'Marcus, speaking.' I could hear music in the background. It sounded like random instruments being tuned.

  'Hi Marcus. This is Mark Caron. I was hoping to get an idea from you if you might be available for a gig? I have a new act that I'd like to record.' The music disappeared as I was speaking. I guess that put Marcus in the control room or maybe he had walked out of the studio.

  'When are you planning to do it, man?'

  'The next few weeks. We need to record four or five tracks immediately, and then enough to make up an album, a few months later.'

  'What's your budget?'

  'That's something we need to discuss. The financing is already in place. What would you charge for a session like that? I guess we'll need about a week of prep and two for recording.'

  '25 grand a track, man, that’s for me and my assistants. You pay the engineer, session players and studio fees. '

  'You have an engineer you prefer to work with?'

  'I only work with The Ant and he gets $10 grand for a 24/7 week, or part there of - if we happen to overrun the schedule.'

  'What's your schedule like over the next few weeks?'

  'It's cool, man,’ he laughed; it was a deep, hearty bellow, giving me the impression he was a large man. ‘I'm between gigs.'

  'Thanks Markus, I'll put you on our short list. The artist is Sasha Perez. I need to talk it over with her and if she's on board, get everyone together to see if it's going to work.'

  'Sounds like a plan, man. See ya.'

  I penciled in $130,000 in my notes. Over the next few hours I made many phone calls and filled quite a few pages of my notebook with dollar amounts, phone numbers and new names. I had no delusions that this exercise was going to be cheap, but I hadn't expected it to be as much as it was shaping up to be. Absolutely nothing required for this part of the process was cheap. Things like hiring a sound desk and all the gear that went with it and having it installed at home, plus, a bunch of musicians and maybe some backing singers. We would also need to hire a proper specialist recording studio with a full-size sound desk to mix the track masters. And this was only the sound recording; we had videos to make as well. My ballpark budget for the first four completed tracks had blown out to well over a quarter of a million. I hope my instinct was right and Sasha would be able to sell some songs. My rough calculation made it about 400,000 downloads of the four tracks, just to break even. It would be fewer than that though, as we had YouTube and online streaming to add to the potential income, plus sales of CD's and DVD's. But they wouldn't kick in until we had some tracks completed and we could get a backing band together, then Sasha could hit the road, playing gigs wherever I could find them.

  I was going to need to employ some more people. Bibi and I wouldn't make it out alive with the workload that was looming over the next month or two.

  My doorbell was ringing. On the way to answer it I realized I would need to disable that when we were recording. I needed to wire up a few flashing lights to replace the bell. Who am I kidding? I could barely change a light bulb.

  I opened the door to see Dad's face beaming at me. He had an overnight bag in his hand and a suit draped over his shoulder. 'Hello Son,' he beamed and gave me a half hug with his free arm and shoulder.

  'Hey, Dad.’ I grinned. ‘Great to see you. Come on in.' I had forgotten that he had decided to come to Kira's funeral, to pay his respects. Shithead me had actually forgotten about the funeral in the last few days of mayhem.

  ***

  Dad and I had been catching up over a coffee in the kitchen when Bibi walked in holding Gizmo secured inside his cage. We greeted each other somewhat awkwardly, and not because she had the cage in her hand. Dad must have recognized Bibi's voice and he joined me at the front-door to welcome her. The hug he received was much more genuine than mine, understandable as he hadn't won any awards like me, lately.

  I had explained to him what was about to happen in my house and the people he might find himself sharing space with over the next few days and he seemed bemused at my plans.

  'Wonderful to see you, Bibi. you look fabulous, as usual.' He laughed as he complimented her. Dad and Bibi had spent a lot of time together over the years and knew each other well. 'I've got to be careful when I compliment a beautiful woman on her looks these days,' he grinned at her, 'I have to try and say it without sounding like a creepy old man.'

  She kissed him on the cheek. 'Thank you for the compliment, Ned. You don't have to worry about sounding creepy,' she shifted her look to me, then added, 'The world is full of creepy guys, but you'll never be one of them.'

