Opening Act Page 20

  Halbert, a solid, square-built man with a shock of peppery hair, patted the small of her back and kissed the top of her head. “Hello, little girl,” he said, pleased by her attention. That was how she controlled him, Shay knew well enough. It was only Halbert who hadn’t twigged to the fact that his daughter played him like a violin. “Where’s that young man of yours?”

  Shay stepped into the vestibule and said, “Hello, Mr. Hasque,” and extended his arm.

  “Pleasure to see you again, Shay,” he said, shaking his hand. Then he turned to survey the room and said, “Let’s have a seat over there,” gesturing to a table and two chairs.

  “I’ll just go finish unpacking your things,” Pernita said with a look of triumph, and she instantly disappeared into the adjoining room.

  Shay, feeling as stiff as if he’d been dipped in lacquer, waited for Halbert to choose one of the chairs, then sat in the other. Halbert looked him in the face and said, “I want to talk about the final night of the tour.”

  Shay nodded. “At the Palladium.”

  “The Hollywood Palladium, yes,” Halbert said. “I have to tell you I’m changing the opening act on the bill.”

  Shay felt his vision momentarily blur, as if he were on the brink of losing consciousness. The Palladium was the biggest and most prestigious club on the whole tour, and LA by far and away the biggest city, and he’d been looking forward to that gig like he hadn’t looked forward to anything in a long, long time.

  “I’m bringing in a duo act,” Halbert said. “A kind of neoclassical dark-wave Sonny and Cher. Maybe you’ve heard of them: Jonah and the Wail? Out of Atlanta?”

  “I…I think I might’ve,” Shay said, though he was having trouble making his voice actually work. “May I—” He stopped and cleared his throat, and when he spoke again it was with a hair more resonance. “May I ask why?”

  “Because,” Halbert said, “I’m changing the headliner as well.”

  Shay blinked. He looked into Halbert’s big, broad, unreadable face and found himself completely unable to understand what he was talking about. “I beg your pardon?”

  “I said,” he repeated, “I’m changing the opening act, because I’m changing the headliner as well.”

  Shay blinked again. Twice. Unable to think of anything else to say, he asked, “Who?”

  “A five-man ensemble. One I’m pretty sure you’ve heard of.” The corner of his lip curled into a barely perceptible smile. “Overlords of Loneliness.”

  Shay now felt the floor drop away. Afraid he might faint, really honest-to-God faint, he clutched the arms of the chair tighter and held himself upright. “You’re saying,” he said, “you’re saying…we…”

  “You’re headlining at the Hollywood Palladium. Congratulations, son.”

  “But…but Strafer Nation…”

  He waved a hand in dismissal. “They never wanted that gig. They’ve already played that house any number of times, and Paul Di Santangelo is already bitching about how tired he is of touring, period. He wants to skip LA and go home to his girlfriend and kids, and he knows if he sets foot in LA he won’t be able to leave until he’s seen the eight hundred people who’d be mortally offended if he came to town without having breakfast-lunch-dinner-sex with him.”

  “And—and the Palladium just lets you change their bill around like that?”

  He chuckled. “They owe me several favors. Several large favors.”

  “So…so you’re booting Strafer, just like that? Firing them?”

  Halbert shook his head and laughed. “This is not the reaction I’d expected. A word of advice, Shay: if you’re going to get ahead in this business, you can’t be worrying about your competition. Screw your competition. When the chance comes for you to get ahead, steamroll your competition. Whatever the hell it takes to get them out of your way.”

  Shay shifted in his seat. “Thanks. But we’ve, I don’t know. Bonded. On the road.”

  Halbert nodded. “Yeah, yeah, whatever. Look, if it makes you feel any better, I never intended for Strafer to be on the bill in LA. But I had a clause in their contract stipulating they’d play it if I asked them to. Really, it was just a safety measure in case you Overlord boys flaked out on the road, or cracked up, or in some other way showed you weren’t ready.”

  “And you think we are ready?” Shay said, sitting up a little straighter.

