No Contest Book 1 Learning the Rules the Early 80sChapter 28
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No Contest Book 1 Learning The Rules: The Early 80sChapter 31 free porn video
The showcase for the bands on the Monster’s label went great. Eddie definitely outclassed the rest of the roster. None of the bands sucked, and a couple had potential to make a broader impact than the local scene. But, like seeing some local bands with different degrees of ability play before a band with verve and polish and exceptionalism and power, the difference was obvious. None of the others could have possibly been the headliner.
Joanne’s little group of documentarians recorded the event. And she made sure the bands were audio recorded the best they could be, as did the sound guy partner at the label. The owners of max’s kansas city demanded too much, though Cheryl did talk to the sound guy at the Manhattan club, and a decent pseudo bootleg would come out of it. She also learned from Bobby that the famous and infamous club was on its last legs, and the Monsters would be one of the last bands to play on that great stage. But the double a side single of No Contest and God bless this mess would be one of the first Live at First Avenue recordings. The songs would be featured in a collection of the label’s artists all recorded at the event. The success of Eddie’s songs would affect the success of those couple of better bands on the label to gain some national and international interest.
Cheryl and Joe got little sleep before they schlepped to the airport and caught the early flight to New York the next morning. Cheryl managed to sleep on the flight. Joe rarely could. Something about the discomfort of long legs. But Cheryl needed the rest more than him. She would be meeting Rolling Stone later that day.
Once in their room at the Holiday Inn, they made love, mostly to relax and pass out quicker, though it was making love. By the time he awoke from his nap, she’d gone. But someone else had awakened him.
“Moira?” he asked.
“Surprise,” his sexy, naked Goth ex-girlfriend chuckled.
“I thought...”
“Shut up and fuck me. I have to get back to work soon.” Any more words he might speak got muffled by her pussy as she lay over him and took hold of his cock. She sucked him until he made her cum, then straddled his cock and fucked him.
“Ssh,” she said, pressing her fingers to his mouth, and then, surprisingly, pressing her mouth there. The kiss made everything between them disappear. Like they’d never broken up. And she rode him until she came again, then switched things up. Lifting off and getting into a doggy style position. “Just fuck the shit out of me,” she said. He held her hips while fucking her hard. Then leaned over and grabbed her hanging tits. She’d been taking care of rubbing her clit from the beginning of the fuck.
She came before he did, allowing him to get his favorite orgasm, feeling all of it.
Collapsing underneath him, letting his cock go free with the tail end of his climax dribbling out, she got out of bed and headed to the bathroom. He joined her when he heard the shower.
“Joe,” she murmured.
“Ssh,” he smirked and grabbed the washcloth and cleaned her pussy and the rest of her. Once soaped and rinsed, she stepped out, and he quickly washed off her juices from his genitals and the sweat from his body. He made quick work of it, but imagined she probably took off.
She hadn’t. “Are we going to talk now?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said. “Get dressed quick.” She took his hand and they left the room as soon as possible. For some reason they kept quiet until they exited the hotel.
“Moira,” he began. “I should have called back Friday.”
“You should have,” she agreed.
“I left a message at your new place.”
“I got it.”
“So?”
“I didn’t get it until Monday. I went Upstate with my dad. I slept at the condo Sunday night.”
“I left a message there,” he said.
“Yeah. I was pissed at you.”
“You hung up on me.”
“I guess I did. Cheryl called after that.”
“Okay.”
“She wanted to talk to my dad about getting a contract lawyer.”
“Right.”
He remembered being both pissed off and frustrated when she hung up on him, and guilty because his fiancé was right there for his overreaction, and decided to take a long walk by himself. Cheryl obviously called her then.
“And we talked,” Moe continued. “About your reaction. About my reaction. You know what they say about love? That it’s opposite isn’t hate but indifference? That hate can be a part of love?”
“So?”
“We obviously still love each other.”
“Yeah.”
“And you’re still the best lover I’ve ever had. And I miss that. And you.”
“Me too.”
“You have Cheryl.”
He didn’t want to tell her the truth. That sex with her was great, but not as great as with Cheryl. Or Constance. Probably because he always had to be careful about going too deep. But before the final break up, so including their brief return to loving that afternoon in Moe’s professor’s place, being careful could have its intensity. Caring meant paying attention to her. Keeping her pleasured. Keeping from hurting her. It somehow strengthened the love that made the lovemaking powerful. The crazy fuck they had before he left New York, and the surprise fuck they’d just had, that intensity had been lost.
