camera myself. I wish Gianni had come tonight. He’s a miracle worker, and Troy would have been an unpolished diamond for his lens. Later.
“Who’s your woman?”
“Oh.” Troy’s smile grows slowly, gaze sliding over the dew on his glass. I’m familiar with that look. Fingers flexing, he wonders how much to tell me.
“Your secret’s safe with me. I’m no journalist.” I curl a one-sided smile.
“Right.” When his eyes lift again, they’re narrowed in a squint. His full lips, which I’m sure women go ape shit over, remain in a barely visible curve. “You’re gonna laugh.”
“Never.”
“She used to be our merch girl. Emil tapped that, and she only saw me as a friend. I’m not going into detail, but Emil made some mistakes. I made some mistakes. It resulted in a black eye on Emil and Aishe running off to a new gig.”
“Oh geez.”
“Yeah, she pretty much hates me.”
“Sounds like a Lifetime drama.”
“Wish that was all it was.”
“What band’s she with now?” Any intel is good intel, but if it’s about a potential business partner’s weak spots, it’s more than good.
His features still, amusement abating. “Nah, it’s not important. She’s free of Clown Irruption. We see her every now and then, but this shit’s hard to mend and I’m not pushing it. It’s better left in the past.”
I shake my head, mock-surprised. “What? You’re giving up on the love of your life?”
He empties his glass and slaps it to my desktop, a clipped snicker accompanying the move. “This is hilarious. The owner of Lucid Entertainment’s giving relationship advice. I guess in my book love has to be reciprocated?”
“Oh man. I have an idea.” I lean forward like I just came up with this. “You should bring her here and make some seriously romantic love to her on film, and it’ll be your poetic rocker way of saying, ‘You’re it for me.’”
So far, Troy’s facial features have been slow to react. He’s a man who hides his emotions well, but I just cracked through his surface. Shock and what looks like regret roll over them until he settles back into blankness. He tries for another laugh.
“She’s not the type. Yeah, that kind of invitation wouldn’t go over well.”
“No? She’s not the passionate type?”
“Oh, she’s plenty passionate. Goddamn, she’s fireworks like no one I’ve ever met. Aishe is a Gypsy, and she has that fire too. She’s fucking special as hell. Everything she does is on a medium to high burn if you know what I mean, and in bed?” He gives up and just shakes his head, incredulous. “Just. Whoa.”
Okay. Emil wasn’t the only one “tapping that.” I’ll give it some more thought and see what I can do with my new intel. I have to put McRoy on the specifics too, find out who the girl is.
“Now that I think about it,” I begin, having found my in. “Rockers walk with runway models, movie stars, and the like.”
Troy just nods.
“Porn stars.”
He doesn’t deny it. Just waits for me to go on.
“You have a record dropping soon.”
“In about six months, and then we’re on to the Twisted tour. We’re recording next.”
“Valley studio?” I ask conversationally.
“Yeah, the one off Mullholland.” He snaps his fingers, not remembering the name of it. I’m not well versed in recording locations.
“Cool. Have you guys decided on the first single yet?”
His brow contracts in a subtle frown, wondering where I’m going with this. “Yeah, it’s called ‘Deep in You.’”
“Is it about what I think it’s about?”
“I bet it is; Emil can’t get over how much he likes his wife.” He suppresses a smile. “It’s sort of a cock-rocker tune, for sure, but it’s fucking catchy.”
“It’s a sign,” I say.
“Of what?”
“You got a video for it yet?”
“Not yet, no. We record before making the videos.”
“Ah of course.” I lean back in my chair, making it creak. “Here’s the thing. From my experience, there are two ways of standing out from the competition in most businesses: thinking outside the box, and cross-promotion. Music is art, but it’s also a business. Hence, the name ‘music industry,’ right?” I nod at my own obvious description, and Troy bobs his head in agreement.
“Well, here’s something that hasn’t been done before: a rock band using an adult entertainment company’s promotional channels to acquire a broader audience.”
I exhale, letting him consider what I’m implying. Troy’s bright. He catches on immediately; though his face remains frozen, his pupils widen, darkening his gaze for the second that gives him away.
He crosses his arms. “How?”
“You don’t think my audience listens to music? I could take ‘Deep in You’ to a whole new level. I run a tight studio, and since I took over, we’ve procured state-of-the art equipment and the best of the best across the board. I’m talking directors, producers, editors, gaffers, and everything in between. There isn’t a single person on the non-performer side of my payroll with less than five years of experience and a college degree within their craft, most of whom have prestigious awards under their belts by the time their asses land on Hillside.”
“As in ‘Best Filming of a…’ Never mind.” Troy closes his eyes, censoring his own joke. I’m not above appreciating it though, so I chuckle.
“Yeah, there’re definitely a few of those, but to be honest, the competition is so fierce my guys are mainstream quality. Anyway.” I clap my hands together. “I want to try something new.”
“Go mainstream?”
“Not exactly. Rock music and passion go hand in hand, which Clown Irruption’s lyrics prove. I still have that one song… what’s it called—‘Fuck You?’—stuck in my head. Damn infectious that thing. Basically, to make a long story short, Lucid Entertainment has script writers who can set you up for ‘Deep in You’ to become the most watched music video since the heyday of MTV.”
Troy stares me down. All deep and scorching and velvety, he’s a perfect sight for Gianni’s lens. Blinking slowly, he shakes his head. “Are you proposing what I think you are?”
“Try me.” I break out a shit-eating wolf smile.
