“And what’s in it for me?” Cody eyed them skeptically.
“How about some cash?”
Cody didn’t take long to make his decision. “You’ve got a deal.”
Through their odd arrangement a strange friendship formed. Cody would go to their house after school and give them copies of his notes. They in turn would pay him. Cody was grateful for the extra money and kinda liked their company. The guys were quirky. Since they’d been friends since childhood, they each knew everything about each other. They had developed a shared sense of humor, the kind that you usually see in close families. One word could set them off into fits of laughter. Cody liked their camaraderie. It made him see a side of life he never knew. He was never close to anyone, and as far as his own family, it was nonexistent. So Cody started hanging out with them more and more. Stopping by even when he didn’t have notes to drop off.
Alex, Harper and Bobby were trying to start a band. They called themselves Red Lawn. The name meant nothing, they just thought it sounded cool. They had an alternative sound. The melodies were there, but neither Alex, Harper nor Bobby could write lyrics.
“Cody, listen to this new song,” Alex said strumming his guitar. “Five six, seven, eight.” Harper began beating the drums with a harder rhythm. Alex and Bobby joined in on acoustic guitar and bass, respectively. The melody was catchy, especially the chorus.
“Hey!” Cody stood up and began applauding. “It’s awesome. What’s it called?”
“That’s the problem, we have no words,” Alex said, his point accentuated by Harper who hit the drums and cymbal. Buh-dum-dum. Ching.
“It’s a shame, it’s a hit.”
“You really think so?” Alex said earnestly. “We want to know, dude, for real, tell us…are we any good?”
Cody kicked back on the couch. “You are.” He wasn’t kissing up, he meant it. The song was impressive. “But, Alex, I hear the kids these days like lyrics in a song.”
“Ha…ha.”
“This sucks,” Bobby said putting down his bass guitar. “Great song, no words. Maybe we could be an instrumental rock band.”
Harper threw some papers at him. “Yeah, that’s a brilliant idea.”
“The words’ll come.” Cody was trying to make them feel better.
“Listen Cody, you don’t understand. Alex, Harper and I…we got tons of songs. Some with words, most not, but the truth is the ones with the words are crap,” Bobby explained.
“Hey I resent that.” Alex stood up.
“Listen, dude, you don’t need to get all sensitive writer on me.”
“Bobby’s right, Alex,” Harper chimed in.
Bobby began strumming his guitar. “Oh Jade…we had it made…you should have stayed…” he croaked out in mocking tones.
“I’ll get there.”
“When you’re sixty?”
“Give me some credit.”
“I am. Hey…there’s hope…isn’t Mick Jagger gonna be sixty in a few years?”
“Yes, yes he is,” Harper said, “and Keith Richards.”
“So, what are you worried about? You’ve got plenty of time!” Cody chimed in.
They all collapsed in laughter.
On his way home, Cody couldn’t get the song out of his mind. He hummed it to himself as he walked back to the dorm. His hands tapped absentmindedly on his jeans. The melody haunted him. He went to bed with the song running through his head and by morning the words were there. He scrawled them on the first piece of paper he could find, a semester guide for spring, ran to the house and banged on the door.
A sleepy Alex opened it. “Cody? What the hell are you doing here? It’s not even nine o’clock.”
Cody waved the booklet in front of Alex’s face. “I’ve got the words to your song.”
Within five minutes all the guys were up and with their instruments, clad only in boxers and bathrobes.
“Alex,” Cody motioned to him.
“Five, six, seven, eight.”
The song started echoing the melody that ran through Cody’s head all night. He began to sing. His voice was strong, but dripped with sincerity. The words were captivating.
“All you were is all I was,” he sang, letting the words flow freely, they matched the rhythm perfectly. This time when they finished the song, it was Alex, Harper and Bobby that applauded Cody. They looked knowingly at each other.
“So Cody,” Harper started, twirling his drumstick, “ever think about being a singer in a band?”
Chapter 8
Dana got off the air two hours ago. It was now midnight. She was sure Sam was done packing.
She was sure he was gone by now.
She waited at the station as long as she could, but she was tired and sad and wanted to go home, just not home to the one she shared with Sam.