  What the hell do I have to do to catch a break with this woman? Donate a kidney to a stranger? Maybe set up an orphanage in Cambodia?

  'Is that all the luggage you brought, Bibi?' I asked.

  'Of course, Mark,' she responded, with attitude. 'I thought I could get by wearing this one outfit for a week or so.'

  I glanced sheepishly at Dad and could see he had picked up that some tension existed between the two of us. He looked away in an effort to distance himself.

  'I'll get your luggage from the car,' I said with a fake laugh, as I gratefully escaped through the door.

  As I popped her hood, which is the trunk in a VW, I was joined by Dad. 'I'm sensing some tension between you two. Is there a problem?'

  I pulled out an overnighter and Gizmo's toilet which she had secured in a large plastic bag to keep the litter in place, and handed them to Dad. 'Nah. We're good. Just adjusting to the recent changes.' I didn't like deceiving him, but the actual problem was not a subject I was planning on discussing with my old man. I shoved the hood closed and went to the passenger door to retrieve her other two large suitcases.

  'Don't mess it up with her, Son. She's the best thing that has happened to you in a long while.'

  'I know, Dad... And I won't.' I grinned at him to avoid the possibility of a further lecture. 'But she's a woman - and that non-existent manual you gave me when I was a kid, on how to deal with life, had the chapters about getting along with females missing.'

  'That's because it was the same one my old man never gave to me.' He laughed. 'I don't think those pages ever existed - none of our ancestors were game to have a go at writing them.'

  ***

  Sasha and Ange sat in straight-back wooden chairs that would have been more suitable tucked into a dining-table than in the dingy waiting room of Matthaeus Goodrow, Attorney at Law. Ange had done an internet search for lawyers in the Westlake area who offered a free consultation and Matthaeus' name had been prominent in the paid section of the results. They were sitting opposite the receptionist and were both thumbing through tired, torn, out of date magazines while the good lawyer finished his current business in the adjoining office.

  Suddenly the door to his office burst open and a man in his mid-fifties came out. Matthaeus was overweight and wearing a cheap suit that strained at its buttons as he walked over to them.

  'I'm Matthaeus Goodrow,' he said, beaming as he extended his hand to Sasha. 'And you must be Sasha Perez?' Sasha stood and shook his hand, firmly. 'Call me Matt, Sasha. Lovely to meet you.'

  'Nice to meet you... Matt,' she replied, tentatively. 'This is my boyfriend, Ange.'

  Matt quickly broke his grip with Sasha and grabbed at Ange's hand. 'Great to meet you, Ange.'

  'You too, Dude.'

  He pointed towards his open door, and said, 'Please. Come in to my office so we can begin.'

  The office looked similarly grubby and Matt took his place behind the desk. Pointing at two chairs opposite, he said, 'Take a seat... and tell me your troubles.'

  Sasha sat with her bag in her lap. Ange sat and immediately stretched out his legs, crossing them at the ankles.

  'This is just a free consultation at this stage, Matt?'

  'Absolutely, Sasha. You tell me the problem and I'll work out if I can help you... and how much it will cost.' He smiled, and the shiny grease in his hair glistened from the light coming from the overhead fluorescent. 'But, I'll tell you this much up-front, you won't get a better rate anywhere in all of Hollywood.'

  'Okay. Here's the thing. I've got a management contract that I need a lawyer to look at. To advise me on if it's good for me, and to find any tricky lawyer shit that will screw me,' she smiled, 'excuse the phrase.'

  Matt smiled back. 'No apology necessary. I'm glad you came to me; I deal with these things all the time. From porn-stars, to movie-stars, from models to singers. You name it; I've seen every dirty trick the sleaze-balls can come up with. Let me guess... A good looking girl like you. A part in a movie, but they want you in the nude with lots of real sex scenes?'

