HIM GETTING OUT OF HIS CONTRACT
He opened up his most expensive bottle of liquor. Aged, 80 year old scotch. Owned by the movie star who owned the house 80 years ago. The bottle cost more than his parents had paid for their house.
If he couldn’t pack up the house & the pool, he’d take it all with him.
His 25 year old self looked out at his pool. The house was quiet for once. He would enjoy every last second of his lease. 10 more days and he’d be free of California.
No more naked pool parties. Maybe he could get back that $100k he loaned to that guy to buy the sailboat. His band was doing pretty well now. Maybe there would be a favor in it for him if he didn’t ask. Maybe that $100k would get him into a recording studio, maybe they’d even do one of his songs.
Who was he fooling? They didn’t like the song he wrote for the movie. And his ugly twin never got over recommending the audition.
“You should try it. They didn’t like my teeth and my bald spot. They wanted someone just like me, but prettier. They wanted someone with my kind of talent, but you’re the only one who looks like me//you were all I could find” (Stills)
It started as a joke, but the years revealed the truth. He tried to throw money at Steve, he showed up to his gigs and brought his “people”. The sailboat.
He felt like he had packed 30 years of living into the past 5.
When he first signed the contract, there were so many possible endings to this story.
He had never imagined handing back a check for such a big amount. Anything to get OUT.
His brother had told him how miserable he sounded. It started maybe a year ago, when the movie came out. Awful. He didn’t have answers for anyone, in fact, that’s when it first started. People turned away at the parties. The Popular Kids.
But since the TV show, the awful one with the ape costumes and the sound problems. They aired it against the Oscars, no better way to bury it. And that’s what he had to look forward to.
He would miss the neighborhood. Driving by and waving at Joni, Jimi, Janis. Picnics and parties. He was suddenly the most popular guy at parties. Was. That’s his life now. WAS>
He missed being accepted into the world of the rising stars, of being asked to sing at every party. Of being respected as a fellow artist-or if not respected, then admired for how he tricked The Man into giving him so much money.
He had eaten, fucked, snorted, smoked and PLAYED for the past 5 years. GOD!!
He had access to a fucking fully equipped music studio at his beck & call!! He had gone on tour and played all the big stadiums. Kids cheering so loud, they couldn’t even hear him sing & play. His grandmother was the president of his fan club, for chrissakes. How was he gonna tell his grandma?
His face was everywhere in LA. HIs shining happy face. Billboards, magazines, cardboard cutouts at record stores, along with the other guys. Back when they believed in the hype themselves.
He looked so much younger.
They took away his dream.
Now he was just some cynic, sitting by a pool, ready to begin his slow descent into nothingdom.
The lights of LA spread out before him like sparkles in a pool of champagne.
Maybe he should have the pool water replaced with champagne. Now THAT would be a way to go out!!
Maybe he’ll wake up dead, floating in the pool, stoned out of his mind.
Like that guy in Sunset Boulevard. Wasn’t that how everyone ended up here?
Either metaphorically or literally.
But his brother was right. It was a bubble. A fun period of time that would never last. Like with girls, enjoy it while it lasts and sneak out before things get bad. Or the crying begins.
Too late.
Don’t get up, he thought, you’ll be dragged to the edge of the water. Like gravity.
Don’t die. Not here, not like the rest of them. They’ll know you are just a wanna be.
A wanna be music martyr. Like that drummer, if that guy wasn’t pushed in. (Brian Jones)
Don’t drown, he thought. Just don’t drown.
I've Got You Under My Skin
Louis Prima & Keely Smith
