Al rushed to the mirror and studied his own image. A thirty-eight-year-old superstar. Thirty-eight. Wasn’t that nearing middle age? Al King middle-aged – never. The thought filled him with dread. His life was speeding along and leaving him behind. Dreary days – only the nights, lit up with champagne, and cigars, and women, offered any diversions. And was it worth the hangovers?
Of course the hours on stage were still magic. A level of communication he could reach nowhere else in his life. But suddenly it wasn’t enough. He wanted more. More what? He didn’t really know, if he did he would buy it.
He lit a cigar, too soon after waking for a smoke, but what the hell. Maybe cancer would save him from ever being senile. He smiled grimly. As it happened he didn’t feel too good, nothing specific, just a sort of draggy feeling that he couldn’t put a name to.
He slouched in front of the television, not really watching it at all. He was worried about Evan, worried at the company he was keeping.
At first it had been a joke – Evan and the two freaks. Al had thought it would have been a five-minute relationship. But Evan let them attach themselves to him with a vengeance. He even asked if he could bring them with him on the plane from Houston. Reluctantly Al had said yes. Against his better judgement, but Christ Almighty it was the first time the kid had made friends, and he didn’t want to come the heavy father bit. He had tried to discuss the girls with his son, but Evan refused to carry on conversations – he just mumbled inaudible yes’s and no’s.
What they had, Al finally realized, was a communication problem. And sod it – it wasn’t his fault – he had given the boy everything that money could buy. Evan just didn’t appreciate things.
The whole problem was Edna’s fault. Christ! She would have a blue fit if she saw him now.
Al sighed. He would let it go. Let Evan get them out of his system. After all, he too had banged a few stags in his time.
* * *
Linda bumped into Paul in the lobby.
‘I got some great shots!’ she enthused.
‘I think he’s depressed.’
‘Who?’
‘Who! Only you would ask who.’
‘So-rrry.’
‘Did you manage to wrap everything yet?’
Linda mock saluted. ‘Naturally, I have not forgotten it is Big White Master’s Birthday.’
Paul glanced at his watch. ‘Listen, I’ve got to move. Be sure to get everything organized.’
‘You betcha ass, black eyes. See you later.’
He kissed her cheek. ‘Later.’
Linda watched him walk across the lobby. Sentimental bum. He was making as much fuss about Al’s birthday as if it were for a child. Rather sweet, really. But then that’s what had hooked her on Paul in the first place – his inherent niceness.
She observed Evan enter the lobby, his two bizarre companions flanking him as usual. She wished that Paul had not put the block on her photographing them – because wow – what a picture that trio would make.
‘Hello,’ she said, as they passed on by.
Evan’s glazed eyes flicked briefly in her direction. She wondered if Al knew that these two freaky girls had got his son flying on some drug or other. Probably not.
She wondered if she should be the one to tell him. Probably not. She sighed. Some birthday present.
* * *
As the lights dimmed, the audience roared its approval. Their patience was stretched to the limit, even The Promises had had trouble holding them. They wanted Al. They didn’t want to wait.
As the total darkness swept over the audience the sound of drums started slowly, to be joined by tambourines, then the guitar and congas.
The opening bars of ‘Random Love’.
Suddenly Al standing centre stage bathed in brilliant spotlights.
The audience was on its feet as one, screaming their appreciation.
The waves flooded over him. He assaulted them rhythmically – swaying, moving, bending, leaning – until they were almost a part of him. Total fucking.
The spotlights tracked his every move, following him like relentless slaves. He swigged from the champagne bottle waiting on top of one of the amplifiers, and the mob screamed ‘Happy Birthday Al’ and surged dangerously near to crushing the mass of security guards in front of the stage.
He decided against doing his usual set and switched into a rasping parody of Jagger’s ‘Satisfaction’ – then Stewart’s ‘Maggie May’ and his own ‘All Night Stand’. The crowd went mad.
‘S’good to be in New Orleans,’ he told them. They screamed. He did some very funky, very beautiful Bobby Bland hits. Then he rasped into a medley from his new album which was to be released any day. And then ‘Bad Black Alice’, his current single, which was racing up the charts.
