It’s the 1993 L.A. music scene, complete with drugs, parties, alcohol and women, but twenty-seven-year-old Cory Scott is only interested in one thing. The success of his band Suicide King. His best friend died trying to make it happen and Cory will stop at nothing to make their rock star dream a reality. For himself, his best friend’s memory and for his bandmates. When infamous music legend Alexandra Blake agrees to produce their debut album, all Cory has to do is keep the band together and keep her interested in them long enough to finish the album. Simple enough. Until he meets Alexandra. With one glance at her everything else becomes secondary. The deeper he falls for her-and she falls for him-the more torn Cory becomes between the bandmates who depend on him, the music he thought he was here for, and the woman he needs more than air in his lungs.
L.A. DREAMS is about the bonds of friendship, falling in love, and following your dreams. It’s a novel about the choices and sacrifices one must make when pursuing a dream of fame and fortune.
It’s the 1993 L.A. music scene, complete with drugs, parties, alcohol and women, but twenty-seven-year-old Cory Scott is only interested in one thing. The success of his band Suicide King. His best friend died trying to make it happen and Cory will stop at nothing to make their rock star dream a reality. For himself, his best friend’s memory and for his bandmates. When infamous music legend Alexandra Blake agrees to produce their debut album, all Cory has to do is keep the band together and keep her interested in them long enough to finish the album. Simple enough. Until he meets Alexandra. With one glance at her everything else becomes secondary. The deeper he falls for her-and she falls for him-the more torn Cory becomes between the bandmates who depend on him, the music he thought he was here for, and the woman he needs more than air in his lungs.
L.A. DREAMS is about the bonds of friendship, falling in love, and following your dreams. It’s a novel about the choices and sacrifices one must make when pursuing a dream of fame and fortune.
The smell of lilies filled the air and “Moonlight Sonata” played over the sound system. I followed the notes in my head so that I didn’t have to think about anything else. It seemed lately that thinking only made me angry, so I’d been doing my best to avoid doing too much of it. The others had already left. I should have gone as well and been at his family’s house consoling them, the way a good friend would. But I couldn’t face them. My best friend, Edward Allan Cooper, was dead, and I was responsible. We had been friends for over twenty years. And now he was gone. Now there would be nothing left for Jennifer and me to fight about. Except that Eddie might still be alive if it weren’t for us. Eddie would have done anything in the world for me, but I knew now I couldn’t say the same. Had he ever let me down? I wanted to remember a time, probably to ease my conscience, but could recall nothing. He’d always had my back. It seemed to come easy to him. “You must be Corbett Scott,” said a soft, deep voice from behind me. I turned to find a guy about my age, mid to late twenties, wearing torn jeans and a navy tee shirt. He said nothing else for what felt like an eternity. Though his eyes begged for something, fear of losing my composure left me unable to speak. What did this person want from me? I closed my eyes, heaved a sigh, and rubbed my hand over the warmth traveling up the back of my neck. I had not come to terms with my goodbye yet and had stayed long after the others had gone because I wanted to be left alone. And now I had to deal with this guy. 3 “Jesse Donovan,” he finally said and held out his hand. “I thought everyone would be gone by now. I didn’t mean to scare you.” I ran the back of my hand across my eyes to wipe away the dampness, then shook his hand and said as firmly as I could muster, “You didn’t scare me.” “God, I hate open caskets,” he said, looking past me. “It’s so degrading.” “Yeah,” I agreed. I’d always hated them too. I didn’t want people gawking at my dead body, and I was pretty sure Eddie would have felt the same. “He wouldn’t want us to remember him like this,” I said, looking at the shiny mahogany box and the cream-colored satin that lined it. I ran my hand across the glossy wood and the soft cloth and wondered why Jesse called it a casket rather than a coffin. Was there a difference? Or did it just sound nicer…not as damn depressing? And how much did something like that even cost? It had to be