Extra Innings played as he poured another cup of the Double A. Their eighth and last outing before the lineup change was a well-crafted set of 13 songs that hadn’t made Billboard’s Top Ten albums ranking without justification. The five member band with its latest chick singer featured solid playing and the pair of Polanski and Lera’s beautiful countertenor voices, rock/pop choirboys of the first order. But age and circumstance had taken their tolls; The Alliance, perhaps, was pulling into the station at the end of the line.
Their pedigree stretched back to the golden years of rock and roll. One could sense it, a little here, a little there on each of their albums. The Everly Brothers. The Beatles. The Rolling Stones. Eagles. Fleetwood Mac. All part of the same brotherhood; the same as snowflakes but different as twins.
The band had been founded three decades before when Andy Polanski graduated from law school and then decided after a couple years at a big financial services company that he really wasn’t cut out for three piece suits or lawsuits. Instead of prolonging the inevitable, he rounded up two friends from his undergrad days and started the group with him and Dave Lera handling the keyboards while Mick “Boomer” Stanton covered percussion. Although they added guitarists, bassists and female singers, replaced now and then over the years by new faces and fresh blood, the band was really always just the three of them.
Success came slowly, but once it arrived, it stayed. All the material was credited to the team of Lera-Polanski, but the two were as distinct as yin and yang, Lera’s upbeat, optimistic tunes easily distinguished from the dark, brooding qualities his partner brought to their collaborations. Even if a lead vocal wasn’t a giveaway as to who actually penned the composition, the mood typically was. While Lera’s songs took the early lead in the hits category, eventually Polanski’s complex view of his life and times began to dominate The Alliance’s output.
Their ninth album seemed to indicate a change in Polanski, a lighter touch in the lyrics which foretold his marriage soon after to his partner of two years. But three months after the nuptials, four months into her pregnancy, Grace died of heart failure. The tragedy sunk Polanski into a depression so deep and so consuming that soon the records and the concerts lost their formerly loyal followers, the man’s visions too bleak for the most hardy of fans.
Extra Innings may have only made it into the Top Ten on the strength of past efforts. Many thought it signaled the end of The Alliance, at least as headliners. Stars in their late 50’s were a tough sell - 17 Grammy Awards, one Super Bowl and over 160 million album units notwithstanding.
Spotswood switched off Extra Innings, replacing it with Second Chance. He poured a second cup of java and settled in to listen to by far and without a doubt his favorite album in the world. “No calls, please!” he shouted at his trans.
Somewhere along the line, Jeremy Sutter-Zieczech, the manager of The Alliance, read Spotswood’s piece and sent it to Polanski. Zieczech phoned a friend at Rolling Stone who got hold of Spotswood who got hold of Christie. Zieczech wanted to meet her, hear some of her stuff, see if the author was as precise as his essay led the agent to believe. After a long dinner with Spotswood, she agreed that she’d at least talk to him. She met a week later with Zieczech, Stanton, Lera and Polanski. They said they’d be in touch, but never made the call.
Until six months later.
Zieczech phoned and said: “Would you like to come out to Santa Fe to really audition for the group?” Christie said: “Thanks, but my mother just got out of the hospital and I need to care for her.”
He said: “This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.”
She responded: “Well, taking care of my mother might be, too.”
Christie and Spotswood went out for dinner again, this time with Coldmeadow, and the duo did a Good Cop/Bad Cop routine that left NCIS in the dust. By the time the espressos arrived, Christie was on the verge of tears, but Sandy beat her to the punch, bawling a few minutes about how she’d have forgone heaven for the chance Christie was thinking of casting away. That was the clincher. Coldmeadow filled in at Mrs. Cramer’s for three days while Christie flew to New Mexico to try on the glass slipper.