Dana packed up her stuff and shut down the computer. One could only surf the internet for so long. She closed the door to her office and saw Vincent the janitor vacuuming the floors.
“Goodnight Miss Dana,” he said, tipping his cap.
“Goodnight, Vincent.” Dana forced a smile and went downstairs. She looked around and found George, the night security guard asleep in the kitchen. Great security, she thought, waking him up.
She tapped his shoulder. “Hey, George.”
He shook in surprise. “Musta dosed off. Yes, Dana, are you ready to go to your car?”
“You know the routine, George.”
George was an older, ex-cop who did night patrol. Since Dana got off the air so late, she always had George walk her out to her car. She was scared to go alone.
He took her to her sleek red convertible.
“Thanks George, see ya tomorrow.”
“You drive safe now,” he replied, closing her door for her.
Dana started the car. Its soft grumbly engine was reassuring. She’d had the car for five years. It was one of the only stable things in her life. She drove home slowly, dreading entering her empty apartment.
She was right to feel that way.
The silence that greeted her when she opened her front door was a heavy reminder of Sam’s absence. Dana was used to the hum of late night TV coming from the bedroom and Sam’s sleepy hello. The silence she encountered was overbearing.
Dana slowly walked into the bedroom, not quite ready for what she knew would greet her. Half the walls were bare, Sam’s photos gone. She opened the closet. It too was half-empty. Sam hadn’t left a shred of evidence that he had lived there. Dana sunk into the bed. On her pillow was an envelope with her name printed on it. Perhaps he wanted to say one last goodbye. Her hands trembled as she opened it.
Inside were his keys.
Two copper keys.
It was as cold a goodbye as one could ask for. She had expected more from him. After all they had been living together, it was serious.
Dana slipped out of her clothes and into the shower. She let the hot water beat down on her back.
And she cried.
Chapter 9
Jonny woke up to the eager hands of his wife.
“Hey Jonny,” she whispered in his ear, “it’s been awhile.”
He turned toward Jill, never one to turn down an offer. Besides if he was with his wife this morning, maybe that would keep him from being with Heather that afternoon. Heather. Jeez. Just the thought of her aroused him.
“Oooh,” Jill said, “I can see you were thinking the same thing.”
Jonny rolled on top of her and they fell into their usual routine. It was a reminder to him, sex with Jill was boring and brief.
“I’ve missed you babe.” Jill stroked his hair. “It was good to be close to you again. It’s been too long.”
“Yeah, I know,” Jonny lied, removing himself from her arms, “but I gotta go.”
Jill rolled onto her stomach, “But honey it’s only seven-thirty, you’re not on the air till two.”
“Yes, Jill,” Jonny pulled away, “but you forget ‘on the air’ is just a small part of my job.
And besides, I have a meeting with Ted today. I don’t want to go either, baby,” he kissed her forehead, “but I have no choice.”
“Okay,” she sighed, “I have to get up now anyway or I’ll be late for work. I’m working on a big campaign for Miami Motors. They’re gonna advertise on your station, too. I think they said they’re working with a guy named Nick Coleman or something. Do you know him?”
“Unfortunately,” Jonny answered putting on his clothes. “Nick’s about as sleazy as they come.”
“Yeah, I kinda sensed my client wasn’t too crazy about him.”
Jonny was dressed, faded black jeans and a red Sister Hazel t-shirt. “Sorry Jill, I have to jet.” He checked his bleach blond spikes in the mirror. “I’ll call you later.”
And just like that Jonny was out the door and in his Corvette. He flipped the radio on to the WORR morning show, Jay Jay, Loud Mike and Funny Boy. Their show was a mix of sex and rock ‘n roll. They were bawdy, rude and tried to break every rule in the book. Real guys guys, they insulted their listeners and put down women. It was a show by men, for men. It worked. Men loved the show for its honesty…and the descriptions of the hot babes visiting in the studio. Some women liked the show for its insight into the male brain. But the phenomenon of the show was the large number of women listeners who hated the show, but listened religiously to see what the chauvinist trio would say next.
It was a ratings winner.