expensive. That fucking funeral home probably guilted Eddie’s parents into it. I knew for sure, at that moment, I wanted to be cremated. I looked at my friend’s face. Eddie’s wounds had not had time to heal and had forced their way through the makeup like a scar. It ran from his forehead down across his nose and onto his cheek. I shut my eyes again. This time tightly, fighting to suppress the pressure in my chest as I imagined his fear and pain in his final moments. I could almost see everything, as if I was right there with him when the cars collided. Trying to shake the image, I forced my focus back to the present. His light-brown hair looked darker shaved close, and he wore a dark-blue suit. It was only the second time I had seen him in a suit. It might have even been the same one he wore at our high school graduation. “So, close it,” Jesse said. 4 “What?” I had forgotten for a second that he was even there. “I said, so close it.” “Well, I don’t think—” But before I could finish, he stepped past me and pulled the lid shut. I shot him a look then looked around to ensure no other mourners or staff remained. “There’s nobody here,” he said. I bit my lip and took a beat to calm myself. Not only did I not like the way he took charge, but it also completely pissed me off. Eddie was my best friend, not his. But was I really mad at Jesse? Or was I taking my frustration with Eddie out on him? Why couldn’t Eddie have just taken no for an answer? My eyes were heavy and sore from a long day of crying. “Well, I guess that’s it,” I said. “Yeah,” Jesse said. “I guess so.” After another long uncomfortable silence, I said, “I guess I better go. I have to pick up my girlfriend.” I corrected myself. “I mean fiancée.” Jesse didn’t respond, so I took the opportunity to get the hell out of there and headed towards the door. “Yeah. Okay,” he said, louder than necessary. I stopped. I wasn’t sure why because I desperately wanted out of that funeral home. I didn’t know Jesse, and his presence was an intrusion. But he was Eddie’s friend too. So, I stopped. Eddie wasn’t like me. He was always smiling, friendly with everybody. I was his best friend, but everybody liked him, and he liked most in return. In his letters and phone calls, he always said good things about Jesse. In fact, he talked about him so much that I felt like I 5 actually did know him. Like maybe the three of us were friends. And now just the two of us. I took a long, deep breath attempting to will the anger away and turned back to Jesse. “You have someplace to be?” I put little effort into hiding my impatience. Everything seemed to take way more energy than I had. He looked over his shoulder at me. His steel-blue eyes were red and held back tears. The blue iris and redness from crying made me think of Spiderman. “No,” he said. “Just back to my hotel.” I nodded, not knowing what to do or say. I didn’t know whether to walk away or wait for him and found that suddenly I felt worse for him than for myself. I had my family and, theoretically, Jennifer to feel bad for me. I worried that he might be going back to an empty hotel room after our friend’s funeral. “You want to stay at my place?” I finally asked him. I meant for it to sound sincere and caring but knew it didn’t. Keeping my voice steady was all that kept me from falling apart. “No, it’s okay. I’m fine at the hotel.” I nodded again. That should have been that, but something kept me from going. Though I wasn’t sure what. I could walk away and never see this person again, but there I stood. “Come on,” I said. “I can’t let you do that. Eddie would be royally pissed at me if I did.” Jesse forced a smile and hesitated before he finally said, “All right. I guess so. Thanks,” and followed me out. We walked to my Jeep in silence and drove away from the last time I would ever see Eddie Cooper. I wiped the lingering wetness from my eyes and said a silent, final goodbye to my oldest and, really, only friend. 