Cory paid the fare and jogged three blocks to Weill Cornell Medical Center.
Linda did a double take when she saw Cory. “What are you wearing?”
He pecked her cheek. “How’s she doing?”
“Better, she’s on dialysis, and they gave her some diuretics for the swelling. It’s helping. She’s breathing much better.”
“That’s good.”
“I’m so glad you’re here. She’ll be happy to see you.”
“What happened?”
“When I called her, I knew something was wrong. She was so confused, I had to go over. As soon as I saw her I called 911. Her legs were swollen worse than I’ve ever seen and she had trouble breathing.”
“She’ll be okay.”
“She’s depressed. The doctor said if she doesn’t take care of herself, she’ll need a transplant.”
“We’ll get her help, someone to live with her to make sure she takes her meds and does what she needs to.”
“She doesn’t have the money for that.”
“Don’t worry, we’ll help her. Just get it going.”
Linda hugged Cory. “Thanks, but we can’t afford that.”
“The way the record label is acting, we won’t have money problems anymore.”
“Did they dress you like that?”
He stepped back. “Why? You don’t like it?”
She shrugged. “I can see your ankles.”
“They took ten years off me.” He tugged at the lime green shirt under his black, lapelless jacket.
“Not exactly, Mr. Big Shot.”
“It’s like a makeover place. They want to give me a new haircut and get porcelain veneers.”
“They’re paying for it?”
“Yeah.”
“I’d love to get veneers one day.”
“Whenever you want, I’ll get them for you. Come on, I want to see your mom.”
“Tell her about what went on today. She always gets a kick out of your stories.”
Chapter Twelve
Two Months Later
Cory hung up the phone and ran up the stairs to his apartment. He pulled one earbud out and flung open the door. “Linda! Put on Z100.”
She poked her head out of the kitchen. “What?”
“Dave just called. He said ‘Tablet Blues’ is going to get airtime today. I got KTU on. Put Z100 on your phone.”
She fiddled with her iPhone and music played. “What are you wearing?”
“Oh.” He took off the pork pie hat. “The stylist said it would make me look hip.”
“Not just that, the jacket. What is it, lamé?”
“I got no idea. You don’t like it?”
“It’s flashy. And what’s under your lip?”
He ripped off a patch of hair. “It’s a fake soul patch. They want me to grow one. They want a certain image, you know, for the tour and all.”
“Image? More like a complete makeover.”
“I know. They got me going to another hairstylist tomorrow.”
She shook her head. “I hope Ava will recognize you.”
“It’s not that bad. I think it looks pretty good.”
She put a hand on her belly. “You’re getting a new wardrobe, and I can’t fit into my clothes anymore. I’m going to need a tent.”
Cory wrapped his arms around her. “You know, I always thought you looked sexy when you’re pregnant.”
“Yeah, sure.”
“I’m not kidding. It’s kind of a turn-on for me.” Cory massaged her neck and worked his hands down to her breasts.
“I’m in the middle of cooking.”
Cory pressed his growing manhood into her. “Let’s go in the bedroom.” Hands on her buns, he followed Linda to the bedroom.
Linda wiggled out of her pants and crawled under the covers. In the middle of taking his pants off, Cory said, “It’s on! Listen.” He put one bud in Linda’s ear.
He pulled his pants up. “I can’t believe it! It’s really happening. I can’t wait for Ava to hear it. Damn! I should’ve recorded it so she can hear it.”
“Where you going?”
“To get your phone. I don’t want to miss it when Z100 plays it.”
As he walked out of the bedroom, Linda said, “But I thought . . .”
* * *
Ten days after “Tablet Blues” debuted, Cory’s cell rang.
“Hey Dave, how’s it going?”
“Guess who’s sitting at number five on the Billboard charts?”
“Are you kidding me?”
“Nope. ‘Tablet Blues’ just climbed to number five. It’s the fastest rise I’ve seen in a long while.”
“Man, this is surreal. Hang on a second.” He pulled the phone away and said, “Linda! ‘Tablet Blues’ is number five on the Billboard chart.”
“Oh, my God, that’s amazing.”
“Sorry, had to tell my wife.”
“No problem. Look, we got to move fast and ride this wave. We’re going to release ‘Spring Water’ as a single, and a great opportunity just opened up. Freddie got a call from Good Morning America. Slade was supposed to perform Wednesday morning in their Bryant Park series, but he checked into rehab and canceled.”
“You want me to fill in?”
“Absolutely. The timing is perfect. It’s a gift from the music gods.”
“Is everybody gonna be available?”
“Trust me, nobody is going to miss this opportunity.”
“We’ll need to rehearse. We only have two days.”
“Relax. You only need to do two songs on air. They’ll do a short interview, and then you open up with ‘Tablet’—”
“I got to talk? What are they going to ask me?”
“It’s all softballs. I’ll have Mallory send over a couple of clips. We’ll tell them about how quickly you charted, the fastest-since type of stuff. Believe me, they’ll use it.”
“Okay. So, after that, we’ll do ‘Tablet Blues.’ Then what?”
