I’m on the phone with Il Lince the whole way from Lucid to Gearhead Studios. Shit’s going down. My father needs me involved again, and I’m telling him what I’ve said for ages now— “No.”
“What’s the deal, son? Don’t you love your family?”
“I do. And I really love not having to run anyone’s errands anymore. That time at the St. Tatiana was a one-off.”
“Figlio, enough already. Your attitude has to change. I need you more hands-on than you’ve been over the last years, capisci? I’m getting older, and you gotta be ready like an oiled machine by the time I retire.”
“No, I don’t. I’ll never change my mind on this. I’m not stepping up after you.”
My father doesn’t take being dismissed lightly. I’m not sure why he’s causing himself grief right now, after years of knowing.
“Isaias. We need to talk. Meet me tonight at Cafe Chrome.”
I feel my jaws tighten at that. “Please. The less I know, the better.”
“No, you need to know this. Be there at eight sharp. I have business to take care of later, so we need to wrap it up fast.”
Leave it to Il Lince to rush people on a meeting he’s demanded.
“Fine. I gotta go.”
“Ciao, Isaias. Ti amo.”
“I love you too,” I grit out.
A low stone wall separates the canyon road from the Gearhead compounds. I drive up to the gate and get buzzed through. “Past the first building, you’ll find a one-story hall. Park on the left side, and we’ll open for you,” a staff member says, voice crackling over the speaker. I can’t help thinking that’s funny considering the business and its name. Shouldn’t they have state-of-the-art, all the latest equipment?
Inside, Clown Irruption’s tour manager leads me down the hallway, past platinum records of different bands. Dark carpet and faded black walls swallow us until we’re spit out in a small studio holding the four band members, some crew, and a few women. Surreptitiously, I study the dark-haired beauty, Bo’s wife, Nadia. Next, it’s Zoe, who’s blonde, shorthaired, and with a body she knows how to use. No doubt the two of them will be instrumental in the band’s decision.
“Isaias.” Bo is the first to shake my hand. “Good to see you, man. How are things at Lucid?”
“Good, man. Good. I was in the neighborhood and figured I’d say hi. Getting some songs down?”
“Yeah, it’s going really well. Gearhead has it all. Besides the guitars and mics, Troy’s the only one bringing his own shit here.” He stuffs his hands in his pockets and grins.
“Hey.” Troy appears behind him, bobbing his head at me. “Sorry, I meant to call you back.” From his voice, I might not like what he has to say, so I break in.
“No worries. It’s been a hectic week for me too. You had lunch yet?” According to my guys, they haven’t been out of the studio since this morning.
“Actually, no. You want to join us?”
“Sure. Got somewhere in mind? If you don’t, I’ll show you one of my favorite hangouts. It’s got a killer view of the Pacific, off the beaten path if you know what I mean, but close enough to Gearhead Studios to be a quick trip.”
Emil floats Zoe a glance. She seems to be the most receptive of the two wives. “Sounds good, man. My girl’s starving.”
I have connections at the Cliff House, so we get the third-story balcony to ourselves. Troy and the bassist, Elias, order beers, while the two others have cokes. It’s easier to convince drunk people of good ideas, but then again, I do love a challenge.
We chitchat. I stick to jokes and short stories from the past, growing up Italian. No mention of the mafia, of course. I especially gage what makes the girls interested. I need them to like me, believe that I’m a good guy and someone who can lift their husbands’ status even more. It’s not deception. What I offer is simply a tad further on the grey side than this band is used to.
Once people have eaten and their guard is down, I steer us onto my subject. “I have to say I loved the lyrics for ‘Deep in You.’ Emil showed them to me at Lucid, and it’s quite the love song, isn’t it?”
I fake a pensive stare between Nadia and Zoe. The latter giggles and flicks a coy glance at her husband. She doesn’t strike me as the shy type, so that was unexpected. Emil laughs and squeezes her tightly.
“Yeah, I love this chick so much. She fucking saved me.”
“Well, if it wasn’t for you totally destroying yourself, you wouldn’t have needed saving, cookie.”
Cookie! Wow.
“Isn’t that beautiful,” I murmur. “Unorthodox love stories kick ass. And no songs written for you?” I ask Nadia, knowing full well that Bo’s anguished praise to her shot them to fame with lyrics that made people gasp and crave censorship.
For a Hispanic girl, her responses are less than fiery. Now, her attention moves from Bo to me, a small smile pursing her lips. “Well, there was this little song a few years back.”
“Not just one song,” Zoe exclaims. “You know the song ‘Fuck You?’ That was about Nadia. She was driving Bo crazy.” Zoe shoves her shoulder into Nadia’s, and Nadia leans back, embarrassed.
“He’s a silly man” is all she says. Bo leans in, a smile as small as his wife’s lighting his features. He studies her embarrassment and runs his nose along her cheek until she accepts a chaste kiss. “He shouldn’t have shouted it out all over America. It was private.”
