“It’s no big deal. Hindale Law School will let me make it up.”
“You’ve done the world a great service by giving up your keyboards,” said Abbey.
He issued a superior smile. “Becoming a lawyer is what poly-sci majors do, Abbey-dearest, when they decide they want to make a whole bunch more money than piss-ant musicians.”
We were holding up the line of people to be seated. Uwe motioned for us to follow him. As he led us through the tables holding a flashlight, he said, “The way it works is that you people are supposed to give me a tip if you want a table up front. But forget it. I’m going to get you a great seat for nothing.”
“Thanks,” I said.
“Get me some tickets to one of your shows sometime,” he said. “I like comedy acts. Just kidding, of course.”
Uwe pointed to an excellent table—first row, front and center. The girls rushed ahead and claimed their seats, while Uwe and I followed behind them through the tight arrangement of tables. Still exhibiting his new polished manner and tone of voice, the old Uwe spoke from within—clandestinely, so no one could hear but me. “That sweet bitch, Abbey, still looks as sexy as ever. Zoe’s looking pretty good these days, too. What do you say, Danny. Which one’s spreading her legs for you? Or is it both, you sly dog.”
“Have some respect, you friggin’ donkey.” I felt like slugging him in the face.
“No problem,” he said, “just trying to make conversation. Just trying to keep up with old friends.”
I took my seat. Uwe maintained his charade with the girls. “Will this table be alright, ladies?”
“It’s gorgeous,” Zoe said. Abbey looked to the stage, and forced herself to say thanks almost pleasantly.
Zoe shoved a couple bucks toward Uwe. He fanned away the tip. “I wouldn’t think of it,” he said. “Enjoy the show. Jo Tokyo is an excellent band. Of course, I can’t even begin to compare them with Bandit.”
He left to seat more customers. His presence lingered like the whining hum of an electric clock.
Chapter 10
Domino
“Abbey, I’m nervous. I’m nervous about us,” I said, as I watched her finish dressing in front of a frameless mirror in her and Zoe’s bedroom. The cabin’s owner hadn’t gotten around to putting up wallboard in this dim, windowless, little room. The walls were a negative exposure of pipes, electrical conduit, and skeletal two-by-fours. In the nooks and crannies, Abbey and Zoe had placed pinecones, candles from Izy’s shop, and colorful rocks polished smooth by the lake. There were two mattresses lying along opposite walls, each covered with pillows and a thick quilt. On the cement floor between the beds was a fiesta-colored oval rug that Abbey told me she bought one time she and her mother took a train to Mexico. Directly in front of Abbey, on top of a pine dresser below the mirror, were myriad feminine potions, perfumes, and lotions, glinting blue and pink in glass vials.
“Having him over wasn’t my idea,” she said hurriedly. Bending over the dresser on her tiptoes, Abbey cocked her head to the right and looked sideways at her made-up profile, then examined the left side similarly. Satisfied, she touched up her nails and held her hands out like half-extended wings, fluttering her fingers impatiently to speed the drying process.
“Why on earth did Seth have to invite him?” I asked. “We’re going to watch their show Sunday night. Good God, why can’t Seth just wait and see him then?”
“Aren’t you forgetting, he did used to play with us. And he told Seth he really wanted to visit. Domino is so gregarious. That’s what Zoe says.” Protective of her nails, Abbey pulled on a pair of tight jeans using only her thumbs, and wiggled her feet into a pair of short, maroon-colored boots with metal toe plates and spike heels. She checked her appearance a final time in the mirror. The fidgety anxiety her expression always took when she dressed and did her makeup was gone.
I was lying on her bed among purple and green silk pillows.She came and sat on the mattress edge.
“How do I look?”
“Nice.”
“Are you sure?”
“Absolutely.”
“Why are you so paranoid?” Her voice strove to be patient, but her eyes clearly showed disenchantment.
“Why can’t you admit it? There’s still something going on between you and Domino, isn’t there?”
“You’re acting kind of selfish, Danny. I want to get this whole Pricey Dexter thing over with, too. I’d much rather worry about Bandit’s show, and our thing.”