“Yeah,” he said. “But I miss being with you. Talking. Being intimate.”
“I miss that too,” she said. “And Cheryl obviously knows that. She’s got to be the weirdest girlfriend ever. And fiancé. You’re one lucky fucker.”
“I know.”
“And she’s lucky too. Or smart. Much smarter than me. Figuring out how to keep you.”
“You expected too much of me,” he said.
“I demanded too much. It made me not trust you.”
“I know.”
“But Cheryl worries too.”
“About the drugs.”
“Yeah.”
“She told you about her family?”
“She did,” Moe replied. “Which would make her worrying more visceral than mine.”
“I haven’t used heroin, and only had a couple lines of coke, with her, since she told me.”
“Good. So you think you’re done with dope?”
“To tell you the truth, I don’t know. All I can say is that I may be more circumspect about it.”
“And if you do it again?”
“I’ll tell her. I’ll always be honest with her. Just like she’ll be honest with me when she fucks around.”
“You don’t think it will fuck up your relationship?”
“Not unless I get too into it. Get strung out.”
“So don’t.”
“I won’t.”
They arrived at her dad’s office building.
“So where is Cheryl?” he finally asked.
Moe laughed. “She’s meeting with Dad’s lawyer. I guess they were going to contact Rolling Stone. Trying to suss out how resistant the magazine might be with having a lawyer accompanying Cheryl.”
“They’d withdraw the offer because of it?”
“There’s a lot of writers out there. Most would be desperate to take anything.”
“Like a rock band signing a shit contract,” he nodded. “But Cheryl doesn’t actually need the money.”
“But she does want to make sure her feature on Eddie gets published.”
“They’d hold that over her?”
“I don’t know,” said Moe, giving him a quick kiss. “Gotta go.”
“But...”
“She said she’d meet you at whatever restaurant is closest to the Rolling Stone offices at around 5. She’ll find you.” And after giving him the address, she dashed into the office building.
He wasted time wandering the streets until then. In Manhattan, it’s easy to wander around and stay interested. Especially for Joe, since he loved the city. Even later, despite the Disney overhaul. The near absolute gentrification. Part of his wandering involved visiting record stores to check on Eddie’s success. One of them, the one closest to Chinatown where he’d bought his improvisational music albums, actually played Eddie’s new album. And got a couple sales from it. The others told him the sales had been decent. Nothing spectacular, but steady. Two had a poster up. Caroline’s pictures within the label’s designer’s design. It had been a last minute change. A hold the presses change. Close enough to have some of the earlier designs pressed. A sort of limited edition version of the cover mostly on promos but some on the regular release. Those would become collectors’ items, though not nearly at the level of the infamous Beatles butcher cover of course.
He arrived at Rolling Stone about twenty minutes early, a full bag of records in Moe’s tattered black backpack. A tall handsome blond man, well coifed and well dressed, in his late twenties or early thirties approached him. “Joe Solomon?” he asked.
“What gave me away?” he returned.
“Tall. Sort of Jewish looking. Wearing a white shirt and khakis.”
“Of course,” he chuckled.
“And with a bag of records,” the man chuckled as well. “Come on. Cheryl should be down soon.”
They entered an Irish pub like restaurant. Scott Larson actually hailed from the Upper Midwest. Eau Claire Wisconsin, not far from the Twin Cities. A small town boy wanting to live in the big city. “Cheryl told me you’re interested in Columbia,” he said.
“Alma Mater?” Joe asked.
“Law School,” he nodded. “Madison before that.”
“University of Wisconsin.”
“Yep. Still a Badger fan.”
“Green Bay Packers?”
“Of course, but I’m getting partial to the Jets.”
Joe wasn’t all that interested in football. Baseball was more his thing, and the Twins were his team. But he hadn’t heard anything positive about the Jets since Joe Namath. “Don’t they suck?” he asked.
Scott chuckled. “Last year they did.”
They ordered. Fish and chips for Joe. Scott had the shepherd’s pie. They each had Guinness. “So I take it you decided you weren’t welcome at the meeting?” Joe asked.
