Bert froze in his tracks as he considered what Edgar had said. Do I owe it to the band to let them know about the offer? Bert realized reluctantly that his personal integrity offered him no choice.
“Very well, Edgar,” he answered. “I’ll run it by them.”
Bert stormed through the bar, banging into patrons, and abruptly broke up conversations in order to gather up the Redeemers. He was unable to find Charlie, who must have left already. That was just as well, Bert figured, feeling that Charlie was undeserving of a vote at this point anyway.
When they were all together at a table at the rear of the restaurant, he took a deep breath and laid it out. After telling them the entire proposal, he looked around the table and concluded, “This is difficult for me, but if you want to take Edgar’s offer, I’ll step down. If you stay with me, I want us to go to Las Vegas. I want you all to understand where my head is. I’ve had enough of L.A., and I think despite how well some things have gone here, a lot of you have had enough here too.” He paused and gathered his thoughts. “I’m really proud of you guys and of what we’ve accomplished. And I know in my heart that we’ve only scratched the surface.”
Bert choked back his emotions. “I’m going to head back to the hostel now. I’ll give you the opportunity to stay here and figure out amongst yourselves what’s next for the Redeemers.” And with that, Bert wished the band good night, put on his hat, and walked away. But he didn’t go straight back to the hostel.
* * *
Dave joined the stunned silence around the table. Finally, Aaron broke it. “Well, let me guess which way you’re voting, Ethan.”
Ethan began to respond, then stopped himself. More silence.
Then Aaron asked, “Well, Dave, you’ve invested a lot in the band. What do you think?”
“I’m not sure. For me, it’s all about the performing. Would I rather play in a nice theater in Las Vegas than a bar in L.A.? I would have thought so, not long ago. But there’s something about playing here that I really enjoy. On the other hand, my allegiance is to Bert, and if he thinks Las Vegas is the better stepping stone, then who am I to say?” He looked at the others and grimaced. “And then there’s Charlie. I worry that at times this band is held together by a thread, and that if we abandon Charlie here, we’ll just unravel.”
“I wouldn’t think too hard about Charlie,” said Abe with a sneer. “He’s forsaken us. He’s as good as gone either way, and I think we need to get ourselves a new saxophone player, pronto.”
Dave frowned as he realized that Abe spoke the truth. “So your vote, Abe, is to go to Las Vegas?” he asked.
“Hell no!” roared Abe. “If I’ve got an opportunity to rid myself of Bert, I’m not going to miss it.”
“What about the living accommodations?” asked Aaron.
“Look. I’ve been trying to shake Bert ever since the day he arrived in my subway station. Hell, I only promised to join his band because I thought he was bluffing. I thought it would get rid of him.”
“But you’re happy to be with us now, aren’t you?” asked Dave.
“Happy? Heh, heh,” Abe laughed wryly. “I don’t get happy. Or sad. I just am.”
Despite the answer, Dave sensed that deep down, Abe had found a home with the Redeemers. Otherwise, he would have left long ago, promise or no promise. Maybe Abe just couldn’t admit that, even to himself.
“I don’t know. I’m not sure I trust this Edgar guy. Something is not right between him and Bert,” Dave said to the group.
“Why not?” came Abe’s voice again. “He’s a top dog at a major record label in the city where all the action takes place.”
“I have to take Abe’s side on this, as much of a shock as that might be,” said Ethan. “What’s not to trust?”
“What about Bert?” asked Aaron.
“What about him?” countered Ethan. “I’m sure he’ll get a piece of the action.”
“I’m not sure that’s what he’s in it for,” replied Aaron.
Ethan exclaimed mockingly, “Oh, right. This ‘band of destiny’ thing.” Then, more earnestly, he added, “Well, Bert’s got to realize that life changes. He’s taken us a long way. He should feel good about that.”
“I’m just not sure that’s good enough, and I for one feel indebted to him,” came back Aaron.
“It’s not about indebtedness,” said Abe in support of Ethan. “It’s about a chance to make some serious money. We can’t just piss away an opportunity like this.”
“So you think Edgar is the right opportunity for us?” asked Dave.