“Trying to talk with you about him is fruitless,” I said. “Honestly, it’s about as worthwhile as asking a friggin’ zoo rhinoceros to explain why the function ‘e raised to the power x’ sends a curved line to infinity!”
“Talk some more math to me, Danny. It turns me on.”
“Wicked.”
“Shut the hell up, Danny. Be cool.”
She gave me a quick kiss, and her lips felt like gooey plastic because of all the red-red lip gloss.
“You really do look beautiful, Abbey. Dangerously beautiful.”
“What am I going to do with you? I want to make him jealous, okay? I just want to make him jealous. Now, are you satisfied?” She tugged on my shoulder. “Let’s go.”
We walked outside to sit on the porch with the others and wait for Domino.
* * *
“What the hell is this place? Some lost shack from Shanty Town? No, don’t tell me, you guys are trying to start a commune, right?”
I looked over the porch railing and saw Domino for the first time, standing at the end of the trail leading from the main road to the cabin called Oz.
“Still full of compliments,” Seth said. “What took you so long—you get lost?”
“Hey, donkey,” Jay said, “didn’t you remember all your forest shit from Boy Scouts?”
Domino smirked. “Seth-er, and Jay Wong, my main man. I came as fast as I could.” He didn’t seem to enjoy fielding ridicule as well as he enjoyed doling it out. “Boy oh boy, this place is mondo out in the boonies.”
The girls remained seated, rather polite and stiff. I watched Abbey like a hawk.
“We call it Oz,” Abbey said from her folding chair. “We happen to like living here a lot.” She flashed a cordial smile. “We enjoy breathing air rather than smog.”
“Well hello, Abbegail,” Domino said. “It’s been a long time, hasn’t it?”
“Yes, yes,” Abbey said, “a nice long time.”
“Oh my,” Zoe said. “Hello, Domino.” He rushed over and gave Zoe a bear hug.
Rather preoccupied with brushing off a spot of railing in order to sit without dirtying his fancy clothes, Domino said, “You must be the new drummer. What do you say, sport?”
“The name’s Danny Vikker,” I said. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”
“Oh yeah? I haven’t heard much about you.” He laughed; I didn’t. “Just kidding, sport.”
Since the picture of Domino on the Ivy League Drop-outs record cover was a cartoon, a water-color caricature, the image had provided only a starting point for my imagination. I had built Domino into a physical giant—a tall, dark and handsome movie star—a beefcake boy, a Richard Gere, with a touch of Latino savvy.
Even worse, and more specific, I had taken to conjuring up terrible scenes of this magnificent drummer on top of Abbey, his chiseled butt, their bodies squirming and writing with hot,
X-rated passion, screams of ecstasy in the air.
But now, not more than a few yards away from me on the front deck of the cabin called Oz, I saw a young man who was moderately handsome, well-dressed, yet big only by virtue of his commanding, arrogant repose. In stature, Domino was rather small.
He sat on our porch with his shoulders slung back like miniature cannons, his petite chest inflated, his voice compensatingly big and full of bullshit. He was rather like a puffer fish.
At regular intervals, his vision swam past Abbey; it was only then
that his facade melted, and I saw something that looked like longing in the drummer’s face. All the while, Abbey Butler sat next to me like a rock.
Domino reached over with his puny arm and gave Jay a good swat. “What do you do for surfing up here in Tahoe? I get out once in a while down south, but not like the old times. We used to do a lot of surfing in San Lu-E, didn’t we, bud?”
“No shit,” Jay said. “We did some tubing, dude.” Both Jay and Domino climbed on the porch railing and pretended to surf. They crouched and laughed and exchanged Hawaiian lingo.
“Wiki wave, haole.”
“Shaka mano.”
They jumped down, both breathing excitedly. “You’re looking real Hollywood, donkey,” said Jay. “You must be making some major jack.”
Domino wore a diamond stick earring, and jeweled rings on his fingers. His platinum blonde hair was gelled into place. He wore a black shirt with chrome rivets, black leather pants, and the most exotic-looking cowboy boots I’d ever seen.
“The P.D.s are taking the world by force. Hey, man, what can I say?”