“You want to make a music video that’s basically porn.”
He needs to get it out of his system before I dig in, so I don’t reply. Instead, I lift my shoulders in a shrug.
“I have to be honest, man. That’s not going to fly. We’ll get no playtime anywhere with an X-rated video.”
“That’s true, man. True.”
He arches his brows at me, his face at its most expressive so far.
“I’m branching out, and you’d be branching out: you’ve never made sweet music with the adult industry before. We’ve never worked with rock bands before. So here’s my plan: provide my script writer with the lyrics and an early cut of the song. Let her play with it.”
“She’s good?”
“Really good and very versatile. Came from Disney, actually.”
“You’re kidding me.”
“Not kidding. It’ll be softcore, showing minimal skin but alluding to a whole lot of action. And the performers are you, the band and your women.”
“What? No way. One thing is some kind of censored porn video, but Bo will never go for that.”
I take a moment, enjoying his balking. The hunt is on. I love this part where I’ve got people in disbelief while knowing I’m onto something.
“Don’t get me wrong, Troy. I research my potential business partners, and there are reasons why Clown Irruption is my first choice among the high-profile bands out there.”
“Our looks?” He huffs out a quiet laugh.
“Important, but more than your looks and magnetism, it’s where the band is in its cycle. At this point, your music constantly hits top hundred, which is great. Within days though, it drops. You need something spectacular to keep you there longer, and that’s where Lucid comes into the picture. The fact that you have a record brewing is perfect.”
He shakes his head. I smile.
“So far, everything I’ve learned about Bo Lindgren and Clown Irruption points to an astute business instinct and a sense of timing. My gut feeling tells me you guys will sit down and coolly consider the pros and cons of my offer. Best part is, if you’re not releasing for a few more months, we’ll have time to negotiate a deal that can meet both parties’ wettest dreams.”
Troy’s features remain still for another moment. Then his mouth inflates with a small snort. “There’s no way Bo would agree to having sex on film. He’s private as hell. Not to mention Nadia; she’d make sure they didn’t do it, for sure.”
“She’s bossy?”
“Not really. It’s one of those things, man. A look, and he’ll do anything to keep her happy.”
“Ah. We call that ‘pussy-whipped’ where I come from.”
“Dude.” His stare hardens. “Not the two of them.”
It’s not often I misread people and have to backtrack, but I didn’t know how deep Troy’s loyalty to the bandleader and his wife ran. I’m good with that. These loyalties don’t come unwarranted, and I won’t be questioning it. An apology won’t help, though, so I simply say, “Got it.”
From what I’ve seen of the bass player, Elias, I’m not worried. I get the feeling he’s a follower, and clearly, his moral scruples aren’t all that developed. But I do want to know more about the front man. “What about your singer? He’s a good-looking fellow. Has that sunny Swedish thing about him.”
“Emil?”
“Mm-hmm.” I scan for his instinctive reactions.
Troy’s gaze draws toward a commotion in the hallway. It’s just someone finding the restroom and exchanging slapstick one-liners with a fellow partier on the way there. “Emil will do anything Zoe’s up for. She’s crazy. She could slap you in the face over a suggestion like this, or freaking insist on directing it herself.”
“Ah. A handful?”
He rolls his eyes. “You could say that. She’s also the only chick to ever have kept Emil’s attention for more than five minutes, so there’s that. Anyway, long story short, your proposal is far out. To be frank, I don’t believe the band will go for it.”
Slowly, I sit up in my chair and scoot my elbows forward on the desk. “Would you?”
It’s four fifteen in the morning, and the party’s over at the studio. The cleaning crew has arrived, and I’m heading down to the house.
I’m satisfied with what I’ve accomplished. I’ve planted a seed in Troy’s head, and he’ll be discussing it with the others—I’m sure of it. Despite his self-control, it wasn’t hard to tell his reaction; he’s shocked and intrigued. Last thing I said was I’d give him a call in a few days—just to chat, you know. Rome wasn’t built in a day.
I smile, loving this part of life. Unintentionally, I pass the exit to my house and don’t realize it until I’m halfway to the Valley bottom.
Okay, so it’s not unintentional. I need a quick fill of Kristen and the other babies at the NICU before I go to bed. Though I’m not the caretaker of any child, it makes a little something feel good in my chest to see them there. So innocent, so new, so unspoiled by the world.
Sister Margaret’s on my speed dial. She’s not happy with that turn of events, but if she’s at work, she picks up every time.
“Sister Margaret?” I ask. Formalities, man. They sure sound stupid sometimes.
“Mr. Nascimbeni, per favore.” She commits a wary sigh. “It’s late.”
“Or early. It’s nice to hear your voice too.”
That makes her huff. “What do you want from me?”
“How’s Kristen?”
“She’s doing great, actually. She was kicking her feet so hard this afternoon she almost lost a little booty.”
“Seriously?” This is good news. “What are the doctors saying?”
“They think she’ll be out of here sooner than the two weeks they originally predicted.”
“She’s strong. The other day, she squeezed my finger.”
“Yes, she does squeeze your finger now!” She can’t help laughing, and I join her.
She tells me this time is an exception. It’s the only time I get to visit her babies. I’m not family, see, and I should not be there. I can give my donation to the NICU via the hospital website.
I agree with her. I promise I’ll never ask for such a favor again. “I do make your job easier, though, by freeing up time for your other babies.”
She grunts her disagreement. I let my amusement puff out through my nostrils.