Chapter Twenty
"Okay, people, take five. Five-minute break." Said the man at the microphone. I sighed quietly and ran a hand through my hair. Frankie stood at the keyboard, talking about the song before going and sitting behind the glass, talking to the guy behind the microphone about it. Bobby and the president of a record company walked in.
"I sprung for the session. What else do you want from me?" the man snapped.
"Release the song." Bobby held a copy of the song in his hands.
"I don't know what to do with it! It's too hard for pop, too soft for rock.
"But, Al, look, it's a new kind of song. You're the president of a record company. Do the right thing. Fine the next thing."
Oh. Al. That was his name.
"Bobby...! What are you busting my chops? You drag me down here to hear some fucking art song that's never gonna get any airplay."
"Okay, listen. Listen to me." Bobby stopped him from leaving. "Frankie and Tyler are going through hell right now, especially Frankie, and we've made you a lot of money. So come on. Do the right thing. Because, deep down, very, very, very deep down, I know that you are a decent human being."
"I'll be candid with you, my friend. Frankie's okay, and Tyler's alright. He's no Neil Sedaka and she ain't no Doris Day." He started to leave.
"Alright, then I want out of our contract."
Those words made Al stop cold and face him. Bobby continued.
"And I'm taking you to court to get back our masters."
"You don't have the balls."
"Try me!"
"Okay." Al spoke after a beat or two. "Call me sentimental. Here's the deal: You get some stations to play it, I'll release the damn song. They say no, you take your little work of art and stick where the sun don't shine."
"Thank you, Al, you're a class act. It's very nice. Say hi to the kids. Merry Christmas." Bobby looked over at me and I clapped a few times. He smiled, bowed and then stood upright. Crewe, who had been watching the whole thing, walked up to him. I followed soon after.
"So how did that go?" he asked, as if he didn't know.
"Good. Very good."
"Noise." Crewe held up his hand for a second. "So where do you wanna break the song?"
I opened my mouth to say 'Dallas' but Bobby beat me to it.
"Detroit. The Roostertail."
Okay. Detroit's good too.
"Detroit..." Crewe thought for a second. "That's WJR. I know that guy." He began to walk around us. "Marty something. Mr. First Nighter. Three hundred pounds. Disgusting. So, we get him in there... We lay on the food, we lay on the booze, we give him the full treatment. Tyler, you and Frankie make beautiful music. The guy's a moron, but he's not stupid."
"I know people like that."
"They're a dying breed, my friend. But once he hears the crowd, you'll get you airplay. Don't worry."
"That's just Detroit." Bobby broke in.
"Let me finish. So we follow up," I could tell Crewe was getting excited. "Philly, Boston, Chicago, San Francisco. You start a little movement." He started walking backwards, looking at Bobby, who followed him. "People start talking. They talk more. It's a chain reaction. "Where did you find that song?"" and with that, Bobby and Crewe went through the doors as Frankie walked back into the studio. I stood there, shaking my head and smiling.
"What?" Frankie looked confused.
"Crewe. He's funny when he gets real excited."
Frankie smiled a little, walking over to the stand under the microphone. I followed.
"Alright." He said quietly.
"Stations start getting calls." We heard Crewe over the microphone. ""We wanna hear that song." "Where is that song?"" at this point, he started to get really animated, almost like a cartoon character. ""What is wrong with you people?"" he grabbed Bobby by his jacket and shook him lightly.
"Okay, everybody." The man said. Crewe grabbed some sheet music.
""Play the fucking song already!"" he threw the sheet music into the air. I tried not to laugh. Bobby's eyes widened and he looked around. I wasn't sure if he was scared or if he was just in shock at Crewe's reaction. Either way, it was hilarious.
The band began to play the song, and Frankie and I got ready.
"You're just too good to be true," Frankie sang quietly. "Can't take my eyes off you
You'd be like heaven to touch
I wanna hold you so much
At long last love has arrived
And I thank God I'm alive."
!
We were at the Roostertail, putting on a show for the guy at that Detroit radio station. He looked snazzy in a white tuxedo jacket and shirt with a black bowtie, slacks, and dress shoes while I wore a knee-length white dress, which was form fitting (sadly, it showed the very small amount of baby fat that I had yet to lose), with my hair, which had grown out just a bit and the perm was gone, was curled once again and held up with hairspray. The make up was soft, a silver smoky eye effect and soft pink lipstick.
"You're just too good to be true
Can't take my eyes off you." Here the music officially started.
"Pardon the way that I stare," I sang softly. "There's nothing else to compare
The sight of you leaves me weak," I looked over at Frankie, who was patiently waiting for his turn to sing.
"There are no words left to speak
But if you feel like I feel
Please let me know that it's real
You're just too good to be true
Can't take my eyes off you."
The two of us turned as the horn section blared, playing the notes beautifully. Frankie was snapping his fingers. The two of us looked at each other and I winked at him. He shot me a small smile in return and soon after the both of us spun on our heels.
"I love you, baby," we sang
"And if it's quite alright
I need you, baby
To warm the lonely nights
I love you, baby
Trust in me when I say
Oh, pretty baby
Don't bring me down, I pray
Oh, pretty baby
Now that I've found you stay
And let me love you, baby
Let me love you."
"You're just too good to be true," the music quieted down as Frankie sang alone. "Can't take my eyes off you
You'd be like heaven to touch
I wanna hold you so much
At long last love has arrived
And I thank God I'm alive
You're just too good to be true
Can't take my eyes off you,"
We turned, Frankie snapping his fingers again. I was grinning so wide I couldn't hold it in. When it was time, the two of us turned again.
"I love you, baby," we sang,
"And if it's quite alright
I need you, baby
To warm the lonely nights
I love you, baby
Trust in me when I say
Oh, pretty baby
Don't bring me down, I pray
Oh, pretty baby
Now that I've found you stay
And let me love you, baby
Let me love you."
"You're just too good to be true," Frankie sang on his own, ending the song. When it was over, the place was in an uproar. People stood and cheered, their cries just as loud as when they were back in the old days. Frankie was smiling, but he was still hurting. He was better though, and in my mind I thanked Bobby for that, because only Lord knows how long it would've taken him to come back to the business. I walked over, my white heels making me an inch taller than him.
"Frankie Valli, everybody, come on!" I grinned and took his hand. I kissed his cheek. "You were perfect." I whispered in his ear. Frankie and I then took our bows and hurried back to our hotel.
!
I giggled like I was seventeen and jumped on the bed.
"That was fucking amazing!" Frankie, who walked in behind me, took off his jacket and set it on the chair.
"It felt nice being back up there again." He smiled a little.
"See there?" I smiled and walked over to him, hugging him. "You were perfect out there." I pulled away slightly, but he still held me in his arms. "I'm so proud of you." I beamed and kissed him quickly as Bobby walked in, a bottle of champagne in his hand.
"Let's get this party started!" he said as the two of us pulled away. I smiled at him.
"You brought the good shit too, good boy. I'll get the cups." I hurried into the hotel bathroom where all those little cups were.
"I'm telling you, Frankie, this song is going to be on the top of the charts." I heard Bobby say. I came back out with three cups and set them down on the table.
"I hope so." Frankie smiled. Bobby opened the champagne and automatically it began to fizz as the cork flew to God knows where. I quickly held out my cup, Frankie doing the same. After, Bobby poured himself a little and we all looked at each other.
"Here's to Can't Take My Eyes Off You,"
"Here's to a Grammy nomination," Frankie held his cup up. I grinned.
"Here's to new beginnings."
We put our cups together and then took a drink.
Things were looking up.