FRIDAY MORNING Chili found Elaine's note in the kitchen: "Left the house at seven for an eight a.m. meeting. Deciding the fate of a pompous director." He had told her last night he probably wouldn't leave to join the tour until this afternoon.
But now he thought, What's the hurry? Drive down tomorrow. He'd rather spend the night here with Elaine than at a motel with the band. He could take the day off and not do anything, try not to even think. He believed he had some of his best ideas when he wasn't thinking. Be here when Elaine came home and surprise her. Have some drinks, go out to dinner. . . . He liked being with Elaine. He was always himself when he was with her. He liked looking at her face, her expressions, her hands, her dark brown eyes, and liked looking at her naked: she had the whitest skin he had ever seen. This huge house but no swimming pool. She worked, always a stack of scripts on the desk.
She had said to him, "What's the name of the picture, 'Get Linda'?"
He said, "Or 'Get Spins.' " But then said, "It doesn't have to be get anything, it isn't part of a get trilogy."
Elaine said, "What about 'Linda Moon' as the title?"
Chili said, "'Shine On Linda Moon.' "
And Elaine said, " 'A Linda Moon for the Misbegotten.' "
"That's not bad."
"But what if it turns out the picture isn't about her?"
"Who is it about then?"
"It's like Day for Night. Use what you see. . . . You get an idea that makes it work, or you don't."
Chili said, "Or let Scooter come up with an ending."
He still believed it was about Linda.
Last night Elaine said, "You're putting her on the spot."
Tomorrow afternoon at the radio station, Linda hearing the remix she didn't know anything about. To get maybe a scene out of it.
What was wrong with that?
But was he putting off seeing Linda? Not wanting to spend time with her knowing what was coming up? Or was it he'd rather spend the time with Elaine?
About four o'clock he called her office. Jane said, "Didn't you get her message? Elaine's in Vancouver until probably Sunday."
It was getting late. There'd be heavy traffic. . . . He'd stay here and drive down tomorrow. He liked Elaine's big English country house and was beginning to feel at home.
24
* * *
THE CLERK AT THE HILTON on Jimmy Durante Boulevard directed Chili around back to 168, 169 and 170. He came to the big van parked there and knew he'd found them. Knocking on the first door he tried got no response, but the next one opened and there was Vita.
"Hey, the manager. It's about time you got here. Come on in."
"How's the tour going?"
"Getting a lot of attention, people gushing over Linda. Showing her a lot more love than she's getting around here, lemme tell you."
"What's the matter?"
"The girl's becoming a little hard to live with."
"Linda?"
"Who we talking about? Yes, Linda."
"She upset about something?"
"Fame, attention; she's eating it up."
Chili heard the toilet flush and looked toward the back of the room. "She's in there?"
"As a matter of fact," Vita said, "she isn't. She's nextdoor, one-sixty-eight."
"I knocked, she didn't answer."
"See what I mean?"
"She must've gone out."
"She's there," Vita said.
Speedy came out of the bathroom bare to the waist buckling his belt, his head lowered as he said, "Shit," having trouble getting the belt fastened. There, he got it. Looked up to see Chili standing in the room and said, "Jesus Christ!" more than surprised, more like being caught doing something he shouldn't. It took him a few moments to recover, hook his thumbs in his belt and say to Chili, "I see you finally made it."
Vita said, "My protector."
Speedy said, "Hey, forget that," grabbing his tanktop from a chair. "You want breakfast or not?"
"I'll catch up with you," Vita said. Speedy left and she turned to Chili again. "He isn't used to being seen with a colored girl. How he refers to me. And may never get used to it."
Chili said, "You two are . . . what?"
"You running into all kind of surprises, huh? Last night outside the club this drunk dude's putting his hands on me. It's nothing too serious, but little Speedy comes up, tells him, 'Back off, asshole, she's with me.' They got in a fight—I was afraid the drunk dude'd kill Speedy, but Speedy kept at him and wore the man out. He did get a bloody nose, so I brought him here to his room, put a cold washcloth on it and, what do you know, I spent the night. He's a cute little fella when he isn't pissed off, which is most of the time."
