BLACK to Reality (16 page)

“Why would she sabotage her own career?”

“That’s a good question. But I’ve seen plenty of weirdness since I moved into the house. These are strange people.”

“What about the assistant producer?”

“That’s also a possibility. She and Christina hate each other. Could have been a nice move to break them up and torpedo Christina in one stroke. But there’s another person who won big, too: Alex.”

“The kid we met at Simon’s? Really?”

“He had plenty of motive. The thing is, Rick can’t remember where he got the joint from. So anyone could have given it to him. And judging by the way it hit him, it probably wasn’t only weed. Might have been laced with PCP. No way of knowing, of course.”

“Great. So basically everyone’s a suspect?”

“Welcome to my life.”

“Better you than me, buddy. You need anything?”

“Not really. Just auto-deposit this week’s money again. I’ll call again when I know something. Oh, and by the way, Nina ’fessed up about being the client. You’re a real shit sometimes, you know that?”

“Right. The kind who’s getting ready to send his secretary to the bank for your deposit.”

Rehearsal was at four, and Black was dreading facing Christina and Peter. He didn’t want conflict, but he was tired of being treated like crap. No matter what happened, he promised himself, he’d just roll with it.

Ed bounced down the stairs, drumsticks in hand, at 3:50, trailed by Mugsy, who’d imprinted on the chubby drummer since they’d become mattress mates. Black toyed with the idea of convincing him to take the cat, but then remembered that Roxie wouldn’t accept a king’s ransom for him, so was unlikely to let Ed have him. A pity, because the pair belonged together.

“Hey, Black. How hangs it?”

“Never better. Been practicing. Hopefully I can squeak out some decent notes today.”

“No sweat. I think you sound great.” Good old Ed.

They walked together to the rehearsal room. When they swung the door open, Rooster was hugging Christina while Peter looked on, his face ashen.

“What happened?” Ed asked.

Christina looked up at them, her mascara running. “It’s…Rick. He’s dead.”

“What? How?” Black asked.

“Overdose,” Rooster said. “Christina just got the call a few minutes ago. Damn shame. Boy had a big heart. Hell of a player, too.”

“That makes no sense. When I saw him he looked fine. Junkies have a distinctive vibe. I didn’t get that from him,” Black said.

“Maybe he started experimenting. It’s not unheard of,” Peter said.

Everyone was in a state of shock, and it was obvious there was no point in rehearsing. Rooster walked Christina back to the house. Peter grabbed Black’s arm as he was leaving. “Can we talk?”

Black nodded. “Sure.”

Ed squeezed past them. “I’ll be hanging by the pool if anyone needs a drum lesson.”

Peter cleared his throat as he pulled a pack of cigarettes from his shirt pocket. He stepped outside and lit one before turning to Black.

“You were right yesterday. About what you said. I’m sorry. It’s easy to be a jerk when you’re nervous and have everything riding on an outcome.” He paused, taking a drag. “Christina came around eventually, but she’s not that great with people, in case you haven’t noticed. But she feels bad, too, and wants things to work out.”

“So do I, Peter. But I meant what I said. I think the band’s got a great sound and some killer tunes, but to really take this, we’ve got to be more than just about how we play together. We have to be appealing. And to do that, we have to like each other. If Christina believes she’s better than everyone, it’ll sour things, and an audience can tell. Rock and roll’s about having a blast, and it’s hard to pull that off if you’re always thinking you could have done better.” Black stared at the mansion. “Believe me. I know all about that.”

“I hear you, man. So how do we go from here?”

“We’re good. Give her a little time to process Rick, and then let’s hit this hard. I’d say let’s do instrumental-only rehearsals for an hour or two a day before she shows up. The tighter we are as a trio, the better it’ll be once she’s in the mix. And I think we should focus on originals, not just covers. Some of them are really good, but they could be better, and I have a little experience at that kind of thing.”

“That would be really cool.”

“The more we’re playing your stuff, the more solid the band’s sound will be when we have to do a cover for the show.”

“Makes sense.”

They hashed out some more details, and then Peter went to check on his sister. Black fished his phone out of his back pocket and dialed Stan’s number. When Stan answered, he sounded harried.

“Colt.”

“Stan. It’s Black.”

