13 - The Best Laid Plans

Petey was still mulling over Jon’s abrupt end to their phone call when she left for work the next morning. 

“Hey, Doll Face,” a raspy voice hailed from the apartment across the hall as she was locking her door.

She spun, startled.  Conversations with her neighbors were not a regular occurrence for Petey.  There was the occasional nod of recognition in the hall but, other than that, she kept to herself and so did they.  This particular neighbor, if the wide variety of music often drifting through the walls offered any hint, was a drag queen or a dancer.  Or both.

“Yeah?” The backpack with her laptop in it was slipping, and she hiked it back up onto her shoulder as she looked up and regarded the tall, slim man.

“We haven’t been formally introduced.”  He reached through the doorway to extend his hand.  “I’m Gavin.”

She looked him up carefully up and down.  Dressy black ankle boots, black slacks, form-fitting pink tee, carefully choreographed razor stubble, sculpted cheekbones, groomed eyebrows and artfully highlighted hair made for a pretty picture. 

He should be a hair stylist.

Finding him harmless enough, she clasped his proffered hand, finding it softer and more well-manicured than her own.  “Petey.”

He returned the same close inspection that he’d received, his mouth kicking up on one side in a grin.  Her wardrobe for the day was boots, cargo pants, a black fitted tee with zippers across the bust, and tattoo sleeves.  Her hair was split into two high ponytails, then twisted into buns.  She’d been feeling a little funky with her makeup this morning, so it was a little more dramatic than usual, including a set of rhinestone studded false eyelashes paired with her favorite pink contact lenses.

“Very avant garde,” he remarked drolly.

“Or something,” she laughed.  For some reason his dry demeanor struck her fancy.  “Since I’ve lived here for two years and this is the first time you’ve approached me, I assume you wanted something?”

“Yeah, I did.”  He crossed long, scrawny arms over his impossibly small waist.  Honest to God, the man reminded her of a tree branch he was so skinny.  If he were a drag queen, Gavin was solely responsible for the negative self-body-image of every woman who saw him perform.

“There was a guy here looking for you yesterday and asking questions.”

“Oh?”  Who the hell would be looking for her, much less know where to look?  It could have been one of her brothers, but they’d never come for a social visit before.  The family get-togethers were often enough to see one another.  Besides that, they all had her phone number and enough sense to call ahead.

“Yeah.  Lucky thing I don’t know shit about you.  He was very nosy. Joe-Bob didn’t realize this isn’t Hooterville and we don’t know every time our neighbors take a leak.”

She frowned.  “What was he asking?  And apparently you thought he was an out-of-towner?”

One bony shoulder butted up against the door facing as he leaned his weight against it.  “Where you were, when you would be home and – this was weird – what you were calling yourself.  Well, what do I know?  I just found out your name five minutes ago.”

Petey’s stomach twisted into a knot.  Whoever would need to ask that question, she had no desire to see or speak to.

“And as far as being from out of town?”  Gavin lifted both eyebrows and dipped his chin with a scoff.  “There ain’t nobody in New York wearing that brand of tweed unless they hang their hat in a cardboard box at night.  It was soooo nineteen eighty-four.”

Shaking her head to clear the buzzing, Petey offered her neighbor a small smile.  “Doesn’t sound like anybody I know.  If they bother you again, call the cops.”  She was two strides down the hall before she remembered enough manners to toss over her shoulder, “I’ve gotta get to work.  Nice meeting you Gavin.”

“Likewise.  Now that we know each other you should come for coffee sometime,” he called after her, receiving only a wave in response.

Well, this is a sucky way to start my Monday.

Completely unaware of anything around her, Petey walked the three blocks to catch the subway to the World Trade Center station.  From there she would pick up the train to Jersey City, where Tony Bongiovi had set up his East Coast headquarters.  His primary studio was in L.A., but with his brother’s career being a large part of his business, he’d needed a shop on this side of the country.

She managed to think of nothing but words of the nation’s most significant historical documents until she was slumped against the window on the train to Jersey.  The slow, rhythmic movement of the car settled her agitation enough to allow logical thought to leak back into her head.

It had been almost three years since she’d seen him – the man who had most certainly been the one in her apartment building.  He wasn’t happy when she disappeared, but that hadn’t been unexpected. She hadn’t cared.  Still didn’t care.

There was no way in this world, or on any alternate plane residing in the vicinity of reality, she owed him a damn thing.  He’d gotten enough of her.

Her mouth morphed into a bitter smile that was well-suited to her outward appearance.

Even if it wasn’t all he wanted.

Petey sighed and began picking at her nail polish.  The black was nearly gone now, which was okay.  She was bored with it anyway.  The bad part was that she may be stuck with these left-over flakes for a while.  

She didn’t want anything to do with him, but he wouldn’t respect that decision any more than he had her.  He was a smarmy little self-righteous prick.  More than that, he was tenacious.  It would be best to start looking for a new place to live right away.

In the meantime, if he didn’t watch himself…  Well, she wasn’t the same woman he knew for all those years.  It would benefit him to remember that.

The train jerked to a shuddering halt with the squeal of metallic brakes.  Jerking to awareness, Petey saw that this was her stop.  The ride had gone quick today. 

Slinging the backpack over her shoulder, she filed out of the car with several other passengers and climbed the stairs to daylight.

Work would be a welcome distraction today.