"You spent the night with Speedy?"
"What'd I just say?"
"I'm surprised, that's all."
"I believe I opened the little fella's eyes. Now he asks me all kind of questions about colored people, what he calls us, like we speak a different language than he does, have our own customs. I tell him yeah, but it's regional. There as many different kinds of black people as there are different kinds of white people. Some closer to white people than to their own, and visa versa. Speedy don't know shit about people."
"So you changed the sleeping arrangements?"
"Linda did, last night. She decides she needs a room of her own so she can sleep late, rest during the day, get ready for her performance without me turning the TV on. She doesn't just sing her songs now, she gives a performance. I moved in with Speedy. Speedy doesn't perform so much as beat on his drums. And Dale moved in with Curtis. Dale just goes along. Tell him what you want him to do and Dale says, 'Cool.' Linda's raising hell with Curtis, too. Wears that T-shirt Steven gave her says on it 'I can't hear the fuckin monitor.' See, Curtis had a room of his own and she didn't. Linda's starting to give orders."
"She's nextdoor?"
Vita gestured with her thumb. "Right there. Check, see if she had a star put on the door. I wouldn't doubt it."
Chili stepped outside, went over to 168 and banged on the door till he heard the bolt and chain released and Linda was looking at him sleepy-eyed, then smiling as she moved against him and he had to put his arms around her, Linda telling him, "I missed you so much."
SHE SAID, "You know what I think about sometimes when I'm on stage, even while I'm singing? I think about different things, but lately, since the tour, I keep thinking, Why am I here? Why are all those people watching me, bobbing their heads up and down? Then I wonder, after, why was I thinking that?"
They sat facing each other on the two beds, Linda on the one she'd slept in, Chili on the one still made, covered with a spread, some of Linda's clothes lying on it. Daylight fell on her from a space between the drapes, not all the way closed, otherwise the room was dim. The light showed her pale features, innocent sleepy eyes, a little girl in a white T-shirt. She'd sit up, straighten as she threw her hair from her face or ran her fingers through it, and then slump down again.
"I wonder if I have this desire to perform because I didn't get enough attention when I was a child, having older sisters, even though I think I did. Or if I'm rebelling against the kind of normal, boring life they have." She paused. "What should I wear to the radio station?"
"Clean jeans," Chili said, "and a loose cotton sweater."
"I don't have a loose cotton sweater. I have a crocheted top that shows my navel. I keep wondering if I was, like, destined to do this, perform in front of people. I don't mean to entertain them especially, but to show them who I am."
"I thought it was 'cause you like music," Chili said. "You like to sing and play a guitar."
"Yeah, but why do I have this gift? Like it's something I have to do, something driving me."
Chili said, "Why can't you just like to do it?"
"Sheryl Crow left Missouri in a beatup car, bound for L.A. to make it as a singer. She got there, found herself on the four-oh-five during the peak of rush hour and freaked. 'What am I doing here?' I think about that, and I think about dumb
things like, should I buy a car? What kind? I mean when I start to make some money. Sheryl Crow thinks about different things too while she's singing. Like she'll think of a pair of pants that need to be hemmed. I wonder if I should have somebody do my hair and makeup. Sheryl was a backup singer for Michael Jackson, Stevie Wonder. . . . I've done backup, samples on the records of certain artists. It took Sheryl I'll bet twenty years to get where she is. She's thirty-seven years old. . . ."
"And you're not," Chili said. "You're not Sheryl Crow, either. You sing because you like to sing and that should be enough."
"But it isn't," Linda said. She slipped to her knees between the beds to lay her arms and her head on Chili's lap, telling him now, "I'm going all the way, Chil. I know it, and it scares the shit out of me."