  Sasha gave him a dry look and raised her eyebrows at his last statement. She had already decided Matt was a sleaze. It was a good bet that any lawyer that she could see as quickly as this would be, that was why she insisted Ange should come along. 'I'm not an actress and there's no nudity or sex scenes written into the contract. I'm a singer-songwriter and this contract,' she pulled it out of her bag and held it in her hand, 'is six pages long. How much will you charge me to read it and advise me what I need to get changed?'

  Matt looked at the pages as they flapped in her hand. Eventually, he said, 'A grand to read it and point out any flaws. Fifteen hundred to supply a written version.'

  'I've only got five hundred, and I want a written assessment.'

  Matt made a face that indicated what she had just said had caused him physical pain. He leaned back on his chair and held his chin as he thought about what she had said. 'A thousand and I'll write the report and give you my recommendations.'

  Sasha looked at him, steadily. 'I said, I've only got five-hundred.'

  Ange looked at her, wondering what she was doing. He knew she could pay the thousand.

  'You can owe me the extra five-hundred, Sasha. You look like a trustworthy young lady.'

  Sasha shook her head. 'That your final offer, Matt?' She gave him a questioning look and when he didn't reply she began to pack the contract back into her bag. She pushed her chair back, preparing to stand, when Matt stopped her.

  'You say it is only six pages? I'm used to them being a lot thicker.' He smiled at her, it was a predatory smile and she knew she had summed him up perfectly - the minute she had walked into his office she knew he would not let her walk out without extracting some money from her. The question that she needed to answer was "could he do the job?"

  'Okay,' he said. 'I can do six pages for $500.'

  'In writing?'

  'In writing,' he answered, as he held out his hand for the contract.

  Sasha didn't move. 'Do you know anything about digital marketing, profit sharing, DRM, and publishing royalties?'

  'Of course I do, Sasha. I'm a lawyer in Hollywood. I can also do divorce settlements and sue your cosmetic surgeon for you, if you want.'

  'Dude! Uncool. She ain't married and she ain't never going to need a knife-guy to make her beautiful.'

  'I agree, Ange. I was just trying to say I handle all the issues that people in this town might have a problem with.'

  Sasha slowly handed the contract over. 'Make a photocopy and give me back the original. When you come back I'll tell you what I want this contract to do for me.'

  Matt was impressed with this girl. He guessed that she was not even twenty and yet she handled herself like she had been involved in many deals, already. He took the contract and went into his reception area, leaving the door open. A minute later he returned and handed Sasha's original contract back to her, then went to his seat.

  He slid a yellow legal pad in front of him and picked up his pen 'So, Miss Perez - What are you looking for in this document?'

  chapter

  seven

  Tuesday 30th. (afternoon)

  Dad and I sat in the fifth row of the Chad and Gabrielle Wintour Funeral Parlor in West Hollywood. About twenty other attendees were scattered, sporadically around the chapel. At the front sat Kira's very basic closed coffin, covered with flowers - none of which were from me. I have to be the most selfish, inconsiderate bastard on the planet. Somber recorded organ music played dolefully in the background and occasional hushed, respectful conversations could be heard. I only recognized one person; he was sitting two rows in front of me, in the aisle seat on the other side of the chapel. I remembered Kira whispering in his ear as I was driven away in my taxi. He was the hotel doorman and I doubt he would recognize me, given that I was wearing a dark gray suit and not my workman's boots and football jersey.

  I know that California's Victim Compensation system would ultimately be responsible for Kira's funeral and cremation costs, but I wondered how her family and friends were coping with the intricacies involved in claiming the available grants. I was keen to help in that regard but up until this moment I had no idea who I should be talking to.