6 “You care if I stop for a six-pack?” I asked. Jennifer had been a total bitch to me about the funeral and now I was bringing home one of Eddie’s bandmates. I would need some beer. “Make it a twelve-pack. Or better yet, a case,” Jesse answered, rubbing his eyes with the palm of his hands. I pulled into a 7-Eleven. Jesse reached for his wallet, but I jumped out and went inside before he had time to get his money. When I returned, he was leaning against the Jeep smoking a cigarette. With the cigarette dangling from his mouth, he took the case of beer from me and removed two. He tossed me one and put the rest in the back seat. He opened his and gulped down at least half of it while I just watched. “What?” he asked, as he wiped his mouth and shrugged. “You trying to get arrested?” I was being dramatic but was in no mood to be harassed by law enforcement. Standing around drinking in a 7-Eleven parking lot almost guaranteed it. He downed the rest, crushed the thin aluminum can, and threw it into the back seat. He grabbed another and took a final puff of his cigarette before he dropped it and rubbed it out with his heavy, black Doc Martens. “You ready?” I asked, unsuccessful at hiding my annoyance. I didn’t intend to sound short with him, but today every little thing bothered me. “Yep,” he said, as he jumped into the Jeep and opened his second beer. I worried a little bit about open container laws but didn’t say anything. He was probably a little uncomfortable coming back to the apartment and needed it. Especially if Eddie had told him much about Jennifer. 7 When we pulled up to her office building, she was waiting outside, talking to a guy she worked with named Michael. She was probably going to be irritated that I invited Jesse to stay with us. Hopefully, she wouldn’t say anything in front of him. As soon as the Jeep came to a stop, Jesse jumped out of the passenger seat and climbed into the back. Michael walked up to my window while Jenny went around to get in. “We’ve been waiting out here for over an hour,” she said as she climbed in. “Have you called to check on my car? I hate riding in this thing.” “I told her I could give her a ride,” Michael said through my open window. She’d rather complain, I almost said aloud. I was still angry with her for not coming with me to the funeral and couldn’t shake my irritability. The scowling was giving me a headache. “Thanks,” I said to Michael and gave a quick wave as I drove off. I looked in my rearview mirror to see that he was still standing there when I turned the corner a few blocks away. “Hey,” Jesse said, poking his head between the seats. “You must be Jennifer. I’m Jesse.” I could feel her glaring at me, but I said nothing. She turned to him and said, “Nice to meet you. Are you, I mean, were you a friend of Eddie’s?” “Yeah,” he said. “I was. We were in the band together.” Mentioning the band was just going to set her off. I tried to buffer the situation. “Eddie always told me about him—” I started. “Eddie said a lot of things,” Jennifer snapped. “And I see you stopped and got yourself some beer but neglected to get me my Dr. Pepper.” I clenched my jaw and could feel my face burn red. She didn’t like Eddie, so chances were pretty good she would not like Jesse, but why 8 did she have to be such a bitch in front of him? She didn’t like Eddie simply because she was jealous of my relationship with him. Jennifer didn’t like anything that took my attention from her. Plus, she hated that he was always trying to get us to L.A. She refused to even discuss California. Her life was in Dallas. “I didn’t realize you were out,” I said as calmly as I could. “I’ll stop—” “Never mind. Let’s just get home. I’m tired.” She fell back into her seat and closed her eyes. It was humid out, and as the sun went down, it started to mist and grow cold. She crossed her arms and rubbed them, so I turned the heat on low. Her face was a little shiny from the humidity and the curl had all but left her long blonde hair, but she was still a beauty. I tried to remember when she lost her kindness. We had been together since high school and now she was having my baby. I thought of all the times Eddie tried to get us to California. If I’d gone, would he still be alive? He was on his way to convince us to go back with him. He had signed a big recording contract and wanted me to join them. I wanted to go, but we had just found out that Jen was three months pregnant. And now she wanted to get married. Sounded shitty for me to say it, but I was stuck like Chuck. There was no way. I really wanted to go, but it just wasn’t possible. “I made that sale today,” she said with her eyes still closed. “That’s great,” I said with as much enthusiasm as I could muster, which was really very little. “I know I should have been there with you today,” she finally said. She opened her eyes, turned to me, and smiled. It was the, I’m being nice now, so everything is fine, smile. “This was a 9 big sale,” she said. “The commission will get us that much closer to a down payment on our own house.” “That’s great,” I said again, keeping my eyes on the road ahead. “I knew that you would.” “God, I’m exhausted.” She