“If it were up to Nadia, it wouldn’t be on our playlists anymore,” Bo admits, smile growing. “The fans would riot, though.”
“I bet,” I say. “I remember that song. ‘Fuck You’ was a goddamn plague. But that’s what real love is, right, a goddamn plague?” I bob my head sagely, like I’ve been there.
With the exception of Troy, the entire table murmurs their agreement. Troy’s features darken. Something I said? Interesting. I’ll ponder that one later, because for now, I have my in.
“Love is it, man,” I say, “and that’s what triggered my script writer’s creative juices the other day. I had your last album blasting in the studio, and she came up to me with a new idea that’s simply fucking groundbreaking.
“It requires collaboration with the music industry. I have a few bands in mind that have a strong focus on love, Night Shifts Black, Limelight, Viper Rising, to name a few, but her idea was spurred by Clown Irruption, and to be frank, you’d be perfect for it, so I wanted to give you the option first. Troy, did you mention our little chat to the guys yet?”
“I did, and we’re not sure it’s right for us.”
“Nothing wrong in hearing him out, though,” Zoe sets her eyes on Troy.
He leans back, folding his arms.
“Okay.” I rub my hands together. “So tell me—not the story—but the emotions of ‘Deep in You’ again. I want to hear your take on it before I show you my script girl’s storyboard.”
Emil exhales happily. He leans back in his chair, folding his hands behind his neck, readying himself for a show. It must be true what they say: lead singers have a certain personality. Everything I’ve seen of Emil so far, onstage and off, is extroverted, passionate, and sunny.
“First, there’s missing her,” he murmurs, voice rich and silky. “Then there’s the passion for music, for performing and loving your audience and the high they give you while you’re onstage.
“Then there’s loving her even more than that, and in a different way. The chorus and how it builds toward the end is all about finding Zoe—and I know Bo feels the same way about Nadia. You want to hold her in your arms and squeeze her, and fucking... rip her clothes off and fuck her until you can’t see straight and she’s screaming. You know what I mean.”
“Jesus Christ,” the tour manager mutters. Zoe beams at her man’s poetry, turns his face toward her and starts in on a make-out session that has me thinking he’ll carry her somewhere more private in a moment. Hell yeah. They’ll be awesome on film.
The bass player laughs a free, unobstructed laugh. He’d probably make his mark in a video too.
“Perfect. Let me show you my writer’s idea. Again, it was made as a concept, not for the band per se, so no stress on your end.”
I wave the waiter over, and in two minutes, he has cleared the table. I unfold Sophie’s storyboard, smooth it out on the wooden surface, and point to the first square.
“Here, you see the four of you onstage, rocking out. There’s a hint of the audience in the background. You’ve got the spotlights overhead. The color she’s chosen, a deep purple, indicates passion and longing. Obviously, this kind of cartoon strips can only give you the pure essentials, while the actual video will not be done until we see the entire gamma of emotions and drama.”
Bo’s expression is inscrutable. Nadia sits quietly at his side. I watch as he takes her hand and pulls it into his lap for reassurance. Yeah, he won’t do anything that can hurt her feelings. I had it right when I discussed the roles with Sophie.
“Next scene: you’re storming offstage. The orange color indicates rising flames in your blood. You’re not about to relax after a good show. You need more. Phone calls in the back. That’s Bo. You’re calling your family—Nadia is at home with the baby. You have a baby, correct?”
Bo’s smile draws wide. “We do.”
“The next square shows Emil colliding with Zoe in the hallway. Public make-out session.”
“Pretty accurate,” the bass player says.
“Shut up, prick.” Zoe’s eyes glitter with humor.
“Next up is Elias. You’re lifting some exotic runway model up and carrying her off, while Troy remains backstage with a groupie.
“Also accurate,” Emil counters to Elias.
“Bullshit,” Troy murmurs, a small smirk on his face. “I’m the runway model guy, and I like my girls in private. Elias on the other hand, he’ll take whatever’s backstage.”
“Yeah? What about Paris?” Elias says.
“Oh right, she got that wrong,” I play into their bickering. “Turns out that’s Troy with the runway model on his way to the limo, and Elias with not one, but three groupies.”
“Sounds like Emil back in the day,” Elias says, but immediately counters himself with, “Sorry Zoe! Never mind. Not true.”
I actually wonder if she could kill with that stare. Another make-out session ensues. We wait. She looks appeased once Emil is done with her. I fucking need these people on tape.
“See how my storyboarding artist has cut these squares to show simultaneous activity? The goal would be to have it coincide with the chorus, where passion burns bright. Everyone’s getting laid. Troy or Elias in his hotel room with a runway model. The other with a groupie or two. Emil with Zoe. Whatever you want to do—kinky, missionary—it’s up to your imagination. Hell, I’ll get you whips if you want them.”
Elias bursts out laughing and gets an under-the-table slap by Nadia. Ah, I see. She’s the mommy, keeping her dudes in line. Good to know.
