The Noah Reid Series: Books 1-3: The Noah Reid Action Thriller Series Boxset

by Wesley Robert Lowe

  Survival of the fittest.

  Queenie picks up the phone and makes a call.

  “Hello,” says Abby’s now familiar voice.

  “Sorry for the late notice Abby, but I wanted to see if you and Olivia are interested in taking a quickie tour of Skyscape Studios tonight at 11:00. The manager’s a friend and one of the acts is finishing earlier so I begged him to let us see it. Can you and Olivia make it?”

  “Skyscape as in studio Skyscape? Omigod. Of course we can make it.”

  “Do you know where it is?”

  “Every musician knows where Skyscape is.”

  “See you at 11:00. Meet me in the lobby of the Vector Building.”

  “Got it.”

  CLICK.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Even in New York, you wouldn’t expect that at 11:00 pm on a Sunday night a recording studio would be busy with musicians and technical staff in every one of the five recording rooms. But then again when you know how expensive recording at Skyscape is and you get an offer for a “free” session, you’d be surprised at how busy you can get at that time.

  Queenie told Jonny to make sure the place was full and not with bullshit garage bands either. That wasn’t too terribly difficult. Every world class recording engineer and producer has a waiting list of bands or artists that would love to work with them. And for the paying client, the opportunity to come in for free and save a couple of thousand bucks is hard to pass up, even if it is on a Sunday night. For most serious musicians, if the choice is to party hearty or record some new tunes, music wins every time.

  Queenie knows she’s under a deadline to make everything happen. It won’t take too long for Hassan’s partners to figure out something is seriously wrong. But in this world, the money with the biggest stick speaks the loudest and wins every time. If things go according to the inexact plan that she’s formulating on the go, she will have those other shareholders eating out of her hand. Problem is, that’s a mighty big ‘if’.

  Stepping out of the elevator, Queenie watches amusedly as the security guard pats down and frisks Abby and Olivia in the security room of Skyscape’s building at 10:47.

  “This is almost as bad as trying to get into the White House,” complains Olivia after she and Abby make it through the checkpoints.

  “It’s worse, because a lot more work gets done here,” says Queenie. She picks up her cell and punches in a number. “Hello Jonny. All three of us are here now ... great.” Click.

  Pianist and singer have thought of nothing but this 11:00 tour since Queenie called that afternoon. They searched the Internet to see which of their favorite artists had recorded there. The list was pretty damn long, not to mention at least two platinum records were produced at Skyscape—one from a brand new act. Not bad for a year in business. Ultimately, they realized they better stop acting like schoolgirls being asked out on their first date and behave more like rational business professionals.

  Olivia speaks up, trying to be as reserved as possible. “We really appreciate this, Queenie, but you don’t know that much about us. Like ...”

  “Like why would I be interested in working with the two of you? Why should I take a chance? Like am I one of those types that’s going to run out of money and then force you to pony up for ‘expenses’?” finishes Queenie

  “Something like that,” admits Olivia.

  “Gateway Pacific Hotel lounge. Abby was a featured performer there for two weeks to outstanding reviews not only from Hong Kong but from a Japanese reviewer who happened to be staying at the hotel. Abby went to Julliard School of Music, not too far from where we are standing now. During that time, she sang backup on a thousand recording sessions and placed in the top three in a dozen competitions. If she had a green card, she would have been working non-stop instead of having to go school to stay here. You went to Harvard Law School but played every Thursday night at a Boston club from 10 pm to midnight where you were the resident pianist and got to play with not only Boston’s top jazzers but anybody visiting from out of town. The two of you got looks and talent and let’s be honest. If Diana Krall were a maggot, do you think she’d be where she is today? How am I doing so far? Or you want to hear more?”

  “No, no.” Olivia and Abby nod approvingly, somewhat embarrassed that they asked in the first place. If nothing else, Queenie’s brutally honest.

  “But musical talent is just a start. It’s the spin that will make or break you ... and me. And I’ve already gone through that. Happy?”

  “I just needed to know. Thanks,” says a much reassured Olivia.

