by Wes Lowe
The birds didn’t know it, but this was their last meal on earth. As she left the room, Queenie’s face hardened as she contemplated what was to come.
21
Fashionistas
New York
Tuesday morning began bright and early. JJ wanted to see everything and Noah was amazed how many New York sights they could cram in. Ground Zero, Chinatown, Madison Square Garden, Little Italy, Rockefeller Center, the Times Tower, the Waterford Crystal triangles, Radio City Music Hall…
There were two places that JJ wanted to spend a few moments in. First was the Empire State Building. He begged Noah to let them ride to the observation deck of the Empire State Building to see where Meg Ryan and Tom Hanks filmed what had oddly become the Shaolin grandmaster’s favorite movie, Sleepless in Seattle.
The other was to take a ferry to Liberty Island so JJ could get a close-up of the Statue of Liberty. Even though he lied about having an uncle at Tiananmen Square, JJ’s eyes still misted as he saw the majestic goddess of freedom holding the torch high in the air. Awestruck, he knelt to the ground and kissed it. He then stood erect, folded his hands and made three ceremonial bows to Liberty.
Other tourists that saw JJ were first amused…then moved. Several put their hands over their hearts when JJ made his bows.
JJ turned Noah. “We can go shopping now.”
Clothing had never been important to Noah, but he remembered the arguments he and Olivia had about his dress. Noah had never worn anything that wasn’t purchased from a discount clothing market and he hadn’t changed, even though he now ran a multi-billion-dollar enterprise.
In contrast, Noah always admired how good Olivia looked no matter what she was wearing (or not wearing). It was rare that her coordinated outfits cost less than a month’s salary for the average worker, even if it was just jeans and a top.
So, before they made an appearance at Café du Music, Noah decided that he and JJ would get new manly make-overs from an extravagant, designer store, of which New York’s Fifth Avenue had no lack.
It was an excruciatingly painful exercise. They had no interest in the free booze or food, Italian marble floors, which presidents or Fortune 500 execs shopped there, or how many hundreds of colors their shirts had…all they wanted was clean, uncomplicated elegance.
For hours, they suffered through half a dozen shops before discovering that simplicity costs money. If they had opted for haute couture or runway zigzag stripes or avant garde stylings, they could have spent a third or less than the ten thousand dollars each on their new wardrobes.
Insisting on an American designer, JJ opted for a black dinner suit with traditional smooth satin details. Two-button jacket, no vents, straight shoulders and a jetted breast pocket.
Noah chose an Italian grey tuxedo. One-button jacket and charcoal satin lapels without a breast pocket.
It was almost 8:30 in the evening before they were finally satisfied with their outfits and style. If Noah were fifteen years older, he would have been an ideal candidate to play James Bond. If JJ were fifteen years older, he too would have been a perfect candidate to be a “Chinese James Bond.”
Bystanders gawked like monks in a nudist camp at the handsome, sophisticated studs as they strode from Times Square’s buzzing electricity to the diverse mix of rapid gentrification and rough-and-tumble working-class Irish American history of Hell’s Kitchen.
Noah and JJ fit right into the gayborhood. Noah pointed to a red neon sign announcing the iconic Café du Music, nestled in a block that was home to a mom-and-pop eatery, classic dive bars, a trendy club, and brick walk-up apartments. “We’re here.”
Entering the lobby of the jazz club, Noah and JJ turned the eyes of the other patrons, even eliciting a nod of approval from Olivia as she and Abby exited the lounge and approached them.
As JJ made his eye-catching customary head-to-floor bow, Noah’s cool almost evaporated when a knot of nerves attacked. How do you greet someone who’s dumped you and then a few weeks later asked you to fly to New York to see her to discuss a business project you couldn’t care less about?
Olivia solved the problem by giving Noah a perfunctory kiss on the cheek. “Noah, you look fabulous.”
She’s talking and acting like a phony socialite already. I knew I shouldn’t have come.
“And who’s this handsome beast with you?” continued Olivia.
