BLACK to Reality (26 page)

At the border they walked through immigration, the process lightning fast compared to the wait in the car. Once across they grabbed a taxi, and the driver grinned like he’d won the lottery when Black told him they needed to get to Los Angeles in record time.

Three hundred dollars and three and a half hours later, they pulled up outside the Verizon Theater in downtown Los Angeles with a little under fifteen minutes to spare. At the backstage entrance they had a short argument with the security team, and then Black and Roxie made it to the dressing area, where Christina and the band were frantic. When she saw him, she stormed toward him, anger etching ugly lines into her face.

“What the hell is this? Where have you been?” she hissed, eyeing Roxie like she was dirt.

“It’s a long story. What’s important is I’m here now. Did I miss anything?” Black asked.

“No. That’s not going to fly. I want an explanation,” Christina demanded.

Black nodded and moved to a more private area off the main hall. Roxie remained where she was standing, sensing that it probably wasn’t a great time to butt in.

“I got a text last night. Roxie was kidnapped. I had to rescue her. In Mexico. Mission accomplished,” he said simply.

“You expect me to believe that?”

“Christina – I haven’t slept since three in the morning. I’ve been to hell and back and barely made it out of Mexico with my teeth. Believe it or not, everything’s not always about you. But I will say this: somebody really doesn’t want us to win. The whole thing was designed to keep me from playing. That’s the truth. So direct your anger elsewhere. I’m not the enemy here. I’m on your side.”

“What are you talking about? Someone kidnapped her–” Christina stabbed a finger in Roxie’s direction “– to get you out of L.A.? That’s nuts.”

“I agree. But that’s what happened. And I have a short list of suspects. Have you seen Rooster or Alex around?”

For the first time, Christina’s angry composure wavered. “Why? You think they have something to do with this?”

“Roxie was in Mexico for a date with Alex. So yeah, I do. And I think Rooster set me up for a beating outside the club the other night. It was a small miracle I didn’t break a finger. I think all of this is to keep Last Call from winning.” Black allowed his words to sink in. “Again. Have you seen Alex or Rooster?”

She shook her head. “N…no. Rooster hasn’t shown up yet. I don’t think Alex has, either. But the judges should be here any second.”

“All right. I’m here now. Let me get changed. Did somebody bring my guitar?”

“Of course. It’s in the dressing room. First one on the right.”

“I want to keep Roxie with me so we don’t have another attempt. That okay with you?”

Christina nodded. “Sure.”

“Great. Let’s just focus on winning this, okay? We can deal with the rest after,” Black said and turned to change in the dressing room. He stopped dead when he saw Roxie storming toward Alex, who’d just arrived.

“You! I want to talk to you!” she yelled, her voice radiating fury. Black rushed forward before she could take a swing at him and restrained her. Alex looked shocked and frightened – in keeping with a conspirator whose scheme had failed.

“Roxie! What are you doing here? Why weren’t you at the restaurant?” he asked, his lower lip trembling.

“I was. Then your goons kidnapped me!”

“What are you talking about?” he demanded, and Black let go of Roxie and stepped forward.

“You heard her.”

“Is this some kind of bad joke?” Alex asked.

“I’ll say. You had a limo pick me up and take me to a foreign country so I could be kidnapped, you asshat. But it didn’t work,” Roxie fumed.

“I have no idea…look, I didn’t do anything. I was at the restaurant twenty minutes after we were supposed to meet, and you weren’t there. I figured you…I don’t know what I figured. And you didn’t answer your phone, so I thought maybe you were pissed off for some reason.”

“Why didn’t you ask Jacobs?”

“Who?” Alex said, looking more confused by the second.

“The driver you had pick me up,” Roxie fired back.

Alex shrugged. “I don’t know him. I didn’t coordinate that.”

Black put his hand on Roxie’s shoulder and squeezed, signaling for her to stop. “Who did?”

“Sarah. I just told her about the restaurant, and she handled everything. I had concerts and a photo shoot and a bunch of other…”

A loud buzzer went off through the public address system, signaling that the show would begin in five minutes. Christina came running up. “We’re out of time. Get changed, Black. We have to be onstage for the opening announcement and the introduction of the judges.”

