by D. J. Manly
Angelo knew what Frank would say if Alan Concord wasn’t at the table. He was trying to tell him with his eyes not to say anything to turn Concord off from signing them.
Angelo nodded at the man in the blue suit. “Of course. Anyway, our manager, Richard Killerman, is....”
“Angelo,” Frank interrupted, “Killerman will not be part of the deal. You’ll have a new manager at Concord.”
“Oh.”
Mr. Concord smiled. “I’m going to take a little walk. Why don’t you discuss it with Frank, he’s an old friend. I’ll be back in a couple of minutes.”
Angelo and Frank watched him go.
Frank met Angelo’s eyes. “It’s a great deal, Angelo. Take it. It has nothing to do with your dad or uncles. You were discovered on your own. Alan was excited about your music and when he saw you...he said to me, ‘Yes...this guy is going places, Frank. I want those boys. He’s a good promoter. If you have problems with your guitarist, straighten it out because you’re a package deal.’”
Angelo nodded with a sigh. “I feel bad about Richard. He was with us...”
“That’s the business. It’s a cutthroat world. You can’t worry about the ones you leave behind, Angelo.”
Angelo nodded.
“And going on to other things, when are you coming home? Your Dad misses you. The whole family does, even me.”
Angelo scowled. “He misses me, eh?”
“Angelo. Listen. Drake loves you. He wants the best for you, even if you feel he’s being hard on you.”
“But not on Tony?” Angelo raised an eyebrow. “Don’t worry, Frank, I know exactly what’s going on. I wasn’t born yesterday. Tony got a break because he and Dad are...”
“Angelo. You don’t know that,” Frank cut him off. He cleared his throat.
Angelo raised an eyebrow.
“Actually, it was Johnny who insisted his son be a part of the video, Angelo, not Drake.”
“Johnny likes to live dangerously,” Angelo scoffed. “He’s going to lose my father to his own son if he’s not careful.”
Frank reached out and touched Angelo’s cheek. He smiled at the gesture of affection coming from this man who had known him since he was just a boy.
He had changed a great deal this last year, Frank thought as he studied him. He had grown up, become a man. From where he sat in the chair in the light, he could swear it was Drake sitting there, but when you looked closer, you realized that Angelo had some of his mother in him. Though it was difficult to isolate the features that were Janet’s, they were there, enhancing the incredibly handsome ones he had inherited from his father. He had his father’s physique, tall, muscular and slim. He had those huge eyes the colour of chocolate and the soft, sensual mouth. He had that devilish light in his eyes, and that smile that never quite sat straight on his face and the talent...he had all that talent that came directly from Drake.
Angelo was speaking to Frank now, making a joke about how different he looked from Mr. Concord in his blue jeans and black leather jacket. “You would think Concord was your boss instead of the other way around,” Angelo laughed.
Frank shook his head. “Different strokes...” he grinned.
Alan Concord returned to the table. “All talked out?” He issued Angelo a smile.
Angelo checked his watch. Time to get back on stage. “I’ll speak to Mike and Sam later. Do you have a number where I can reach you?”
Mr. Concord whipped out a card. “There you go, but I plan on staying for the evening, so maybe we could all go out for something to drink and eat later. It’s on me.”
Angelo rose from his chair and nodded. “Sounds good. Thank you, Mr. Concord.” He shook the man’s hand again, slapped Frank on the back and said, “Enjoy the rest of the show.”
Angelo walked backstage. Sam came up behind him and asked him who those men were.
“I’ll tell you about later,” Angelo said. “Just hang around after we finish.”
“How come,” he demanded, “you get to know what’s happening while Mike and I are kept in the dark? We’re either part of this group or we’re not. You wouldn’t be able to...”
“Sam, shut the fuck up, okay? We have a show to do,” Angelo sighed.
Mike came in from outside in the back. He took one look at Angelo and knew he was pissed off.
“What now?” he asked.
