My thanks to Jack of Chase Bank, who purchased three thrillers and donated one. Fortunately, the sun was out and we both saw our shadows, which means life will be life, whatever the temperature. It's still cold out there, and windier than had been predicted. Here's something that provides heat, another excerpt from my near 200,000 word rock n roll epic, Rising Star:
21 "...They're all waiting there to sell plastic ware...."*
Mitchell, Paul and Richie entered the lobby of a building in midtown, where they found John seated, smoking, legs crossed. Soon Susan and Mike arrived. Paul imagined they'd spent the night together. He wondered how Mike could ignore her promiscuity, which he'd had evidence of New Year's Eve. He surmised that Mike was so content to have a second lover that he didn't care what she did as long as it wasn't with anyone else in the band. He regretted not having fired him. He didn't think success justified degeneracy and divorce.
"I'll go up and see if they're ready for us," said Susan, tense.
"What'sa matter, Mikey?" said Richie, plopping onto a couch. "Ya look like ya jus' seen a ghost. Relax. It's gonna be a piece'a cake."
"I lost my job," he said glumly. "The Jew fired me. They wouldn't gimme the day off, so I called in sick, an' they told me not to come back. I been takin' a lotta days lately 'cause of all the gigs. I had a coupla accidents too, nothin' serious, though. I had 'em 'cause I was tired. I ain't told Rosemarie yet. I couldn't."
"Didn't you say she wanted you to quit?" said Paul.
"We'll see what she says when the checks stop comin' in."
Richie smirked. "Whattaya wanna be a truck driver for, anyway? After today we might not need real jobs. Tell ya what - if we don' get a contract, we'll look for a job togetha so we can cover for each other."
"Why do we even have to go through an audition?" said John. "He already saw us live. He heard the cassette, saw the video."
"Maybe they wanna make sure it's a losin' proposition so they can write it off as a tax loss," said Paul, inciting laughter.
"Or maybe they just want to torture us," said Mitchell.
Mike donned sunglasses, eliciting groans.
"Wha'? It's part of my image. I want 'em to know who I am."
"I thought you put 'em on 'cause you didn't want anybody to know," said Paul contemptuously. "Just you don't forget who you are."
"Ever notice how Paulie's mouth hangs open when he's playin' a lead?" Richie interjected, imitating the look. "He looks like a junkie."
Paul hung his head as the others snickered.
"Ever notice how perfect Mitchell is in everything?" said John. "Doesn't it annoy the hell out of you?"
"Who the hell are you, anyway, John?" said Mike, inciting guffaws.
"The Messiah - come to resurrect this band from the dead. Where would you be right now without me?"
"Where would you be wit'out us, jerko?" said Richie. "Pimpin' yaself off?"
"Where's Laura, by the way?" said Mitchell; "home room?"
Everyone enjoyed the barb.
"She's workin', wise guy. She's on co-op."
"Somebody has to pay the bills."
"I got her trained good. One taste an' she was hooked."
"You mean one whiff and you were whipped."
The others roared as Richie's face reddened.
"She move in yet?" said Mike.
"Nex' month when she turns eighteen."
"You still have time to get nailed for statutory rape," said Mitchell. "You'd better marry her."
"Who's rapin' statues?"
The others, unsure whether he were joking or not, laughed so hard tears came to their eyes. When they'd calmed, Paul looked about the circle.
"Isn't anybody nervous?"
There were shrugs all about.
"Why should we be?" said Richie. "We're good. It's on them if they don' take us."
"Am I the only one?" said Mike, pacing. "How come it's always me? If we screw up it's goodbye contract."
Paul smirked. "We're not gonna screw up. This's weird. I can't explain it, but this just doesn't seem real. I expect somebody to come down an' say: 'Go home, guys, we were only foolin'.' I mean, here we are at the most critical point of our careers - an' we're sittin' here raggin' on each other like nothin's at stake. Does Freud have a word for the way we're actin', Mitch?"
"Screw him."
"Screw you," said John.
"Screw her," said Richie, rising, eyes widening as he nodded at the entrance, where a woman had just swung through the revolving door.
"Screw me," said Mike, kneeling and clasping his hands as if in prayer.
"I'd love to get into your pants, baby," said Richie.
"I already have one asshole in there," the woman returned.
The men roared. Richie rolled to the floor, kicking with delight.
"She hear that someplace or just make it up off the top of her head?" said Paul, eying her intently.
"Go after her," said Mitchell.
"We have an audition."
"It'll take a minute to get her number."
"She's probably on the elevator by now."
Peeved, Mitchell shook his head. "Don't ever let me hear you complaining about not getting any."
Soon there was silence.
"Screw 'em all," said Mike suddenly.
By the time Susan arrived they were clutching their bellies. She stammered as she reprimanded them, which only made them laugh the more.
"Screw you too," said Mike.
"I'll screw 'er," said Richie, rising and unfastening his belt.
"They're ready for us," she said, turning away, fuming.
The laughter ceased. Their smiles disappeared. On the elevator, Paul heard his heart pounding amidst the sudden, profound silence. His chest tightened.
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