  The elevator door opens and Jonny walks out. What a transformation. Instead of the security guard uniform, he looks pretty damn smart with a designer khaki linen jacket, light pink shirt and blue jeans. He gives Queenie a peck on each cheek.

  “Hey babe. Good to see you.” With a Chinese-tinged accent and rock hard physique, this hunk of a good-looking guy is pretty darn sexy.

  “Thanks for squeezing us in, Jonny.”

  “Hey, that’s all on you. Queenie, I am so darn excited about this venture you’re talking about. You know that a label is the next step of the business.”

  “Label?” asks Olivia.

  “Sorry, my bad.” Queenie slaps herself on the cheek. “Jonny, meet Olivia and Abby.”

  Jonny nods approvingly. “This is not an official pick up line but if it works, I’ll be happy. You two are gorgeous and if you sing one percent as well as Queenie says you do, we can get something cooking.”

  Abby whispers, “What are we talking about?”

  Queenie grins. “Skyscape wants to expand into more than just a facility for hire. It wants points on the deals that come through here.”

  Jonny nods. “Hey, it’s great to have acts record here, don’t get me wrong, but I want to make money while I sleep. Like right now the only time Skyscape makes money is when someone is in here recording. But if we have a piece of the action as our own record label, then we can keep making dough even if no one’s in the studio.”

  Olivia looks a bit worried as she looks at Queenie. “You’ve signed away our rights and we don’t even have a deal?”

  Jonny answers for her. “Queenie hasn’t done anything yet. Problem with her and me is we are too honest and tell people what’s on our minds. Could be nothing is going to happen ... but if you don’t go the store, you can’t buy a ticket. And if you can’t buy a ticket ... all you’ll ever do is fantasize about what might be but never was.”

  Jonny winks. “Me, I wanna check out the store. Coming?”

  For two grown women trying to act like mature professionals, they aren’t doing a very good job at hiding their enthusiasm. After all, their New York dreams look like they have a chance of coming true. Of course they follow Jonny in!

  CHAPTER TEN

  Noah and Wangdan sit at a table in the Hong Kong International Airport Executive Lounge. International travel is no big deal to Noah so he’s casually dressed. However, for Wangdan, this trip to New York is an important occasion and he wears a ceremonial Shaolin monk’s silk garb. Sitting at the bar, a businessman is busy playing a computer game on his cell phone. He’s not doing very well in his soccer score but that’s not his real intention. His more important mission is to listen in on the conversation between Wangdan and Noah sitting at the table ten feet away.

  “So Wangdan, in three weeks you’ve gone from Shaolin monk to Executive Director of Martial Arts at the foundation. You like the change?”

  “I couldn’t be happier but I do miss the daily meditation.”

  “Really? Three hours a day? I can’t take more than ten minutes.”

  “That’s why you lack grounding, Noah. When you strengthen the mind and spirit, you strengthen your heart and you strengthen the body.”

  Noah reflects for a moment. “Master Wu used to say the same kind of things to me.”

  “As did Sigong Zhang and Jingsha.”

  Master Wu, Sigong Zhang, Jingsha. Three venerable Shaolin masters, all who
sacrificed their lives so that Noah and Wangdan might live.

  “Those old guys could really fight,” says Noah softly.

  “They would tell you that their outer strength came from inner peace from meditation. That yin and yang must be in harmony.”

  “My parents prayed. Heck, I pray but not as much as they did. That was their connection to God. It’s where they found meaning.”

  A soft voice comes over the intercom. “Flight 3980 direct from Hong Kong International to JFK in New York is ready for First Class Boarding.”

  “Maybe I’ll meditate for sixteen hours during our flight,” jokes Noah.

  “Don’t make fun of it, Noah. We are both lucky to be alive ... You love her still, don’t you?”

  “Do you really need to ask? Yes, of course I do. There’s ... there’s part of me missing right now.”

  “I hope I can meet someone like that some day.”

  “Maybe you’ll like Abby. She’s Olivia’s best friend.”

  Now it’s Wangdan’s turn to joke. “Tell you what. You meditate and I’ll pray on our flight.”

  “Deal.”

  Both young men know they will hit their seats and fall asleep within minutes. Life has hardly given them a moment to breathe recently.

