She almost wept for him then. It was easy for Laurel to place herself behind those eyes and see the man within. She understood what it must have been like to be so talented and yet so unappreciated. Only his brother had remained beside him. She could relate to that so well. She understood his madness, his determination, but not his suicide. She never understood anyone’s suicide. She was grateful for that lack of understanding; otherwise she may have ended her own life several years ago. She could not fathom that. She had something to give to the world, as Van Gogh had, though she did not know what. That would be revealed in time.
"Thank you, Vincent. For everything." Laurel blinked as she returned to herself. The ride was over and it was time to explore the next room.
She ignored the kiosk outside the Impressionist room. She wanted to explore the rest of the museum before she bought any souvenirs. She followed the walkway through columns, urns, statues and plants before stopping at a small café. Coffee and pastry seemed a good idea.
Laurel waited her turn before ordering a plain coffee much to the disappointment of the counterperson. She rolled her eyes at the thought of flavored coffee. It simply was not her. However, she did splurge and order an apple strudel instead of a plain bagel. It looked like the ones her great aunt often made for breakfast on Christmas morning. She juggled the cup and the plate carefully as she chose a table.
"I see I’m not the only lover of pure coffee bean." An elderly gentleman commented as he took a seat near her.
"I guess I’m a bit old fashioned." Laurel looked up from the guidebook.
"I completely understand. Allow me to introduce myself." He tipped his hat. "I am Professor Morgenstern."
"Laurel Kendrick." She extended her hand.
"Pleased to meet you, Ms. Kendrick. I do hope that you do not mind this invasion of your privacy, but the rest of the tables were occupied."
"Not at all, sir. If you don’t mind my asking, what are you a professor of?" She did not know why she was curious. There was just something calming about the elder professor. He was wearing a tweed jacket, an English driving cap, and his accent still held a slight tinge of the Queen’s English.
"Medieval History. Are you a student?" He sat aside his paper.
"No sir. I graduated a few weeks ago. However, I did receive my degree in history." Laurel was suddenly ready for a decent conversation on one of her favorite topics.
"How splendid. What was your emphasis?"
"Oddly enough, one was Medieval and the other was Pre-American Civil War. I will admit that my favorite was Medieval England. I did my thesis on Celtic heritage and how their monks saved English civilization."
"Very astute. I am quite sure that did not go over well did it?" Professor Morgenstern seemed pleased.
"I did well on it, but it was difficult trying to prove my point. There are not a lot of books available for resources on the subject." Laurel smiled a little at the memory. She spent an entire weekend at the New Orleans public library and still found little to support her thesis statement. She did find a lot more online. She believed it was one of the best uses for the Internet.
"Yes I have noticed that myself. The real battle I seem to fight is the misconception everyone has of the English kings of the period. Everyone seems to regard Shakespeare as truth rather than entertaining literature." He took a sip of his coffee. "So, what brought you to New York? I can tell you are not local from your accent and your demeanor."
"Demeanor?" She laughed.
"Twice now you have called me sir. Not many people in this region use such manners." He smiled gently.
"Ah, well I am here playing tourist. I’ve always wanted to see the museum’s Van Gogh collection, and since I had the chance I jumped at it." She did not want to go into all the details even though she had a feeling he would have listened patiently.
"Understandable. I come here from time to time for inspiration."
"Are you a writer?" She knew that many universities required their professors to be published to keep tenure.
"Goodness no." He laughed. "I do publish a few articles from time to time, but I really come here to refresh myself for the upcoming terms. I seem to have the bad luck to have drawn summer teaching duty this year. A pity as I was hoping to return to London and visit with my daughter. My granddaughter is about your age, I think."
"Perhaps they can come over here then." Laurel suggested.
"Perhaps they might." He seemed to like the idea. "Now you have a major in history, correct?" She nodded. "What do you plan to do with it?"
"I was going to go to law school, but my recent encounters with attorneys have squashed that idea. I would like to get my Master’s though." She answered after long thought. Every time she encountered an attorney, she always doubted her chosen calling.