He began patting her shoulder, stroking her hair, and for a little while she was quiet, lying there and not moving. She stirred then, slowly raised her head, kind of a dreamy look on her face now as she squeezed between his legs, her hands sliding over his chest to come around his neck. She was kissing him now, clinging, working at it and he went along, letting it happen, letting her brush her mouth over his cheek and lay her head on his shoulder. He heard her voice, a murmur, say, "I want to go to bed with you."
He moved his hands over her back, feeling her body beneath the thin T-shirt, Chili thinking, It could be a quickie. Just do it. Turn her down you'll hurt her feelings.
And Elaine's eyes came between them. Her eyes closed, but there she was, shots of her coming on in his face and going off, on and off and then gone.
He believed what he had to do in this situation was consider Linda's state of mind, the poor girl right now feeling alone in the world and he did not want to hurt her. He didn't want to look stupid, either. What was wrong with a quickie?
But then, shit, Elaine was back, Elaine opening her eyes to give him a vampy look, having fun but serious as she said, "Let's go take our clothes off."
Linda looked up at him. Stared when he didn't say anything, then frowned. "Don't you want to?"
Chili said, "Can I be honest with you?"
She nodded, still frowning a little.
"I think it would be absolutely terrific. But after, I know I'd have some trouble handling it. I don't think it's something you and I should get into. It could complicate what we have going between us, as partners."
"I'm pretty sure you're not gay," Linda said, "so it must be Elaine." She shrugged. "Okay."
"But even if it wasn't," Chili said. "You and I, especially right now, don't want to get serious."
Linda pushed herself up, went over to the dresser and lit a cigarette before she looked at him again. "I just felt like getting laid, Chil. I thought it was a nice moment." She went in the bathroom.
Chili could hear the water running. He got up and went over to the door, left open. He watched her for a moment at the sink, toothbrush in one hand, cigarette in the other. "You smoke while you brush your teeth?"
She was looking at him in the mirror. "If I feel like it."
"The last thing I want to do," Chili said, "is hurt your feelings. Believe me."
"No big deal," Linda said. "What time do we go to the station?"
"HEY, KEN CALVERT HERE, coming at you during the next forty minutes with Alisha's Attic, Ditch Witch, Redd Kross, . . . and as I promised, our special guests this afternoon, Linda Moon and her band out of Odessa, Texas. Linda, Dale and Speedy—how're you guys doing?"
Chili, in the control room with the engineer, watched them through the glass partition: Calvert, wearing earphones, facing the glass; Dale and Speedy with their back to Chili; and Linda to the right, at the end of the counter, Chili looking at her in profile, Linda saying they were doing okay.
Ken: "Well, I guess so—you grabbed that opening spot for Aerosmith. I understand you'll be at The Belly Up tonight. And tomorrow you open for the Chili Peppers at LaPlaya? That's a heavy trip for a new band. You guys sound like you have your chops tuned for the big time."
Linda: "Well, if the big time will have us, we're ready."
Ken: "Dale, the bass man. Having fun on the tour?"
Dale: "I sure am."
Ken: "And Speedy, the drummer. I understand you started out, the band was called Odessa. Now it's Linda Moon. Why the name change?"
Speedy: "Ask her."
Linda: "We had to, Ken, on account of another band was already using Odessa. So the fellas and I put our heads together and decided my name had kind of a nice ring to it."
Chili watched Dale and Speedy, hearing this for the first time, turn to look at her.
Linda: "I'm pretty sure I'm the only Linda Moon around, so I think we're safe. Least I hope so, Ken."
Laying it on, and with a little more West Texas in her voice than usual.
Ken: "Your sound has been called AC/DC meets Patsy Cline. What's that all about?"
Linda: "It was a music critic said that, and we kinda like it. I have to admit there's sort of a rootsy flavor to most of our songs, along with a stripped to the bone rock and roll groove we're dedicated to. I just hope there enough people out there who like our kind of music, 'cause we sure love to play it."
Ken: "Well, we've got your brand-new single, 'Odessa,' and we're gonna spin it for all the people out there right now. Have you heard it on the air?"