He was halfway through that when the crowds broke through security and came clambering up on stage like small mad locusts. He felt panic and terror as he saw the mob descending. He was paralysed with fear. He just couldn’t move.
A girl grabbed him round the neck before he even realized what was happening. She was thrown bodily off him by Luke who appeared miraculously quickly. Another girl gripped him round the legs, her hands clawing and strange little grunts emitting from her throat as she too was pulled off him.
It was like a bad dream. One moment music and harmony – the next the dark eruption of violence as Luke and Marvin half-dragged him from the stage kicking and shoving the locusts out of their way. His feet hardly touched the ground. That’s how fast they got him out to the car.
‘Holy shit!’ he exclaimed as the car raced off. ‘What the fuck happened?’
I told ’em they didn’t have enough guys out front,’ Luke said stoically. ‘I told Bernie they’d break through.’
‘What did he say?’ asked Al, sudden anger coursing through him.
‘You know Bernie, but I told him.’
Sure. Al could just imagine. Fat Bernie had probably shrugged and said ‘What the fuck.’ After all it was no skin off his nose if Al got torn to pieces by his fans. Think of the publicity…
* * *
Evan, Plum and Glory were near the front when it happened.
‘Jest fall with the crowd, man,’ Plum yelled with excitement, ‘and hold on!’
Panic swept over Evan as pressure from the crowds behind propelled him forward. Hold on to what?
Glory was laughing and scrambling towards the stage. Plum grinned solidly. Neither girl seemed in the least put out by the sudden chaos.
Evan saw people swarming over the fallen security guards, using them as footrests to get a hoist up towards the stage. It didn’t seem to matter that Al was no longer on the stage.
‘Hang on in there, man,’ trilled Glory, ‘just keep on movin’.’
He could hardly do anything else. And then from behind he could hear pain-filled screams as more security guards moved in, wielding heavy truncheons in all directions.
He wanted to get out of there. But there was nowhere to go, nowhere to turn. Then suddenly he felt himself falling, knees buckling. And he knew if the mob behind him didn’t stop, he would be trampled to death.
* * *
Edna didn’t like New York. And – momentous decision – after all those years she finally admitted to herself that she didn’t like Melanie. She had always known in the back of her mind that her sister-in-law was a pain – but suddenly she found that she could come right out and think it, maybe even say it – only to Al, of course, she wouldn’t want to be disloyal to the family. The thing was that Paul was so nice. She had always been fond of him. Like her, he only had Al’s best interests at heart. Together they had supported Al on his climb to fame, and together they were still the only two people really close to him.
To see Melanie at work was a shock. Edna had always suspected that she played around, but to see her blatantly flirt with every man who crossed her path was disgusting.
Melanie had arrived in New York armed with a book of telephone numbers. People she had met, friends and
business acquaintances of Al’s and Paul’s. She didn’t care who she called. ‘I’m not sitting in a hotel room for two days,’ she had told Edna when she objected. ‘I’m going out to have fun!’
Edna sat in the hotel room by herself whilst Melanie did just that. The first night she didn’t arrive home until four a.m. The second she didn’t bother to appear at all and breezed in with room service delivering breakfast. ‘Do you honestly think that Al and Paul aren’t out having themselves a good time?’ she demanded of Edna.
‘I’m sure they’re working very hard,’ Edna insisted.
‘Oh sure! And the rest. Don’t you know these tours have girls following them across the country? Girls who will do anything. A man would have to be the Pope to resist that kind of temptation. Paul and I have an understanding.’
Edna tightened her lips and didn’t pursue the conversation. Melanie was just not a nice person. It was quite obvious she had used and manipulated her to get her to agree to the trip. Now that they were almost there – she didn’t care any more. Edna was no longer useful.
The flight to New Orleans from Kennedy Airport was delayed by three hours. Melanie was furious, and bounced around the airport trying to cause a fuss. She finally caught the attention of an airline official who settled them in a private lounge and plied Melanie with vodka.