He nodded. “I told her what to watch out for. And to get a copy and not sign it until tomorrow after giving it some thought.”
“You think that will surprise them?”
“Probably. But at least the delay being minimal, it shouldn’t make them resistant.”
“And if they are?”
“I told Cheryl to decide. Like I said, I gave her things she should question. She actually got a quick course in contract law before she met with them. She’s sharp.”
“That she is,” Joe smiled. “Sounds expensive.”
“I’m not cheap.”
Joe studied Scott. The man didn’t blush. Joe asked anyway. “Did she offer any deal to maybe lessen the cost?”
Scott laughed. “She did actually. I politely declined. Billable hours and all that.”
“Did she perhaps mention that the offer still held?”
Scott shook his head. “She told me her fiancé would meet me. You, Joe. I asked her if her offer might make her feel at least a little guilty.”
“Most men wouldn’t worry about that,” Joe said.
“Probably not. But I very much love my mate.”
Joe looked for a wedding ring and didn’t see one. “You’re not married.”
“Two men can’t marry,” he said.
“Ah. Still she’s very good at it.”
“So she said,” he laughed. “And speaking of the devil.”
Joe stood and hugged and kissed his fiancé. Nothing in her hand, but she did have a large shoulder bag that held the contact sheets of Caroline’s photos. They sat and she sighed.
“No contract?” Scott asked her.
“I signed it,” she said with a grin. “They actually made some corrections. The exclusive shit mostly. I let them have exclusive rights to whatever I published in their magazine. But they ain’t going to keep me from writing what they don’t want to publish. And the right of refusal went out the window.”
“Too bad,” said Scott. Joe nodded. “How long do they hold you?”
“Two years. It’s where it started, and it sounded reasonable. Any longer, and I might have delayed the signing. Or not signed at all if they weren’t flexible. There’s an option for extension.”
The food arrived. Cheryl ordered a coke and had the waiter bring her a plate. She used it to take from both of the men’s orders. There was plenty to eat, so they didn’t mind.
“No champagne?” Joe asked her.
“Later,” she smiled at Scott.
“My boyfriend’s a sommelier,” he explained. “There’s a very nice obscure French champagne waiting in my condo.”
“Is that usual?” Joe asked him.
“No, but I really like your fiancé.”
“Feelings mutual,” she grinned. She looked at Joe. “I’m thinking about going back to school, Joe. Prelaw instead of journalism. Like you said, I don’t really need that.”
“Columbia?” Joe asked.
“NYU. It’s easier, though it might mean an extra year to get in the requirements. I’m officially just taking a year off.”
“Makes sense,” Joe said.
“A fall back like you intend with your teaching. I’ll probably end up needing it more than you. I might even make it my main profession.”
“I’d encourage my firm to hire you,” said Scott.
“Thanks Scott. And you know I have a way to sway their decision.”
He finally blushed. “I don’t know if that would be the best idea.”
“Why not?” Cheryl asked.
“Because the two founding partners are complete sleazebags. Probably hired me because I’d be less competition hitting on secretaries and female associates, though there’s not a lot with the latter since the third ranked partner happens to be a woman who threatened to sue her bosses for sexual misconduct and make it a class action suit for all female employees, past and present.”
“How do you know?” Joe asked.
“Because she told me. Had to do mostly with getting a secretary who stuck around. The one I’d have gotten would have been promoted from receptionist, and through the two assholes. She recommended hiring a dyke with a penchant for cutting off balls, a really unattractive woman, or a guy. I decided on the last, and no, he’s not gay. I guess I enjoy being around an attractive secretary as much as the next guy,” he laughed.
“You know what would be funny?” said Cheryl. “If I got all started up for the interview, and maybe they’d leer or even get suggestive and I turned it on them. Told them it’d cost extra for such services apart from my salary. A hired whore for the law firm. How do you think they’d react?”
Scott shook his head. “I don’t know. It’d blow their minds either way. I mean, either they’d have someone to relieve their seductive tendencies ending the sexual harassment, or it would be so wrong for them, turning the tables, dominating instead of submitting to their shit, that they might even be appalled at the idea.”
“Maybe, if they’re such dickheads, I’d follow through where the woman partner didn’t. I mean it must not be a great place to work.”
“Not if you’re a woman, no.”
“Or even a caring guy,” Joe said.