It took every ounce of self-control Noah had to keep from screaming, “Shut the f- up.” Instead, Noah’s plastic smile matched his former girlfriend’s. “Olivia, Abby, I’d like you to meet JJ. He is the new VP of martial arts training at the foundation. He comes from the same Shaolin heritage as Master Wu and your fathers.”
“Cool,” replied Olivia. “Hung Gar. Right?”
“Yes. The Tiger and Crane.”
“Well, we don’t have much need for that in New York. If someone’s got a problem, they’ll just shoot you,” said Olivia.
“Right,” said Noah. Shoot me first. Please. Or put me back on the next plane to Hong Kong.
Eminently polite and civilized, JJ spoke with soothing tones, “I am so excited to hear the two of you perform. Noah has told me so much about you.”
“Don’t believe him. They’re all lies,” said Olivia.
“What kind of music do you like, JJ?” asked Abby.
Without hesitation, JJ replied, “I’m a Bob Dylan fan. ‘The Times, they are a Changin’ is my favorite song.”
Abby’s eyebrows piqued with curiosity. “Really? Why’s that?”
“That was a seminal song of the 1960s. Hippies, LSD, psychedelic music, sexual revolution… America was being turned upside down. The song reflects my life’s situation. Less than two weeks ago, I was a Shaolin Buddhist monk in an isolated monastery in China’s Huangshan Mountain range, thinking it would be home for the rest of my life.”
“What happened?”
JJ grinned broadly. “I met Noah Reid.”
A broad grin covered Noah’s face as he shrugged. JJ, that was too cool for school.
That broke the ice. Awkwardness disappearing, Olivia whispered to Abby as the group stepped into the lounge, “He’s got a sense of humor. I like that…and so should you.”
“Just play the piano, girlfriend.”
22
That’s Entertainment
Noah and JJ glanced around the room, suddenly feeling out of place. No one else was dressed as well as they were, and the orange juice and Perrier water they ordered were the only non-alcoholic beverages in sight. Still, the joint was packed to the gills with people enjoying themselves.
JJ said to the girls, “You must be very popular. There are so many people here.”
“Thanks for the compliment, but it’s nothing to do with us,” replied Olivia. “This is Showcase Tuesday and it’s always jammed.”
“But a thirty-five dollar cover and two-drink minimum is pretty steep,” said Noah as he perused the menu.
“Actually, for most here, it’s chump change. They all want to see a star before it shoots off. Most of the acts are so so but, every now and then, one of them makes it to the stratosphere. And you want to have bragging rights to be able to say, ‘I was there when they were just struggling arts in a dinky club but I knew they were going to make it,’” interjected a smiling Queenie as she joined the table.
Tossing her hair over her shoulder in a move that threw her perfumed scent across the table, Noah and JJ were struck by the sight of the lithe, provocative Eurasian whose aura communicated sensuous carnal pleasures.
“Noah, JJ, meet our friend and hopefully manager, Queenie,” announced Olivia.
Noah grinned and offered his hand. “So you’re the reason I hopped onto a plane with just a day’s notice to get here?”
“Well, that honor belongs to Olivia and Abby but I plead guilty for being a secondary reason. Thanks for making the time.”
“Don’t thank me. JJ, my associate, pleaded with me to take him here. You gotta watch out for this dude. He’s a back
slidden Shaolin monk.”
Queenie watched intently as JJ stood, folded his hands and bowed. She turned to Abby and Olivia and commented, “That’s an angle. Something ordinary turned into something special.”
Turning back to JJ, Queenie commented, “You don’t seem like a monk to me. You look more like, well...a world class movie star.”
JJ chuckled, embarrassed. “I had never even seen a movie until a few days ago and I took my first plane ride to get here. We were rather isolated in Heaven.”
“Heaven?” said Queenie with surprise. She tossed her head around to motion to the other patrons. “Yeah, if they were all like the other people here, Heaven would be pretty abandoned.
Noah chuckled. “No, no. That was the name of the monastery because ‘Heaven on Earth’ was the original vision. But, sad to say, there was a lot more earthly influence than anyone wanted to admit.”