“Nothing. Let’s go.” Angelo picked up his guitar and walked onto the stage. There was a loud round of applause. He plugged in his guitar. The feeling of being onstage, the crowd’s reaction when he began to sing always made him feel high. He concentrated on that feeling, that rush he got whenever he was in front of an audience. The adrenalin coursed through his veins as he placed the microphone closer to his mouth, making love to it as he sang, “Please, baby, give me just a little.” The crowd went wild, whistling, clapping.
Concord looked over at Frank as he surveyed the crowd and nodded. “The kid’s a gold mine. He’s good and he knows his way around a stage. The crowd is eating him up.”
He should know his way around a stage by now, Frank thought, he was practically weaned on one. He nodded at Concord and smiled at the young man onstage who was almost like a second son to him. He was about to give his father a run for his money.
The song ended. The crowd was on their feet, clapping, yelling. They began another, an old Stones number Angelo liked as a kid. His father had taken him to see the Stones when he was just ten. He remembered meeting them, and how he got each of them to sign his autograph book.
It was the good memories he had of that Stones concert he tried to concentrate on as he did the number, but that was not what kept invading his thoughts. There was the sour taste of bitterness in his mouth. He resented the fact that his cousin had waltzed right in the Russo Brothers Band while he was playing in one club after another. He resented having to put up with Sam Dunkin when he could be making music with his family. And most of all, it hurt to have to admit that Tony must now be his father’s lover, and that was why he was included in the video.
The set ended and Angelo told Mike and Sam about the offer. They were excited. They were anxious to meet with Mr. Concord and immediately went over to the table to shake his hand. Richard was nowhere to be seen as they left the Inn. Angelo was relieved in part, but feeling more than a little guilty.
Concord had made reservations at a fancy steakhouse not far from the Inn. Frank sat beside Angelo and made suggestions as Concord explained some of the terms of the contract.
“So, we will be spending most of our time in the studio recording?” Mike asked.
“Yes,” Concord replied, sipping his brandy. “We’ll turn out anything the executives think might make a hit. If it makes the charts, we’ll run with it, if not...well, we’ll try again.”
“What happens at the end of the year?” Sam enquired, ordering herbal tea.
“We’ll review your contract and then decisions will be made whether to give you another year or not. If you make a hit, of course, the contract will be for a longer term.”
Angelo knew all this, of course. He had seen the contracts his Dad had signed with Frank. If they made money, they got locked in so another company couldn’t steal them. If they weren’t a sure bet, they were locked in for the least time possible so they could be unloaded if they turned out to be dead weight.
They needed a lawyer who specialized in entertainment law. Frank gave them the name of a couple he thought were good. When he mentioned their fee, Angelo gasped. “How much an hour?”
Frank laughed and slapped him on the back. “Don’t worry, they’ll take it out in trade.”
“Funny.” Angelo gave him a dirty look.
They all laughed. An hour later, they went back to the Inn. They were to have a meeting next week in Arizona at Concord Music. They could bring a lawyer to represent them. If all was satisfactory, they would sign a contract for a year.
It was dawn before Angelo got to sleep. His mind was racing; his heart was thudding in his chest. He no
w had what he had always wanted; a contract with a record company. As much as he wanted to deny it, he knew that being Drake Russo’s son had played a role in speeding up the process. He had been on the road for less than a year, hadn’t even made an effort to send off tapes to music companies, and here he was with a record contract already.
Richard had bitched at him for being so laid back about making it. “Why don’t you make some tapes and I’ll plug them to the music companies?”
He didn’t want to tell him why he was hesitant. Richard would have thought he was nuts. He knew that as soon as it became known he was Drake Russo’s son, he would have been offered a contract on the spot. It’s what he wanted, but he didn’t want it because of who his father was. It was funny, but a part of him understood why his Dad didn’t want him just to walk right into the band. There was something to be said for being ‘discovered’. There was something about the struggle for fame that made you feel as if there was a reason to go on, to get up every day, to work. He almost wished that his father had been a factory worker like Joseph Russo was; then he could be really sure he was being offered this opportunity because he was good.
