Miles Ahead Page #3

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Which one does he play, Tami?

I like that one a lot.

Look. This is fine.

I'll give you an eighth.

Oh, boy, you're still stupid.

"Give him an eighth."

Go get me a f***ing pen.

Sh*t...

F***in' A, man, you kidding me?

Nah.

Just do a couple for him, Miles.

No, I don't do that.

Right. Forget it.

That was stupid. Let's go.

Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait. Look, look.

Hold on.

I'm sorry, okay?

Look, I'd go apeshit if you'd sign

just a couple of these for me.

You do that,

it'll cover what you're short.

- For the quarter, right?

- Yeah, for the quarter.

What do you think I'm saying, jerk?

This is old sh*t.

Man, I've cut like 15 records since these.

Yeah, but this is the stuff people dig.

This one's mine.

And up.

What's that move called?

Attitude.

Attitude. Really? Okay.

And I'm up there, forever.

Yeah.

It's kind of... I mean, I feel like

I'm almost falling the whole time.

And then that's when that...

That thing happens.

Yeah. Right.

Right.

So, it's the same.

It's the same?

Yes, it is.

You know what I mean?

When it's... When it's just right there.

And you're holding them right there

in the palm of your hand.

And you don't breathe.

They don't breathe.

And you're just...

You're just holding them.

And then...

We fly.

Miles?

Come here, silly.

What's wrong with you?

A**hole!

Keys.

Come on, Miles.

I just scored you f***ing coke.

Give me an hour. Give me half

an hour so I can do this right.

I don't want to have to

write about all that other sh*t,

the gun and the drugs and stuff.

What's wrong with that?

Nothing. I want to write about the music.

Look, man, don't worry about none of that.

Okay? Here's the type of sh*t

you're going to do for me.

Fill the tank. Go get me catfish...

Miles!

Hey, baby!

- Hey!

- What the f*** is going on, Janice?

- It's Tuesday.

- So what?

Don't you remember? You told me that

I could have a party here on Tuesday.

I ain't talked to you in forever.

When I say that?

You know, weeks ago.

You always pulling this bullshit, Janice.

How the f*** you get in anyway?

Remember the key you hid

in your drawer that time?

Move, motherf***er.

Move!

Miles Davis!

Good to meet you again, my man.

You know, you are so far out,

you just stopped making music,

because you decide when you live and die.

The artist is God.

And when you're dead,

your funeral will be bigger than ever.

- So far out...

- Here, let me help you with that.

Kings and queens will come,

and they will be drunk

and having sex in all the bathrooms...

- Get the f*** off me, Hitler.

- Back up. Come on.

- Just cool it. Cool it.

- Hitler? Outrageous!

Get all these motherfuckers

out of my house!

No, no, no. Miles, please.

You promised me.

I straightened up and everything.

Look, I'll keep everybody away from you,

and we won't stay too late, okay?

Please?

Please.

Keep your simple-ass friends

away from my equipment.

- Of course.

- And just stay out the basement.

Okay.

F***ing Janice.

This sh*t is ridiculous, man.

Come on.

This place is...

Do you do a lot of recording down here?

Nice little hangout spot.

Very cool.

This is amazing.

F***.

- Told you, Harper.

- Yes, you did. Kudos to your sources.

Yeah, I don't know about this, you know.

You don't need to know. I know.

You just do your thing.

So, what are we going to do?

Are we just gonna walk up to him

in the middle of this party

and just start playing?

You know who John Coltrane was

before he was John Coltrane?

A bar walker.

He literally walked across the bar

playing his horn,

people throwing nickels at him.

Then, Miles hears him play...

"John Coltrane."

You think you're worse than a bar walker?

Trust me.

We'll find a little corner,

you'll play and that'll be it.

He just didn't look too much

like he wanted to...

Junior, stop playing with your p*ssy,

all right.

This is "take a shot" time. Let's go.

F*** you, Harper.

Good?

Not bad.

Yeah, told you he had the good sh*t.

Oh, my God, she's so beautiful.

That look in her eyes, man.

I mean, that's something else.

This is Frances, right?

Here, have one.

I... I'm good.

Yeah. Yeah.

Ta.

F***ing hell. F***.

F***.

F***.

You gonna be all right?

Yeah, I'm going to need a drink

or something, or a Valium,

or a quaalude, or maybe a brick.

Get you a beer

out of that little fridge right there.

No, I'm gonna need

something a bit stronger.

I'll get something from upstairs,

if that's cool?

Yeah. Go ahead.

I'll need the key.

Lock it behind you.

It's the one with the little five on it.

- Sure.

- Grab me some of that brown liquor.

Yeah.

Rolling Stone.

- Hey.

- Hey, man.

How'd you weasel your way back in?

I just waltzed in

with the rest of the riffraff.

Lucky you.

- Where's Miles?

- He left.

Then what are you doing here?

I'm just snooping around.

I'm a writer. This is sort of what we do.

Help yourself.

Well, it's not yours,

what the f*** do you care?

Easy. Easy now.

Hey, guys, would you mind

if I asked you a few questions?

Get the f*** out of here.

"And he continues on his way."

You know, this is what I'm talking about.

Kid, kid, hey.

Don't let this be your future, okay?

Bunch of degenerates partying in your house

when you ain't even home.

Yeah, no, this is...

Walter, go get the car.

Okay, Harper.

Hey. It's the tape.

Well, well.

F***ing Rolling Stone.

What took you so long?

Redhead. Hot pants. You know.

Didn't know you could play piano.

This ain't playing. Playing around, maybe.

Sounds good to me.

- You mind?

- Here.

So, you studied piano, too?

Nah. Just woke up black

and knew how to play.

You're black?

- Is it cool?

- Go ahead.

Frances loves Chopin.

Yeah, she looks like a classy chick.

It's all we ever played

at the house, you know.

Classical music.

Chopin, Stravinsky.

You know, we'd throw on some Ravel.

I studied all them cats, man.

Broke down their compositions.

These revolutionaries. Innovators.

Pushing back at that standard,

classical bag.

Chopin, it's all about improvisation.

This sh*t, Bird and Diz was doing that

on stage every night, on the fly.

Didn't write it down.

Sh*t just came out of 'em.

I wanted to quit every night.

You know, old people,

they come up to me and they say,

"Why don't you play like you used to?"

I say, "Tell me how I used to."

Takes a long time to be able

to play like yourself.

Man don't do nothing like he used to.

The music don't move on,

then it's dead music, you know.

It's just dead.

Your turn, motherf***er.

What?

- You want the Dave Braden story.

- The Dave Braden story.

All right.

Was born in Scotland.

Grew up, wrote some sh*t,

did some other stuff.

And then I came to your house.

You left something out.

Who touched you up?

Are you going f***ing senile?

Before me.

My wife's cocksucker boyfriend,

flat-top, Neanderthal motherf***er

decided it was his duty to

collect $22 of f***ing alimony.

Hey!

- Give me that money!

- Okay, okay. F***!

Okay, take the f***ing money.

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