“True. I admit I’m in it for the money. The firm has an extensive clientele and a reputation for working hard for them. And they have made a lot of friends over the years.”
“Like me. I got referred to you,” said Cheryl.
“Exactly. The founders are sleazebags, but they’re slick sleazebags. Maybe that goes hand in hand with an overabundance of confidence. And the rest of the partners follow suit, great at gladhanding and such. It’s a prerequisite to making partner. How many new clients and how much broader you can make the network.”
“You?” Cheryl asked.
“I’m pretty low down on the totem pole. I’m not the shining star like criminal lawyers, or lucrative like corporate. But I think it’s important to keep people from getting screwed.”
“You’re like the opposite of corporate,” Joe said. “Protecting the underdog. You do rock bands?”
“Not enough. Too many are too blinded by getting mainstream distribution to notice how much they have to give up, and how little they’re protected. I mean I can understand how fleeting fame can be. It makes both sides vulnerable. The band jumping into a shit contract. The label not wanting to pour money into what often becomes a dry hole. How long can you back a one hit wonder or a one trick pony? Even so, the hit should go into the pocket of the hit maker a lot more than it does. Instead the label throws money at them without telling them it’s actually their money. Artists don’t have a clue about solvency or bankruptcy or budgeting or anything having to do with money besides having the rare moment when there’s actually a fistful of it. And too often, in fact I would say almost always, the record companies actually make use of their naiveté. It’s a pretty craven business.”
“How would you keep that from happening?” Joe asked.
“First, I’d make sure my client was sober and paying attention. Having them understand the difference between getting paid and getting fronted, whatever cost is outlaid is actually being loaned to them up front and is expected to get paid back. Then I’d make sure they get real percentages of their sales so they can pay it back and maybe even make some money. Then I’d make sure there’s a guaranteed follow-up, but not one that would keep them from separating if that one gets no support or the relationship becomes strained in other ways. A four record deal sounds great on paper, but it can really fuck up a band when the label loses interest or tries too hard to control them. More than one band has taken sides, splintering the group. Friends become enemies. So I wouldn’t just be there to make them the best deal, but also open their eyes to the predatory nature of the business.”
“They’re afraid to question things or they’ll lose the contract,” said Cheryl.
“Exactly. True for you and true for any artist that has a chance at the big leagues. The one advantage you have, and a band has, is that they actually want you. They want to own your talent. So you are in a position to negotiate.”
“But not to be a troublemaker,” Cheryl added.
“It’s all about being reasonable for both sides. Your demands have to have some restraint, and so do theirs. They’ll balk at your being unreasonable, and you should balk when they are. There’s always other magazines or labels.”
“I had Spin in my back pocket, so to speak,” Cheryl smirked. “They’re more my style. More interested in things other than the mainstream crap.”
“So why not go to Spin?” Joe asked her.
Cheryl shrugged. “I like Rolling Stone better. Better writing. Their features are almost always interesting. In fact I hope I can convince them to let me write about something other than rock. Maybe about the hidden addictions of the upper class, like my mother. Or maybe the other side of addiction, dancing and whoring in order to feed a habit or something. Things I can get inside of. But...”
“You want to get inside that scene?” Joe asked.
“You don’t think I could?”
“I know you could. You have the body for it, and I’ve seen you dance. But should you?”
“This from the guy who wanted to be a junkie just to experience it.”
“I’ve moved away from that.”
“Good. I don’t know. It could be interesting. You want to watch my back?”
“I’m a lover, not a fighter.”
“Yes you are,” she giggled. “But you do have your imposing height, even if you’re just a tall drink of water. But that’s just my pipe dream. Though I am going to work towards it. But actually I chose Rolling Stone mostly because I felt the vacuum. I believe they need the views I give them. Underneath the spotlights. Finding out about what’s happening in the shadows. All those interesting people lurking there. The music of course, but also the people. The scenes. The future. I’ve proven I can pull these things into captivating maybe better than anyone. That’s why they hired me.”
“Would they have published your feature if you hadn’t accepted their offer?” Joe asked.
“I don’t know. I guess I don’t want to know. I thought about asking, but why should I? Why look a gift horse in the mouth? And speaking of gift horses, I think it’s actually possible that the Monsters may have a cover.”
