Opening Act (39 page)

“They went off together,” said Baby drowsily, as he played a hand of cards with Jimmy.

Shay felt his head lift off his shoulders in alarm. “Did
no one
think what a bad combination that was?”

Jimmy shrugged. “What were we supposed to do? Citizen's arrest?”

Halbert, working his phone, looked like he might kill somebody as he strode off.

Pernita smoked cigarette after cigarette after cigarette.

At seven minutes to showtime, Jonah led Trina in. She was purple in the face and choking.

“What the hell happened?” asked Shay, rushing to her.

Jonah cocked his head. “Dunno. She was okay, mostly, till I bet her she couldn't fit an entire twelve-pack of peanut butter cups in her mouth.”

“Why the
hell
would you do that?” Shay said, pounding Trina on the back.

Jonah looked at him as though it was the stupidest of stupid questions. “To see if she could,” he answered.

“Ssshwwha nncaahwme Knnh Dhrrdunnuh,” garbled Trina.

“No one calls you Kid Daredevil,”
Shay screamed.

Marcia, now in her black shroud of a dress, stepped forward, suddenly transformed into the Wail. “Let me,” she said, shoving Shay aside. “I'm trained in the Heimlich.”

Jonah ambled off to get changed, as though nothing at all were out of the ordinary.

By this time Halbert had come back in and observed what was happening. He looked at Pernita and said, “We've got a bass sub standing by, don't we?”

“Yes, Daddy. In case Jonah bailed.”

“Well, he can do as well for this one,” he said, nodding toward Trina, and he put his phone to his ear to notify one of his assistants.

The Wail grappled her wiry arms around Trina's midsection and squeezed. Trina groaned.

“The sub plays an upright bass,” said Pernita, “not a bass guitar.”

“I'm sure he knows how,” Halbert said. “Just give him Tina's when he gets here.”

“Trina's,”
Shay corrected him. “And shouldn't we be calling a medic or something, instead of worrying about a sub?”

“Hello, Jerry?” Halbert said into the phone, ignoring Shay. “Where's our bass sub?”

The Wail gave Trina another superhuman squeeze, and a fist-size mass of chocolatey peanut matter shot from Trina's mouth.

And landed on the front of Shay's shirt.

“Oh, for God's sake,” said Pernita. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Me?”
said Shay in disbelief, shaking the glop off of him and onto the floor.

The Wail released Trina, smoothed out her gown, and stepped toward the door, just as Jonah emerged in his lounge-lizard jacket and spats.

“You ready?” he asked.

“Mm-hm,” she said.

He gave her a little kiss, and then they headed out to the stage.

Halbert was barking into his phone. “Have the sub stand by, Jerry—but it looks like it may not be urgent after all.” Then he tucked his phone back in his suit coat and turned to follow Jonah and the Wail.

“Hey,” called Trina after him, as she pulled herself back together after her ordeal. “Hey,
you
. Thurston Howell the Third.”

Halbert turned around and looked at her in disbelief. “Are you talking to
me
?”

“Yeah,” she said, after quickly wiping her lips on the back of her hand. “For the record? You ever send anyone to touch my ax, I'll break all ten of his fingers. Then his face. Then
you
.”

He looked at her in amazement. “Are you threatening me, little girl?”

“You want that?” she said, working herself up into a fury. “You want me to threaten you? Is that it? Go ahead, then—
dare
me.”

“Don't,”
Shay interjected, raising a hand to quiet Halbert before he could speak. “Don't…do
not
…dare her.”

The corners of Halbert's lips curled into a kind of sneer as he stared “Tina” down. “If you can put half of this crazy-lady passion into your playing,” he said as he turned away from her, “we'll all be the better for it.”

“Yeah,” she said, shouting after him as he retreated, “I love you, too. In fact, talking to you now? I came
twice
.”

Pernita was tugging Shay's shirt off him. “You can't wear this,” she said.

“It's all right, I already managed to sweat through it worse than the first time.”

“Never mind. I have a replacement. Where's my garment bag?”

“Around here somewhere,” he said, and he grabbed her wrist before she could go in search of it. “Hey,” he said, “what the
hell
? How does Trina, of all people, get away with mouthing off to your old man like that?”

She laughed, as if it were a silly question. “Oh, baby, he's not an
ogre
, you know. He makes allowances for personality types. And she's definitely her own category, there.”

He released her, and she went looking around the greenroom for her bag.

And he felt something come over him, a kind of dread. It was becoming clear that everyone else in his position—Jonah, Trina, all the others—were taken at face value and adjustments were made for their quirks and habits. Only he was being hammered into a new shape, molded into something he didn't even recognize as him. And only because he'd been idiot enough to allow it.

He tamped down the feeling for the moment. It wouldn't be at all helpful to let it cripple him now, not when he was just an hour away from taking the stage at the Hollywood Palladium.

That hour passed incredibly swiftly. Before he knew it, Halbert returned to announce that Jonah and the Wail had completed their set, and it was Overlords' turn to go on.

Pernita had found her garment bag stuffed next to the couch with Shay's replacement shirt crumpled within it. (“When I find out who did that, blood will flow,” she'd seethed.) She'd hung the shirt in the bathroom and turned the shower on to steam out the wrinkles, but it was still a mess—it looked like a chamois. And it was damp, besides.

“I'll just have to wear the shirt I wore in,” he said, going to his duffel bag.

“No, wait,” she said, putting a hand on his shoulder. “That awful old thing…no.”

He shot her an impatient look. “Well, we're sort of out of options here, Pernita.”