Black shook his head. “Where’s Sarah?”

“I think she’s out by the judge pods or something.”

“Damn.” Black turned to Alex and gave him a cold stare. “Alex, not a word about any of this. Do you understand? Not to anyone. Please. There’s more going on here than you know, and you don’t want to be involved.”

“I…Roxie, I swear I didn’t have anything to do with this…” Alex stammered.

“Alex. Focus. Don’t talk to a soul, all right?” Black said.

“Sure. I mean…Roxie, you have to believe me…”

Roxie exhaled noisily. “Okay. After the show. Now don’t you have someplace to be?”

Alex seemed to come out of his fog and glanced at his watch. “You’re right. I’ll come backstage after we’re done. Wait for me. Please.”

Black hurried to the dressing room and slipped on his rock attire – a pair of brown leather pants and a paisley long-sleeved shirt. A hairstylist ran a brush lightly through his hair, shaking her head. The makeup man patted on a layer of base and did a quick mascara job, making him look like an alcoholic barfly on a crying jag.

“Don’t worry. You look great,” Ed said, handing Black a beer. “You aren’t stoned out of your mind on LSD or anything, are you?”

“I wish,” Black said and toasted him. Peter came up and held out his hand.

“Christina told me what happened. That’s frigging unbelievable.”

Black shook it. “Yeah, I know. But for now, the best revenge will be to win this thing.”

“Do you think one of the guys in Bend in the Creek could be behind this?”

“Anything’s possible, but I don’t think so. Those guys are just musicians, you know? This is high-level shit.”

The stage manager pushed through the door, a headset on, and called out to the band. “We’re going live in thirty seconds.”

Chapter 37

Black could sense the size of the audience as he stood with the band behind a scrim on stage right, waiting for the announcer to introduce them. The air was charged, the buzz of anticipation coming off thousands of people seeming to crackle in the gloom. Holly and David were in place, center stage, and then a spotlight flashed on and they bathed in white light.

“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the finals for America’s favorite talent contest,
Rock of Ages
!” Holly chirped, reading from the teleprompter’s ghostly screen as she smiled. The crowd applauded, and the house band launched into several bars of up-tempo rock music, abruptly ending so the MCs could continue their intro.

Black listened as they did their bit, announcing the judges, who each took a bow and received their obligatory ovation. Then it was time for the setup, and David announced Last Call. The scrim rose as if by magic, exposing them as more lights flashed and cameras zoomed in, and the audience cheered the band like returning war heroes. Christina waved and blew kisses at the cavernous hall. The rest of the group waved too, knowing that every eye in the place was on their lead singer, and for good reason.

Next came Bend in the Creek, who likewise received a warm round of applause, and then it was time for Holly and David to vacate the stage and the special guest announcer, a popular television talk show host, to take over.

After a few lame jokes, he explained the rules: two songs per band, alternating, with the first slot going to the winner of a coin toss. Christina and the Bend in the Creek lead vocalist stepped forward into a neon-ringed circle, and a wonk from a prominent accounting firm made a big display of holding up a silver dollar, white-gloved hands like a mime’s holding the highly polished coin. The host asked Christina to call it, and she chose heads. A snare drum roll built as the accountant tossed the coin into the air, and stopped when he caught it and placed it on the back of his hand. The camera zoomed in and the audience cheered. It was tails.

Bend in the Creek’s equipment was set up on one side of the stage and Last Call’s on the other. The band had two minutes to get situated, and then the host announced the first number – the elective song first, in this case Charlie Daniels’ “The Devil Went Down to Georgia”.

A strong choice, and one the group nailed. When they finished, Black knew he’d just witnessed a solid ten performance. The judges agreed, even if their votes were purely ceremonial – the phone-in audience would determine the winner of the event.

Last Call was announced next and delivered a surprisingly scorching rendition of “Like a Virgin”, Christina milking it with every ounce of her considerable sex appeal even though the genre wasn’t her forte. The crowd loved it, and again the judges handed out tens like condoms at a free clinic, leaving no doubt in anyone’s minds that both groups were at the top of their game.