  “Oh, I think you’re ready. And frankly, so do the Strafer guys. Paul in particular is very complimentary. Of course, as I just said, he really, really doesn’t want to go to LA. He calls it ‘falling into the black hole.’ ” He laughed. “But he’s not stupid. He wouldn’t tell me you were ready if you weren’t. He knows the consequences.”

  “Which are…what?”

  Halbert made a low, rumbling noise in the back of his throat, and Shay decided maybe it was better not to inquire further.

  And suddenly Shay realized with a sense of awkward stupidity that Paul Di Santangelo befriending him on the tour hadn’t been entirely a matter of two like-minded dudes hanging out. Though Shay hoped it had been at least a little bit of that. But Paul’s primary motive, he now understood, had been to keep Shay focused—keep his eye on the prize—and to hone his musicality and his performance skills in the process, so that he’d be tanned, fit, and ready for the Palladium. And of course Shay had drunk the Kool-Aid with gusto. Hell, he still would. He’d drink it and ask for seconds, please.

  “But,” he continued, thinking of a new worry, “we’re still a pretty young band. Do you really think we can draw a respectable crowd to the freakin’ Palladium?”

  “That is a gamble,” Halbert admitted, sitting back in the chair. “But I’m going with my gut. I think it’s doable. And we haven’t had much trouble selling you so far. All those radio interviews and reddit question-and-answer sessions and YouTube concert videos, they’ve done their job. And of course all the press you’ve gotten. You can thank my daughter for that. She’s definitely your secret weapon, and she’s far from being done with you.”

  As if prompted, Pernita stuck her head around the corner. “You tell him yet?”

  Halbert nodded. “I told him.”

  She flew over to Shay, her arms flailing and a sort of sirenlike keening issuing from her lips. She threw herself into his lap and smothered his face with kisses. “Isn’t it exciting? Isn’t it the most exciting thing ever?” she said between smacks. “My God! We’re going straight to the top! Oh yes, yes, yes, we are!” And more strangulation, and more kissing.

  She didn’t disentangle herself from him until another knock summoned her away. She bounded over to the door, opened it, and admitted a bellman who carried an ice bucket, a champagne bottle, and three flutes.

  “Right there,” Pernita said, pointing to the table where Halbert and Shay sat.

  Pernita hopped back into Shay’s lap as the bellman worked at popping the cork. As he did so, Halbert leaned in a little and examined the label, then made a sour face. And when, after filling Pernita’s and Shay’s flutes, the bellman turned to Halbert’s, he put his hand over its rim and shook his head.

  Pernita clicked her tongue and said to Shay, “Daddy only drinks certain vintages.” Then she turned to her father and said, “I’m sorry, Daddy, the hotel doesn’t have any Armand de Brignac. I did ask.”

  “Very well, I suppose I can choke down one swallow,” he said, frowning. “For the sake of ceremony.”

  He allowed the bellman to pour about two tablespoons into the flute before loudly stopping him. And when the bellman had gone—heavily tipped—Halbert raised his glass and said, “To Overlords of Loneliness, and the continued success of their first national tour.”

  All three tapped their flutes together, which made a dull, clanking sound. Halbert winced, and Pernita preemptively said, “They don’t send crystal up for room service. It’s a policy,” and they all drank.

  Halbert took his pocket square from his jacket pocket and daubed his lips, as though to remove excess residue of the offendi
ng vintage. Shay openly stared. He’d never seen anyone actually use a pocket square before. Was he going to refold it now, and place it back? No, he was stuffing it into his interior jacket pocket. Probably he had an assistant waiting by the elevator with a supply of replacements in designer patterns.

  Then Halbert rose to his feet and said, “Well, kids, I’ve got to be going. I’ll see you at the Park West tonight.”

  “You’ll be at the venue, too?” Shay said in astonishment.

  “For a while. The first few numbers, at least. I’ve got a flight back to Manhattan.” He kissed the top of Pernita’s head again and showed himself out.

  Halbert’s chair was now empty, but Pernita showed no inclination to get out of Shay’s lap and take it. She remained curled around his torso like a cat, which made it difficult for him to hold his flute, not to mention caused his hips to feel stressed to the breaking point.

