Back To The Viper (6 page)

Wayne noticed the producer on whom their fate depended sitting at the bar. He tried to remember his name, but couldn’t. When the producer took notice of the band, he waved and greeted them.

“Good evening, my name’s Mark Harris, and I’ve produced Foo Fighters, The Offspring, and Green Day. Wayne showed me a CD with your recording on it, and I admit, I liked you.”

“We’re happy to hear it.” Wayne gave him an oily smile.

“Let’s sit and have a drink before the performance!”

The men hesitated. The tension, even now that they’d gone back in time, was strong, and having a quick drink to relax seemed like a good idea. Ashley signaled to Wayne and he replied reluctantly:

“No, better not. Maybe after the showcase.”

“That’s a professional’s answer!” the producer grinned. He gave a sign to the club manager to invite them on the stage. Wayne felt his hands shaking. He remembered the way the audience had reacted to their performance ten years before: moderately warm with mild applause. Perhaps that had been the reason why Mark Harris hadn’t approved them. Wayne shook his head – that had been ten years ago; now they had the chance to improve their performance. He nodded at Ashley and she took the microphone.

“Good evening, music lovers! How are you tonight? Are you ready to rock?”

The club resounded with a wave of wild cries. The Viper Room, where the whole of the Hollywood elite gathered, had nothing in common with the much smaller club where Wayne had played a week before.

“We are The Jackal and tonight we’ve prepared a special song for you,” Ashley said. Wayne and Craig began to play. Ashley started singing “Where is Your Lover,” with Chad backing her vocals. If the members of The Dragon’s Circle could have heard or seen them at that moment, they would have probably sued them for plagiarism. The audience, however, not suspecting the similarity between the track and another from the future, accepted it with enthusiasm. In the end, the applause wouldn’t stop. They had decided to play only one song, but the audience’s wild cheers and cries of “We want more” made them go on with another song.

“I told you they were going to like ‘Where is Your Lover!’” Ashley was screaming, overexcited. The rest hugged her and covered her in kisses.

“They want more! I can’t believe it! We made it at The Viper Room!” Craig was crying.

“We better focus on what we are going to sing now, as we haven’t prepared another song. Do you remember any of our old songs?” Wayne asked.

“Yes, “We are Young” – the first song I wrote that we rehearsed in your garage,” Ashley replied. She was sure Chad and Craig would remember it because all three of them had been back to the time of their first rehearsal, when they had played that song.

Wayne began to play his guitar, trying to remember it. Soon after that, the melody rang out, confident and compelling. Again, it was received with wild applause that wouldn’t calm down. The producer was looking at them with obvious approval.

The Jackal was encored several times. Joyful and pleased, they played “Where is Your Lover” twice. When the showcase was over, they joined Mark Harris at the bar. Wayne almost downed a whole glass of whiskey. Craig and Chad followed his example, but acted more moderately.

“Guys, you did great!” The producer spared no superlatives. “You… you are just born to be stars!” He laughed and took a drag of his cigar.

Encouraged by his approval, Ashley offered:

“If you really like us, as you said, can you get us a contract with a music label?”

The producer fixed his eyes on her and for a moment, she lost her breath. The boys, surprised by her boldness, also riveted their eyes on her in anticipation of what the producer would say. At length Harris broke the silence:

“I like your lead singer! That’s a very practical and direct question. What’s your name, darling?”

She mumbled, slightly uneasy, “Ashley Greendale.”

“Ashley.” He put out his cigar in the ashtray. “If I’m honest, I knew almost nothing about your band before I listened to your live performance here. Now I’m aware of what your possibilities are, and I believe you’ll achieve success if you record an album with a label. That’s why I’ll talk to a friend of mine as soon as possible; he’s an A&R at one of the major labels.”

“And when exactly? ‘As soon as possible’ sounds too vague,” Ashley asked him insistently.

The producer fixed his eyes on her again and said, with a hardly discernible smile at the edges of his lips, “Miss, aren’t you too young to worry about time? How old are you?”

“Please, excuse Ashley, she’s been quite nervous because of the showcase, but she’s an introvert by nature,” Wayne interfered, giving Ashley a reproachful look meaning “Be careful what you’re talking about; Harris is a bigwig.”

“She’s right,” Mark Harris said, lighting up another cigar. “Time is money and the sooner you sign a contract with a music label, the better.”

“That’s awesome!” Chad cried excitedly.

“I’ll try to talk to that friend of mine from Warner tomorrow; I also have an old acquaintance at Sony, so let’s see what they say.” Mark sighed and took a gulp of whiskey.

The four of them looked at one another cheerfully.

“All right, so what’s the deal? Are you calling us or do I…” Wayne didn’t finish because Mark interrupted him.

“Buddy, don’t worry, I’ll take care of this. Once I like a band or an artist, it’s in my interest to promote them. But I have one condition.” He looked at all four of them searchingly. “If I strike a deal with a label, I’d like you to sign a contract stating I’ll be your producer. Is that okay?”

Wayne held his breath – that was beyond the sphere of his competence and he had to consult an entertainment attorney.

“Okay, let’s see if a label will like us first, and then we can negotiate!”

After a while, Mark Harris left and they could no longer contain their joyful exclamations.

“Yes!” cried Craig, who had been silent during the conversation, having let Wayne do the talking. His corporate work had taught him how important it was to listen closely to the people he would make business with. “This feels good. I have the very good feeling we’re going to sign a contract!”

“Don’t make conclusions too quickly,” Chad warned him. “Although I have such a feeling, too…”

“Cut off that thinking; it’s party time!” Wayne ordered four shots of tequila with a complacent smile on his face and then gave one to each of his friends. “To success!”

