Authors: Brian Caswell

Asturias (19 page)

CODA:

REPRISE

CLAIRE'S STORY

Harry Friedman sat massaging the palm of one arthritic hand with the ball of his thumb, then he looked up.

“You learn a few things working for the Union for that long.” He looked back at his hand, like a sculptor checking the texture of the clay. “In negotiations, you forget about what
you
want. If the other guy was willing to give it to you, you wouldn't be there negotiating in the first place. What you have to concentrate on is what
he
wants. That's the thing that motivates him, and that's also his weakness.”

“But Symonds doesn't have a weakness. He's in the driver's seat. The contracts are airtight â”

“You're not listening, girlie.” Harry was the only one who could ever get away with calling me that. “What does he
want?”

“Sometimes I think he just wants to make everyone around him feel like shit.”

“Exactly!”

He spoke as if I'd reached a breakthrough, but for the life of me I couldn't work out what it was. It must have shown on my face.

“Think about it,” he went on. “Power. That's what this is all about. Money and power. He could have let the boys back into the group, but he has the power
not
to â and he has the power to force the others to accept the decision. Whether they like it or not.”

“Because he has the contracts.”

Finally he was getting down to the root of the problem.

“Which is what gives him his power. But what does he
want
?”

I shook my head. He'd lost me again.

“Success. His position in the company is based on his ability to generate profits. For that, he needs the band to produce. On the docks we had a saying, âOne out, all out'.”

“A strike, you mean? It won't work. Not with the contracts.” I felt like I was going around in circles. “He's done everything by the book. We can't touch him.”

He thought for a moment.

“Funny thing about âthe book'. It can mean something different to everyone who reads it. We had another phrase that was very popular in tricky negotiations. Ever hear of âworking to rule'?”

I had, vaguely. I nodded uncertainly.

He stood up awkwardly and shuffled across to the window. When he turned to face me, there was a fire in his eyes that I imagined hadn't shone there very much since his retirement.

“Can't play the game unless you know all the rules.” He rubbed his hands slowly together, and looked out of the window towards the distant city, and I knew, in his mind's eye, he was imagining himself back on the docks.

Without turning back, he continued, “Bring Alex in to see me â and the others. And bring in the contracts. Let's see what kind of power they give to the good guys â¦”

MAX'S STORY

“You can't do this!”

Symonds stood up behind his desk and screamed at me, and I knew I had him.

“I'm not doing anything, Ken.” I walked across to the bar in the comer and poured myself a generous measure of his finest malt. “As their personal manager, I'm just here to let you know what they've decided.”

“But I have contracts â¦”

He loosened his tie and sat back down.

I sipped my drink and let it evaporate on my tongue, savouring the moment.

“And they are perfectly willing to honour them. To the letter. Five more albums in as many years. And live performances. But there is nothing in their contracts which stipulates what kind of music they have to play. And I happen to think that classical sonatas, medieval madrigals and a bit of country and western is an interesting combination. Of course, it probably won't sell too well, and it will cost a fortune to produce â¦ You know how fussy musicians can be. And the live tours, well â¦”

He was ready to explode. I let him stew for a minute, then walked across and sat back down.

“Bottom line is, Ken, they can bleed you dry. And if you refuse to record them, they can void the contract after twelve months. Now, you have a choice. You can cut them loose now, no hard feelings, or you can try to tough it out.”

Enough stick, it was time for the carrot.

“Or I have three different companies ready and willing to buy out the contracts, for a sizeable amount, and if you handle the negotiations well, you might just get out with your skin.”

His little piggy eyes stopped darting about for a moment, and I could see the gears working behind them. He was hooked.

I almost didn't tell him, but then I couldn't help myself. It ruined the surprise, but how could I resist delivering the sucker-punch in person?

“Of course,” I went on, “that would depend on how New York feels about the whole deal. I'm afraid I went over your head and talked to Zimmerman personally last night. To fill him in on the situation â¦ It appears that he might be keen to match what the other companies are offering, and rewrite the kids' contracts â all five of them.

“Oh, and I think you might be in for a small â¦ promotion. He mentioned something about ârunning a record store in Little Rock, Arkansas â¦' ”

I placed the empty glass on the desk in front of him.

“Would you like me to close the door on the way out?”

27 August 1998
New York City

The stage is dark and the first notes fill the empty silence, washing over the audience as the pencil spot picks out the guitarist's hands.

The audience cheers and the concert begins.

At the back of the huge auditorium, one man sits on the steps and smiles to himself.

“Nice one, kid,” he whispers, to no one in particular.

First published 1996 by University of Queensland Press
PO Box 6042, St Lucia, Queensland 4067 Australia
Reprinted 1999, 2002, 2003, 2007, 2013

www.uqp.com.au

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