"Mayhap you should consider continuing on for your Doctorate. I get the impression that you would be a delightful professor."
"I think I’d be an eccentric one." She did not want to admit that the idea appealed to her.
"Ah, my dear, you see in academia, the more eccentric you are, the better. Otherwise it seems as if no one takes you seriously." He laughed as he pulled on his jacket to illustrate his point. "Keep it in mind, though. I must be off. It was a pleasure meeting you, Ms. Kendrick. Do take care."
"And you as well, Professor." She stood and took the offered hand. "I hope you find your inspiration."
"I believe I have, my dear, I believe I have." He smiled and then turned away. She watched him exit the café.
"Interesting." She mumbled to herself. The coffee was cool and the pastry was cold, but she still enjoyed them. It was an interesting day, but a good one.
***
"So this is supposed to be fun?" Nicole yelled over the music. Her pulse was keeping time with the tribal drumbeats. She hated techno.
"It used to be." Sheryl yelled back. "Wanna another beer?"
"No, I’m still on this one." She held up the plastic cup to clarify the point. To get into the bar, they were forced to purchase a cup. It was to avoid the mandatory cover charge, but the beer was included in the cup’s price. Unfortunately, it was cheap beer. Nicole did not think she would drink her money’s worth.
"At least Aaron can dance." Sheryl yelled.
"Yeah. One of them has to." She looked out over the crowded dance floor. Aaron was leading Danny through an uncomplicated dance move. The poor deejay could not even perform that well. At least he could follow his lover’s lead. Aaron solved the problem by taking Danny into his arms and gyrating to the music.
"You sure you don’t wanna dance?" Sheryl asked again. "I mean you did want to have fun, and this is supposed to be fun."
"Yeah, alright." Nicole felt her resolve melt. She did request an evening out doing something they normally did not do. This was it. Danny had suggested the only gay bar in Hattiesburg, and the rest reluctantly agreed. They felt too old for that sort of scene, but decided to try it. So far, their feelings were right, but only because they wanted them to be.
"Come on, it’ll be interesting at least." Sheryl pulled her friend onto the dance floor.
There was one plus to dancing at a gay bar in South Mississippi. Not many people would dance, so the ones that did were not made fun of as much. Nicole used her height and her new perspective to watch the crowd. Every stereotype was present it seemed. A man in a white G-string, white cowboy boots and a feather boa was dancing alone in the corner, while a rather butch looking woman was waltzing with a well-dressed femme in full make-up. It was almost like someone had cast a movie, but had not provided Nicole or her friends with a script.
"This place has changed since we’ve been here last." Nicole pulled Sheryl in closer so the critic would hear.
"Yeah, it wasn’t as popular then." The critic pointed to a table in the corner where several young co-eds sat.
"Weird."
"Definitely."
As time passed, the crowd grew larger. Nicole could not remember ever seeing so many people at the bar. A lot had
changed since she graduated college. Word of the little bar had spread and people responded. It made for some interesting combinations as people from all walks of life intermingled. More than one temporary couple was made that evening.
Finally, Nicole caught Danny’s eye. She indicated the door with an incline of her head. He nodded and the four of them made their way through the throng. It was more crowded downstairs near the pool tables and bar area. Danny and Aaron collected the plastic cups and fought their way to the bar as Sheryl and Nicole made their way outside. The best part of the bar was its courtyard. It was modeled after one in New Orleans. It boasted tables, a fountain, and several leafy plants. It was a perfect place to cool off after sweating on the dance floor.
"Where did all my energy go?" Nicole asked as she flopped down into a chair.
"Probably the same place mine did. Wherever socks go when they disappear from the dryer." Sheryl pulled a pack of cigarettes from her pocket. "Want one?"
"I have my own, thanks. It is strange to see you smoking again, you know that don’t you?" Nicole asked as she lit a cigarette.