In reality Jay Jay was gay, Loud Mike was a devout catholic with a wife and five kids and Funny Boy was, well, he was really Funny Boy. His given name was Rick Tenor and he would do anything for the show. In the course of his employment he’d run naked through the drive through of a fast food restaurant to order a burger and fries, stuffed himself into a plastic garbage can and floated in a neighborhood canal for the station’s ‘Over the Barrel for Niagara Falls’ promotion and he devoured nearly every gross food imaginable at station appearances – cow brains, giant roaches, and in ‘The Most Disgusting Concoction of All’ contest, a blended drink of mayonnaise, honey, hot dogs and chocolate. The kid was the ultimate stunt guy for a morning show and his hijinks helped bring in ratings.
“So fellas, tell me this, would you drink your wife’s milk if she was lactating?”
True to form, Jay Jay had picked his usual offensive topic.
“Well that’s utterly ridiculous,” Loud Mike replied in fits of laughter.
“You mooo-ve me man, really you do.” Jay Jay was on. The banter began.
“You’re just too much of a coward to tell me otherwise.”
“I think you both have milked this enough already.” Funny Boy always had something to add. “Besides I’d drink it. Or put it in your coffee…like I did yesterday.”
EWWWWWWW. Jay Jay played their trademark sound effect. Then the listeners started calling in. Yep, another successful show was underway.
Jonny laughed out loud in his car. The bits were even funnier to him than the listening audience because he knew the players. He could only imagine Loud Mike’s wife Colleen if she heard the show. Colleen, prim and proper, never listened to the show. Or so Mike said. No one had ever met Colleen. Like Norm’s wife Vera on the TV show, Cheers, most wondered if she really existed.
Forty minutes later, Jonny was at the station.
This time, Jonny chose not to enter through the employee entrance. He was supposed to, company policy, but he needed the thrill of adoration. The main lobby afforded him that. Jonny breezed through the big glass doors. On the walls hung gold and platinum records. Huge black leather couches housed loyal listeners waiting to pick up their prizes.
“Jonny…Jonny!” they said as if on cue, jumping up to get close to him.
Jonny Rock was in his glory.
“Hey, guys,” he shook hands as he kept walking, “gotta go to work, thanks for listening. I love you!”
“And I love you,” they chorused.
Jonny walked into the station. The day was in full swing. Two seconds into the building and Rick a.k.a. Funny Boy was at his side.
“I’m so glad you’re here man, we have an issue.”
“What’s wrong?”
“It’s Jay Jay, he’s in conflict with a salesperson.”
Jonny started walking to the studio, Rick fell in line. “Fill me in, Funny Boy.”
“Barry Corbin, tall sales guy, kinda bald…you know the one who brushes the strands over his shiny head…”
“Yeah, yeah I know who Barry is. What’s up?”
“Well he wants Jay Jay to do an endorsement for a new client, Light’s On, they sell flashlights. Jay Jay is refusing…says it doesn’t fit his image. Barry’s gonna take it to his sales manager.”
Jonny sighed. Now Jay Jay had standards. Not that he didn’t understand the principle, but you had to choose your battles and this one wasn’t worth fighting.
“Jay Jay’s gonna go ballistic. He wants to see you pronto.”
Jonny hated being bossed around by Jay Jay. Jay Jay was the highest paid member on staff and had the biggest ego.
“I’ll talk to him.”
Jonny went into the studio. “What now Jay Jay?”
“Just so you know I have five minutes before we’re back on,” Jay Jay said sharply, pointing at the clock.
Jonny wasn’t intimidated. “Funny Boy filled me in.”
“Jonny, I don’t care who Barry takes this to, I’m not endorsing freakin’ flashlights.”
“Jay Jay are they paying you to do it?”
“That’s not the point.”
“Yes or no. Are they or aren’t they.”
“Look Jonny come lately, money doesn’t mean I’ll do it.”
Jonny tried to remain calm. “Jay Jay you know the reality of the situation. If the client is spending a lot of money the station isn’t going to turn him away.”
“So let ‘em fire me. They can’t replace me so easy.”