“Heh, heh,” laughed Abe again. “Are you asking me to compare Bert’s track record to Edgar’s?”
“No, not at all,” replied Dave. “It’s just that there’s something slick about him. He makes me edgy. I’m just worried what he might do to the band.”
“Like what?” asked Ethan.
Gene weighed in at last. “Dave means that bands with star power can call their shots. Those without leverage are unable to stand strong together.”
“Meaning….?” asked Ethan.
“Meaning that Edgar will replace any one of us, or more than one, if he thinks it will improve the band,” answered Gene.
Dave watched as Aaron’s face quickly paled. The kid had come a long way in a short time, but that wasn’t enough to create the confidence that he wouldn’t be one to go. From the look on Abe’s face, he was suddenly feeling similar reservations. And he knew that Gene, who had spent his career as a bystander, was not about to put himself in a position where he could be left on the side of the road again.
The elder statesman continued. “I’ve seen many a time where some haughty producer or record exec comes in and starts tinkering with the sound, with the band make-up, with whatever. They wouldn’t think twice about replacing any of us, with the exception of Dave maybe, with one of their own people. Or they might find someone to do the studio recordings and hire someone else to tour.
“In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised to see Edgar pry Dave and his music-writing talent out of the band and create a totally new band around him. We could all be tossed aside.
“On top of that, I think we need to look inside ourselves. A lot of us were nowhere in this world until Bert came along and revived us. Ethan and Dave, even you guys who had respectable lives before this, can you honestly say that Bert hasn’t breathed new fire into you? He hasn’t steered us wrong yet and I’m with Aaron. I’m indebted to the man and until he leads me astray, he’s got my backing.”
Gene’s words resonated in each and every one of them and for a long time, no one said a word. Finally, he broke the silence.
“Can I assume from the silence that we’ve all agreed to stay the course and move on to Las Vegas with Bert?” Gene looked around the table, one by one, and each head nodded.
“Okay then,” he said with a sigh of relief. He rose from the table and put on his jacket. “I’m going to head back and give Bert the news.”
* * *
Along the walk back to the hostel, Gene replayed the conversation he had about Bert with his former agent. “Just be careful with this guy,” Sherman had warned. Gene brushed it aside. Bert had accepted Gene unconditionally. Bert deserved Gene’s support the same way.
When Gene pushed open the door to the Redeemers’ shared quarters, he found Bert slumped in the corner of the room, sitting on the floor with his legs straight out and his head thrown back awkwardly. He was staring at the ceiling and his face displayed every bit of the strain of the evening’s events. Bert’s left hand gripped the neck of a 750 ml bottle of cheap gin, half empty, and his right hand delicately held one of the plastic cups from the bathroom.
He looked blearily at Gene as he approached.
“Oh my god, Bert!” Gene exclaimed.
“s’ okay,” Bert replied. “You guys will be fine without me.”
Gene tried to interrupt, but Bert talked over him. “You don’t need to apologize. I unnerstand. Thish is a business, after all.”<
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“Bert. Stop for a second,” Gene insisted. “The band voted to stay with you. We’re going to Vegas!”
“They did?”
Gene laughed as he lifted Bert from the floor and pulled the bottle from his hand. “It was unanimous, you old fool!” He took the plastic cup from Bert, walked over to the bathroom sink, and poured the contents of both cup and bottle down the drain.
When he returned, there were tears in Bert’s eyes.
“I slipped, Gene,” Bert said to him.
“What do you mean?”
“Thish is the first drink I’ve had since August. I thought I had it beaten.” There was a lengthy pause. “But I don’t,” he whispered.
“Look, Bert. Everyone slips. You just can’t use it as an excuse to let yourself slide all the way back.” Gene slung his arm around him. “C’mon, let’s go get a cup of coffee somewhere. The rest of the guys don’t need to see you like this.”
Chapter 14 – The Emerald City
Bert looked at Charlie in silence for what seemed like minutes. He had just told the saxophonist of the band’s decision to go to Las Vegas. His voice overwrought with emotion, Bert had said, “I never thought it would end this way. We’ve been blood brothers. But I now have no choice, Charlie. The Redeemers can’t stay here.”