closed her eyes once more. I took her hand and squeezed. “Let’s relax by the pool when we get home. I’ll rub your shoulders if you want.” Staying angry would get me nowhere. Just be the bigger man and keep the peace. I could practically hear my mom whispering it in my ear. She squeezed back and then quickly pulled away. “I’m going to bed. You have a guest to entertain.” Apparently, she was through being nice. I glanced at the rearview mirror. Jesse was gazing out the window. I knew Jenny felt threatened by Eddie, so I tried to forgive her for the way she acted towards him. I didn’t understand why she was cold towards Jesse. It embarrassed me and made me feel bad for him. I rubbed my forehead, attempting to ease both my headache and my emotional state. I didn’t understand how she could be so uncaring almost to the point of unkind sometimes, and I didn’t like that part of her. When we got back to our apartment, she did just as she said and went straight to the bedroom. She kissed me on the cheek and murmured, “Wake me when you come to bed.” I said I would as she closed the door behind her. I wanted to go in with her and lie next to her slim, firm body. I wanted her to tell me we had done the right thing and that Eddie’s death had nothing to do with us. I wanted her to put her arms around me and comfort me. I wanted her to be the person she used to be. But it had been a while, and that girl was long gone. 10 Still looking at the closed bedroom door, I asked Jesse, “Do you want to go out to the pool?” “Nah. It’s too cold. You have cable?” “Yeah.” I joined him in the living room and picked up the remote from the television stand and tossed it to him. “What do you want to watch?” he asked. “I don’t care,” I said as I went to put the beer in the fridge. As usual, there was no room. It was full of leftovers that had been leftover too long and way too much fruit and salad fixings for two people. It was an oversized stainless-steel refrigerator that I was still making payments on and there was no room for my beer. I sighed heavily and took the beers out one at a time and stuffed them between plastic containers of all sizes, keeping one out for each of us. I tossed Jesse his beer and fell into the other couch. He had the TV on Nick at Night, watching The Twilight Zone, which was okay by me. I liked old TV. I also liked old movies, old music, and old cars. My superpower would be time travel. “Let me ask you something,” I said. “Why was Eddie so hell-bent on me coming to L.A.?” “I don’t really know,” he said. “Eddie spent a lot more time with the producers than the rest of us. Maybe he knew something we didn’t.” He took a long gulping drink of beer. “I do know he thought you and I could write hit songs together.” “So, what now?” I asked. It was hard to imagine writing a hit song. A song that everyone I knew would hear on the radio. How badass would that be? 11 “Either you come back with me to take Eddie’s lead, or Suicide King is dead.” “Suicide King?” “Yeah. It’s the king in a deck of cards with a knife through his head.” “Yeah, I know what it is,” I said. “I just didn’t know it was the name of the band. We came up with that name when we were kids.” Although I did wonder why Eddie never mentioned he’d used the name, the memory brought me a smile. We’d been playing penny poker with my family at one of the many sleepovers when my dad called the card the Suicide King. Eddie and I thought that was the coolest thing we’d ever heard. “I had forgotten about that,” I said more to myself than to Jesse. “Did you hear what I said?” He leaned forward to look at me. Although his question was abrupt and somewhat demanding in tone, he appeared tired and defeated. “Yes,” I said. “I did. But it’s impossible. She won’t go and I’m not leaving with a baby on the way. I’m sorry. I really am.” Jesse fell back into the couch. “Then I guess that’s that.” I didn’t reply. I wanted to go, and I wanted Eddie to be alive. If I could just go back a few months and do things differently. But what would I have done? Jennifer and I were not planning on a baby. Would I have left her if she wasn’t pregnant? Why had I even stayed so long? Maybe if I’d gone out there, even just to visit, then he wouldn’t have driven here. All I knew was, he believed he was taking us, or even just me, back with him permanently this time. “Why can’t someone else take his place?” I asked. “Surely there are all kinds of qualified musicians in L.A.” 12 “Don’t know. He never said. Miss Blake told him to come get you, and that’s what he did…or tried to do.” Tried