nice; she didnât seem to mind it when I came down and talked to her.
But even when the meetings got going, a lot of times they didnât seem to be about anything: people would say things like, âWe havenât got a clean concept here,â and, âIâd like to know what the distribs feel about it, letâs get a slant from Smithers at Retail Outlets,â none of which I could understand. Finally theyâd all decide to âgive it a mullâ and âkeep on truckinâ and the meeting would break up.
Even when the meetings were actually about something, they hardly ever had anything to do with music. Most of the time they had to do with publicity and my image and what kind of a haircut a Boy Next Door should have. Take for example the meeting with the publicity guys. There were two of themâa tall, skinny guy who looked as if he were going to cry, and a short, round one who seemed happier. They didnât even bother covering up that they were being phony. They just made stuff up left and right as if it was a perfectly normal thing to do. âWhere yaâ from, George?â the short, round one said.
âWest Fourth Street,â I said.
âNo, youâre not from West Fourth Street. Youâre from some place in the country,â the skinny one said.
âGot any relatives in some hick town somewhere?â the round one said.
âIâm staying with my cousin in Pawling. Thatâs upstate.â
âWhat kind of a place is that?â the round one said.
âJust a small town,â I said. âThere are a lot of farms there.â
âPawling?â the skinny one said, looking worried. âIs there really such a place? Itâs important that you come from a real place. Sometimes they send fan mail to the hometown and it looks bad when it comes back marked, âNo Such Place.ââ
âItâs real,â I said. âIâve been there.â
âNaturally youâve been there,â the round one said. âItâs your hometown. Any cows and like that? Real country-time?â
âMy cousin has a barn only there arenât any cows in it. They use it for cars.â
âBarns,â the skinny one said. âThat sings, barns are good.â
âWhat about a main street?â the round one said. âWe may have to put on a homecoming paradeâGeorge Stable, The Boy Next Door returns triumphantly to the something little town where as a school boy he something, something, while imbibing the something something that has made him world famous. Some crap like that.â
âMaybe we ought to wait until he gets world famous before we plan any parades,â the skinny one said, looking worried again.
I wondered what Sinclair would think of me parading down the main street of his own hometown. I figured heâd commit suicide. âThereâs a regular main street there.â I said. âDrugstores and banks and the railroad station.â
âLetâs hear it for Main Street,â the round one said.
âThat railroad station might sing,â the skinny one said. âWhat else? What kind of things did you do when you were a kid up there? Ice skating? Sneaking apples out of Farmer Brownâs orchard? Pitching maple syrup or whatever the hell they do?â
âWell the thing is, I didnât actually live there, so I couldnâtââ
âNow, George,â the skinny one said. âLetâs not confuse the issue. Pawlville is yourââ
âPawling.â
âPawling is your home town, so naturally you must have lived there. I can see you playing baseball in cow pastures, or sledding down Farmer Brownâs barn, your cheeks red and a colorful scarf flying along behind you.â
âYou donât sled down barns, dummy,â the round one said.
âDonât be picky. I can see you roasting corn on sticks over an open fire, and putting the
C. J. Cherryh
Learning to Kill: Stories
John O'Riley
Brenda Sinclair
Christopher George
Stephen Lloyd Jones
Karl Iagnemma
Celya Bowers
Jill Gregory
Aria Cunningham