Edna leafed through magazines and willed the plane to be ready to take off soon. She didn’t want to miss Al’s birthday. After all, that was the whole point of the trip.
* * *
‘Thank Christ you weren’t there.’ Paul took Linda’s face in his hands and kissed her.
She wriggled free. ‘I miss all the good things. When I think of the pictures I could have gotten…’
‘You could have been crushed to death. I’ve never seen anything like it, it was frightening. Christ knows how many injuries we’re going to have with this one.’
‘Is Al all right?’
‘A little frantic. We’re still trying to locate Evan. No one seems to know whether he was there or not. Since he’s been hanging around with those weirdos he does his own thing.’
‘I saw him earlier with them in the lobby, but that was long before the concert.’
‘Bernie’s at the theatre. I’m going to take a ride over to the hospital. Now what I want you to do is to put a time stop on all the party arrangements – just a postponement – I hope we can go ahead later. Meanwhile, do me a favour and go and sit with Al – and if Evan turns up, contact Bernie.’ He kissed her. ‘I’ll be back soon, sweetheart.’
Linda did as she was told. What a wonderful secretary I would have made some lucky executive, she thought, as she darted around the hotel issuing instructions.
Wife – no. Secretary – yes.
Everything done, she made her way up to Al’s suite. He slouched morosely on the couch watching a late newscast of the event on television.
‘Some birthday!’ he said bitterly.
‘It’s not over yet,’ she replied briskly. ‘Any word on Evan?’
‘Nothing. I should never have let him go wandering off all over the place with those two freaks.’
‘You didn’t know this was going to happen.’
Al made a face. ‘This, that. I should know where the fuck he is. I was just so goddamn relieved he had found some friends that I let him do what he wanted.’
‘Can I fix you a drink?’ Linda asked, going over to the bar and sorting through the bottles.
‘Bourbon and coke. Heavy on the bourbon.’
‘Coming right up.’ As she was mixing his drink the phone rang. ‘Shall I get it?’ she inquired.
‘Yeah. I don’t want to talk to anyone unless it’s about Evan.’
She picked up the phone.
‘Got him!’ announced Paul triumphantly. ‘A little worse for wear, but still in the land of the living.’
‘Wonderful!’ exclaimed Linda. She handed the phone – to Al. ‘Paul’s found Evan, he’s all right.’
‘Thank Christ for that,’ Al replied, relief sweeping over him.
* * *
The girl was totally naked apart from gold paint all over her voluptuous body. She emerged from the giant cake holding aloft another smaller cake with thirty-eight candles burning brightly. ‘Watch out you don’t singe your tits!’ somebody shouted, and there was much raucous laughter.
Al accepted the smaller cake from her, weaving unsteadily on his feet. ‘Gotta thank everyone,’ he slurred, ‘for makin’ this a great evening. ’Specially Paul.’ He patted the naked girl on her bottom. ‘You another present, darlin’?’
‘Yeah – go on, give ’er one!’ a musician shouted. ‘An’ if you don’t want her, send her over here!’
Al sat at the head of a long table. On one side of him was Evan, surly and bruised, with his arm in a sling. On the other side sat Paul, and all along the table were the other members of the tour.
The birthday dinner party had turned out to be a big success, with everyone getting good and drunk to relieve the tension of what had happened earlier.
Al had loved his presents. A solid gold digital watch from Paul. Cufflinks shaped like a nude woman from Bernie. A leather-bound book of the best photos of the tour from Linda, and numerous sweaters, shirts and novelty gifts from everyone else.
Evan had not given him anything; and Nellie had embarrassed him with a thick chunky gold identity bracelet inscribed ‘Love from Nellie always’.
‘Cut the cake,’ Linda enthused. ‘It looks delicious.’
‘Sure,’ agreed Al, ‘you want to get off the table, darlin’?’
The naked Golden Lady allowed herself to be helped down to an accompaniment of lewd remarks.