to do. The words hit me like a punch in the gut. Why couldn’t any one of the events that led to his death been different? Why did the fucking idiot drive? Why didn’t he get on a damn plane? Why didn’t he just give up on me, like I had? Or had I given him false hope that I could be swayed? I never made it a secret that I wanted to be there. I just…I just couldn’t. “Who the hell is Miss Blake?” I asked, my irritability pushing its way back to the surface. “Alexandra Blake. She’s—” “Alexandra Blake? The Alexandra Blake?” Jesse nodded. “What has she got to do with Suicide King?” How could Eddie have failed to mention Alexandra Blake? She was practically a household name. She’d been in movies and had several songs on the Billboard Top 100 over the years. Probably dozens. Why in the world would somebody that famous and successful want me? It made no sense. Jesse got up and went to get us another beer. I heard him opening and closing doors, so I followed him into the kitchen. “Where the hell is your trash can?” he asked, looking around. I took the empty cans from him and opened the trash compacter and tossed them in. He rolled his eyes and opened the fridge for the beer. “She’s footing the bill,” he said. “Not sure 13 why. I guess Eddie sold her on the idea. But I think you were included in the deal. Again, not sure why.” I took a beer from him then walked over to the big sliding glass door that led to the balcony. I looked out at the Dallas skyline. I was living in an apartment that was beyond our means with the future mother of my child. I was always trying to make her happy. It was a constant struggle to do that and maintain my friendship with Eddie. Jesse eased past me and slid the door open, causing a rush of cool air into the apartment. He stepped outside and lit a cigarette. “Nice view.” I followed him and pulled the door closed behind me. “You have a girl?” I asked. He nodded as he took a strong drag from his cigarette. He leaned against the side rail of the balcony so he could see me and the view of Dallas. “She have a problem with your music?” I asked. “Not at all. She’s waiting for the payday.” He said this like he thought it was amusing. “That bother you? Make you feel used?” I asked. “No,” he answered after some thought. “I had no prospects when I met her. Who knows, this all might be a bust too. I just get by now. I make decent money doing studio work, but not going to get rich off it.” “I don’t know why Jenny is so against it,” I said. “It’s like another woman to her. Why can’t I love both music and her?” It was so damn frustrating. “Well, if ya can’t please everyone, ya got to—” “Please myself,” I finished. “That’s right,” Jesse said with conviction. 14 “Not when there’s suddenly a kid in the picture,” I answered with less conviction. Jesse took another long drag on his cigarette. “Either way,” he said, and blew out the smoke. “I’m going back in a few days. With or without you. Better for me if it’s with you.” “If I didn’t go when Eddie was alive, then why would I go now?” I asked Jesse. I meant for it to sound firm and decisive, but what I really wanted was a profound reason to go. One that not even Jenny could argue. Jesse looked at me squarely. “Because he’s gone. You do it for him.” That was a damn good reason for me, but I could already hear the argument. We’d had it enough times. I wasn’t sure what, if anything, would change her mind. And now with a baby in the picture and all our family here…but I still couldn’t let it go. Jesse was right. I wanted to do it. Now more than ever. The day had been a long one and I was emotionally drained. I told Jesse I was calling it a night and tossed a pillow and some blankets on the couch in the studio. “Make yourself at home,” I said, and went to my room. I climbed into bed next to Jenny and gently touched her arm. She turned away from me without waking up. Sleep did not come as easily for me. I couldn’t get my mind off Alexandra Blake. Why was she involved in Suicide King’s recording contract? She was at her most popular probably twenty years ago. I might’ve even had something of hers on a cassette or CD. I slipped back out of bed and went back into the living room to see. One complete wall in our living room was built-in bookshelves filled with albums, cassettes, CDs, and even some books. I started with the albums. Everything was sorted alphabetically, except, of course, when Jenny didn’t put something back where it went. I found Alexandra Blake’s greatest hits CD and put it in the 15 player with the volume turned very low. Her soft, sensual