three quarters.”
“I’m sure Erica’s situation is different.”
“It is. And it isn’t. Know what I’m saying?”
I gave him a noncommittal nod, my eyes on the Manhattan skyline.
Even up here on the 86th floor, you could hear the traffic and the symphony of car horns. Sure, I know the history—how New Yorkers built
up
because they had limits on building
out
. But you still couldn’t resist the psychological effect and marvel at how shrewd those original architects were. To get up here or up any of those sparkling towers made you feel differently about your lot in life, made you think of possibilities. It made you ambitious
to keep the view
. In Toronto, you’ve got to take a ferry out to Centre Island or at least stand at Harbourfront to get a sweeping view of the tall buildings. In London, as a tourist, I couldn’t get a half-decent view of the capital unless I stood on one of the bridges of the Thames. In both cases, though, you’re on the ground. You’re forced to tilt your head respectfully up instead of enjoying the temporary illusion that you can dominate it all, take it all in from a high vantage point.
Erica must love it here.
“We should get back,” said Luther.
“Do we have to?” I bleated like a little kid.
He laughed. “Erica’s going to turn up and worry about you.” With a groan, he added, “And I’ve got to put in a few more social hours.”
“If you’re not having a good time…”
“You can tell you’re not in the music business,” he said. “A certain amount of shmoozing is required. Doesn’t matter whether you like folks or not, it’s business. These parties are where folks can scout out the hottest video director. They take a barometer reading of who’s still got clout. They pick up stock tips. Whatever.”
“Wow, you just gave me a whole lecture about Erica’s cynicism. I didn’t see that much wheeling and dealing. People were getting wild back there. The booze is flowing. And in the pool—”
“Sure, sure, a lot of ’em play hard,” said Luther. “But the ones fooling around and making asses of themselves have shown up for the entertainment. They don’t have an agenda. Didn’t you notice it was either the old stars who’ve made it, or young up-and-comers who think it’s their turn in the candy store? The young ones are playing, Michelle, but their managers are on the clock. Read
The Hollywood Reporter
and daily
Variety
over the next couple of weeks, and I’ll bet you see five deals where you can trace all the players back to this party.”
“So what’s your agenda for being there?”
“Me?” He tried to laugh away the question. “Oh, I’m one of the fun-seekers.”
“Beating up pots and pans?”
“Party kicked off about noon. Quarter to one, I played a demo tape of a song I wrote for somebody connected to Black Eyed Peas. By two, somebody was asking my advice about World Music, and if I can track down these Azerbaijani horn players I know, I’ve got another album job.”
“So you’re working the room, but you’re warning me how if Erica’s not careful, your colleagues will eat her alive?”
“I never said don’t swim in the deep end. I said she has to be careful. If money talks when bullshit walks, then flattery
sings
. There’s a reason why they have the expression ‘music to my ears.’ ”
Distractions
W
e beat Erica
to the party by half an hour. A swarm of people hovered near the door for the newest bright young thing, ensuring that I wouldn’t get a chance to greet her for about fifteen minutes. Lots of hugs, lots of kisses on both cheeks. Then Erica gave a big squeal as she spotted me, and we hugged.
“You’re here!” she yelled. “You’re finally here! Oh, girl, we are going to have so much fun! Look at
you
!”
“Look at me? Look at you! You’re the one in the Chanel suit.”
“Borrowing it,” she lied. As I stayed on, so the suit stayed in its place on the rack of her walk-in closet. But this was an
“I’m sure Erica’s situation is different.”
“It is. And it isn’t. Know what I’m saying?”
I gave him a noncommittal nod, my eyes on the Manhattan skyline.
Even up here on the 86th floor, you could hear the traffic and the symphony of car horns. Sure, I know the history—how New Yorkers built
up
because they had limits on building
out
. But you still couldn’t resist the psychological effect and marvel at how shrewd those original architects were. To get up here or up any of those sparkling towers made you feel differently about your lot in life, made you think of possibilities. It made you ambitious
to keep the view
. In Toronto, you’ve got to take a ferry out to Centre Island or at least stand at Harbourfront to get a sweeping view of the tall buildings. In London, as a tourist, I couldn’t get a half-decent view of the capital unless I stood on one of the bridges of the Thames. In both cases, though, you’re on the ground. You’re forced to tilt your head respectfully up instead of enjoying the temporary illusion that you can dominate it all, take it all in from a high vantage point.
Erica must love it here.
“We should get back,” said Luther.
“Do we have to?” I bleated like a little kid.
He laughed. “Erica’s going to turn up and worry about you.” With a groan, he added, “And I’ve got to put in a few more social hours.”
“If you’re not having a good time…”
“You can tell you’re not in the music business,” he said. “A certain amount of shmoozing is required. Doesn’t matter whether you like folks or not, it’s business. These parties are where folks can scout out the hottest video director. They take a barometer reading of who’s still got clout. They pick up stock tips. Whatever.”
“Wow, you just gave me a whole lecture about Erica’s cynicism. I didn’t see that much wheeling and dealing. People were getting wild back there. The booze is flowing. And in the pool—”
“Sure, sure, a lot of ’em play hard,” said Luther. “But the ones fooling around and making asses of themselves have shown up for the entertainment. They don’t have an agenda. Didn’t you notice it was either the old stars who’ve made it, or young up-and-comers who think it’s their turn in the candy store? The young ones are playing, Michelle, but their managers are on the clock. Read
The Hollywood Reporter
and daily
Variety
over the next couple of weeks, and I’ll bet you see five deals where you can trace all the players back to this party.”
“So what’s your agenda for being there?”
“Me?” He tried to laugh away the question. “Oh, I’m one of the fun-seekers.”
“Beating up pots and pans?”
“Party kicked off about noon. Quarter to one, I played a demo tape of a song I wrote for somebody connected to Black Eyed Peas. By two, somebody was asking my advice about World Music, and if I can track down these Azerbaijani horn players I know, I’ve got another album job.”
“So you’re working the room, but you’re warning me how if Erica’s not careful, your colleagues will eat her alive?”
“I never said don’t swim in the deep end. I said she has to be careful. If money talks when bullshit walks, then flattery
sings
. There’s a reason why they have the expression ‘music to my ears.’ ”
Distractions
W
e beat Erica
to the party by half an hour. A swarm of people hovered near the door for the newest bright young thing, ensuring that I wouldn’t get a chance to greet her for about fifteen minutes. Lots of hugs, lots of kisses on both cheeks. Then Erica gave a big squeal as she spotted me, and we hugged.
“You’re here!” she yelled. “You’re finally here! Oh, girl, we are going to have so much fun! Look at
you
!”
“Look at me? Look at you! You’re the one in the Chanel suit.”
“Borrowing it,” she lied. As I stayed on, so the suit stayed in its place on the rack of her walk-in closet. But this was an
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