"Probably as strange as it is seeing you out in a club after so long." Sheryl answered. "I was worried you were going to go all hermit like on us again."
"I was never a hermit."
"Sure you were, but at least you were better dressed than most." Danny edged his way into the conversation as he sat down. "Here, another skunk beer."
"Thanks." Nicole took the plastic cup from him.
"Five dollars should buy us better beer." Sheryl complained as she took the cup Aaron offered.
"I agree, but they have to pay overhead with something." Aaron pointed out. "So are we having fun yet?"
"A blast." Danny told him. He sounded enthusiastic.
"Oh yeah, a tub of fun." Nicole could not keep the sarcasm from her voice.
"Well, there’s always the old standby." Sheryl sat her beer on the table.
"I could go for a cup of coffee after this stuff." Aaron agreed. He had learned the group’s ways quickly.
"Me too. Shall we?" Nicole stood. "I’ll drive." They had taken one car, and she had consumed the least amount of beer.
"Sounds good to me." Danny handed her the keys. He drank the most. "To Mabel’s we go."
"Some things never change." Sheryl muttered as they headed to the car.
"True, but aren’t you glad for it sometimes?" Nicole asked.
"Yeah, I’m glad this will never change."
"As am I." Danny turned around and attempted to walk backwards.
"Come on, lover boy, I don’t want to spend the night telling the doctors at the ER how you busted your head open." Aaron grabbed his arm and turned him around again.
"And so am I." Nicole whispered more to herself than to her friends. In a sea of change, they were islands.
***
"So, from my research, I’ve noticed a few things I need you to clarify."
"Ok." Laurel eased back into the well-padded chair. Krista had the best office furniture. It was all designed for comfort.
"Who owns the rights to the name ‘blue gecko’?" The attorney looked up from the stack of papers on her desk.
"I have no idea. I guess we all do. We came up with it shortly after starting the band. Beth wanted to call the band salamander grotto; we liked the lizard idea, but not the salamander. I don’t remember who suggested the color, but I suggested gecko." The bassist shrugged.
"Then no one owns it?"
"No one, unless all six of us do. I wasn’t aware that we had shares in the band. I mean it’s not a corporation or anything."
"True, and ordinarily it would not be a problem. In this instance it is. The name has been copyrighted, so has the symbol you use to represent it."
"Who did that?" Laurel asked. She had a good idea though.
"One Jenna McCormick." Krista rechecked the papers on her desk. "Apparently she did so back in March. That means she gets a greater percentage of the band’s profits. Fifteen percent goes to your manager right off the top. Normally that would leave 21.5% to each of you after everything else has been paid. So the net profits should be split four ways. They aren’t. Ms. McCormick is earning 30%, which leaves 54% to be split between the rest of you. That equals a grand total of 18% each."
"Bitch. That means I make $1.80 for every ten dollars we make. We gotta change that."
"Well, there’s some other things here, but I suggest we talk to your manager. First of all, I’ve filed the paperwork to register your songs, which will get them copyrighted. As soon as your manager finds that out, you’ll be making all the net off the songs minus his cut and expenses. It’ll give you an edge. What do you want to do with it?"
"What do you mean?" Laurel was more concerned with the unfairness of it all instead of the money.
"What I mean is that could be an awful lot of money. I can recommend a few people to help you invest it, you could put it in a bank and earn straight interest, but you at least need to hire an accountant to help you manage it all." Krista looked at her oddly. She pushed her glasses up and hit the buzzer on her intercom. "Can you bring us some drinks please? What would you like?"
"Water sounds good. Thanks."
"Did you hear that, Abbey?"
"Yes, ma’am. I’ll be right in with it."
"Now, back to the conversation. Your manager really should have gone over all of this with you. I take it he didn’t?"
"Not really. He said we’d have to meet with the studio attorneys as soon as the CD was ready to ship."
"Well, they might tell you all this. However, you do need an accountant just to keep up with taxes. The label won’t do that for you. Now, you had a signing bonus. Is there anything you need assistance with on planning how to handle that?" She looked up as her assistant entered. "Thank you, Abbey."