Jonny laughed to himself. The truth was they already had a back-up in case Jay Jay left. Part of Jonny’s job was to comb the radio trades and find out which shows had contracts up. That way they always had a net, a back-up in case their morning show left or got kicked off the air by the FCC. After this morning’s topic, Jonny wasn’t sure which would happen first.
“Look Jay Jay, I’ll talk to Barry and his manager for you, but you and I both know what’s going to happen.”
“Dude, I’m not doing it.” Jay Jay put on his headphones, ensuring he had the last word. “Hey listeners…”
Jonny left the studio and walked into the WORR sales manager’s office and closed the door.
“Carlos,” he said, sitting in a chair, “we have an issue to discuss.”
Carlos Alcazaro was slick. A successful sales rep, Carlos ascended the radio ladder of success with a charismatic personality, keen business sense and expensive custom suits. He was the top biller for years. It was a natural choice for him to become sales manager of Miami’s hottest radio station. People said he could sell ice to Eskimos. It made bargaining with him hard.
“Jonny, my boy, I know all about it. I’ve already talked with Barry.” His voice had a hint of a smooth Spanish accent. He leaned forward, looking intently at Jonny. “Tell me, what are we to do?”
“Carlos, you know I respect you and what you do, but Jay Jay won’t endorse the flashlights.” Jonny may not have agreed with Jay Jay, but he would back him up no matter what. It was and always would be an us versus them, on-air versus sales, and Carlos, as nice as he was, was definitely them.
“Jonny this is a very big deal. We’re talking a fifty thousand dollar contract. That’s a lot of money, no?”
“I didn’t realize flashlights were so big.”
“Think about it Jonny. A hurricane hits, the lights black out. A flashlights store could be very big down here,” he paused for effect, “and between you and me, this guy has a lot of money to burn. He could go elsewhere, but he likes Jay Jay. He thinks people will listen to him.”
“They will,” Jonny a
greed.
“I know, it baffles me, too, Jay Jay’s reluctance,” Carlos implied Jonny’s unspoken disbelief, making them partners on the issue. Yes, Carlos was good.
“Carlos, Jay Jay is firm on this.”
“Jonny we could go back and forth on this, but the fact remains, if I take this to Bill, he’s going to side with me.” Bill was Bill Fox, the radio station’s General Manager.
“I realize that may be true; however, Jay Jay is allowed to have standards.” It was hard for Jonny to say that with a straight face.
Carlos laughed. “Please Jonny, he was talking about drinking breast milk this morning. You can only take this standards argument so far.” Carlos folded his hands in front of him. “Here are the facts. Jay Jay will get paid for every live spot he does. Maybe you can remind Mr. Jay Jay he has to talk to fill the time anyway, these extra words he gets paid for. So, do not say we are not thinking of his best interest.”
Jonny nodded.
“Now, the client is planning on doing five live spots a morning. That’s a lot of extra cash for doing what you’re already getting paid for. Right now, the client is talking about a two month run with live appearances by Jay Jay and the gang. Now, true, they may not do five spots a day for more than a few weeks before they scale it down, but you do the math. We’re talking thousands of extra dollars for Mr. Jay Jay. So why don’t you take this information to him and see if he does not realize he loves flashlights, too.” He tapped his calculator. “And don’t forget to mention the extras.”
Jonny couldn’t say much. “Okay, Carlos, I’ll talk to him.”
“Thank you Jonny, you’re a smart man.”
Chapter 10
Cody fell into his role as singer songwriter for Red Lawn with ease. He moved into the house and for the first time in his life felt like he was part of a family. Alex, Harper and Bobby shared their wealth of songs without lyrics with Cody. Cody loved matching his words to music and, unlike running track, this came easy. Cody pulled out his journal and drew on his own personal experiences to write lyrics. His words were emotional and deep, multi-dimensional feelings that were extremely relatable. Alex, Harper and Bobby couldn’t believe their luck. Cody was a godsend for the band. They realized that now there was potential for something to happen. They needed to get serious about practice. Their neighbors however did not agree. So in the interest of keeping the police away, the band rented out a storage unit to practice in. It was a great set up. No one cared about the noise and they could leave their instruments in the locked air-conditioned space.
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