Six weeks before Christmas with a huge nut of advertising money behind it, Second Chance by The Alliance with Christie Cramer hit the stores. The first single went number one. The second single hit number one, taking the album along to the top spot. The third single stalled at number three, then the fourth reached number two as they hit the road in early spring for a 47 city indoor stadium tour, wrapping up at Madison Square Garden with three sold-out dates. Second Chance had done over 30 million units, but Christie decided she wasn’t cut out for it. She handed in her two week notice, moved with her mother to Arizona and Cinderella brought the ball to an apparent close. She gave Spotswood the exclusive, an afternoon into evening discussion at his apartment. They drank two bottles of wine and about 10:00 he gathered the nerve to put his arm around her and tell her what he wanted to the night at Memphis Midwest. They necked for a few minutes, the session coming to an end when both of them laughed as the top button on her blouse refused to open.
“Must be a sign from on high,” she’d smiled. “Why don’t we keep what we’ve got, Jonathan?”
He was reluctant, but he agreed.
Second Chance ended and on came Switchblade, his second most favorite album in the world, courtesy of Christie Cramer, Billy Blair & The Alliance.
Polanski and Lera were faced with one of the greatest problems in their long careers. What do you do when you have the hottest act in entertainment about to self-destruct because your newest lead vocalist decides to take an early retirement? Simple. You replace her quick. You get someone else with auburn hair, with a voice that reached half an octave higher than her top note. You get someone better looking, with more presence, with more ambition. Blue eyes, but you can’t have everything. You get Billy Blair of the recently disbanded Resistors, then get Christie to spend a couple days with her replacement, instructing him on the licks he’d now have to master if The Alliance was ever going to perform any of the songs off Second Chance. But they got more than they bargained for: the two vocalists falling for each other at their first meeting, pledging a week later not to be separated for any reason, much less one foregoing the spotlight for the other.
Polanski, Lera and Stanton took off for a week in Aruba to figure out what course the band would choose next. After five days on the beach, they decided they were fed up with the grind but should provide a bit more to their pension funds so summoned Zieczech to Oranjestad to outline the plan. Two weeks later, they signed a massive one album deal with Court Records, another massive deal for a tour, sacked their two guitarists in favor of their original players, DJ Wingrove and Harry Hansen, and headed for the studio, Christie and Billy in tow, to see what would happen.
Court orchestrated a publicity campaign so perfect that the success of Switchblade was a reality before its release, which occurred one year to the day after Second Chance. The album and its title single both charted at number one the first week on the platforms. Polanski was so pleased with the results that he mentioned in an interview he expected the group to be back in the studio in the autumn to begin work on a sequel. Switchblade held its ground into the summer when the latest indoor stadium tour kicked off. It sold out every date and was such a popular ticket that over the Labor Day Weekend, a few weeks following the Madison Square Garden fire, CCBBA lined up for three SRO dates at Yankee Stadium.
Christie called Spotswood the day of the first concert, asking him to come to the Apple to see the extravaganza. He’d already spent two weeks with them during the early part of the tour to work on what would become his first book, Wheels Up: On Tour With CCBBA, the most exciting 14 days of his life, living in the inner circle of superstardom. It was then that he became good friends with Stanton and his wife Camilla.
After arriving in NYC the next afternoon, he spent two hours with her, his friend distressed and distracted, but wanting him to get the s
coop. She told him what they’d play the next night, including the speech she’d give before the last number. If he’d just watch this night’s show, then tack on the following night’s ending, he’d beat the competition by a mile to the deadline. So he viewed the second night’s concert off stage, Cam beside him the entire time. He worked through the next morning on the story, emailing it to Pinkiefinger with the condition that it not be printed until he called to confirm it. Health reasons concerning both members of the band and others.
The final concert went precisely as Christie said it would. The band was never in better form, the songs never sounding as good. Switchblade at the top, followed by 90 minutes of perfection. A 20 minute break followed by 60 more of sheer virtuosity.