  Dad and I are not religious and we sat stoically through the formal part of the ceremony, led by a local Priest. When it came time for the eulogies a handful of people stood behind the lectern and, one at a time, spoke with love and respect about Kira. It both saddened and warmed my heart at the same time to hear that I was just one of many who had been touched by this beautiful, special woman. One of the eulogizers was a man named Mario. When he began to talk about Kira I realized he was the man responsible for my sandwich, not that he made it for me. It became clear very quickly that Mario had been in love with Kira and her death had rendered him to pulp. As he spoke tears poured down his cheeks, his voice caught repeatedly and he cleared his throat at least twice in every sentence. I, too, found myself in tears at what he was saying and the raw emotion that he was offering to a woman who would never hear him say the words that spilled from his mouth. I only hope that he and Kira had touched each other in a tangible way as love as deep as Mario's deserved to be consummated.

  After Mario returned to his seat the Priest called, once more, for anyone who wished to speak for Kira. I heard a rustling noise behind me as a woman stood and made her way to the front of the chapel. When she turned and faced the audience a collective gasp was heard. My gasp was one of the loudest. Standing behind the lectern, dressed in a simple black dress stood Kira. I know that sounds unbelievable given that I was 100% certain that Kira was lying in the polished wood box that sat beside the lectern. A closer inspection of the woman told me that she was thinner than Kira and her hair color was different.

  Through tears and sniffles, she said, 'Hello. My name is Alessandra Sachs. I am Kira's sister. Her twin sister.' She paused and blew her nose on a tissue, all the time staring at her sister's coffin. 'I have not seen Kira for the last five years.' She paused and openly wept. She looked so fragile that I thought she was going to collapse. I wasn't alone in that thought as at that very moment my father stood up and walked to the front of the chapel. He stood beside Alessandra and put his arm around her shoulders, supporting her. She looked at him like a little lost child and nodded the slightest of nods.

  She faced the audience, sniffed loudly, then continued. 'Kira and I had a disagreement and we parted badly. And I am so, so sorry that this dreadful thing has happened to my wonderful sister before I could have the chance to make-up and to tell her how much I love her.' Dad's arm around her was giving her strength and her eulogy speech became much more controlled. She spoke of Kira as a little girl and her exploits with the mother duck and her ducklings trying to cross the busy road and her resultant fame, plus many other things they shared together as kids. She finished by saying, 'I love you, Kira. You were the best person I ever knew... and ever will know.'

  She indicated to Dad that she wanted to go to the coffin and he walked with her. She bent over and kissed the polished wood over where Kira's head would be and whispered something to her sister. Dad led her back down the aisle and I found myself sitting next to her, with Dad on the other side.

  'I am so sorry for your loss,' I said to her quietly. In the background the Priest was praying. 'What you just said to your sister was the most beautiful thing I have ever heard.'

  She looked at me and sniffed and gave me a small nod of recognition. She fumbled in her handbag for another tissue, but Dad beat her to it by handing a handkerchief which he had pulled from the pocket of his suit jacket. His actions over the past few minutes had made me allocate another award to myself - the Most Useless Person on the Planet. What kind of person would forget to send flowers and then not have the common sense to bring a handkerchief, on the off-chance that someone might actually cry at a funeral.

  The organ music had slowly begun to swell and I looked up to see Kira's coffin gradually disappearing through a small door at the back of the stage area of the chapel. I looked around to see people waving and blowing kisses to Kira for the very last time. Alessandra just bowed her head and I watched her tears fall like rain and splash onto her lap. This time I put my arm around her and she seemed to collapse against me, then her face was buried into my shoulder. To my credit, at this stage, I didn't give a rat's-ass about how her tears and runny make-up would affect my $10,000 suit.

  ***

  'I've been through the contract, Sasha, and all things considered I think it is fair,' Matt said, as he looked at the notes he had made on his yellow pad. He had his copy of the contract laid out in front of him and Sasha could see he had made extra notes in red ink on the side and between the main points. 'The main point you need to consider is the 45% that Caron is taking. It's a hefty chunk of your earnings. If you don't mind me asking, how much are you currently making from your music?'

  'A couple of hundred a week, maybe double that on a good week.'

  Matt raised his eyebrows in surprise. 'So, you are a total newbie? In that case I take it back. Caron has committed to put $2 million of his own money to help build your career. That's quite a gamble, if you don't mind me saying?'

 

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