Linda: "No sir, this'll be the first time."
Ken: "I've listened to it a few times now. You want to know what I think?"
Linda: "I do if you like it."
Ken: "Linda, I can't get enough of it. Here we go with Linda Moon's new single, 'Odessa.' "
Chili watched the scene through the glass: Linda looking down at her hands folded on the counter. Ken Calvert bobbing his head as Linda's guitar lead came on. Now her voice:
Ten years is a long time
Ten years is the blink of an eye
And Linda raised her head.
Three chords and a million miles
With a dream that just won't die
The sound of Irish drums faintly in the background and Speedy straightened, looking at Linda.
I remember the oil rigs churnin'
Saw the world from a back porch swing
By the light of the gas fires burnin'
Daddy'd say you ought to hear my little girl sing
The drums boomed on the chorus and Linda was sitting up straight now, her back arched. Dale turned to Speedy hunching his shoulders. Ken Calvert, his head bobbing, looked at Linda listening to her dubbed voice accompanying her on the chorus.
Odessa
Underneath the Texas sky
Odessa
Do you hear me when I cry?
A faint sound of brass in the background accenting the mood.
Playin' to the radio hour by hour
Guitar too big and hands too small
Spend a whole summer pickin' Wildwood Flower
Mother Maybelle, she was ten feet tall
Linda turned to Ken Calvert as he said something to her, nodding, raising his eyebrows. She turned to look at Chili and he tried it, gave her a nod and raised his eyebrows. Linda stared with no expression and he tried to stare back, bobbing his head the way Ken Calvert was doing.
Kids in school used to whisper out loud
Do you see that girl over there?
Poor little fool's got her head in the clouds
Yeah, she thinks she's goin' somewhere
The lead to the chorus boomed and Speedy was saying something to Linda. Now he turned his head to look this way and give Chili his deadpan death stare. Linda reached over to poke him and Speedy turned around.
I don't care about fame and fortune
Camera in your eye and a dollar in the bank
I want to go runnin' through the fields
Drinkin' hot water from a railway tank
Chili watched Speedy nudge Dale leaning on the counter. Dale glanced at him and looked away. Linda was watching Ken Calvert bobbing his head.
Hotel rooms and smoke-filled bars
>
No, this ain't no back porch swing
I want to go home but I've come too far
Daddy, you oughta hear your little girl sing
At the chorus the drum boomed again its country dirge.
Odessa
Underneath the Texas sky
Odessa
And settled on Linda's haunting voice echoing:
Do you hear me when I cry?
The guitar lines that opened the song closed it now and there was a silence.
Ken: "Wow. That is a moving piece of music. Plays on the theme, you can't go home again."
Linda: "Not for long if you do."
Ken: "That reference to Maybelle—that's the mother of the famous Carter family, isn't it. Her daughter June Carter's married to Johnny Cash?"
Linda: "That's right, Ken. I started out learning what I could from Maybelle. It was a while before my daddy told anybody they oughta hear his little girl sing."
Ken: "Well, you have your own style now. I'm not sure I'd call it bare to the bone, though. It's quite a dramatic sound, different. I thought I might've heard a bagpipe in there."
Linda: "Everything but a Pakistani chant, Ken. I tend to forget there's an arranger behind us dressing up the score."
Ken: "Well, it sure works."
Linda: "I remember Sheryl Crow saying one time that a record is like 'a snapshot of who you are when you're recording it.' The next time we play 'Odessa' it could sound a lot different."
Ken: "However you choose to play it, Linda, I think you've got a hit." He said to his listeners: "You can catch Linda Moon live tonight at The Belly Up. Take my word, Linda's worth seeing even if she didn't sing a note. This young lady has it all."
Chili was delayed leaving the station. The engineer, a young guy, wanted to say how much he liked Get Leo, so they talked about it for a few minutes. By the time Chili came out to the parking lot the tour van had left.
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