“They’ll go to a commercial break and then do an unrelated piece of news before you come back on. That’s where you’re gonna do ‘Spring Water.’ The rest of the show, you can do whatever you’d like from the album.”
“Okay. I’m going to call the players.”
“Look, I think it’s time for you to get a manager. There’s a lot of stuff that’s gonna be coming at you, from a lot of different directions. You’re going to need help, or you’re gonna be overwhelmed.”
“I told you I can’t afford that.”
“Of course, you can. How do you think you charted? The royalties are gonna start rolling in. ‘Tablet Blues’ had nine hundred sales yesterday and over two thousand downloads.”
“How much do I get out of that?”
“Well, the streaming stuff is like, a nickel for every hundred downloads. The sales, you do a lot better, but the money is in the live shows. We’re setting up a nice tour for you. You’ll be on the road just when the rest of the album gets released.”
“How much money will I make touring?”
“If you do, say, twenty shows, with an average of ten thousand people, at a hundred a pop, that’s a million a show. So, the gross would be twenty million.”
“Twenty million? Dollars?”
“Yeah, but that’s the gross, and half goes to the arena so, that’s ten million, and there’s a lot of other expenses. A manager has a better handle on it.”
“That still sounds good.”
“It is, but like I said, you’re gonna need a manager and an assistant.”
“An assistant?”
“Definitely. You need somebody to screen access.”
“Wouldn’t the manager do that?”
“No, separate roles. Don’t worry, I have a great guy, Lew Stein. He’s tough, but you tell him what you want and you’ll get it. We’ll work together to get the best deals for you. Now, for an assistant, Tracy Burnett is perfect. You’ll love her. I’ll reach out to them and set something up.”
“Oka
y.”
“Now, get ready for the show.”
Cory hung up. His mind was spinning. Too much to do, too much to think about. A manager, an assistant?
Linda wrapped her arms around him. “I can’t believe you made it.”
“I’m whirling. So much to do. And I’m going to play on the Good Morning America show at Bryant Park.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. Wednesday. Slade was supposed to play it, but he went into rehab.”
“Oh my God, that’s like two days away.”
“I know. Look, you gotta keep Ava out of school that day.”
“We can come?”
“Uh, I didn’t think about that. I was figuring you’d watch it on TV.”
She unraveled her arms. “Oh.”
“What’s the matter?”
“I thought you’d want us there. That’s all.”
“Of course, I do. I never thought about it. I mean, I just got off the phone.”
“Forget it. It’ll be one big hassle going to the city.”
“You sure? It’s a super opportunity to play on national TV.”
“It’s too bad that it’s at someone else’s expense.”
“What do you mean?”
“Slade going into rehab. That’s sad.”
“It’s not my fault. What am I supposed to do, not do it because somebody screwed up? I gotta worry about me.”
“You’re doing a good job of that. I got to go to work.”
Cory thought over what she had said about it being at somebody else’s expense. It wasn’t Slade he thought about but Jay Bird. He didn’t see how it mattered. Jay Bird was gone, also a victim to drugs. And he left no family that would benefit from his body of work.
He brushed off any concerns about taking advantage, but his wife’s behavior puzzled him. Where was she coming from? He discounted jealousy. Maybe it was her having to work. That didn’t make sense. His success would enable her to quit and take care of the kids.
Cory’s concern faded when he factored in the possibility it was hormonal. It made sense, he thought. He had to prepare for the show. He pulled his cell out to start calling the band, realizing that his rhythm guitar player was still on tour with the Pinkletons.
Riley was a good player, but Cory had concerns he knew something. Was it his paranoia, or did Riley somehow know Cory hadn’t written the tunes?
Chapter Thirteen
The TV’s glow was the only light in the apartment. Cory tiptoed in and plopped on the couch next to Linda. He kissed her cheek, putting his hand on her belly.
“How you feeling?”
“He’s been kicking all day. Can’t wait till this little guy comes out.”
“We’re more than halfway there.” He put his head to her abdomen and sang, “Calm down, little man. I know you’re anxious to see us, and we’re super excited to meet you.”
“Ooh, did you feel that?”
“He knows it’s me.”
“What happened today?”
“It was crazy. Before the rehearsal, I met with this manager, Lew Stein. Dave recommended him. Then an assistant, Tracy Burnett. I hired both of them.”
“You’re not making enough to pay two people. How much is that going to be?”
“Lew gets ten percent—”
“Ten percent? That’s way too much.”
“He’s going to do a lot. You had to see the stack of papers that had to be dealt with. Every band member needs a contract, and all the places we’re hitting on the tour. There’s insurance to deal with and transportation and hotels. It’s an endless amount of things I have zero interest in doing, if I could even do them.”
“But doesn’t Dave handle any of that?”
“No, he’s dealing with getting the music out there, you know, marketing, and he sets up the concert venues, but the paperwork and all the other arrangements, Lew is going to handle.”
“And what’s this assistant going to do?”
“Tracy’s great. Just like all the personal stuff I got to deal with, the appointments and scheduling, and she’s going to protect me.”
“Protect you?”
“Everybody keeps saying that people are going to want a piece of me as I get famous, and she’s like a gatekeeper. She said she’d be like a chief of staff. She’ll deal with the players so I don’t have to get in the middle of stuff that would mess up the creative side.”