  Finally, when she reached over to refill his drink, he gently put a hand on her arm and drew it aside. “I think that’s enough for me,” he said. “Better have that nap you suggested earlier. Long night ahead.”

  She kissed his forehead and jumped out of his lap. He almost groaned with relief and tried not to hobble as he walked away from the chair. If she saw him do that, she’d think he was making a joke about her being fat or something. She was like that, always quick to take offense. Being around her involved a lot of walking on eggshells. Shay felt his happy days of on-the-road freedom slipping through his fingers, like sand. Maybe sand was all they ever really were.

  “I’m going to hit the shops,” she said, donning her Balenciaga hoodie. “I’ll be quiet when I get back.” She grabbed her tiny little postage stamp of a purse and said, “What time do you want me to wake you?”

  “You don’t have to; I’ll use the alarm clock on my phone.”

  She sidled up next to him. “No, you misunderstand,” she said, running her hand down the back of his neck. “What time do you want me to wake you?”

  In spite of himself, he felt the front of his pants spring to life. “Oh,” he said. “Um…whenever, really. Up to you.” He was still playing his pathetic game of making no show of any commitment to her at all. Despite her obviously owning him lock, stock, and gonads.

  She bit his earlobe and whispered, “I’ll surprise you. Meantime, sleep tight.” Then she headed for the front door.

  He stretched his arms, yawned, and said, “Man, this has been one hell of a ride. I can’t believe by this time tomorrow, it’ll be half over, and I’ll be on my way back to Haver City for some R-and-R.”

  She had pulled open the door, but now she released it and turned back. “Oh! I forgot to tell you.”

  He immediately went on alert again. “Tell me what?”

  “We’re not going back to Haver City.”

  He blanched. “We’re not?”

  “Oh, I should say not!” She put a hand on her hip. “You’re headlining the Hollywood Palladium in just a few short months, sport. We’ve got less than a month before the tour recommences, and we’re going to use them to head west and do a seriously intensive PR push. Interviews, photo shoots, parties…”

  His jaw dropped. “But…but we’ve been working so hard already. The guys were really looking forward to the break.”

  She scoffed. “Oh, and they’ll get one. They’re going home. But not the front man. This is his job, honey! For Christ’s sake. You want to be a superstar? You don’t get there by loafing around for weeks at a time.” She waved a hand in the air. “Hell, Strafer Nation isn’t! They’re spending these two weeks shooting a video, recording a tune for a movie soundtrack, and performing at an anti-Monsanto benefit in Omaha.”

  Shay felt the walls of fate close in on him…slowly, inexorably.

  He was well on his way to achieving everything he’d ever dreamed of. If only it didn’t suffocate him first.

  CHAPTER 16

  Zee arrived at Baby’s apartment building. It looked less ominous with the sun out. In fact the whole neighborhood seemed quite a bit friendlier, if still a tad seedy. Since this was the scene of one of her most painfully embarrassing fails, she took the new light as a sign that maybe the way she saw things that night wasn’t the way things would necessarily remain.

  Jimmy Dancer was outside the front door, leaning against the wall, smoking.

  “Hi, Jimmy,” she said—a little tentatively, as he didn’t look like he’d welcome any intrusion. “We met here before, at the Club Uncumber after-party. I’m Zee.”

  He turned his head toward her in a positively reptilian way and said, “I remember you,” then issued a sheet of smoke from his compressed lips.

  “Welcome back home,” she said. “I hear the tour’s going great!”

  He inhaled another lungful, held it, then released it through his nose. “Depends,” he said.

  She furrowed her brow. “On what?”

  “On if your name is Shay Dayton. If the answer is yes, then absolutely, the tour is going great. For the rest of us…?” He flicked the cigarette to the pavement, then ground it beneath his toe.

  She frowned. “You don’t like Shay very much, do you?”

  He whirled on her, an expression of astonishment on his face. “What do you mean? Dude’s like a brother to me!”

  She felt a momentary flurry of fear, as if he might hit her. “Sorry. You just…never seem to have anything good to say about him.”