He got out of bed and walked over to the window. He looked out at the tennis courts and the swimming pool. In a few days they would leave Nevada and move on to Arizona, where he would have to find a place to live for a while. Arizona. It was not where he would have imagined himself living.
They would leave Nevada without Richard.
He sighed. Richard. He hadn’t seen him to tell him the news yet. He wasn’t looking forward to it. He felt bad about that, but he had no control over it. If he did make it big like his family, he could hire Richard later on to work for him in some capacity. Hell, if he became as big as the Russo Brothers, he could hire anyone he wanted. But right now, he was in no position to call the shots.
Then there was the whole thing with Sam. Damn, he wished he would have unloaded the guy months ago, but it was too late for that now.
He ran his hand through his long dark hair and shivered a bit as he stood naked in front of the air conditioner. He knew he was on the brink of either success or disaster. Even if that one song did manage to make it onto the charts, there was no guarantee that there would be others. He knew his father had probably stayed awake at night too at one time in his life wondering the same things. He felt a sense of the past repeating itself. It sent another shiver through him.
He got back into bed. His sheets felt clammy, damp with sweat. He laid his head on the pillow, closed his eyes. He couldn’t fail. He had to show his father he could be somebody. He could make it on his own. He had to show Tony he didn’t need the Russo Brothers, and he didn’t need him. He didn’t need anyone.
He turned a couple of times in the bed, trying not to think of what Frank had told him about Tony appearing in an upcoming music video of the Russo Brothers. It wasn’t that he was jealous of the opportunity Tony had been given, but then again, maybe he was. It wasn’t entirely fair after all the speeches his father had given him about the need to make it on your own that Tony got the red carpet treatment.
Anyway, what bothered him the most was that he knew why Tony was being welcomed into the band with open arms. He had something to offer his father that he didn’t, and he didn’t care what Frank said. Johnny wasn’t the boss, his father was. Even if his dad always went on about how everyone had an equal say in the band, nothing happened without Dad’s approval, and everyone knew it.
He opened his eyes and looked up at the ceiling. “Tony,” he whispered in the darkness. “I almost let myself fall in love with you, but I know it’s my father you want. I don’t know how to defeat a legend. Everyone is in love with my father and when I was a kid, I was so proud to be his son. But now I know he’s just a man, a man made into a legend by the music industry. I never dreamed one day I would be in competition with my own father for a lover. Now it looks like I’ll also be his competition professionally, too.”
He wondered if he’d ever be as great as his father and if so, would Tony then want his love. He closed his eyes, sleep beginning to overtake him. “It will be too late then, Tony,” he mumbled into his pillow. “Maybe by that time, I will have stopped caring.”
* * * * * *
The next few weeks were going to be extremely busy ones for everyone. In just two days, Tony would be graduating from high school, next week he would be working on the music video with the band, and Aunt Janet and Mac were getting married in the first week of July.
He was just finishing up his breakfast when Kevin Cochrane came walking into the dining room. He hadn’t seen him since he had accompanied him here on the jet a little over eight months ago.
“Mr. Cochrane!” Tony stood up and shook his hand, delighted to see him again.
“Kevin, remember? How ya doing, kid?”
“Fine. Want some coffee?” Tony indicated the silver coffee pot sitting on the corner of the table.
“Naw. Are you ready?”
“Oh, are you coming with me?” Tony asked with a smile.
“Yep. Babysitting. Making sure you guys don’t get into trouble on the way home.”
“In case we fall out of the plane or something?” Tony laughed. Tony was in an especially good mood. They were taking the jet to Toronto to pick up Sam Ashman, his best friend, whom he had stayed in contact with during the time he had been out here in L.A. He had asked his dad if he could invite him to his graduation and he had offered to send the jet for him. Sam was going to stay for a few weeks. Last night on the phone, both he and Sam had been so excited that they could hardly contain themselves.