☠ ☢ ☠

“I’m workin’ on it Jon,” Tony growled.  “You only decided to do this a couple of days ago.  If you want this show to be high caliber, then you’re gonna have to quit calling me every two hours and let me concentrate.”

“I’m not calling every two hours,” his pissy brother said.  “I’ve called once a day to see how it was going.  Apparently it’s not going anywhere.  Maybe I should come over and see what you’ve got.  We can brainstorm.”

“Do not come over here!”  Tony consciously fought to lower his voice, seeing as Petey and Candace were staring at him with matching looks of curiosity.  Sort of.  As close as a Goth and a Barbie could match.  “Don’t you have a media blitz to do for this album or something?  Community service?  Philanthropy?  Something besides pestering me?”

“After Thanksgiving I'm coming over there.  Doesn’t matter if you have anything ready or not, I’m coming.  Consider yourself warned.”

It soothed his wounded pride to unceremoniously hang up on Jon.  The Golden Boy would get over it. 

Jon was a tough taskmaster when it came to business.  He wanted things done, he wanted them done now, and he wanted them done better than anyone else had ever done them before.  Tony could respect that.  It’s what made him one of the best in the game, but Jesus.  Give a guy a break already.  A think tank of geniuses couldn’t produce what he was asking for in two days’ time.

Friday morning, the sketches and video budget figures had arrived for the arena leg of the tour.  A very formal way of saying Jon had some ideas scratched out on notebook paper with a dollar figure  on the top sheet.

The concept was good.  It always was.  Add Tony’s creative twist to it and it would be phenomenal.  But phenomenal’s budget numbers didn’t come close to the one written in a heavy hand and circled three times with red ink. 

Corners would need to be cut in order to make the budget Jon was adamantly imposing.

Am I missing something?  Is there some corner to cut that I haven’t found yet?

The low murmurings of Petey and Candace’s voices filtered through his frustration, drawing his attention.  Darkness and light.  Mutt and Jeff.  For every physical characteristic Petey had, Candace’s was the textbook opposite.  Petite, dark hair, pale and curvy versus statuesque, blonde, tanned and rail thin.  The only common characteristic he could find between them was work, at which they were both exceptional in their own ways.  They were an unusual, but effective, team.

Unusual might be the perfect solution.

“Candace.  Petey.  C’mere would ya?” 

Both were beside his desk in a few strides – Candace four, Petey eight.

“Ladies, I’m looking for a little input,” He dealt the paperwork across the desk like solitaire, so that all of the sheets were visible.  “These…” He pointed to the first two sheets with the ink pen from behind his right ear.  “…are the client’s specific requests for a project.  The next two are the dolled up version I built with that information.  Then the technical specs and the bottom-line cost.”  Each fell under the tip of his pen in succession.

“You may notice that the dollar figure we start this project with…”  A resounding tap on Jon’s red circled figure.  “Is pretty well short of what actual cost will be.”  Tap on the final quote.  “Those two figures need to come a helluva lot closer to matching and the functionality of the project is non-negotiable.  Ideas?”

With a push of his feet, he rolled his chair out of the way so they could get a better look at their challenge.  Candace was poring over Jon’s requirements, while Petey had already moved to Tony’s modifications and the technical specs.

After another five minutes of concentrated silence, with the exception of Petey’s quiet murmurings of peace, justice and the American way, he spoke up.  “Well?  Do you see anything?”

Candace was the more outgoing of the two and immediately jumped in.  “The robots and hydraulics to hold and move the screens are too high-end.  They can be downgraded and still work fine.  The cabling is the bulk of the quote, but it’s pretty well set in stone.  You can’t run the equipment without the cables.  Does he really need a new board?  Doesn’t he have one from the last tour?”

“Not enough channels and jack-legging it to work with another smaller board means more cabling,” Tony explained.  “Cabling that requires more setup and tear down time and more transportation cost.  Jon’s not going to go for that. Then what do we do if the older board craps out five shows in?  We buy a new one anyway.”

“Okay, then the robots.”

He shook his head doubtfully.  “Those robots and hydraulics cannot fuck up even the first time.  There will be people standing and climbing on those screens so we’re talking about variable and unpredictable weight that has to be supported.  I’m not willing to risk anyone’s safety.”

“Then it is what it is,” Candace said dismissively.  “If he wants this…” She pointed one red, manicured nail at Jon’s scratchings.  “…he’s gonna have to pay what’s on the quote.  He’s rich.  What difference does it make to him?”

Petey gave her the one arched eyebrow thingy that fascinated Tony.  It was like a black rainbow, so perfect was the curve.  “Maybe he’s rich because he sticks to his budget.”

“Well, he can stick to his budget, but he’s gonna have to downgrade what he wants.”  Candace flipped her long blonde hair back in a move made famous by every high school cheerleader throughout history.

“No.  Not really.”

That’s what he wanted to hear.  Goth Girl now had his full attention.  “Whatcha got, Petey?”

With a minimum of words, she highlighted the areas that could be tweaked.  Smaller screens in some places to enhance instead of compete with the main screens, adapters and splitters to minimize the cable count and a reconfiguration of exactly where the robots should be placed for maximum effectiveness.  That last bit saved him an entire robotic unit and brought the numbers down exactly where they needed to be. 

I’m ready for you now, Big Brother.  Bring your ass over anytime you want.

“Petey,” he said with a wide grin.  “Have I told you how glad I am you came knocking on our door?  My brother may just fall in love with you.”