“The prodigal returns. You getting tired of groupies and decided to slum it a little?”

“I wish. I’m afraid you have a completely different idea of my life than reality.”

“Liar. I watched the show. You’re living in a house with a bunch of babes. Poor you.”

“Listen, I just heard that the old guitar player died. Overdose. Is there any way you can look into that for me? Sort of to make sure?”

“Why?”

“I’ve got a bad feeling about it.”

“Oh, well, then sure, I’ll drop the triple homicide ticket I picked up this morning and get right on the dope fiend. What’s his name?”

“Rick Pearson. Lived in Hollywood.”

Stan paused. “Wait a minute. You’re not saying a guitar player in Hollywood was taking drugs! No wonder you’re suspicious…”

“Ha ha. Just consider it a favor to me.”

“Like you aren’t running a bigger deficit than the government.”

“I can pay it off in beer.”

“You make a compelling case. When you need this?”

“Soon.”

Chapter 19

Black listened to Dr. Kelso breathe noisily through his nose – a particularly irritating quality he’d never noticed before doing his therapy sessions over the phone. Black had chosen to skip the last few months of visits in favor of luxuries like solid food and toilet paper, but now that money was becoming a nonissue, he was back on the couch, if only telephonically.

“You haven’t heard from her in three weeks?” Kelso asked.

“Correct. She was going to try to make it to the second show, but never did. And now she’s not answering her phone.”

“I see. And how does that make you feel?”

“How do you think it makes me feel?”

“This is more productive if you don’t answer my question with another question.”

“Crappy. It feels crappy. There. Are you happy?”

“You sound angrier than at our last session.”

“Reading between the lines on that, are you?”

“Let’s return to your assistant. You said you felt jealousy when she began seeing this singer, hmm?”

“I have no reason to be jealous.”

“Yes, but nevertheless, you are.”

“
Were
. I’ve gotten past it.”

“Then you accept that you had feelings about your assistant.”

“She’s like a little sister to me. I didn’t want to see her hurt.”

“Yes. And the thought of someone else having sex with her…that made you angry, correct?”

“How would you feel if your little sister got picked up by some glamour boy?”

“But you say the anger has passed?”

“Mostly.”

“Are you being completely honest that your feelings for Roxie are platonic and brotherly?”

“We’ve been down this road before, and the answer’s still the same. I’ve got insoles older than her.”

“But that doesn’t change that you have sexual compulsions involving her, does it?”

“Look, she’s cute. Of course there’s a physical attraction there. But that doesn’t mean I want to have sex with her.”

“So you don’t want to have sex with her?”

“No.”

“If she appeared in front of you right now, and nobody would ever know, and stripped down to just her underwear and danced for you…you wouldn’t want to have sex?”

“I’d never be able to forgive myself. Every time she looked at me would be a reminder.”

“What if she had amnesia immediately after? So there was no guilt, only pleasure.”

“What kind of hypothetical question is that? We’re wasting valuable time here, Doc.”

“Humor me. If she rubbed warm oil all over her naked young skin and begged you to ravish her…” Kelso’s voice was becoming tight, and Black wondered whether he was wearing pants.

“Sure, in that case, who wouldn’t?”

“Ah. Finally. The truth is that you want to have sex with your assistant. There’s no shame in that. But you’ll do better if you admit it to yourself.”

“You framed a hypothetical that no man would be able to resist. That doesn’t mean I want to actually have sex with her in the real world.”

“Because she’s ugly?”

“Of course not. Because she’s too young, and she’s my assistant.”

“I see. So if you met a young lady at a show who was the same age, you wouldn’t be attracted?”

“That’s different.”

“How?”

“Can we get back to Sylvia? That’s who I’m having problems with.”

“Right. If you say so.”

“I am. She won’t take my calls.”

“Because you’re living a musician’s life, staying in a mansion with young women everywhere, and got caught with your ex-wife.”

“I didn’t get caught.”

“Really? I thought you said Sylvia saw you coming out of her trailer, and that came as quite a surprise. Did I get that wrong?”

Black sighed. “I suppose it looked like that, but it was innocent.”

“I see. And if Sylvia was watching you on television, it would appear that you were drinking and mingling with barely dressed nymphs every night?”

“I told her this was all for the cameras.”