‘Get her a chair,’ demanded Al. ‘Sit down next to me, darlin’ – have some champagne.’ He offered her a glass, but moved it out of reach when she went to take it. He did this three times, and she went along with the joke. Then – wham – he threw the glass of champagne all over her, and the rivulets of liquid mixed in psychedelic patterns with her gold body make-up.
She laughed along with the rest of them and sat down.
‘Want some cake?’ Al asked, warming to his audience.
‘Oh, no…’ she began, but too late. Al had picked up the cake and aimed it directly at her chest. Chocolate sponge, soft cream, and icing squelched its way across her bosoms.
‘Anyone for dessert?’ Al laughed.
Further down the table Nellie got up and hurried from the room.
Evan watched her go and wished that he could follow her. His arm hurt, his body ached, and he wished he knew where Glory and Plum had vanished to.
‘Hey, Evan, boyo.’ Al was nudging him, handing him a spoon. ‘Have some cake, help yourself. Go on, son, have yourself a time!’
Chapter Forty-One
‘If a day in Palm Springs will turn you into the Mack girl, why won’t you go?’ Cody persisted.
‘I don’t understand you,’ raged Dallas. ‘Are you dumb or something? The guy wants to get laid – LAID. Is that what you want me to do to become the Mack girl? Because if it is just tell me and then we’ll both know where we stand.’
‘You can handle him.’
‘Ha! I can handle him. Sweet. Lovely. But I don’t want to handle him. Are you with me? I don’t want to.’
‘Not physically, stupid.’
‘Don’t you call me stupid. I have had a tough life – and if I was stupid I wouldn’t be here today.’
‘What sort of a tough life have you had? A girl with your looks.’
Dallas laughed bitterly. ‘Oh boy! You’re not even interested in my background. What do you care? Here I am – all ready for you to promote. What does my past matter. You don’t give a shit.’ She paused, stared at him wearily. ‘Why don’t you just go on home, Cody?’
They stood outside her house arguing. She was tired and angry. She had hated the party. Hated the bullshit. And hated Cody for even suggesting she go along with it.
‘Aarron Mack is calling me first
thing,’ Cody said. ‘I promised him I’d talk to you.’
‘Why don’t you go to Palm Springs with him?’ Dallas suggested sweetly. ‘He liked you, he’s old, almost senile, I’m sure he won’t notice whether it’s you or me pulling on his rocks.’
‘You really can be disgusting.’
‘Almost as disgusting as you and your suggestions.’
‘I am not suggesting anything,’ argued Cody desperately. ‘I’m just saying that if you went to Palm Springs with him, the Mack girl contract would be ours. You could fly back the same day. He just wants to be seen with you – that’s all. I’ll come too if you like.’
‘God, you’re naive! How can anybody live in this city, work in the film business, and still be naive!’
‘Trust me, Dallas. I got you Man Made Woman, didn’t I? I got you an unbelievable deal didn’t I? Well, I’ll get you a million-dollar contract to be the Mack girl. You want it? Come to Palm Springs and I will not leave your side – I promise.’
‘You promise?’ She was starting to weaken.
‘Naive agent’s honour!’
‘Oh God! You really are a hustler!’
‘I know. Will you come?’
She sighed, smiled. ‘I guess a million dollars is tempting. But you must not—’
‘Leave your side,’ he finished for her. ‘I’ll call you first thing and give you the schedule.’
* * *
Palm Springs was gloriously hot. Aarron kept a small house there. Six bedrooms with bathrooms en suite, a gigantic living area, Olympic-size pool, and modest golf course.
‘Nice little place,’ Dallas observed drily.
‘I don’t use it much,’ Aarron explained, ‘two or three times a year. If you would ever care to avail yourself of the facilities, please feel free to be my guest. Do you play golf, Cody?’
‘Sorry, no.’
‘Don’t be sorry. I don’t play myself. I just have it for my guests.’
‘I’d like to sunbathe,’ Dallas decided.
‘Of course,’ Aarron agreed, ‘and then I have arranged a small luncheon party for you.’
‘For me?’
‘As it was such short notice I was not able to contact many people. But twenty-five should suffice.’