They laughed and each of them downed their shot. While Ashley was swallowing the sharp taste of tequila, a girl approached them timidly.

“Excuse me, can I have an autograph?” She held out her cap shyly. Wayne winked at her.

“Don’t you have anything sexier I could sign?”

The girl blushed and Ashley jabbed Wayne.

“Don’t be a jerk! We are here for a purpose, not for you to go hunting.”

Craig and Chad burst into laughter, mimicking him, “Lord, thank you! I promise not to hurt the fairer sex ever again.”

“Oh, shut up,” Wayne downed another shot of tequila. He was starting to enjoy being twenty again – he was young and ambitious and the women in the club were exactly the type he liked.

Chapter 11

The following two days seemed to go by like paper in the wind to Ashley, Wayne, Craig, and Chad. On the following day, Mark Harris called them to announce the good news: Sony had shown interest in them. However, the company wanted a whole album to be recorded in a studio. He had them sign a contract with him and then offered to record the album in his recording studio in Los Angeles. Harris proposed for the royalties to be split fifty-fifty. Wayne didn’t know what to do – he’d never had to deal with the legal side of music business before. Craig was more knowledgeable in that matter.

“That’s a very responsible and important thing to do. We need to read the whole contract very carefully, down to the smallest details. I’ve signed many contracts at Cisco Systems, and I know that each violation of the contract or each failure to adhere to its terms will cost us a fortune.”

“All right, then, Mr. White Collar, are you ready to read it and explain it to us so that we can decide whether to sign it or not?”

Craig nodded. On the following day, Harris sent them a copy of the contract. They read it carefully several times. The producer was offering to financially cover the recording of their studio albums for the following five years in exchange for half of the royalties negotiated with the label.

“This means that if the label offers us, let’s say, twelve percent of the royalties, we’ll be left with just six. And then, when we split that six percent among us, each of us will be left with one and a half percent,” Craig explained.

“What?” Wayne cried.

Craig smiled at him in empathy.

“Yes, things are not as rose colored as movies and TV shows make us believe they are. Bands, as a whole, don’t earn much. I’m talking about the middle ranks.”

“But that’s highway robbery! Why only twelve percent royalties for us and half of that share going to the producer?” Ashley exclaimed.

“Well, if you think you can find the money to record a whole studio album, be my guest! Besides, don’t forget that Mark knows that guy from Sony, and without him, our chances to sign a contract with a music label are close to none. Especially with one of Sony’s caliber.”

All of them were silent. Chad, who had been only listening to his friends, suddenly spoke up. “Guys, wait a minute! Why are you taking everything so seriously? Have you forgotten that this is not real and that we’re here in this space for a short time? We wanted to get rid of the feeling of failure and guilt and now here we are chewing over that music contract offer as if we were staying here forever.”

“Yes, Chad’s right. Actually, how much longer are we planning to stay in this reality?” Craig inserted. “It’s been a few days. In reality, that’s several hours. Don’t you think we should go back?”

“Relax, pal, you’ll see your family. I just want us to sign and to know we’ve made it,” Wayne replied.

“Just make sure that won’t take us several more days,” Craig said dryly.

“We’ll stay as long as we must!” Wayne snapped.

Craig looked at him without uttering a word.

The next day, the band met the producer at the office of a law firm called Saches, Stone and Mitchell, whose services Harris used. Craig slowly read the contract one more time and finally signed it. The rest followed him. Going out of the office, Mark Harris was visibly pleased.

“A good decision, guys.” He looked at Ashley. “We’ll record the album in a few months, and I’ll call Brian Owens from Sony so that we know for sure what their offer is. When can you start recording at my studio?”

“As early as tomorrow,” Wayne said firmly.

“I like your enthusiasm; it makes me feel young again,” Mark replied, his eyes sparkling. Ashley was examining him with interest, wondering how old he was; he looked forty-five at the most.

They agreed to meet in front of Harris’s studio in Los Angeles at nine in the morning.

While walking down the boulevard and discussing the favorable turn of events, Craig suddenly cried, “I think that was all. Let’s go back!”

“Wait a second, what about the album?” Wayne asked.

“Man, Monique is home alone, and I have some work to do!”

“Didn’t you say you warned her? I took a day off,” Ashley interrupted him.

“What else do we need to do? This isn’t real. Am I the only one here who can think clearly?” Craig raised his voice.

“You know what, let’s go to a restaurant and celebrate it. What do you think?” Wayne broke the awkward silence.

“Great idea!” Chad and Ashley answered simultaneously.

They all fixed their eyes on Craig.

“All right, if I must,” he sighed and joined the others reluctantly. He didn’t want to stay here even a second longer. If it had been up to him, he’d have immediately gone back to the present where his family was.

***

“Well done; good job, guys!” The sound engineer took off his headphones and raised his thumb approvingly from the control room.

Wayne, Ashley, Chad, and Craig had been recording for a few hours at Mark Harris’s home studio. Before they had begun, Wayne and Mark had discussed at length how to bring the songs to be included in the album to perfection.

By the early afternoon, they had already recorded half the album when Mark entered the recording room wearing a wide smile on his face.

“Good job, boys! You’re doing great.”

Ashley turned to him, insulted. “Mark, I guess you’ve forgotten there’s also a woman in the band?”

“You’re right, Ashley. I apologize. You’re an important member of the band, and I value you greatly. I came by just to tell you we’re doing pretty well. We’ve recorded more than I had planned, and you deserve a break. I can see you’re tired, so let’s call it a day, shall we?” Harris left the room and Craig put the drumsticks down with a bored expression. He looked exhausted, and there were dark circles under his eyes. He had apparently had no sleep the previous night.

“Are you happy now? When are we going back?” he asked impatiently.