Different Circles

The contract for Matt’s tour was a little bit different because National had an ace to play for that one. Since they owned the rights to Matt’s previous solo material and had the ability to forbid him to perform it if they wished, they demanded a few more concessions. The biggest was the division of the revenue. They would get sixty percent of ticket sales instead of fifty. And KVA would pay for one hundred percent of Matt and his band’s travel and entertainment expenses out of their own pocket. National would still pay for half of the road crew personnel and transport costs and one hundred percent of the venue costs, but KVA had to pay for feeding and entertaining the entire crew. KVA, in turn, had voted to give Matt sixty percent of their forty percent of the revenue so he could enjoy a healthy profit for his efforts (Matt would pay his band members and his paramedic out of that money). This did cut down on KVA’s tour profit considerably, but KVA had a lot more faith in their upcoming CDs than National did. They planned to clean up on those CD sales.

Jake, as had been his habit since the beginning of the experiment, had spent the workweek alternating between the two warehouses so he could supervise and shape the way both tours were being put together. The Nerdlys did the same, though they worked opposite of Jake, meaning that whichever band Jake was with on a particular day, the Nerdlys were with the other, working on their sound and engineering.

On this day, Jake had been with Celia and her band. They were a bit behind Matt in progression and were still working on the basic layout of how the show would go. There were only a few sound guys working with them currently. They had a basic stage set up and a basic sound system. As of yet, there was no concert lighting, no backstage area, no choreography being planned. They had not even found a saxophone player yet, so Laura was filling in for that part, but she had made herself very clear when she proclaimed that she would not be going out on the road.

The band finished their third rendition of Playing Those Games—which was loosely planned to be the closing number for the show—just after four o’clock. Though they usually worked until 5:00 PM, Celia decided to call an early end to the day in honor of the three-day break that everyone would be taking for the holiday weekend. The band, all of them tired and grumpy and a little burned out from this first week of grinding work, were grateful. Charlie, Eric, Liz, and Little Stevie all cut out immediately. Coop elected to hang out with Jake, Laura, and Celia for the traditional Friday post-rehearsal beer.

“Anyone wanna burn?” asked Coop, pulling out a joint and a lighter.

“I can’t,” Jake said with a little regret. “I’m flying in a little bit.”

“You’ll be flying a lot sooner if you hit some of this shit,” Coop told him. “It’s genuine Humboldt skunk bud.”

“Tempting,” Jake said with a sigh, “but I’ll have to pass all the same.”

“I’ll take a couple hits,” Laura said. “Fire that thing up.”

“Really?” asked Coop. “I thought you weren’t supposed to do that.”

“I’m not breastfeeding anymore,” she said. “Caydee got her first tooth two weeks ago. That brought an end to my nipples in her mouth.”

“So ... you’re just like feeding her regular milk now?” Coop asked.

“I still have a pretty good supply of pumped milk in the freezer,” Laura said. “We’ve been giving her that and some formula.”

“She’s also starting to eat baby food now,” Jake added. “Elsa makes it for her.”

“Oh ... I see,” Coop said, nodding wisely. Though he was a father, and was paying five digits a month in child support, he had never actually been around the child. “Let’s burn then.”

Coop fired up. He and Laura passed the joint back and forth until they were both feeling good. Celia and Jake watched them, Celia sipping out of a bottle of beer, Jake with a bottle of iced tea that was completely unsatisfying.

“Good shit, Coop,” Laura said, her eyes now half-lidded.

“For sixty bucks an eighth, it better be,” he replied.

Coop left a few minutes later. Nobody bothered to tell him to be careful driving while he was stoned. He was Coop, after all, and he probably drove more miles per week stoned than he did straight.