“Right. But then she spots you with your ex…well, you can see how it looks. And there’s the matter of the kiss from the Korean woman. Would you like to explore that some more?”

“I told you, it was just a peck on the cheek. I had no idea they were filming. They’re sneaky that way.”

“Which brings us to your anger.”

“I’ve been managing it.”

“But you’ve been feeling more of it?”

“What do you think? I’m being treated like an idiot by my band, having to start from square one again while my ex judges me, even my assistant’s flying around on private jets, and my girlfriend won’t take my calls. Not to mention they’ve got me looking like the reason KISS wore makeup.”

“I’m sorry. I think something broke up. You’re saying you want to be kissed while wearing makeup?”

“No–”

Black heard the chime in the background. Kelso sounded disappointed. “There’s the bell. You know what that means…”

“Yeah, I just flushed another hundred down the crapper.”

“Keep doing your affirmations and breathing exercises, and let’s take this up next week.”

“It’ll just be another big fat waste of time,” Black grumbled. “Besides, I can only afford every other week.”

“We’re making progress.”

“I’m still angry.”

“But you can talk about it. That’s a big step.”

“If you say so.”

“Give your credit card information to my receptionist and make another appointment. It’s good to hear from you again.”

“Yeah. Right.”

Chapter 20

Lake Havasu City, Arizona

A jet contrail streamed in the late afternoon sky, a white horsetail splashed against the pale blue. Black looked off in the distance at the lake, where clusters of boats were tied together, cinched into floating party islands for the mating rituals of Spring Break. Last-minute preparations were being finalized by the crew on the mammoth stage, where bands had been playing throughout the day for the entertainment of privileged inebriates courting sunstroke and alcohol poisoning. The crowd numbered over two thousand, and the security detail had their hands full confiscating bottles and bongs while checking for weapons.

The judges’ podium was cordoned off near center stage, where camera dollies rolled on rails to nowhere in preparation for the shoot. The acts had arrived midday and were given fifteen minutes each to acclimate themselves to the stage and the heat. The third round would result in another band being disqualified, and the contestants’ nerves stretched taut.

Black roomed with Ed at the hotel for the night, Mugsy again left at the mansion. Black had gotten permission for Roxie to come over and visit with her beloved cat while they were gone. He was reassured that Sarah seemed to be warming up to him as time passed – she could easily have fought him on it, but when he’d explained that Roxie’s visit was a condition of Mugsy remaining at the house, she’d made a call and gotten the go-ahead.

Mugsy’s segments were among the most popular, and he now had his own Wiki page and fan club as well as a cult following. One of Roxie’s friends had set up an online Mugsy store and was selling shirts, cups, and assorted knickknacks at a dizzying clip, surprising Black more than anything to date: his third of the proceeds were now enough to pay the office rent.

The cat’s stardom hadn’t surprised Sarah, who’d made sure that every week featured another Mugsy spot: with Love Jupiter erecting their shrine; basking in the sunshine by the pool with SnM and Lavon with little cat sunglasses wedged in place; going crazy in the great room when the stereo was turned on and running in manic circles. The latest absurdity had come when a prominent publisher had approached them about doing a book of cat memoirs featuring Mugsy. Roxie was handling the negotiations, although several agents had indicated strong interest in taking him on.

Black, on the other hand, was just another member of the band, who kept to the shadows as much as possible except when required to mingle for the cameras. The entire thing amused him, even as Roxie had become more communicative as they discussed Mugsy’s career moves and the merits of signing for his own TV show versus holding out for a motion picture deal.

Black tried not to dig too much into Roxie and Alex, but it was obvious the star had won her over and that she was in lust, if not love. He knew the signs from her stint with Eric, her tattoo artist boyfriend, and they were as unmistakable as they were annoying. Black pretended interest in the progress reports on Alex’s tour – he was currently in the Midwest but was trying to get back to Los Angeles for a few days of R&R, which of course would include lots of Roxie. Black’s romantic life was now officially nonexistent; Sylvia had been dark for a month. He’d tried everything, including having Roxie send flowers to her apartment, but they’d been returned as undeliverable. He’d braved the trip into L.A. on his last Sunday to plead his case, but when he got to her place, there was no sign of life and his key no longer fit the lock.