As they stepped off the stage after concluding with a magnificent, extended version of Deadline On My Heart, then perched at number one for the fifth straight week, Christie looked like she’d reached the end of her tether. Her green eyes were glassy, a mixture of fatigue and sadness droning from them. She trudged slowly over, kissed his cheek, then placed her arms gently around his neck.
“Thank you for coming, Jonathan,” she sobbed into his ear, a whisper over the deafening applause demanding an encore.
Following five minutes of unrelenting adulation, Christie Cramer, Billy Blair & The Alliance returned. After assuming their places, Christie crossed the platform and said something to Blair then held up her left palm as she moved center stage, requesting a moment of silence from the audience.
“Thank you all for coming out tonight,” she began. “We love you all and I can never tell you how much it means to be here tonight, with all of you, from all of us.” She then swept her right hand toward her comrades and the audience responded with another ovation.
“Sometimes it’s hard to say good-bye, and tonight it’s especially difficult. We can never hope to replace what you’ve given us, all of our fans, but sometimes,” her voice cracked, “we have to move on.”
The crowd dropped into an uncomfortable silence, one boy near the front of the stage yelling “I love you, Christie.”
“Tonight,” she hesitated, raising a wrist to wipe away tears from both eyes, “is our last concert. Thank you again, from all of us.” She paused. “I’ll be home soon, Mom.”
Cam took his hand in hers. Christie looked across to Blair, then beyond him to Spotswood. She nodded, turned to Polanski and nodded again. He began playing a melancholy introduction, joined after a few bars by Wingrove as she sang a haunting first verse of Dylan’s It’s All Over Now, Baby Blue. Not a sound surfaced from the thousands in front of her. Stanton raised a single drumstick, poised to bring it down on his snare like a butcher ready to remove the head of an unsuspecting chicken. When he finally did, the crack sounded like a gunshot from the rifle of a single soldier firing squad.
The Alliance exploded into the second verse, Christie stretching her voice into a battlefield it had never engaged. Blair took the vocal on the third verse, Christie turning, silently mouthing the lyric along with him. She threw off the final verse as if she’d done it a thousand times in the past, and they joined together in exquisite harmony on the final line, repeating it with more intensity three times. As the incredible roar from the audience washed over them, they simultaneously dropped their microphones and walked toward each other as Cam gripped his hand tighter. The two singers met and embraced, The Alliance exiting one by one. Polanski stopped halfway, glanced at the pair, shook his head in bemused disbelief, then casually walked to the guitar rack and picked up one of the silver Fender Stratocasters he sometimes played. Stepping to the edge of the stage, he gave it a few windmill spins then let it fly into the crowd.
Cam released his hand as Stanton approached. She hugged her husband quickly as he took her arm and led her away, stopping briefly in front of Spotswood.
“I guess that’s all she wrote,” the drummer offered, not waiting for a reply.
Christie and Blair held their embrace, two lone pines shivering in the face of a hurricane as Spotswood transed into Pinkiefinger. “That’s all she wrote,” he told the editor.
Wheels Up, with a short Epilogue recounting the final concert, was rushed into print, going to #1 on the New York Times Non-Fiction Best Seller List after two weeks and remaining there for another seven. He signed on for a five year stint as Pinkiefinger’s A&E Chief Correspondent’s slot and the enviable position of Editor-at-Large which allowed him to pursue anything he fancied, Inside The Box: On Tour With Pandora’s Obsession being just one of the benefits.
CCBBA’s seven members, on the other hand, virtually dropped off the popular radar screen for the better part of the next six months except for a single performance with the original five backing Wexford at a big CYD fundraiser. Then just as mysteriously they resurfaced the past St. Patrick’s Day, performing a single surprise set at the 1,500 seat Park Place coinciding with the release of their third Best Of compilation, ending the show with a new song, Witchcraft, that speedily brought them back into the Billboard Top Ten. Months later when a promoter presented them with a proposal for an 18 concert deal, three shows apiece in Philadelphia, Chicago, New York, Houston, Denver and Los Angeles—Andy stating “She gave us an offer that we couldn’t refuse, so we didn’t”—the entire group had reformed the previous August and finished the commitment by October with a trio of performances at LA’s Staples Center, where Polanski also accepted Laura Loveland’s invitation to face off against Pandora’s Obsession in the Battle of the Bands to be held…
“Thirty-six hours and counting,” Spotswood smiled. “And a comfortable six until the big top opens.” Then he looked at his watch and groaned. “Make that 34 and counting.”