Their attention shifted to the stage where Benjamin announced, “Ladies and gentlemen. Welcome to Tuesday Showcase at the Café. For those of you that are new, be prepared to be dazzled…or disappointed. The showcase rules are strict. I personally pre-screen everyone and, if you’re fortunate or talented enough to get through that, you get fifteen minutes and no more.”
“Shut up, Benjamin. Let’s get it on,” heckled one regular patron.
“I love you, too, Hamish,” said Benjamin, giving the thumbs’ up. “Let’s give it up for violinist Angie. If you liked Stéphane Grappelli, you’re gonna love her.”
Queenie hid her nervousness. As much as she wanted to buy out the joint, Benjamin still couldn’t stop his paying regulars from showing up. It was a nail-biting ninety minutes of watching as the knowledgeable, packed lounge gave their verdicts with derisive hoots or enthusiastic clapping for six other acts.
After a Sinatra-style crooner finished demolishing, “My Way” to a loud chorus of boos and customers showing their displeasure with two thumbs bobbing down, Benjamin hopped back onstage. “Well, you can’t win them all. But I promise the last act will make up for the bad judgment on my part.”
In truth, Queenie got Benjamin to showcase the turkey just before they performed so that Abby and Olivia would be more than welcome relief.
Noah and JJ joined in the whistles, hoots and applause.
Benjamin held his hands up to stem the commotion. “Listen. My family has had this place for close to a century and, in that time, we’ve had more than twenty thousand new artists strut their stuff for Tuesday Night Showcase. Some of it has been bad, some of it so so…”
“You ain’t said shit, Benjamin,” called a back row customer.
“But once or twice a year, someone comes along that makes slogging through the crap worthwhile. Will our last act be like that rare gem that’ll take you to the stratosphere, or are they gonna make you want to leave before last call? Ladies and gentlemen, let’s give it up for Abby Sung and Olivia Southam, direct from Hong Kong.”
Noah and JJ jumped up to give a standing ovation, the only ones in the crowd to do so as Abby and Olivia joined the drummer and string bass player onstage.
For the next fifteen minutes, Abby and Olivia had the crowd eating out of their hands as they took the audience on a tour of the Gershwin classics, “Summertime” from the opera Porgy and Bess, songs from An American in Paris, the classics, “Our Love is Here to Stay,” and “I’ve Got Rhythm.”
After belting out the tune’s final line, “Who could ask for anything more?” Abby finished with a flourish, doing a handspring on the piano lid and landing beside Olivia on the piano bench. She swooped her hand over the ivories with a glissando, then jumped up, ran a couple of steps, leaped into the air and somersaulted onto the table where Noah, JJ and Queenie sat.
As the room stood and shouted, “Bravo,” Abby pointed at Olivia to take her bows.
Queenie gave Abby and Olivia a thumbs’ up as Benjamin jumped back onstage, clapping enthusiastically as he stepped back to the microphone. “Eye candy, ear candy and a circus at the end. What a treat! Ladies and gentlemen, give it up for A & O, Abby and Olivia, Alpha and Omega, East and West, Yin and Yang.”
Abby and Olivia soaked in the accolades. They may not have conquered New York yet, but they made a damned good impression with a hundred seventy-five of the most discerning and knowledgeable jazz patrons in the world. Did life get better than this?
Queenie was ecstatic. Even though she was prepared to paper the place with friends and colleagues, she only had to fork out for half the patrons. The rest were genuine customers who gave genuine approval with their own cold hard cash.
The happiest clam, though, was Benjamin. Twelve thousand of the money Queenie borrowed had come back to him right away. And she still owed the full hundred and fifty.
Olivia glanced at Noah. Even though his face shone exuberance as he applauded, she saw the faraway bittersweet look of longing in his eyes. She recognized it because she felt exactly the same.
23
Choices
After the crowd of well-wishers finished asking about their next gigs, where they could pick up their albums, and the gutsier trying to get their phone numbers, Abby and Olivia made their way back to their table where a celebratory bottle of champagne awaited.
