Record producers from across America flocked to Vegas to talk with Duke, but only Irving Townsend said what the bandleader wanted to hear.
"You're the boss, Duke. Record whatever you want," said Irving. "Just give me the go-ahead, and I'll draw up a contract."
"Well, Strays, what do you think?" Duke asked. "Should we make a deal?"
"Depends," said Billy. "What do you want to play?"
"I want to challenge myself...create music that can't be categorized," answered Duke. "Got any ideas?"
Billy looked out at the twinkling lights of the slot machines. A cold breeze wafted out of the air conditioner. Someone hit a jackpot. The sound of tinkling coins reminded Billy of sleigh bells. "What about Tchaikovsky's
Nutcracker Suite?" he asked.
Irving stared at him without saying a word.
Copyright © 2018 by Anna Harwell Celenza (Author); Don Tate (Illustrator). All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