voice soon filled the room. I looked at the cover. Glamorous. She was glamorous while Suicide King was gritty or even grunge rock. The complete opposite. Why was she interested in this band? Why was she interested in me? I thought of Eddie again. He was willing to do just about anything, short of selling his soul, to be a successful musician. He didn’t care what anybody said or thought about it. The last time he and I played together was also the last time I played in front of a large crowd. I still played at a dive bar in Dallas on Wednesday nights, but that was the extent of it. That last night was something we had looked forward to for months. We rehearsed night and day. We opened for a band that had moderate success around the country but were hometown heroes. They were a few years ahead of us in our high school. The newspaper did a big write-up on the show. The words stayed with me. Don’t count on Eddie Cooper or Cory Scott following any footsteps. Corbett Scott’s performance was like watching a virgin stripper on the main stage. I got sick with embarrassment every time I thought of it. Cooper and Scott lyrics are about as deep as the kiddie pool and as meaningful as a mid-sex I love you. There were a few more paragraphs about how bad we were, but I tried to shake the memories. I had thought we’d done well. But afterward, I lost all self-confidence. I quit writing and dreaming. All I could imagine was a life of rejection and disappointment. Whenever I took the time to stop and think about how little I’d accomplished, I’d get a short burst of determination. That’s how my studio grew into the room it now was. Among other things, I had seven guitars, an upright piano, and several notebooks filled with unfinished songs. But it never lasted. Doubt and fear always found its way back. 16 Eddie finally went to L.A. without me, but he never gave up on me. I was envious of his courage and confidence. It took him almost four years, but he did it. He had the recording contract. He was good and he knew it, regardless of what any critic wrote. Eddie wrote letters and phoned me, always wanting Jen and me to go to California. He would fly in for a weekend from time to time to visit, always trying to restore my confidence. He had way more faith in me than I had in myself. He told me repeatedly that rejection was part of the process, but I didn’t want to hear it. In his last letter, he said that he was coming to Texas and not leaving until Jen and I agreed to go back to L.A. with him. He never made it. He was hit by a drunk driver while driving through New Mexico. If I didn’t find a way to get over my stupid insecurities and get my pregnant fiancée to L.A., all of Eddie’s work and sacrifice would be for nothing. His death would be for nothing.
Cory Scott is a nice, clean-cut young man working in Dallas as an Air Traffic Controller, trying to balance his desire for a career in music with the demands of his possibly pregnant girl friend Jennifer. He and his best friend Eddie had formed a band, Suicide King, when they were younger and Eddie had gone on to Los Angeles to take the band hopefully to fame and fortune. Eddie dies in a car crash and Cory feels guilty that he had not been there for his friend. When he hears that the famous music producer, the lovely Alexandra Blake would like him to join the band in Los Angeles, he agonizes over the decision and finally leaves his job, his parents and the deceitful and unfaithful Jennifer and heads for LA with new friend Jesse and an adopted stray dog Maggie. After an almost interminable account of boozing, parties, drugs, gambling, misunderstandings, rehearsals and gigs, Cory ends up with every young man's fantasy coming true. The wealthy, older Alex takes him in hand; "Cory, I have big plans for you" and "I want to make your wildest dreams come true" and she makes him a star, his photo on billboards, and also takes him to bed. LA Dreams is a kind of coming of age story about Cory who although he was twenty seven when he left Dallas, comes across as an innocent guy, a little naïve and somewhat compulsive about showering and shampooing. He seemed to be not really a part of the lifestyle where "the house smelt of marijuana and sweaty guys." As a young man in love with an older woman, he did not object to being called Alex's "boy toy" and we like to think it was his talent as a musician that got him where he is today, with fame and fortune and an older woman who adores him. LA Dreams is certainly a good title for this rather improbable dream-come-true story.