“That was totally awesome,” said Noah, pouring the bubbly into the glasses. Leaning over into her ear, he intoned seriously, “You made the right choice, Olivia. This is where you belong.”
He straightened up and pointed his index finger with sharp approval at Abby. “I guess Hong Kong is not going to be seeing much of either of you anymore. It hasn’t been a month and I can’t believe how much your act has changed.”
“New York brings the best out of everyone,” smiled Abby, “including Olivia and me.” Clearing her throat, she lifted a glass of bubbly at JJ, who was doing his best trying not to ogle the talented Asian beauty. “Did you like it?”
“It was most wonderful.”
The whole table laughed at JJ’s awkward English.
“Did I say something wrong?” asked JJ with alarm.
“No, bro. You just showed all of us what a putz you are,” teased Noah. “‘Most wonderful’ sounds like it came out of the mouth of an Indian coolie in a B movie. You should say, ‘Cool’ or ‘way chill’ or ‘dope’ or ‘exciting.’”
“That was very way chill cool.” JJ smirked wickedly. “Good enough for you, dope?”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Music aside…” Noah shifted his gaze at the exotically glamorous Queenie, “So what are your plans? Olivia made me jump on a plane just to hear what you’ve got to say.” Noah raised a jocular eyebrow.
Queenie plucked a long feather from her boa and held it like Audrey Hepburn holding a long cigarette holder. “I work in the entertainment industry. Specialize in music. These days you must do a bit of everything. I find artists, manage them, put together record deals, and go on the road with them.”
“That sounds exciting,” said JJ, the naive enthusiasm in his voice putting his lack of worldliness into clear evidence.
“Excitement lasts for thirty seconds. After that, it’s work. To find the cream, you got to scrape through a lot of scum.”
“How long have you been doing this?” pressed JJ. “And how do you do it?”
“JJ, it’s not cool to ask so many questions,” chided Noah. “Forgive my friend. He can be intense, if you catch my drift.”
“Intense is totally cool. I like intense, and I like a guy who wants to cut through the bull. Too many time-wasters… Music has been my whole life, all my life. Never interested in anything else. My iPhone has three thousand songs. Listen to it constantly. But, hey, that’s just what I do to make ends meet. That’s not my ‘real’ job.”
“What’s that?” asks Noah.
Queenie plucked a feather from her vest and dangled it in front of Noah. “I’m an assassin. I kill bad taste.”
Queenie’s offhanded comment broke the ice. Benjamin popped by and placed another bottle of champagne on the table. “On the house. You gi
rls were fabulous. Queenie, you better sign them up fast or I’m gonna lock them up!”
“Yeah, what are you going to offer them, Benjamin?” taunted Queenie.
“Ten percent better than whatever you’re offering,” joked the club owner as he popped the cork on the champagne. “What’s yours?”
Queenie’s response was instantaneous. “I told Olivia and Abby that I want twenty-five percent of the net on live performances and one hundred percent of the publishing.”
Noah’s feet pressed hard at the floor. He knew nothing about entertainment law but he had been on the road negotiating deals for the Chad Huang Foundation and was pretty sure Queenie’s offer was tantamount to robbery. “That’s pretty high. For starters, I’m swamped and can’t touch it, but Olivia can do the legals to bring costs down…”
“No, no, no, no, no.” interjected Benjamin. “And if I didn’t make myself clear…no, no, no, no, no, no! Entertainment law is not corporate or real estate law. Like the saying goes, ‘Any lawyer who represents himself has a fool for a client.’”
“How about ten percent gross on live and half the publishing?” returned Noah.
“This isn’t Shark Tank. You want to haggle for a handbag, go back to Hong Kong. I know what I’m worth and that’s my price,” stated Queenie, now all business.
Abby naïvely announced to the table. “It sounds good to me, Olivia. We should take it.”
“No, Abby,” replied Noah. “Never take an opening offer. First rule of negotiation. The initial offer stands. Ten percent gross on live and half the publishing.”
“Noah, you’re not our lawyer,” snapped Abby.
“Then why the hell am I here? If all you wanted was for me to listen to you, I could catch you on YouTube.”