Chapter 10 Way Back When #3
Paloma grinned as the team waved awkwardly, then she continued.
“For everything you’re doing tonight—and with apologies for what you’ll have to clean up later—thank you to the entire Artemis Club staff and their queen, Sabine Galanis.
Take a bow!” Led by Mo, the bartenders and security folks whistled and hooted, and Sabine stepped out from the corner where she’d been sitting with the Seal-Eye reps, holding her tiered black lace skirt out as she curtseyed like she did back in her ballet days.
Then Paloma searched the room, looking over hundreds of heads in the dark until her eyes fell on Jace.
She smiled wide without her usual attempt to hide the gap between her front teeth.
“There you are,” she said softly into the microphone before addressing the audience.
“My biggest thanks go out to my manager who put me on tour, the businesswoman who got me this record deal, and the hostess behind this amazing party tonight, with an open bar no less. She is all that and more. I’m talking about Jace Randolph! Come out here so everyone can see you!”
As she moved into the light at the edge of the audience, Jace looked over to the Seal-Eye table at one particular executive, wondering if he caught the subtext of what Paloma was saying about the two of them, recalling what had gone down during final contract negotiations a few months prior.
“Gay content is rare in indie music,” the exec had said to Paloma. “Rare for Detroit, too, right? I mean, are there any other gay or lesbian musicians in Detroit?”
“Well, I haven’t slept with everyone, so I’m not completely sure,” Paloma said with a campy wink.
“We at Seal-Eye want you to be authentically yourself, on stage and off. None of us here care who you sleep with.”
“Whew!” Paloma said, wiping her forehead melodramatically.
He’d taken a long drag on his clove cigarette, a puff of spicy smoke hissing through his teeth. “But here’s the thing. When it comes to songwriting, the more your lyrics are open to interpretation, the bigger the market for your record.”
“I’m not sure I know what you mean,” Jace said, even though she had a pretty good idea. She needed to hear him say it.
He looked at the ceiling. “Oh, like describing situations that don’t depend on a specific place or time…or leaving the gender of the other person in your love songs unsaid.”
“You mean making people think I’m singing to a guy, right?” Paloma said. Her voice was light, but her eyes were telling a different story.
“All I’m saying is it’s hard enough getting airplay as a female musician. Being labeled a ‘lesbian musician’ can really limit your reach at stores and radio stations.”
“Bisexual,” Paloma corrected.
“Which most people think is you denying the fact you’re a lesbian,” he said, stubbing out his cigarette in a large crystal ashtray.
“Look, I’m simply suggesting that, since this is your first national release, you focus on reaching as broad an audience as possible.
That way you remove some of the risk here, for you and for us.
And you keep your personal life, well, personal. ”
At this point, Paloma was squeezing Jace’s hand so tightly she could barely feel her fingers. “Could we have a couple of minutes, please?” Jace asked.
“Of course.”
The door closed, and Paloma finally let go of Jace’s hand and her own self-restraint.
“What a fucking hypocrite,” she said through gritted teeth. “We should leave.”
“He’s not wrong,” Jace said quickly, her hand on Paloma’s shoulder guiding her to sit back down.
“You’re not just playing for our friends and college kids anymore.
You’re introducing a unique sound to a general audience, and since you’re talented enough to write songs that can appeal to anyone—gay men, gay women, the straights, and everyone else—why not do that? ”
Paloma’s mouth fell open. “You want me to sign with a label that wants me to censor my own material?”
“That’s not what this has to be about,” Jace said as levelly as she could, desperate to preserve the deal that she’d worked so hard to hammer out.
“You’ve told me you want to do so much more than play the same little clubs over and over again.
That’s what this contract will do for you.
And if you don’t sign, remember that opportunities like this come only once, and news travels fast; other labels may not be that eager to meet with someone who doesn’t want to take their advice. ”
Paloma slumped in her chair, her bravado deflating. “So integrity means nothing?”
Jace sat back as well. “Integrity means picking your battles, babe. And sometimes it’s easier to win those battles from the inside. Once you’re more established and earning big piles of money for them, then you can push the envelope again. I promise.”
When the exec came back a moment later, Paloma had smiled and signed and shaken his hand.