  “What I say about him,” he shot back, while taking a crumpled pack from his jeans pocket, “is only ’cause I love the guy.” He shook his head as he tapped out another cigarette. “Nothing good ever comes of getting everything you want, as soon as you want it.”

  She felt a sudden sympathy for him. “I can’t fight you there.”

  “I write those goddamn tunes, you know. Baby and me.”

  “Of course I know that.”

  He lit up and took a puff. “Yeah, you do, don’t you?”

  “Shay writes the lyrics.”

  “Some of them.” He turned and jerked his thumb toward the door. “You can go up, if you want. It’s unlocked.”

  “Thanks.” She stepped up onto the stoop.

  “But nobody’s up there.”

  She faltered. “They’re not?”

  He shook his head.

  “But Lockwood invited me! Just a couple of hours ago.”

  He squinted his eyes as he considered this. “Oh. Yeah. I think maybe he’s still there.” He took a quick puff, then added, “No one else, though.”

  Zee climbed the stairs to Baby’s place. The door was ajar, so she gave it a shove and went in. She found Lockwood slumped in a beanbag chair, reading an issue of X-Men.

  “Hey,” she said, setting down her purse.

  He jumped up at the sight of her and tossed the comic aside. “Hey!” he said. “Look at you! You look phenom.”

  “Oh, please. I just came from work. I look like a Young Republican.”

  He approached her, and they executed a kind of awkward arms-here-and-there maneuver till they managed a quick, uncomfortable hug. Then Zee gently pulled herself away and said, “Thanks for inviting me. I’m just on my lunch break, though. So…”

  “So you must be hungry,” he said, pointing toward the kitchen. “Baby’s sister made some fajitas. Not sure if they’re ready.”

  “Thanks, that’d be great.” She followed him as he crossed the apartment. “Where is everybody?”

  He snorted. “They dared Trina to plank in the middle of Braithewaite and Maple.”

  She blinked. “But…that’s the busiest intersection in town!”

  “I know. That’s why. Of course, she was out the door like a shot.”

  “What…what’s she going to plank on?”

  “Baby had an orange crate and an old amp. They took them along.” They reached the kitchen. “Hey, look, they’re all cooked and on a platter and everything. Think I’ll join you.” He took a couple of cracked ceramic plates from a cabinet and filled one with a trio of fajitas. Sudde
nly he turned and said, “Oh, sorry…mind if I use my fingers?”

  She waved away his concern, and as he loaded a second plate she said, “Why didn’t you go along?”

  “Well, I knew you were coming.” He turned to carry the plates out of the kitchen. “Grab a couple beers from the fridge, ’kay?”

  “Thanks, but I still have to go back to work.”

  “I meant a couple for me,” he said. “Get a soda for yourself, or whatever you want.”

  She shrugged, plucked a few cans from the refrigerator, and followed him.

  They sat down together at Baby’s highly stressed coffee table, one leg of which was bound together with guitar string.

  “Mm,” said Zee, taking a bite of the fajita. “Good.” A little string of cheese fell onto her chin, and she scooped it up with her forefinger and sucked it down. In the meantime, Lockwood shoved almost an entire fajita into his mouth and swallowed it in a few doglike gulps.

  They sat in silence for a while, eating. Then Zee said, “You could put some music on, if you want.”

  He grimaced. “No music. I don’t want to hear a single goddamn note these entire ten days. I’m freakin’ worn out by music.”

  She shifted uncomfortably in her chair, then said, “Thanks for inviting me.”

  “You already said that,” he replied teasingly.

  She blushed. “Well…it was nice of you. That’s all. Your triumphant coming-home party and all…”

  He shook his head vigorously. “This is just a hang, Zee. We’re only back for the blink of an eye, so we’re just chillin’, reconnecting with some of our peeps. All very low-key.”

  She smiled. “I’m glad I made the cut.”

  “Hey. You were top of the list.”

  She finished her first fajita, then sat back to let it settle before tackling the next one. “So tell me about the tour,” she said, popping open her cola.