“No. No, we're not.” She had a wild, excited look in her eyes. “Lockwood,” she said.

He looked up from his chair. “Hm?”

“Give me your vest.”

Lockwood plucked at the arm holes of the burgundy vest he was wearing over his black T-shirt. “This vest? That I'm wearing?”

“Yes, exactly.” She waggled her fingers at him. “Come on, come on.”

“All right,” he said, seemingly unwilling to argue with her in this state. “Just let me get my phone out of the pocket.” He did so, then slipped off the vest and handed it to her.

She in turn handed it to Shay. “Put this on.”

He gave her a you've-got-to-be-kidding look. “Over my bare chest?”

“Over your magnificently bare and beautifully tattooed chest, yes.”

He stepped back from her. “No
fucking
way. I'll look like an idiot.”

“You'll look like sex on two legs. Just
do
it.”

He complied, hoping that as soon as she saw him, she'd realize what a dork he looked like and change her mind. But the look on her face immediately told him different.

“God, I've been wasting my time with you,” she said exultantly. “All those fittings and couturiers. It's not about how you're dressed, it's about how you're
un
dressed.”

Jonah and the Wail returned to the greenroom. The Wail took one look at him and smiled lasciviously.

“See?” Pernita said. “Oh, God, this is genius. I love being me.”

“Fine,” he said, realizing they were running out of time. “But believe me, Pernita, this is a
one-time
thing.”

“Whatever you say,” she said, in a tone that implied exactly the opposite.

As they headed down to the stage, Shay said, “I cannot
believe
I'm going out there like this,” and hugged his chest as if embarrassed by his near-nakedness.

“Never mind,” said Lockwood. “Just pretend you're Jagger. Or Morrison.”

“I feel more like Borat.” Shay noticed that Lockwood was staring at the phone he'd just removed from the vest in question. “What is it? Another message from the missus? She not make it?”

“No, she's here,” he said. “But her friend isn't. And she has no idea why. Not responding to any texts or calls.”

“Never mind,” he said, slapping Lockwood's shoulder. “Zee's the important one, right? You got your lady in the crowd, and you're going out to wow her. Be happy, dude.”

Lockwood gave him an unconvincing grin. Shay might have wondered what was behind it, but there was no time for that.

The moment had arrived for Overlords of Loneliness to take the stage.

CHAPTER 23

Loni really should have been out the door ten minutes ago. As it was, she'd have to count on traffic being light in order to get to the Palladium on time. Fortunately, she had a reserved parking spot waiting for her, thanks to Lockwood. That would save her a good chunk of time.

If only she could tear herself away from her mirror. It was just so maddeningly hard to know how to make herself look tonight. Obviously, she wanted to be completely irresistible, but she didn't want to look like she was
trying
to be irresistible. She wanted to knock Shay Dayton on his rock-star ass, while at the same time looking like she didn't give a damn what he thought. It was a real tightrope.

She applied a little bit more color to her lips, then decided it was too much and wiped it off. It was ridiculous, really. She wasn't even sure she'd
see
Shay. Given the choice—say, if Zee tried to bring her backstage after the gig—she'd refuse to go. She wouldn't pursue him, absolutely not. Let him come to
her
, if he felt like it. She had her pride, and as far as she knew, Shay was still involved with his manager's daughter. Loni wasn't about to go chasing another woman's man.

It occurred to her, as it did every time she thought of Pernita, that Shay wasn't the only one currently committed. She was still with Byron, though the thought of it kind of sank her heart in ways she wasn't prepared to examine too closely.

As soon as she thought of him, she heard the key turn in the front-door lock. It was as though he'd been waiting offstage for a telepathic prompt. Loni sighed and figured it was for the best. Now she could at least greet him after his trip, instead of having him arrive home to an empty apartment. It would remove some of the sting of his having to spend his first night home alone.

She applied a little more lipstick after all, figuring what the hell, then grabbed her purse and her jacket and went down to greet him.

“Hi,” she said brightly, and by the way he looked glumly at her—he set down his suitcase but stayed stooped over, as though bent double by fate—she knew this was going to be a difficult conversation. “How'd the conference go?”

“You wouldn't believe it,” he said, trying to stretch himself out of his cramped posture. “Some pompous hack from the University of Chicago read a paper on menstrual imagery in Poe.”

Loni waited, but nothing else seemed to be forthcoming. “Ah,” she said. “And this is bad because…?”

He shot her a look of extreme annoyance. “For God's sake. I've
told
you that's one of
my
ideas. I just haven't been able to get around to it because of all this goddamn teaching work.” He glared at her again, as though his class load were her fault, she being presumably too lazy to take it over for him.

She bit her lip to keep from sniping back. It would hardly help matters to begin an argument now, to point out that Loni had her
own
classes to teach, not to mention her own classes to
attend
, and by the way, the number of ideas Byron had for potential papers would keep a team of academics busy for a lifetime. Choosing the diplomatic approach, she just cocked her head sympathetically and said, “Sorry. That really sucks.”

“I just want to have dinner and watch some mindless TV and forget the whole thing,” he said, and he glanced toward the kitchen.

“There's some pasta salad in the fridge,” she said. “And I bought a bottle of Chianti yesterday. I only had a glass, so it's almost full.” She hitched her purse up over her shoulder.

He looked at her as though just seeing her for the first time. “You're going out?”

She nodded. “Zee's in town. Well, in LA. She invited me to a concert.” That sounded insufficiently urgent for her to abandon him in his distress, so she added, “The Palladium. Her favorite band. She's dating the drummer.”