“During this period, Bo’s getting off a plane. Nadia and the baby wait for him. She runs to him. He lifts them both and spins them.
“See this scene? It’s short but necessary. Baby’s put to bed, and mommy and daddy slide in between their own sheets. Again, it’s all up to interpretation, but the deep red color she’s using symbolizes love and desire.”
“And how does it all end?” I’m surprised that it’s Nadia who asks this.
“It ends with everyone being happy and relieved. You know, physically relieved”—I tap the last few squares with my finger—“as well as emotionally. You all got what you needed and wake up to another day as a rock band.”
“Guys,” the tour manager interrupts. “We don’t want to get off schedule. Magnet is recording after us, and they’ve got the night shift at the studio. We gotta be done by seven.”
Fuck. They’re a well-oiled machine, and the guy’s good at his job. At the moment, that means he’s intercepting to get them away from me.
“Yeah, you’re right, Troll.” Bo clears his throat and stretches a little in the chair. “Love this place. We’re definitely coming back for more Cliff House food. But we’ll give you a yay or nay for sure. My only issue is that we’re not porn. We’re a rock band. You know what I mean?”
“Exactly. And that’s what’s interesting about this. We’re experts in seduction, and so are you. It’s just different types of seduction, and I want to explore where they meet.”
The guys stand around me, Troy taking a last sip of his beer and scooting the bottle back on the table. Bo lays his arm over Nadia’s shoulder, a section of her long mane getting stuck beneath it. Silky and beautiful. It must look ravishing on a bed. Definitely should be captured on film.
“I understand,” Bo says over his shoulder, walking ahead of me off the balcony. “I see what you’re trying to do...”
“I don’t know. I like it,” Zoe quips.
“I’d totally do you on film.” Emil ducks his head down, stroking his nose against hers and making her suck in an excited gasp.
“How hot, right?”
“Fucking yeah!”
“Jesus Christ.” That’s the tour manager again. He’s a bit of a downer. I wonder what can lighten him up? I’ll have to mull that over.
“How graphic does it have to be?”
All movement stops, and everyone turns toward the balcony. Nadia’s speaking up again, and judging by the stares going to her, it’s unexpected. Even Bo looks down, searching her face, wonder brightening his eyes. “Are you considering it, darling?”
That voice is damn soft. The viewers would love to hear him murmur to her in bed. This has to happen. I need to play my cards right. Lucid can shoot to epic fame with them if we do this right.
I reply before she has to answer him. “The spectrum is incredibly wide. It could be anything from full-on XXX-level via soft-core to not showing as much as a nipple. I’d discuss it with my director, but I’m picturing a few versions depending on where the video will run. We’d leave everything to the viewer’s imagination for mainstream TV, of course. YouTube, you’ll have somewhere in between.”
“You can’t be happy with it that way,” the tour manager interrupts. “Can you? Come on, you’re all porn.”
I turn and look straight at him. I’m not going to be tricked into making him my adversary. No doubt he’s as instrumental to my success as the wives are. Hell, if they had no one to influence them, I’d have all four on board a long time ago.
“I’m going to be candid with you,” I say. “Of course, I would love a full-on X-rated video of you. It would have a wonderful shock factor, but unless I earned new viewers from it, like your fans, it wouldn’t mean much in the long run.
“So. What I’d really like is for this to be a cross-promo that tests everyone’s limits. Your limits would be to expand on the sexy side. Mine would be to rein myself in and make shit palatable for mainstream morals. Make sense?”
“It does,” Nadia murmurs, looking up at her man. “I wouldn’t want us to do anything that made Selena uncomfortable when she’s older, but to show how much we love each other? If we get to decide how far we want to go, it should be fine, right?”
“Oh, my God, Nadia’s considering it!” Zoe bursts out.
“Now, now. Let’s not make any hasty decisions. Isaias?” Bo’s stare is intense. Quite the charismatic personality, this man.
“Yes, sir.” I put my hands on my back, leaving myself open to whatever he wants to say. At your service.
needs to be exchanged“We’ll be in touch. I’m calling a band meeting tonight, once we’re done recording. I might shoot you a few questions after that.”
“Sure thing.” I flip a card out of my wallet. Hand it to him though he should already have one. “I’m looking forward to it. And remember, since this would be cross-promo, no money needs to be exchanged. Your talent and equipment for my crew’s talent and equipment. As far as deadlines: I’d consider this video a priority.”
I give a last nod, accept their handshakes on the way down the stairs. As they jump into their cars, I stand by my Flying Spur and wait, hands in my pockets.
Zoe rolls down her window. She smiles broadly and gives me a thumbs-up. Emil ducks his head forward too, grinning. “I’d do my wife on that film of yours!” he hollers.
“Shut up, dork,” she chimes in, and the last thing I see is them kissing while he turns the car, front toward the road. Here’s to hoping they’re in one piece by the time filming commences.
Because. It’s happening.