“Really?” I asked. “I thought...”
“Yeah, I said it was unlikely, at the edge of the impossible. But they loved Caroline’s photos. I showed them the collages. Eddie album cover. The poster for the Chicago show. I’m sure they have a steady designer for the cover, but I guess it proved how strong they looked put together like that. I swear Jann had a hard on and I’m pretty sure it wasn’t me.” She laughed along with the men.
“You gave them Caroline’s number?” Joe asked.
“Of course. I told them about the photos, and I think they expected my boyfriend’s. Like the one NME just published. He’s talented, but not in Caroline’s league, so they were almost reluctant.”
“Making Caroline’s shatter expectations,” he concluded.
“Yep,” she grinned. “Gotta pee.”
“Me too,” Joe said. He’d had a couple beers. Cheryl had her glass refilled a couple times.
“I’ll take care of the check,” said Scott.
“Aren’t you on my dime?” Cheryl asked him.
“Not for a while,” he smiled. “I like to pay for my entertainment, and you girl are entertaining.”
“I thought you turned that down,” she smirked.
During the cab to Scott’s nice but not ostentatious upper eastside condo, he asked Cheryl, “You said something about another boyfriend?”
“A photographer I met. I offered him a blow job for pictures,” Cheryl told him matter-of-factly. “We ended up fucking a couple times. He’s a sweetie.”
“But...”
“We’re pretty open about having other relationships,” Joe explained.
“Joe’s a stud. Literally in at least one case,” Cheryl added. “Let’s just say he has a really nice cock and knows how to use it. Besides me, at least three other women are in love with him. One of whom, the most confused about it I’d say, I sent to wake up Joe today.”
“My ex actually,” Joe said.
“We’ll see. How was it?” Cheryl asked.
“Good. Different.”
“How so?”
“It didn’t feel as intimate. But it wasn’t as nuts as our last time.”
“Like fucking a friend?”
“Yeah.”
“Good. You need to keep in contact with her, Joe. I know how much you used to enjoy talking to her.”
“Yeah. I will.”
“I think you both miss that.”
“Thing is...”
“I know what you’re saying, Joe. You already have your intimate conversationalist. But you care about each other. Not so long ago you thought she was your soul mate. That wasn’t about fucking.”
“In a way it was.”
“Intimacy.”
“Okay.”
“Understand?”
“Yeah. But she cared too much maybe.”
“And you don’t think I don’t?”
“I like your approach better. I ... don’t want you to worry.”
“Just as I planned,” she smirked.
“Really?”
“Yeah. But I really think it’s about talking. About being real with each other. Like you are with Joanne. Like you were with Freddy.”
“That took a weird turn.”
“A goodbye fuck I think. Like Moe’s, but more final.”
“Yeah. She’s really into Luke.”
“Enough to end your conversations.”
“Seems like. What about you?”
“What about me?”
“Who else besides me do you have intimate conversations with?”
“No one. I guess I’m a monogamous conversationalist,” she chuckled. “It’s actually what amazed me about you. How deep we got that first night. And ever since, really.”
“But you had best friends.”
“Maybe three in high school. Acquaintances really in college. People to hang out with. Just Jules I guess lasted from high school. But she’s kind of like Eddie with you. On separate paths now. That’s someone else you need to talk to. Eddie.”
“I know. Pretty much since I left the band, we haven’t really spent time with each other. Just that one time when we were tripping, and he mostly vented at me.”
“New York?”
“All’s I remember was my attempt to instruct him on sex,” he chuckled. “Other than that, just figuring what we’d do next. When we’d meet.”
“There was Moe and then Joanne and then me.”
“Yeah.”
“And I was with him before.”
“Yeah.”
“We ladies seem to be major distractions for you two.”
“And a bone of contention.”
“What are you going to do about it?”
“Walk,” he said. “What I do with friends. With Belle a lot of times. Sometimes Simon, too. The oddball clique. That and we’d get high in his basement. But I think that’s the approach I want to take. Just grab him and tell him to walk with me. At least once a week.”
“You guys used to walk in the fucking cold?”
“Yeah. We were crazy like that.”
“We’re here,” said Scott.
“Sorry,” Joe said. “We kind of got lost in our conversation.”
“I enjoyed listening in. You really fucked Eddie?”
“You caught that,” Cheryl giggled.