“I know what you’d like to say,” Seth said. “Hey world, my name is Domino, and to you peons I’m a fuckin’ king!” Seth let out a half-hearted, polka-dotted party horn laugh. “Shit, just because you’re famous doesn’t mean you shouldn’t act like a professional. You haven’t changed, Domino. If you weren’t so good, I’d have trouble taking you seriously.”
Everyone laughed, not at Domino, not at Seth. Just to laugh. Most of the members of Bandbit, it seemed, found Domino entertaining.
After a while, he said, “You don’t say much, sport.”
“Maybe you should call him Danny,” Jay suggested.
“Shit, I like ‘sport,’” chirped Seth.
“Whatever,” I said.
“So, sport—. I mean Danny—. So you’re the new drummer, eh? You and I are the ones that have something in common. Danny, my main man, you see playing drums is what makes it click. Other stuff—surfing for example—is just a cheap thrill compared to drums. Comprende?”
“You’re pushing it, donkey. Surfing is click with a capital C,” said Jay.
“Yeah, and just as primal and animalistic as drumming,” said Seth.
Domino pointed at Seth, indicating that Seth had amused him. “Anyways, sport, I consider myself lucky. I do what I love and get paid for it. So do you. Hey, I’m cutting albums and making a lot of jack. You’re not. Hey, that’s the way it goes. The point is: Drums are what makes it click for me—drums are my life-boat. Yeah, man, Dom’s life-boat.”
Abbey and Zoe brought out a pitcher of wine coolers, and the mood became even lighter. Jay fired up a joint. I took a couple big drags to adjust my attitude, and passed the joint to Domino. “Don’t do grass anymore,” he said. He reached for his glass and took a dainty swallow.
“Getting religious?” Abbey asked.
“You know me, Abbegail, I want to be the greatest. Reefer is nice, but it messes up my coordination. I have my priorities. Drums come first.”
Both he and she were playing it cool, but there was something about the way they looked at each other, as if there were knots in the backs of their eyes—knots that were taut and tense. It was what they didn’t say or do that made me very uneasy.
* * *
It was Friday, noon. That night and the next we were booked at the Lone Star. That Labor Day weekend, the P.D.s were doing a three-night run, and Domino told us he’s get us V.I.P. passes for any night we wanted. Sunday, our night off, we would watch the P.D.s’ grand finale.
Zoe grabbed some papers and a book entitled Women Entrepreneurs: The Female Delight and the Male Plight off the table and slipped them into her cordovan briefcase.
“Where are you off to?” I asked.
“Here and there,” she said. “I’m dropping by Caesar’s casino to work on getting us, possibly, a job in one of the cocktail lounges.”
She asked for the keys to my truck.
“You sure you know how to drive a stick?”
“Seth’s V.W. was a stick, and Abbey and I used to borrow it all the time.”
“Be careful or you might run into Uwe,” Abbey said. “He’s such a pain, the way he and his friends have been coming to the Lone Star to watch us.”
“We’ve only seen him there once or twice,” I said.
“He and his buddies just like all the loose women at the Lone Star. I don’t think they’re interested in Bandit’s music at all,” Zoe said.
“Is that what he told you?” Abbey said.
“Relax,” Zoe said. “He and his friends bought me one drink. One drink—let’s not make a federal case out of it.”
“There’s nothing we can do about Uwe,” I told Abbey. “Think of it this way—at least he isn’t bothering us to let him back in the band.”
“If you guys so much as let him sit in for one song, I’m quitting,” she said.
“The worst thing we have to do is see his face once in a while, that’s all. It’s not the end of the world,” I said.
“His awful face and his horrible pimples,” Abbey said.
Zoe’s recently plucked eyebrows became furrowed, her expression sheepish. She chewed nervously on the inside of her cheek.
“Oh my, I hate to antagonize you two, but don’t you see? He’s getting me in to see his boss about Bandit playing a cocktail show at Caesar’s,” she said. “It’s very difficult getting one’s foot in the door at South Shore. Uwe’s being extremely helpful.”
“Why?”
“Maybe he feels bad about making such a scene in S.L.O. I don’t know. Does it matter?”
“God, I can’t believe this,” Abbey exclaimed.
