Chapter 31
At precisely 10:00 on Saturday morning Ian walked into my office, followed by Jack, Michael and Jeannine. “You’re up awfully early,” I said to Ian.
“I’m being told it’s the first day of the rest of me life.”
Jack added, “He’s checking into the Betty Ford Center at noon.”
I shook Ian’s hand and said, “Good for you. It looks like perfect timing for a new beginning.”
“I figure if it worked for Aerosmith, I can make it work for me.”
Michael added, “And, he’s going to be busy breaking in a couple of new band mates soon.”
“That’s one of the reasons we asked to meet with you this morning,” Jack said. “We think Nigel had the right idea when he talked about hiring you to investigate potential band members as well as new management. We value your opinion tremendously and have narrowed the choices for Terry’s replacement to three people. We want to have the new member signed by the time Ian gets discharged. Can you help us out?”
I asked, “What about the new manager. Are you going with Nigel’s choice?”
Ian said, “He has a good reputation, but he sounds like a fast-talking salesman to us. We also need a concert promoter to book the tour for the new CD.”
Jack said, “We actually need your services for a while. We want profiles on the prospective band member, promoter, manager, and record companies. What do you say?”
A smile crept across my face. “I think it sounds terrific. I may be able to help you with the concert promoter right away.”
Michael said, “I told them you’d be recommending Calvin Dawson and they were stoked.”
“Calvin’s a friend of yours?” asked Jack.
“We go way back. I have the highest regard for him as a promoter and as a person.”
Jack replied, “I’m sure it will help Ian get through rehab knowing we’ll have a top-notch promoter working on getting the tour together while he’s working on getting his head together.”
“Affirmative,” Ian said enthusiastically.
Jeannine had been quietly sitting at her desk playing with the snow globe Ivana had given her. For a moment she came out of her own little world and asked, “Have you thought of a name for the new CD?”
Ian replied, “We’re thinking of calling it The Metal Musings of Cain and Abel but we want to make sure Chelsea Tucker doesn’t object. Can you check on that for us, Jason?”
“No problem. By the way, do either of you guys recognize the guitar on my wall?” I asked Ian and Jack.
“If I don’t miss my guess, that’s the guitar Terry used to write his songs,” Jack said. “I’ve got some great stories about that guitar, but they’ll have to wait. We can’t keep Betty waiting.” In a minute they were gone.
On the drive to my parent’s house I asked Kelly, “Would you like to hear the hottest CD never to hit the airwaves?”
“This sounds interesting.”
I popped in the CD Ivana had given me. After the first song I asked, “What do you think?”
“I think with a new singer and a better lead guitarist they could be the next Doberman’s Stub,” she said with a grin.
When we reached my parents’ house, the Kerrigan’s had already arrived. Introductions were made, hors d’ oeuvres were passed, and Dad delighted in his role as bartender. Bob Kerrigan brought along the citation his son had received. Dad insisted that Dennis recount what had happened at the scene.
When he finished, Bob lifted his beer and said, “To another generation of Irishmen helping their own.” Mom, Dad, and Kelly immediately looked at me to see how I would react.
Before I could throw a wet blanket on the festivities the doorbell rang. “I’ll get it,” I said, avoiding the toast issue for the moment.
I knew it would be Walter Shamansky. The question was whether Shamansky could talk the aspiring actress from Larabee’s into accompanying him this evening. I had kept Kelly apprised of his wishful thinking infatuation since the first time we had lunch. I could see her jockey for position to get a look as they walked in the door.
To my amazement, Shamansky had brought along Svetlana Illich. For the first time I saw her in chic, modern cloths, make-up, and an attractive, new hairstyle.
“Surprised?” she asked me as she walked in the door, then kept walking before I could answer. Some things never change.
Shamansky read my expression and savored the moment. As he shook my hand, he asked, “How’s that for cultural diversity.”