Perched on an embroidered orange cushion in a booth at Matsuhisa, Uncle Strange pushed the tiny boat-shaped eggplant around his plate, enjoying the moment and nodding at Justin Savage. As soon as he’d read Savage’s enthusiasm for Danny and Delray’s cockeyed collaboration, Uncle had hastened to take credit.
“I’m loving this surf country hybrid. Totally, pardner.” Justin took another sip of sake, obviously amused by himself. “So, we’ll shoot the video for ‘Cowboy Dude’ and the new Cocktails the same day, so the band can be in both. We’ll wardrobe them up for Delray. Nudie suits like the old Burrito Brothers look, with a little splash of Beach Boys. What do you think — should we call him Del Ray and leave it at that?”
“Uh-uh,” said Uncle. “Too beachy sounding. Remember, this guy’s all hush puppies and beef jerky. I’ll tell you, though, based on what I read in the eyes of the women who’ve met him, this Bubba’s got it goin’ on.”
“Go figure, man. He actually referred to the ‘git box’ playing in the song.”
“I can believe it. But check this; he flat-out refused to do a song at the memorial. I mean, I don’t give a shit. No one knows him from a hole in the ground, and we’ve got the immediate world crying for a spot on the bill, but still ... by the way, did business affairs get all the waivers for broadcast and the concert album?”
“No worries,” said Justin. “We can probably hit them with a full stat rate if you want to push it. None of that reduced ‘controlled composition’ shit. It’s our ball. Blade wants this one for ‘Special Products’ ’cause so much catalogue is involved. Cool with me, but I’d like to grab exec producer credit, put my personal stamp on the thing, if that doesn’t mess with you, oh supreme keeper of the flame.” Savage laughed a little too loudly, and the waiter pointedly ignored his “more drinks” gesture. He continued without giving Uncle a chance to reply. “Listen, a little closer to home, I don’t suppose you could set me up with Marie’s bosom buddy for the concert?” He narrowed his eyes and leaned conspiratorially close to Uncle, who held his hands out and grinned smugly.
“Consider it a fearsome foursome, my brother.” Uncle paused dramatically and lowered his voice to a serpentine level. “Can we celebrate Marie’s label deal after the show?”
Justin leaned back in his chair and nodded with a smile of admiration. “Uncle Strange — ever the negotiator — and always …” he paused to raise his empty glass, “always, my brother!”
Uncle poured half of his sake into Justin’s glass and clinked them together as the two laughed in unison. Uncle saw Roc’s number displayed on his cell and excused himself to go to the restroom.
“Don’t be in there too long, or I’ll know who you’re talking to,” smirked Justin as he grabbed the passing waiter’s sleeve and handed him a pair of Ulysses S. Grants.