The only damper on the whole thing was that they would pick up his mother at the same time. She and Sam would drive to the airport in Toronto. His father had even offered for her to stay with them for the weekend. She had accepted.
He did love his mother. It was just that it made him uncomfortable to think of her staying in his father’s house.
Tony told Kevin he would be ready in a few minutes. He ran upstairs to get his wallet and a tape of the song he and his dad had recorded. He wanted to listen to it on the plane.
He paused for a minute and looked at the suit hanging on the back of his door. His father had taken him to the tailor the week before and had him fitted with a wonderful Italian white tux.
Tony loved the suit and he didn’t want to say anything to his father, who was practically in tears when he saw him in it, but he complained to Drake that he thought it was a bit much.
“I don’t think the other students are going to wear tuxedos, Drake,” Tony muttered. “I’ll look like a real geek.”
Drake grinned. “It’s a school filled with a lot of rich kids, Tony. You’d be surprised how many will be wearing formal suits. Anyway, you look great. Don’t worry about it. You’re Johnny Russo’s little boy; whatever you wear will be considered trendy and everyone will want to dress the same.”
Tony laughed. He had left it like that. It was true that being the son of Johnny Russo certainly had its privileges. Everyone at school wanted to be his friend. It made him extra cautious about choosing them.
His best friend was and would always be Sam. He couldn’t believe that they would soon be together again after all this time. Sam had graduated from high school the week before and they were both a little disappointed about not graduating together. They had planned what they would do that night for quite some time. More than this, Tony wasn’t even able to attend because the band was doing a benefit concert for AIDS in Ohio and Tony had promised to help out backstage. So he sent Sam flowers and one of the Russo Brothers music videos that hadn’t been released yet. He got all the band members to sign it. Sam was thrilled and showed it off on graduation night.
Carter was waiting outside. As he was about to get in the limo, he heard his dad call his name out the window from upstairs.
Tony looked up, waved. “Bye, Dad, see ya later.”
Just as they were about to pull out, Pepi drove up in his new red Jagu
ar. He parked directly in front of Carter, blocking his way.
Carter laughed and opened his window as Pepi came over. “Good morning, sir.”
“Hey, Carter.” Pepi looked in to see Tony and Kevin Cochrane sitting in the back seat. “Where are you guys going without my permission?” He joked.
“Off to see the queen,” Kevin grinned at him.
“There are plenty of those right here in L.A,” Pepi slapped his thigh.
Tony and Kevin laughed.
Pepi had on a pair of jean shorts and a grey tank top. His black hair was pulled back off his neck in a ponytail. “Where’s your old man?” he asked Tony.
“Upstairs.”
“Still in bed! Good God,” he shook his head. “Anyway, have fun wherever you’re off to.”
“Actually, we’re going to Toronto to get my friend Sam and my mom for the graduation thing,” Tony told him.
Pepi nodded. “Oh. No one tells me anything. Okay. See ya.” He got into the car and parked it off to the side so that Carter could get by.
Carter blew the horn and raised a hand at Pepi as he drove away.
Pepi waved back and then disappeared inside Johnny’s house.
“Another car?” Tony looked out the back window as they turned onto the road.
“Pepi loves cars,” Kevin remarked. “When he’s not playing music, he’s at some car show. He’s dragged me to more than a few.”
“Every time I see him, he has a different car.” Tony smiled and laid his head back against the leather seat. “Ever wonder why Uncle Pep doesn’t have a girlfriend? I think he’s straight,” Tony remarked.
“He does have a girlfriend,” Kevin replied.
“He does? I’ve never seen her.”
“Maybe they broke up. Anyway, he used to have a girlfriend named Meecha. Can’t think of her last name. She worked for some airline or another. Seems she was always travelling, which I think suited your uncle. I don’t think he’s the settling-down type. I saw her once. Pretty, but kind of shy,” Kevin said as they turned onto the L.A. freeway and headed for the airport.