  The businessman watches Noah and Wangdan get up and leave for the plane. Neither of the martial artists ever had an inkling of the businessman’s existence. But someone did.

  ***

  “Jonny, you just show Olivia and Abby around. I’ll join you in a few minutes at Studio 5.”

  Jonny winks. “You sure you can trust me with them, Queenie?”

  “I can’t even trust you with me.”

  Jonny leads Abby and Olivia into one of the recording rooms.

  Once she sees they are inside, Queenie makes a call to Hong Kong.

  “Noah’s not traveling alone?”

  “No, if I were to guess, it looks like he’s got a personal bodyguard with him. Dressed and talks like a Shaolin ninja,” says the condescending voice of the businessman from the First Class Lounge.

  “Damn. Extra people just complicate things,” says Queenie, gritting her teeth.

  “You want me to take him out? It’s what your old man would do.”

  “No, that just screws stuff up more. And I am not my father. Muscle will make things worse. Noah would want to stay and clean up the mess. I’ll deal with it when they get here.”

  “And there is something else. He’s still nuts about some chick named Olivia.”

  Click. Dressed and looks like a damn Shaolin ninja. Does that mean Noah is expecting trouble? Well, bring it on then.

  The only problem for Queenie is that dealing with every problem costs more money to solve, putting more pressure on her to make something happen fast. She walks into the studio to join Jonny on the tour.

  ***

  Abby and Olivia are in awe. Sure, they’ve been in recording studios before, but never in a world-class facility with world-class talent. What’s more, they’ve discovered that at this level, egos are gone and everyone, including them, is accepted. There is such a free flowing camaraderie between clients and staff alike in the five recording rooms. In one room, Jonny was able to get them in to watch a Grammy award-winning diva rock out with vocals for her upcoming CD. In another there was a rhythm section laying down bed tracks that are as smokin’ hot as the Muscle Shoals Rhythm Section in their prime. Two others are dedicated mixing rooms where all the tracks have been recorded and an engineer performs his magic—turning well-recorded performances into the sublime, using all the best gear available from this year and yesteryear.

  “Now, I got a little surprise for you,” says Jonny to the three women as they stand outside the closed door to the final room.

  He opens the door and wow! There are two nine-foot concert grand pianos in the middle of a twenty-eight hundred square foot room with fifteen foot ceilings and hardwood floors. Beside her on the microphone stand is a classic handcrafted Neumann U47 mic. These vintage mics from 1947 are hard to get. After all, not every studio can afford the ten grand that it costs to get one that’s in good shape.

  “There’s no point in visiting a recording studio without recording something, so we’ve made fifteen minutes to record a tune off the floor.”

  Excitedly, Olivia steps to the piano while Abby positions herself at the microphone. Two gofers rush in. One helps Olivia adjust her chair and the other adjusts the microphone stand to the right height. The gofer then gives headphones to Abby, Olivia and Jonny. Queenie declines.

  “That piano is older than the two of you put together and sounds even better than when it was new. It was hand built by Steinway and only Steinway technicians have ever touched it. That microphone is also handcrafted and is the same model used by Elvis, the Beatles, Frank Sinatra, Lady Gaga and Michael Bublé. I chose these instruments because Queenie said you were into jazz.”

  “So what you going to sing?” asks Queenie.

  “Billie Holiday?” asks Abby, looking at Olivia.

  “Sounds good to me,” nods Olivia.

  “Okay. Shall we go into the control or you want to sit in here to soak up the vibe?” asks Jonny to Queenie.

  “Let’s stay out here.”

  “You got it.” Jonny looks at Olivia and Abby. “Shall we go for it?”

  Abby nods.

  Jonny points his finger to the control room window. Behind the studio glass, the engineer sees Jonny give the “start recording sign. The engineer nods and gives the “thumbs up” sign to start.

  Olivia inhales then begins playing the sultry ballad God Bless the Child. Abby starts singing. The transcendent performance travels through Billie’s pain, feeling her hurt at being a successful black woman in a white world that rejected her as a performer. For the next three minutes, Abby mines the depths of Billie Holiday’s soul ... hurting, painful, agonizing, yet with hope in desperation. Olivia’s accompaniment is spot on. Not too busy with lots of notes, poignant riffs at just the right spot.