“You can’t be serious! I didn’t even get a chance to talk to the others about it. How could you decide without me?” exclaimed Charlie.
“You haven’t been a Redeemer for weeks now, Charlie,” answered Bert, trying to sound firm, but his voice quavering with the discomfort of the words. “You know it. The band knows it.” He sighed. “We’re not a priority for you.”
Charlie turned away, then wheeled back around. “Look, give it another chance. A few more weeks in L.A. won’t hurt anything. I can balance--”
Bert cut him off. “No. I don’t think you can. You’re too caught up in the scene here. Look, no one feels worse about this than I do. You’ve been my closest friend these last several months.” He paused. “And I, for one, miss the old Charlie.”
Charlie looked sullen. “And the others? What do they say?”
“They’re all in agreement. They have no allegiance to you anymore. I’m sorry, but that’s the harsh reality.” Bert pressed a hand on Charlie’s back. “Listen, it doesn’t have to be permanent. When you get your priorities back in order, I honestly hope you’ll give me a call. But the band comes first. It always will.” Bert let his arm drop and began to back away. “You know where to reach me.”
* * *
It took Charlie a couple of days to recover from the conversation with Bert, but before long he had convinced himself that the Redeemers were at the end of their days anyway. Bert is steering them off a cliff! I mean, really. Who would take a band like that to Las Vegas when we are in the recording capital of the world?
Charlie was between lady friends at the moment, so he called up Eric to see what the boys were up to.
“You what?” asked Eric when Charlie told him what had happened.
“That’s right. I quit the band. I’m an L.A. boy now.”
“Well, good for you, Charlie. You can hang with us anytime.”
And hang they did. They hung out on a street corner in South Central L.A. They hung out in front of a neighborhood Min-E-Mart. They hung out on the front stoop of Eric’s row home. They hung out at a local burger joint.
But it wasn’t quite the same. Charlie missed the gang coming to watch him play at The Crossroads. It had been fun having admirers fuss over him after the sets. Now, with no schedule of any sort, Charlie was quickly finding the time in L.A. heavy on his hands. The practices had helped fill his days and the two nights a week at the club had helped fill some evenings. Charlie was slowly realizing that hanging with Eric and the boys was a lot more fun when it was a diversion from the band, not his primary activity.
A few nights a week, Charlie continued to go out with Eric and his group of friends. The times were good, but Charlie was no longer the center of attention. And the ladies sure seemed to enjoy dating Charlie the sax player more than dating just plain Charlie. On top of all that, he’d have to find some type of work soon or the money would run out.
* * *
Bert’s spirits had improved ever since the bus pulled out of the Los Angeles depot, his emotions riding a wave of relief. Ten days had elapsed since they’d left L.A., and he had still not completely recovered from the band’s near dismantling and Edgar’s unforgiving treatment. He still felt the sting of Charlie’s departure, but he did his best to keep his inner emotions quiet as he transitioned into the new situation in Las Vegas, outwardly displaying the same fire and enthusiasm for which the band had gotten behind him in the first place.
The bus ride had gone without incident, save for one minor episode involving Ethan. At one point along the way, Ethan’s cell phone rang and he had excused himself to an isolated spot at the rear of the bus.
“What do you make of him?” Aaron had asked of the others.
“What do you mean?” Dave asked.
“I don’t know, but he’s been awfully mysterious the last few weeks. A couple of times I walked in on him in the hostel in L.A. while he was on the phone and he seemed very anxious to get off the call.”
“So maybe he likes his privacy,” offered Dave.
“I don’t think so,” Aaron replied. “It’s been a recent phenomenon. Up until the last few weeks, it was just the opposite. He would talk to folks back home as if we weren’t even there.”
“Hmm. Now that you mention it, I’ve noticed that too,” Dave said with a sudden realization. “What do you--?”
The conversation ended abruptly as the others noticed Ethan approaching down the aisle on his way back to his seat. Noting the sudden silence, Ethan gave each a curious stare, slowly moving his gaze from person to person, but no one uttered a word.