The house band played four songs while the bands changed outfits and freshened up, and then Bend in the Creek reappeared for their final song: “Roxanne” by the Police, a completely different style for the country-tinged group. They tackled the reggae rhythm with a down-home approach, making for an eclectic and surprising take on the classic.

Sarah materialized by Black’s side while he was watching them, a scowl on her face. “Black, you were warned. You violated the curfew again and caused everyone a ton of trouble. That’s unacceptable,” she said, brandishing her clipboard like a weapon.

“I can guarantee you I’ve got the best reason you’ve ever heard.”

“It doesn’t matter. The rules are the rules, and you were warned. You’re off the show.”

“I don’t care about the show, Sarah. But it’s interesting that you’ve taken this moment to cut me out. Almost like you’re trying to freak me out and throw my concentration.”

“I don’t care about your concentration. My orders are clear.”

“Fine. But I’m playing this last song.”

“No, you aren’t.”

Black leaned in to her. “Sarah, you stop me from playing, and the show’s history. Do you understand? You won’t be able to get a job cleaning toilets after this, and I’ll be on every network by midnight describing how you deliberately screwed Christina at the last minute because of your hatred for her. And you’ll have a lot of explaining to do for your role in the kidnapping. You want that?”

“Kidnapping? What are you talking about?”

“Do I seem particularly playful? A very close friend was kidnapped, and I had to save her. Wanna bet the news stations eat you alive when they hear about how you booted me after that?”

Bend in the Creek finished their song, and there were more tens as the crowd hooted and stomped. The singer waved and bowed in gratitude, and then it was Last Call’s turn with “I Will Survive”. Sarah seemed torn, for the first time he’d ever witnessed, and after a brief discussion on her radio, stomped off without another word. Christina caught Black’s eye and he shrugged. She smiled and winked at him, and then it was show time.

From the very first notes it was obvious that Christina had the attention of everyone in the auditorium. She played the opening run on a grand piano at the side of the stage, a single pin spotlight on her, and began singing the verse, softly, as though sharing a secret with a close friend. Even though Black had heard the song a hundred times by now from the constant rehearsals, the hair on the nape of his neck stood on end, and he realized this was going to be a legendary performance. He’d had the same feeling with Nina back in the day, when they’d taken the dog-eat-dog Los Angeles club scene by storm, playing sold-out houses while A&R men frantically competed for them. Now, for the second time in his life, he was witnessing the making of a legend, and his heart rate accelerated as the crowd spontaneously burst into applause after the first verse, the wave of clapping so loud it almost drowned out the band.

When the song ended, Black’s lead guitar wailing in time with Christina’s final note, the audience exploded like a bomb had detonated. Black held his guitar aloft and flicked his pick into the crowd. Christina waved and did a mock curtsy, and Black could just make out Nina at the judge pods wiping her eyes as the judges rose to their feet in a standing ovation.

The applause seemed to last forever, even though it was probably no more than thirty seconds, and then it was time for the band to hear the judges’ feedback. Even the normally taciturn BT Simms had nothing but superlatives, and Nina’s final words would resonate long after she’d uttered them.

“I’ve just seen the future of music. I have no doubt you’re going to be huge, and you deserve every bit of it. Bravo!”

Voting was closed half an hour after the final performance. With a theatrical flourish the accountant handed the host an envelope, which he opened, read, and then turned to the cameras.

“And the winner is…Last Call, with seventy-two percent of the votes!”

The judges filed onto the stage as the house band played the theme from
Rocky
, and everyone shook hands and slapped backs as the host delivered the closing lines that would end the telecast. The crowd cheered their new favorites, Bend in the Creek all but forgotten as Last Call was celebrated, lights playing over the clapping spectators as the cameras took it all in.

The following ten minutes were a blur of activity. Christina was swarmed by reporters while the show cameraman recorded the moment for posterity. Black stood with Peter and Ed by the side, largely ignored, and Roxie approached with a grim expression on her face.

“Did you hear? Rooster’s dead.”

The joy of triumph faded abruptly, and Black stepped away from the group and whispered to her, “What? How do you know?”