Our story progresses. There's a lot of exposition in this chapter with a bang-up scene toward the end but don't worry, life is only getting better for our heroes and there's plenty more to cum!
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I won't bore you with all the business shit but at one o'clock, Jimmy pulled up with Graham. The Warner's guy showed up a half hour later. We sat in the bus and shot the shit about last night's benefit. Jimmy was kind enough to bring some deli from Greenblatt's and a cold case of Landshark. Graham amplified his ideas about the summer tour. Smoking a joint, we blue-skied about it. Amy puttered around for a while doing some housekeeping chores. It was difficult for us to stay focused as she moved around the bus in her little daisy dukes and her t-shirt. Half of her sweet butt hung out and every time she leaned over, her nipples swayed and poked the shirt. Oh, my.
Ideas flew around. Graham said that he and Crosby had passed some ideas around, too. They were calling it "The Breadbasket Tour" and the idea was to have a loose amalgam of artists raise money for local food pantries around the country. I suggested that we could play a couple of big outdoor festivals like Bonnaroo and pass buckets around raising money for local outlets. Also, we could play a couple of big arenas like the Garden in some select cities, too. Jimmy brought up some corporate sponsors and then video rights. I gave him the names of my people in New York and he said he's have his people do all the heavy lifting.
"Here's where we play Warner's," he said. "We offer them the film and video rights in exchange for freedom from whatever contracts they claim to still hold on our rights. I know we could fight them in court and win but it's so much easier for them to take the carrot."
"That would be sweet," I added. "I don't want anymore deals from these guys. I'd rather sell my stuff online - through a web site, the iTunes Store or Spotify in Europe."
And that's pretty much how our meeting went. The suit showed up and took the carrot. It seemed too easy but I admired Jimmy's knowledge and ability to speak their language. Not for nothing was this guy a multimedia success but he made me uneasy. I thought that he was somewhat of a sleazebag. He offered us a $100,000 dollar option right there on the spot but Jimmy and Graham waved him off saying that it was premature. After he drove off, we smoked another one and tossed some names around for the shows. We'd pull big name locals to join us in their areas to help hype the venture, like JT in Massachusetts, Billy in New York, and like that. It sounded like a plan. I asked them about the option offer and Graham pointed out that our presentation was simply a ruse to make him salivate and it worked. Jimmy suggested that when the time came, several studios would be tripping over themselves and raising the ante considerably. We left the bus to walk Santo but it was too difficult to keep the conversation going as we were recognized and too busy signing autographs. We quickly headed back and shaking hands, we parted. As they were getting into Jimmy's car, he pulled me aside.
"Davy, it's good to have you back in the game. Especially now that we can do it our way. When I heard you at the Woody Creek, I saw that you still had that instant rapport and I knew this could be good thing. And don't worry about your publishing rights either, that will all work out in your favor. They have nothing on you anymore and it will all revert to you, even the movie stuff. I'll call you in the next couple of days."
I breathed a huge sigh of relief. The last thing I wanted to do was get involved in a lawsuit. Even though I knew I'd win, I hate to pay litigators. Amy was all smiles when I sat down at the table.
"Davy, you are on one fucking roll, you know that?"
"Pardon me, partner, but that should be 'we'...we rock, do
you
know that? Wanna take a drive?"
We put Santo into the car and dropped the top. For the next couple of hours, we just drove around, taking in the sights. So many places brought back fond memories; The Chateau Marmont where the parties were demonic, Wilshire and Doheny where I once bumped into Groucho Marx and his Erin, Laurel Canyon where Lowell George and I flew his little model planes while stoked on acid...such memories. We drove through Topanga where Phil Spector once told me he'd make me a star. Thanks anyway, Phil. Driving through that area, I avoided the ranch where the Manson family took up residence. I headed up toward Point Mugu and then south, stopping a few times to take in the Pacific. It was a relaxing little excursion.
Back in the bus, I polished off the rest of my pastrami on rye. Amy said she had some lyrics she wanted me to look at.
"This has been running through my head for days. Maybe you can help me polish it," and she began to read to me.
"I'm hearing birds cry to me as they fly by,
In formation, they pass and they wave goodbye,
I'm alone with you somewhere up in the sky,
It's where I want to be - with my guy."
"What do you think? Where do I want to go with this?"
"It's a good chorus. What is the story you want to tell?"
"I want to try to express - politely - what it feels like when we make love. I want to get that 'floating in the clouds' message across."
"Okay...maybe we could make it more universal...make the verses non-specific and more abstract. Maybe a verse could start with 'In a place above the tree line where the air is pure and clean...the ground below is so far away, blending into green...somewhere in a special place where everything is serene...there is no place better than in your love and I think you know what I mean.' Maybe that's too moon-june-spoon but it might work. It's always better to speak in your own voice and keep it simple. It makes the listener get it right away."
"Uh-huh, I see that. I wrote all that down and I'll play with it. Thanks for the tips. I want to work on this alone. I want to see if I can express myself this way."