Now, as Paloma and the crowd at the Artemis applauded her, Jace realized the exec from Seal-Eye wasn’t even looking at her or Paloma, as if they weren’t even in the same room.
Relieved, she took a brief bow and returned to the sound board, and Paloma turned her attention toward the audience once more.
“And finally, thank you all for coming. I’ve seen so many of you at shows at the Artemis and anywhere I’ve toured, and I’ve had the honor to play with a lot of you, too.
I would not be up here if you weren’t here with me.
I appreciate that more than you can know.
” She applauded with her arms extended, moving back and forth to include everyone in the venue.
Then she adjusted her guitar, checked with her rhythm section, and grabbed the mic.
“All right, are you ready to hear some tunes from the new album?”
Paloma went through five of the strongest cuts on Cutie Pie and played several more from her typical touring set before telling the crowd, “Well, friends, Sabine told me to wrap up the concert before eleven-thirty so we can get the party going. Does that work for everyone?”
It did, and Paloma brought Mary and Colin forward for a bow before exiting to the wings.
The lights came up, and Jace bolted toward the area where the label reps were seated to find the space empty, save for soggy cocktail napkins and empty glasses strewn across the tables.
At first, she thought they’d already merged with the rest of the patrons to be first in line for the food, but looking around, her heart sank. They’d left.
Jace wove through the crowd in search of Sabine, but ran into Mo first. “Jace,” Mo called, stopping her. “Those Seal-Eye guys told me to tell you they had to catch a red-eye. They said it was a great show.”
“Do you think they meant it?” Jace asked.
“They seem like the kind of guys who don’t have any problem saying they hate something, so yeah, I believed them.” Mo clapped Jace on the shoulder. “They invested in Paloma. They believe in her, and you. You did good, pal, so relax.”
Taking Mo’s advice, Jace moved on to make the rounds and ensure the food, the drinks, and the guests were all being taken care of. When she felt the party could run under its own steam, it was time to make a pit stop in the ladies’ room.
She was doing her business when she heard the main door swing open.
“…and you looked like you were going to put someone’s eye out in that video,” a woman said.
“Thought about it,” another responded.
Jace froze. She knew that voice. It was Mary.
“We were freezing our asses off in that garage for fourteen hours, and we didn’t go home until seven a.m.,” Mary griped as she settled into the stall to Jace’s left. “I’ve had a fucking cold for two fucking months because of that fucking video.”
“Well, at least you’re gonna get a wad of cash off the album, right?” Mary’s friend asked from the stall on Jace’s right.
“Are you kidding? I got a flat fee for doing rehearsals and the recording and will get a teeny-tiny royalty because I played on the record, but that’s it.”
“But you’re a member of the band!” her friend protested.
“Paloma and Jace sure acted like I was when we were on tour, but when the Seal-Eye deal came around, Jace made it clear it was just for Paloma. Colin and I are just session players.” There was a flush and a thud! as the stall’s lock banged against the door frame.
Another flush, another thud! from the other stall door as Mary’s friend joined her at the sink to wash their hands. “That sucks. Paloma would be nowhere without you.”
“ ‘That’s standard for a solo artist. You knew that when you signed on,’ ” Mary said, doing an overly nasal imitation of Jace that made the real one flinch. “Well, when I go solo, Jace’ll wish she paid me twice as much.” Her voice trailed off as the bathroom door swung open and closed.
Jace had been so focused on eavesdropping, she’d barely taken a breath.
Once she was certain they’d left, she washed her hands, muttering, “Shit, Mary, can’t you just shut up and enjoy the party?
” It was kind of depressing to find out that even with a good deal, one that Jace negotiated for her without asking for a commission, Mary wasn’t satisfied or grateful and likely never would be.
At least she blamed Jace for this perceived injustice.
The last thing Jace wanted was for Mary to take out her grievances on Paloma on stage or elsewhere.
They didn’t need to be best friends, but they at least needed to stay civil.
Jace dried her hands and rejoined the crowd. She found Paloma at the merchandise table, finishing up taking pictures with fans and autographing CDs.
“I’ve been waiting for you!” Paloma said once the last fan left for the bar, planting a sloppy kiss on Jace’s cheek that perhaps was inspired by a couple of whiskey sours. “Where have you been?”
“Sorry. I had a lot to take care of,” Jace said with a chaste hug. “You were amazing tonight.”