“So, you’re going to be famous, huh?”
“You know what I mean. Everybody, even small acts, got someone to do the dirty work. If we’re on the road, somebody has to deal with the transportation, food, and laundry kind of things. What time we got to be where, you know, stuff like that.”
“I guess so.”
“Look, if this goes like it looks like it will, we’ll be moving out of here super soon. I’m thinking maybe you should start looking at places now. Get a feel for what will work for us.”
“Really?”
“Sure, why not?”
“There’s a new place going up in Prospect Park.”
Cory frowned. “Let’s shoot for something in the city.”
“Manhattan? I don’t want to take Ava out of her school.”
“It’ll be easier for me, give me more time to spend with you and the kids. Besides, she’s only in kindergarten.”
“But we’ll get so much more for our money in Brooklyn.”
“It’s not that big of a difference from what Tracy said.”
“You talked about where we should live with Tracy?”
“It was nothing. She asked me a bunch of questions to get a feel for us.”
“Well, I don’t want you talking about our personal life with her.”
“Oh, come on, Linda. You don’t even know her. She’s just trying to help.”
“Tell her to stick to the business side of things.”
* * *
In the past, getting rehearsal space and organizing the players was challenging for Cory. This time, Tracy secured the studio and contacted the band members. He needed to remember to tell Linda how easy Tracy made it. Tracy held the door, and Cory walked into Studio J with his guitar.
Cory saw the horn section stood in groups in a far corner of the spacious room. Sax players talking to other sax players, and trumpets huddled together.
Cory put his guitar down. “Hey, Donny.”
His friend was tuning his bass. “Hey, man. This is a nice space.”
“Yeah, it’s pretty cool, ain’t it?”
“A long way from Tommy’s garage.”
“You got that right.” Cory pointed to the drum set. “Where’s Paulie?”
Donny plucked a note. “Boys’ room.”
Cory nodded toward the piano. Joanne was sitting on the bench talking to Riley. “Is it me, or is she getting better looking by the hour?”
Donny tightening a string. “No doubt, she’s got the goods, man.”
Cory overheard Riley saying, “Yeah, and the turnaround in the first ending is something Jay Bird used all the time. It’s the same thing with the key change. Jay always set it up like that.”
Cory said, “You guys got everything you need?”
Joanne smiled. “I’m good. Just do me a favor and ask the horns to keep it down. I want to be able to hear when I’m forty.”
Cory knew that, even among professionals, the issue of volume topped a player’s complaint list. “I’ll make sure and say something. How about you?”
Riley said, “I got more than I need.”
“Okay.”
Walking toward the horn players, Cory wondered what Riley meant. And what were the references he made about the musical devices Jay Bird used? Was he trying to convince Joanne the tunes were Bird’s?
At the end of the rehearsal, Tracy sidled up to him. “You all right?”
Cory said, “Just a little uptight.” He couldn’t tell her Riley had distracted him.
“You think you’ll be all right tomorrow?”
“We’ll pull i
t together. The crowd will force us to focus.”
“You been sleeping?”
“It’s been tough. Between the pressure and excitement, I can’t get more than an hour or two at a time.”
“It’s the adrenaline rush. I’ve seen it a hundred times. No matter how successful you are, a certain venue or a TV thing or a joint project with a megastar, it gets to everybody.”
“It sure does. I hope I get a good one tonight.”
“If you want, I can get you something to help you sleep.”
Cory knew between the big show and what Riley said, he wouldn’t sleep. “That’s a good idea. What do you have?”
Chapter Fourteen
Six Months Later
A black Lincoln Navigator pulled up to a glass tower on West Street. A pair of legs led by stilettoed feet emerged. They were owned by a shapely woman in a short dress. Cory, thankful for the break from two months of touring to get back home, came out next. He could see his wife holding their newborn in the lobby.
Cory rushed inside. His son was screaming. “Sorry, the traffic from La Guardia was a nightmare.” He kissed Linda’s cheek and took the baby. “Hey Tommy, how are you? Don’t cry, Daddy’s here.”
She whispered, “What’s she doing here?”
“Hello, Linda. So nice to see you again,” Tracy said.
Linda sucked in her belly. “Yes, it is. How have you been?”
“Excellent. You’re going to love this place. Oh, here comes Eduardo now. He’s the best Realtor in the city.”
Little Tommy’s face was beet red. Linda said, “Let me take him. I’ll get him to settle down.”
They met the Realtor and waited for the elevator as Tommy wailed away. Tracy said, “Come here, little one.”
Linda said, “No, it’s okay. He’ll be fine.”
Cory said, “Let her take him. Tracy is great with babies.”
She took Tommy from Linda, and before the elevator arrived, the baby quieted down.
“You see, what did I tell you?”
The Realtor gave them details of the listing as they rode up. When the doors opened, he said, “You’re really going to love this apartment. I’ll leave you alone. Feel free to roam about.”
A view of the Hudson River filled the floor-to-ceiling windows. Cory felt he could reach out and touch Lady Liberty. It was an apartment the way Grand Central was a train station.
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