(The Rules Of Standoff! appear following the end of this novel)
Chapter Three
As he added a few more notes to the 20 pages of prompts he’d been playing with for weeks, his trans chirped. Looking to the I.D., he sighed and pressed Decline.
“This is Jip. I can’t take your call right now so please leave a message.”
“Good morning, honey. It’s Cassandra. As you can probably hear in the background, I’m in the air and winging my way to join you in the City in the Desert, despite the fact that you disinvited me. But that’s all right. All’s well that ends well, huh?
“Now I want you to understand that I realize you’ve been under an incredible amount of stress recently, what with all of the work you’ve been doing getting ready for anchoring the broadcast. I know that between the long days you’ve been investing in making your performance perfect, and the long nights we’ve spent with…well, you know, with doing those wonderful things that we’ve also perfected…that you must be exhausted. And sometimes when people get really worn out, they say things or do things that they really didn’t mean to say or do. But that’s the weariness talking, not their bodies or their minds or most importantly, their hearts.
“Last week when we had dinner at Calico and you suggested that perhaps we should take a short break from our relationship, that was weariness talking. And then when you added that that was the way it had to be for the time being, I didn’t believe it for a minute. And then when you elaborated that by short break you meant permanent…Jip! You were just confused! Confused by all the…by the huge amount of things going on in your life that…that were clouding your vision, clouding it enough you couldn’t see that I was the one thing in your life that you needn’t worry about, the one thing…the woman who loved you more than anyone ever has, the woman who could then and always will protect you…protect you from yourself.
“Okay. I overreacted, and for that I’m so very, very sorry. That’s all you needed, a little more stress in your life. I really, really…I should have taken it the way you…I know you really didn’t mean to say those things…I just should have gone along with it, taken it in stride, shown I understood. But I…like I said. Overreacted. But you have to understand, look at it from my point of view. I was devastated. I was so very, very wounded despite knowing
you wouldn’t harm me, at least not intentionally.
“So I am 110% absolutely positive that once the…what did you call it? A show with everything but Yul Brynner? Once the show is underway and you start to comprehend what I’ve always known, that you’ll make it look like you’ve handled things like this a million times before, that you’ll be the biggest star of the whole damn thing…well, it’s true! When you get settled in and see everything’s going splendidly, you’ll be able to reflect…be able to think to yourself You know? The only part missing is that Cas isn’t here. But’cha know something? I will be…waiting for you to kinda, you know… show me around the master bedroom of your suite?”
There was a long silence but he knew from the background hum that she was still on the line.
“That’s option A. But there’s also an option B.
In option B, you continue your rejection of me. You discard me like a used piece of unwanted junk. You decide, ‘Well, the sex was great and the scenarios were great and the magic potions were great but I’m moving on to bigger and better things. I’m gonna see if the grass is greener on the other side of the hill or the forest wherever the fuck it’s supposed to be.’ You think so, Jip? Then you’d better think again.
“I will not be denied. I will not allow you to treat…I will not tolerate for one more second your selfishness, your mind games, your overinflated ego or your pitiful, heartless ruthlessness. Never again. If you actually think…I can’t fucking believe you sometimes… If you actually think you can live without me as much as I know I can’t live without you, then one of us is going to have their wish granted.
“Lemme give you a phone number. 702-454-1110. Call it and ask for the status of order number 719…446.
Weekend at Prism Page 4