  In all, a perfect performance by two extremely gifted musicians.

  “Mm, mm. That was so fine,” says Jonny. “I could see Billie Holiday singing the blues. What’d you think, Queenie?”

  Queenie is silent for a full thirty seconds. It’s impossible to fathom what she’s thinking about and Olivia and Abby are about to jump out of their skin, they’re so nervous.

  Queenie breathes in, then announces her verdict. “Now I get the problem. Jonny said he could “see Billie Holiday singing.” He’s not seeing Abby, he’s not seeing Olivia, he’s seeing Billie. You got to make it your own, just the way Aretha Franklin did or David Clayton Thomas with Blood, Sweat and Tears. I want to hear Abby Sung, not Billie Holiday. And the piano playing is great, terrific, but again I’ve heard playing like that before. There’s nothing new. Check out how Keith Jarret plays it. Whether you like it or not, it’s him. I don’t want a Billie Holiday clone. I want new juice. But let’s forget the creative for a moment. There’s no money for us to make to do other people’s songs. There are no composer royalties, no publisher royalties. Even if you made the song a hit, the publishers are the ones making the real dough. I want creative artists, not ‘re-creative’ ones.”

  Queenie turns to Olivia. “You’re a lawyer. You should know something about business. I love the two of you and what you do, but if I’m going to stick my neck and dough out for you, I gotta make sure that there’s as good as possible a chance to make a return on my investment.”

  Devastating silence is made all the worse because every criticism is true. Olivia and Abby have always tried to emulate their heroes and everyone has always told them how fantastic they are.

  “Actually, we were just wanting to do a song that we knew and loved. I didn’t think we were doing an audition,” says Olivia.

  “Darling, you are always auditioning. You never know who is in the room,” says Queenie. “Hey listen. Do not make the mistake of thinking I’m your friend. Sure, I like you and think you�
�ve got potential, but we are not buddies.” Queenie twirls her boa. “I got my birds if I want friends.”

  “We do have some songs that we wrote on our own,” says Abby quietly.

  Olivia nods. “More than fifty. We ... we just didn’t think anyone would want to hear them.”

  Queenie groans. “Just the kind of artist insecurity that drives me and every other talent manager nuts.” Queenie shakes her head and rolls her eyes. “Listen. Am I wasting my time or what? Okay. Okay. One shot. Give me your best tune now.”

  Talk about pressure. Olivia and Abby are definitely feeling it now. But then their whole lifetime has been geared for a moment just like this. Olivia starts playing a slow introduction to their song, FOREVER I WILL LOVE YOU. Abby starts singing. It is a totally amazing anthem song of love.

  Abby bows her head as Olivia plays the final note of the composition. Jonny and Queenie stand up and start clapping.

  Jonny turns to Queenie, “Now did you sign them yet? Because if you didn’t I’m offering them a contract right now.”

  “You do that and I’ll kill you,” says a straight-faced Queenie. She smiles at Abby and Olivia. “You guys are quick studies. That’s something we can build a business on.”

  “So does that mean you’re not going to cancel the showcase tomorrow night then?” asks Abby timidly.

  Queenie exhales, exasperated. “Stop being so melodramatic. Nobody’s going to cancel anything. You guys were fabulous,” says Queenie. “Listen. I am not one of those ‘hey everything’s cool and I’m going to make you a star’ kind of people. That wastes my time and yours. But we need an angle if we’re going to do business. Imitation is the highest form of flattery and you are damn fine imitators. My job is help you find the “real” you. Listen, this is not an easy biz to be in. You have to be cutting edge, the latest and greatest. Something different. Nobody is interested in yesterday’s news, no matter how good it is. We got to find a way to put you on the front page of ‘today.’ It’s obvious you’re good enough. Let’s just get the right message. If we’re going to make something happen with you, there aren’t any kid gloves because as much of a jerk as you may think I am, the paying public is even crueler. Not only will they not pay, they’ll tell the rest of world why you’re so crappy as well.”