‘The first thing that has to go is the band name. It’s awful. Coffee, anyone?’
Freddy looked around at the four young men sitting nervously in his spacious sitting room. They all nodded. Freddy poured the steaming black liquid into four china cups.
‘Help yourself to milk and sugar. The point is, you have to have a short, sharp name that’s easily remembered. Anyway, that’s something we can put our thinking caps on about if we decide we’re going to work together. Who writes the songs?’
‘I do.’ Todd sat up, ready for praise.
‘I’m going to be brutally honest with you, Todd, from what I heard a couple of evenings ago, they’re not quite hitting the mark. The melody lines are unusual, which I think is a positive...but your lyrics stink. Does anyone else in the band write?’
‘I do,’ Derek put in.
‘Fine. Let me have a look at your stuff.’
‘And I do,’ said Con quietly.
‘Great. Ditto for you, Con. Ideally, you’ll write your own material. It makes life much simpler and gives you a definitivesound. Wecanemploy a songwriter if needs be, but let me see what you can come up with first.’
Con shot a glance at Todd. His face was red with humiliation.
‘Now, as for your image...or rather lack of it...’ chuckled Freddy. ‘You’re all good-looking boys but you’re not doing yourselves justice. I’d consider new haircuts and fresh wardrobes an absolute essential before we let you out in public again.’
The four boys silently sipped their coffee. Eventually, Con spoke.
‘Mr Martin, I’m not wishing to be rude, but you don’t like our name, our music, our hair or our clothes. Would you be so kind as to tell us what you do like?’
‘My apologies, Con. You’ll have to get used to the fact that I say exactly what I think. It cuts out the crap. You’re sat here, aren’t you? It means I think you have potential. The four of you look good together on stage. Two blonds and two brunettes is an appealing combination. Musically, you have a nice sound. Aside from that you have...’ Freddy searched for the right word. ‘You have acharismathat’s raw at the moment, but could be developed. I reckon with a bit of time, effort and money, we could put together something special.’ He gave the boys a wide grin.
‘Not being presumptuous, Mr Martin, but what exactly is it you’re offering us?’ Todd enquired.
‘Todd, don’t rush me. I was coming to that. More coffee, anyone?’ Freddy poured himself another cup as the four boys shifted nervously in their seats. ‘I’m sure you know that I used to be a performer myself. For the past few years I’ve managed a very well-known group. For reasons I do not wish to go into, that group are now no more. What I’m thinking about offering you boys will be the same deal as I offered them, many moonsago. Personal management.’ Freddy stood and began to stroll around his sitting room. ‘As you can imagine, my connections in the music business are widespread and well established. Any group that I take on is going to get through the door of a record company on my recommendation alone. I would personally fund demo tapes and all expenses incurred before such time as I secure you a deal. I would also pay you all a living wage that would then be clawed back out of your first contract. For the privilege of having me as your manager, the band would pay me twenty per cent of your gross earnings. That, Mr Bradley, is the deal.’
‘I see,’ nodded Todd.
The other boys stared in silence at Freddy.
Freddy crossed his arms and walked back over to the band, towering over them. ‘There is one thing you would have to understand before we go any further. I am a reasonable man, but if I’ve learnt anything from managing the last lot, it’s that there’s only room for one chief. I need hardly say who that would be.’ Freddy looked at his watch. ‘I’m afraid I’m going to have to call a halt to this meeting. I have a lunch in Soho in half an hour. Why don’t you boys go away, have a chat amongst yourselves and see how you feel?’ He stood up and his guests followed him to the front door. He solemnly shook their hands one by one.
‘Goodbye. Call me in a couple of days and we’ll reconvene.’
Freddy shut the door, allowed himself a small smile at the recollection of their glazed expressions, then ran upstairs to find his car keys.
Out on the pavement, the four boys looked at each other.
‘Pub?’ they agreed in unison, and set off along the road until they found one.
‘Did you see that gaff? Man, that’s serious spondulicks.’ Ian lit up a smelly joint as Derek and Todd came back with the beers.
Todd coughed and waved away the smoke. ‘Ian, do you have to? That’s the third since breakfast.’
‘Hey, Todd, it’s way better for you than ciggies,’ Ian replied good-naturedly, taking another drag.
‘So.’ Todd took a sip of his pint. ‘What did everyone think?’
‘He’s a powerful man,’ said Con.
‘Knows a lot of people,’ put in Derek.
Todd sniffed and pursed his lips before offering his opinion. ‘Well, I thought he was a first-class, out-and-out tosser,’ he sneered. ‘We don’t need him, boys. All he did was tear our music to shreds and suggest a haircut.’ Todd shook his head. ‘I’m sorry. He may be Mr Big Shot, but I loathed him.’