"You’re welcome. Is there anything else I can get for you?" The assistant waited for an answer after placing the drinks on the desk. Both of them shook their heads. "I’ll be outside if you need me."
"Do you?"
"Nope. I’ve had it wired to my bank. I plan on using it to pay part of my tuition for law school. Unfortunately I’ve just realized it won’t pay for all of it. I’m only staying on with the band until I get called home." Now that she learned the percentages, Laurel realized she had less in her bank than she thought. "It’s the rest of it I would be concerned about."
"Well, how can I assist you?"
"I want you to draw up a will for me."
"Ok. I can do that." Krista turned around and pulled a form from her desk drawer. "You’re not planning on anything are you?"
"No." Laurel laughed. The attorney relaxed. "I just want to be prepared. I mean you hear all those stories about buses and cliffs and stuff. Why did you think that?"
"You said you were only staying with the band until you were called home. That can be taken many different ways. Especially when one is talking about wills."
"I only agreed to go on tour because I made an agreement with a friend. She advised that it made more sense. I’m only here because I can’t be back in Hattiesburg until some things are settled."
"Not illegal I hope. I’m not licensed to represent anyone in Mississippi."
"No. It’s a personal matter. My girlfriend was under the assumption that I should be here even though I didn’t want to be. She dumped me as a result. There are some other things that need to be worked out as well. I’m staying away until she calls me home."
"I’m assuming that means she was your prospective life partner?" At Laurel’s nod she continued. "And you want her to be the beneficiary?"
"Yes. Well, one of them. I want the other to be my other roommate."
"Ok. The names?"
"Nicole Hebert and Amanda Humphries. Amanda goes by Mandy more than anything else." Laurel told her. "I want to make sure that if something happens my parents don’t get anything."
"Really? I would ask you to explain that, but I do not think I have to. I did some research i
nto your background as well." Krista had the grace to look more than a bit contrite.
"Ah. Figured as much. Saves me from having to rehash it." She was relieved.
"Well then here’s some other things we need to go over." Krista produced a folder full of papers.
"Great." Laurel was anything but thrilled. "So much for sightseeing today."
"Oh, this will only take an hour or two." Krista pushed her glasses back into their proper place. "Well, maybe four."
"Great."
Chapter Twelve
The photographer lit a cigarette and leaned back on the porch swing. It was fast becoming her favorite place around the house, especially at night. At night, she could sit and watch the stars without thought of what someone else might say. She kept the porch light off so no one would see her. It helped keep the bugs away, but it failed to keep her misery at bay.
She had yet to find a new job. Every posting on the Internet was unappealing. She wanted to stay in Hattiesburg or go home to Louisiana. Neither seemed possible at the moment. She also missed Laurel worse with every day that passed. For the first few days she thought she would make it. She thought the pain was tolerable and the boredom bearable. It was no longer so easy.
In the week that followed the recent changes in her work and relationship status, Nicole finished cataloguing her photographs. Like everything else in the house, the pictures were stored chronologically and alphabetically. The entire house had been cleaned, from the curtains to the walls. Even the dining area in the kitchen had been repainted. Since the trip to the bar had not helped, Nicole combated boredom and heartache with housework. It did not ease either.
The cinema failed to offer an escape. During each movie, she would imagine Laurel’s comments. She missed the gentle companionship the bassist offered so willingly, and the scathing commentary she gave so readily during movies. As a result, even going to Mabel’s was out of the question. Ghostly shadows were present all over Hattiesburg. Regret gave them color and life. Nicole was no longer happy there.
The new portable phone on the porch railing rang. The Caller ID bar glowed, letting her see the exact location of the device. She was expecting Sheryl’s nightly call. Laurel no longer called. The photographer could not blame her. However, this was a different number. The area code was from New Orleans. Giving in to curiosity, she answered.
All That Jazz Page 13