The substitute band turned out to be a bigger hit than I could possibly imagine. The gig really was what launched them on the road to fame, just as they'd said in that dream I had. Was it a memory? A premonition? I wondered was going on in my head. It made the rest of my work seem pointless if this was the secret of my success.
I thought about the band we originally signed. I had only spoken to them during that short meeting but I was impressed. We all were. I still couldn't come to terms with their sudden death. If that was "positive thinking," I could deal with a little more negativity in my life. Still, it wasn't the substitute band's fault. They saw an opportunity and went for it. They had no idea they owed their chance to a reckless driver.
On Monday, I went to the office a few hours late. Harold and Janet had already been working for hours. Harold greeted me at the door.
"Reuben, I have to admit it. You're some kind of genius, though I still don't know how. My phone has been ringing off the hook. Clubs are calling me about booking your band."
"Well…" I half-smiled, more relieved than proud under the circumstances. "Hindsight is 20/20, but here's how I'd break it down. First off, the lead guitarist was right about one thing. It can't hurt to have an attractive blonde on the Vox Continental."
Janet winced and I continued.
"Second, she really can play, so there's that. Third, I was asking around and it seems she worked a little baroque into her solo. It got the attention of a few critics who notice that kind of thing."
"Right," interrupted Janet. "With the full corpus of JS Bach laying open for pillage, what enterprising young thing could resist?"
"Finally," I continued. "She likes to play the Addams Family theme when she's warming up. She snaps her fingers like they do in the show's opening. It got the crowd going with her."
Harold took a breath and replied. "Here's where I'm in kind of a pickle, Reuben. I was willing to take them on a limited basis. But, I'm not sure how to put it. I don't want to be known as the go-to agent for schlock."
Janet pounced. "Schlock, oh I like that. I would have said 'shite', but Harold's got a gift for tact. That must be why he's the boss."
"Janet," said Harold. "We're all reeling from what happened. Reuben too."
I looked at Janet and nodded.
She turned to Harold. "What happened… Oh, you mean the good band. The ones who died in the car crash. That is a bit of a pisser. I almost forgot." She covered her face and left the room.
Harold and I looked at each other. She was right to react as she did, but what could we do? We kept talking.
"There's good news for you." Harold began. "I can pass them directly to you as agent. You seem to have a better idea of what to do with them anyway."
"Really?"
"I will still take a cut. And don't get the idea of poaching them either."
"Harold, I think you know me well enough…"
"Yeah but just so it's clear. Think you can handle it?"
I took stock of what I remembered about being a music agent. It was different from the setup I saw around me. I had made heavy use of something called "email" in my work, another thing that appeared to be a figment of my imagination. Could I adapt my skills to the times in which I actually lived?
"I'll give it my best shot."
"Perfect. Feel free to ask for any help you need. Hope it works out. And your band, it's not that I don't find them tempting. Try as I might, I can't see them fitting my image."
"Just call me Dr. Schlock." I said with a smile.