Up in the condo, after meeting his handsome and very gay lover, Cheryl asked, “Would it be okay to invite Moe?”
“It’s your celebration,” said Scott. “Moe is...”
“The ex,” Joe said. “Moira. Should I call her?”
“Her roommate probably still has you on the no call list,” said Cheryl.
“Probably,” Joe said sadly.
“Hey Moe,” said Cheryl into the phone. “You answered. Expecting Joe? Yeah, he wanted to, but your roommate ... Yeah. We’re celebrating. Want to join us? Yeah I did. I know. Yeah I am. The Monsters might even make the cover. I thought so too. So? Invite him. Invite him too. We’re at my lawyer’s place. His boyfriend just opened a really beautiful bottle of champagne, so you better hurry,” Cheryl laughed.
“I got a whole case,” said Neil, Scott’s boyfriend.
“You heard? Hurry anyway. Grab a slice. You guys want pizza?” she asked the room.
“Does anyone ever say no to that?” Scott asked.
“You said no to a blow job,” Cheryl pointed out.
“What?” said the boyfriend. The rest of them laughed, including presumably Moe.
“Let me hand you over to Scott,” said Cheryl.
He gave Moe the address.
Then they divided after they began sipping the delicious champagne. Like most people, Joe never understood the silly descriptors for wine. Tart and complicated and grapy came to mind. Not Manischevitz concord grape wine grapy, but like the white grape that became alcohol still held somewhere in the flavor. But most of all it was delicious. The best champagne he’d ever had. And wine and specifically the champagne became the subject of conversation between him and Neil. While Cheryl and Scott talked law, their mates talked about trips to wine country.
“Every year Scott and I take a month off to visit vineyards,” Neil told Joe. “This year we went northeast of Paris instead of south, which was our first trip. Specifically the province of Champagne. In search of this,” he lifted his glass. “The best champagne nobody knows about.”
“Well done,” Joe said. “You plan to promote it?”
“You mean kick back?” he laughed. “Scott did pave the way for them to get the best deal importing it. And they’re thankful. But it’s not the main thing.”
“I can tell.”
“It’s a remarkable wine. And a small vineyard, so it’s limited what gets brought in. So, yeah, mostly aesthetically enriching.”
“Where else have you been?”
“All over really. Australia. South America. Napa. Southern Europe. Germany. It started as two friends celebrating getting our bachelor degrees.”
“Wisconsin?”
“Yeah. We were friends, roommates in the end. He had a boyfriend. I admit I was a bit of slut back then. The trip to Loire and Burgundy became the beginning of our relationship. His boyfriend ... well, he wouldn’t be going to New York, so they just broke it off. I liked Scott and I was moving to the city, so I was hopeful and happy that he’d had a thing for me too. So it’s like a celebration every year we go. Like renewing our vows or something. But it also became business pretty much right away. That I didn’t just know the wine, but I’d been to the vineyard impressed the restaurant that hired me.”
“So it’s a business expense?”
“It is. I made it part of the deal, Scott’s advice of course, but the restaurant is really cool with it.”
“You’ve worked at the same restaurant?”
“I have. I was really lucky. The owners, the chef and the maître d, both exceptional at their jobs, had bounced around like a lot of them do, and basically took what they learned, what works and what doesn’t, and decided to set down roots and stick with it. Develop a plan. They had their reputation, the chef of course, but the maître d is about as charming a woman as I’ve ever met, so getting people in seats was never a problem. But they knew they needed enough seats to have a go at it, and whenever they could, they would expand. But always keeping in mind a sense of intimacy. And never resting. Always making things interesting for their customers.”
“What about the ones that want their favorite?”
“Osso buco and an incredible roast beef. Yeah. You cater to your reputation, but you still need to be adventurous. Just to make things interesting. They’re always so excited when I return from my trips bringing wines I’d found, so that we can find what works with them. It’s wonderfully collaborative.”
“Sounds like a lot better environment than Scott’s firm.”
“It’s pretty toxic there, but it has a reputation for being a top firm. A reputation for working really hard for the client.”
“I heard that.”
“Yeah. In that way it’s like my restaurant. Taking the guiding principle completely seriously and making it a top place because of it. Being brilliant and not the least bit lazy makes Scott the kind of associate that they expect and that they prize.”
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