I thought you didn’t want to be part of this.
“I got more shit to say. Shut the fuck up.”
That’s a very fancy phone.
“I’m a fancy motherfucker. You know I once stabbed Symphony Sid?”
“White motherfucker can’t play a note. Comes out and says his bullshit, and he’s getting a grand a night. This is ’52, so that ain’t bullshit. Band gets $250 between us. This motherfucker got his radio show from Birdland so all the white people know who he is. We’re the ones playing the music. Not right.”
So you stabbed him?
“As little as possible.”
Kind of you.
“People want to get cute with money. Lost track of the motherfuckers thinking my money is their money. I been broke, but I never stole nothing like people steal from me.”
You were broke?
“Shit. First couple years in New York. Didn’t have a dollar to my name. Clothes looking ragged, and I’m a vain motherfucker. Always have been. Looked so bad that Duke gave me a couple hundred bucks in front of Birdland one night.”
Was this when you were a junkie?
“Didn’t say there wasn’t no reason I was broke.”
“I got through it. Kicked the junk a couple times. Women would give me money. Kept playing my horn, just playing music.”
Wait. What about the women?
“Women would give me money.”
“They liked me, motherfucker.”
And what if they didn’t give you money?
“That’s between me and them.”
You’re talking about being a pimp, Miles.
You’re talking about being a pimp, Mr. Davis.
“White man’s got all sorts of words for all sorts of bullshit. Bitch want to give me money, I ain’t stopping her.”
The pimp thing does explain the phone, though.
“Phone cost six grand.”
My phone has a teevee and encyclopedia in it.
Yeah, okay, yours is cooler!