“Don’t you think I know he’s a jerk, Abbey? Sometimes you think I’m so naïve,” Zoe said. I’m just humoring him a little, that’s all. He and I are having lunch today, and then he’s introducing me to his boss. I’m just doing my job as a manager.It’s all rather cut and dried.”
“Is it?” Abbey said breezily.
“Yes!” Zoe said.
“Good God, why didn’t you tell us about this in the first place?” I asked.
“I don’t know,” Zoe replied. “Because everyone hates his guts so much. Do you think I enjoy whoring myself, symbolically, as it were?”
“Don’t you dare,” Abbey said.
“I have no intention,” Zoe said, seeming a bit pleased. “Don’t worry. I have the whole thing planned out nicely. But, for now, we should all try to be nice to Uwe—until he’s helped us out.”
“The things we put ourselves through,” Abbey said.
“Please let us know when the jig is up, so we can quit humoring the dumb lunk,” I said.
“Don’t waste a second,” Abbey said.
* * *
Saturday morning, I awoke feeling glad it wasn’t Sunday. Abbey was fooling around with some lyrics and Seth was accompanying her on his acoustic guitar. I drank a cup of coffee then walked to the pay phone on the edge of the cabin tract. I called Sly’s apartment to talk with Jay. I asked him if he wanted to go to the lake, maybe hook up with Eddy for some water skiing that afternoon.
“Sounds good, dude, but I already have something going on,” he said matter-of-factly. “Me and Sly are meeting up with some of the P.D.s down at Sand Cove.”
There was a pause. Jay’s voice became more spirited. “Hey, why don’t you join us? Bring Abbey, maybe Zoe and Seth—whoever you want. You could get better acquainted with my buddy, Dom, and the boys from L.A. They’re totally off the wall, dude. You’d like ‘em.”
“Nah, on second thought, maybe I’ll just stay around the cabin,” I said. “Saturday night’s always a big one at the Lone Star. I’m going to just keep a low profile and get ready for Mr. Clobber.”
“Come on, man. You sound like an old lady. Come on, hit the lake with us.”
Somewhere inside of me something cracked like a pipe and was leaki
ng hot steam. “I got to go. Talk to you later.”
“Come on, Danny. Come to Sand Cove. It will be a party.”
The steamy heat inside of me made me feel more and more irritable. “We’ll see. I’ll cruise by later, maybe. I have things to do. So bye.” I reached up and quickly depressed the switch hook. Jay’s final sentence was cut in half: “Hey, man, are you jeal—.” I regretted hanging up on him. The phone receiver was still cradled between my ear and shoulder; the buzz of the dial tone served as a strange penitence.
* * *
The statues were looking at me again.
As my eyes scanned the pre-concert milieu inside the Lake Club, I saw air the color of river water pouring through holes cut in a sheet of metal. It felt as though the blowtorch man and his friends knew me—and were assigned to watch me. What did those heaps of metal think I was going to do?
An impatient rumbling from the sell-out crowd coated everything. From our table on one of the best terraces, I saw rows of chairs set up on the dance floor in front of the stage—none of the chairs were vacant. I smelled the alfalfa-like odor of pot, and connected the smell to slouched bodies down below, secretly passing fireflies back and forth. Bouncers roamed the aisles, but they could no more stop these covert activities than stop a 200-ton avalanche.The pre-concert party had tremendous momentum.
Domino’s drum set shined opulently like a prize display in an L.A. music store. It was a sea green Tama kit with double bass drums, a wide arc of tom-toms, and a panel of electronic pads over the hi-hat. Each cymbal was polished brassy-golden. The chrome rims and stands swam with blue, red, and green stage lights; like lava the lights swirled on his drums. Domino Gettsland meant business.
“P.D.! P.D.! P.D.!” Jay chanted along with the crowd. He sat next to us at a small cocktail table identical to the one Abbey, Seth and I were sitting at. “Come on,” he yelled at me, “get with the spirit. P.D.! P.D.! P.D!”
Zoe, Eddy, and Uwe were sitting at the adjacent table with Jay.
“I can’t believe he’s sitting with them,” Abbey whispered in my ear. “I mean, this is business. Bandit is here to watch another band for professional reasons.”
“I agree,” Seth said. “Inviting that clown, Eddy, was bad enough.”