It had been a good ten days in the desert. The Redeemers, minus one saxophone player, were settled into their new digs, a high-rise apartment building whose rooms were furnished with just enough of the basic amenities. The building was used to house the transient help in the casino hotel industry. A shuttle made the short ride between the apartment building and the strip every fifteen minutes and operated 24/7.
Bert had made arrangements with Mark Tomlinson to utilize a small auditorium not far from the main showroom at the Emerald City Hotel & Casino, both to store the band’s equipment and in which to practice. The rehearsal space was a significant improvement over Dave’s garage and the living accommodations felt like the Ritz compared to the Los Angeles hostel.
The performances had also gone well. The nightly revue show was a tribute to the legends of jazz and drew an audience that appreciated the Redeemers’ R&B, rock, and funk crossover sound.
The auditorium for the revue had a 750-seat capacity and was always between half and three quarters full depending on the night of the week. The room itself was appointed nicely, with row after row of red-cushioned arena style seats bolted to the beige carpet. Sculpted molding adorned the edges of the walls and ceilings, and the room exhibited an elegance that was more understated than the rest of the hotel and casino.
While the overall stress level had surely declined, Bert would describe the atmosphere surrounding the Redeemers’ experience in Las Vegas so far as nothing more than comfortable. The audiences had been appreciative, but probably due to the nature of the venue and clientele, they were more subdued than the college throng back at Berkeley or the party crowd in L.A.
The crowd had been more vibrant, however, on the most recent Thursday night, when the band had opened for Cold Sweat, a rock band from Minneapolis that came through Vegas as part of its national tour. The audience was a lot younger and filled the hotel’s 4,000-seat theater. The crowd stood and bobbed to the music for much of the set and a handful even came down to dance in front of the stage.
“That was more like it!” said Ethan after the show.
“That’s for sure,” Dave
had agreed, but added, “yet somehow it still had the sterile feel of Las Vegas. I don’t feel like we connect with the audience as well here.”
“Yeah, but at least we’ve got steady work,” said Aaron, to which Dave just grunted.
Unspoken, but in each of their minds, Bert knew, was that the band sounded better with Charlie, no two ways about it.
Bert had used the opportunity to open for Cold Sweat to network with the band’s manager and promoters, not missing any chance to tell the Redeemers’ story to anyone who would stand still long enough to listen. Over the next few weeks, he would continue to seek out anyone who might have an “in” in the music industry, press the flesh, hand out business cards, and start to cultivate relationships.
* * *
Over the second weekend in Las Vegas, to his joy, Dave’s family came in for a visit. The band was opening for comedian Lenny Clark that Saturday evening and wasn’t due at the theater until 7:00 P.M., so Dave, Ann, Jack, and Kate decided to go to Boulder City for the day. Ann, at Jack’s urging, invited Aaron to join them. Aaron eagerly accepted.
Late in the afternoon, after spending the day sightseeing, the group stopped to relax in a local park. While Aaron was teaching Jack and Kate how to throw and catch a Frisbee he had brought along, Ann pulled Dave over to a shaded bench. She looked like something was troubling her.
“You seem like you’ve got something on your mind, honey,” Dave said.
Ann forced a smile. “You know I’m doing everything I can to support you with this band,” she said.
“I know,” he answered, pulling her close and kissing her gently on the forehead. “You’re the most supportive wife a man could ask for.”
“It’s just getting a little tougher not to worry, that’s all.”
“Worry about what?”
“About Bert’s intentions. And some of the others,” Ann replied. “I mean, look at the situation from a distance. Here you are, the band I mean, with a steady schedule, playing in a nice hotel, making some money.”
“So?”
“So I’m worried that it might be enough for some of your band mates.” Dave started to interrupt, but Ann held up a hand. “I know this isn’t the be all and end all for you, but what’s to stop it from ending here? You’ve got a steady income and family back in San Francisco, but for a lot of these guys--Bert, Abe, probably even Aaron here--they’ve got a pretty good thing going. This is more money and a better lifestyle than most of them have ever had before, or at least in a long time.”
Ladies and Gentlemen...The Redeemers Page 18