Matt looked at him like he was an idiot. "As if," he said. "Like I give a rat's ass if she's sick. Shit, I paid two grand to book that goddamn boat and have it all to myself. I'll be damned if the slut I took with me ain't gonna give it up."
"You fucked a girl while she was seasick?" Jake asked, half appalled and half amused.
"Goddamn right. I just bent her over the railing and nailed her from behind while she barfed in the fuckin' ocean."
"Wow," said Bill, a touch of awe in his tone. "You are truly one of the most depraved people I've ever met, Matt."
"Thanks," Matt said. "And I'm here to tell you, a chick's pussy muscles do some interesting shit while they're barfing. You all oughta try it some time."
They all pondered that while another two minutes clicked by. Just as they were starting to get nervous about Darren, he came back, strolling in through the stage door and heading over to them. Jake knew immediately that he hadn't gone out to take a shit. His eyes were half-lidded and reddened, the look on his face one he only got when he was stoned. And though he had tried to cover the odor of the marijuana with a mouthful of breath mints, it wasn't quite cutting it. The smell of greenbud was reeking off of him in waves.
Jake looked at Matt and saw that he'd realized the same thing. Matt's face was getting red with anger. They had had this problem with Darren before back in their early days, while they were still doing the club scene in Heritage. A heart to heart talk in which Matt and Jake had threatened to replace him had seemed to cure Darren of this violation of their internal code of conduct. But now here he was again, smoking out before a performance.
"You fucking asshole," Matt said. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?"
"What?" Darren said defensively. "I was just taking a shit. I'm back in time, ain't I?"
"You were smoking weed back there!" Matt barked. "You're stoned to the fuckin' eyeballs!"
"I am not!" Darren protested. "Jesus Christ, Matt! You know I wouldn't do nothin' like that!"
Matt looked at Jake, searching for back up. Jake nodded.
"You look pretty stoned to me, Darren," he said. "You smell like it, too."
"I'm not stoned!" Darren insisted, feigning anger at the accusation and doing a poor job of it.
"Really?" Matt said. "So if I were to go back to the bathroom you just used am I going to smell your stinking shit or am I going to smell greenbud? Or were you at least smart enough to step outside before you hit your fucking pipe?"
"You guys are paranoid," Darren said. "I had to take a shit, that's all. My stomach hasn't been feeling too good today. You know how it is? Remember that time in Santa Fe, Matt?"
"Listen, asshole," Matt said. But before he could go any further, Steve Langley, the production manager, walked over.
"It's time, guys," he said. "Let's get lined up by the access door."
"Right," Matt said. He took a few deep breaths and then looked at Darren. "You'd better not fuck up out there."
"I'm not gonna fuck up," Darren said. "I'm telling you, man. I'm not stoned!"
"Uh huh," Matt said. "And you'd better believe we're going to be talking about this after the show."
"There's nothing to talk about," Darren said stubbornly.
Steve seemed a bit uncomfortable with the tension between the band members. "Is everything all right?" he asked carefully.
"I hope so," Matt said. "Come on. Let's do it."
"Let's do it," the rest of them echoed.
The lights in the warehouse had been dimmed down to near blackness. Playing from the amplifiers was a deep, ominous synthesizer melody, swelling in volume, intensifying in depth.
The band did their ritual slapping of hands. By the time they were done, their cue was upon them.
"Go," Steve told them. "And remember, stay clear of the pyro charges."
They went, walking into the darkness and finding their positions by feel and repetition. Jake picked up his guitar — a brand new Brogan Les Paul knock-off that had been re-strung and exactly tuned earlier that day by Mohammed, his personal assistant. He pulled a pick from the inlay and gripped it. He then backed up four paces, clearing himself from the danger zone of the pyrotechnic charge that would soon be exploding before him.
The synthesized recording built to a crescendo, held, and then cut-off. The moment it did, Matt hit an open low E and A string. The sound crunched out over the warehouse, blasting from the amplifiers and slowly fading away. Just as it was about to fade to nothing, Matt did a fast, finger-tapping solo, ending with a repetitive hammering of the whammy bar on the high-E string.
This was the cue for Dave, the maniacal pyrotechnician, to fire off the first of his explosives. He did it exactly and well. There was a flash of bright light and a resounding BOOM. Jake felt it hammer into his chest, smelled the smoke from the powder. His eyes were momentarily blinded but he was safe and sound, his testicles still attached to his body. The spotlights came on, illuminating them brightly to the audience, and, as one, the band launched into the first song of the set, The Thrill of Doing Business.
Thrill had an extended session of hard, heavy guitar work prior to the first vocals. Matt crunched out the lead, working the tempo up faster and louder while Jake produced a solid backing riff. As they played they moved about the front of the stage, letting the pounding beat laid down by Coop and Darren guide their body motions. They came shoulder to shoulder a few times but made sure not to cross over each other and switch sides since that would quickly tangle their guitar cords like the leashes of two dogs. At last came the final build up to the main riff. It was a furious symphony of drumbeats, piano chords, bass, and dual guitars that worked their way into a simultaneous, heavy-handed production of the main riff. Matt moved backwards, sliding in a dancing, shuffling motion that went exactly to the beat. Jake moved forward, timing his approach to the microphone so that the second he reached it, it was time for him to sing.
His voice belted out the lyrics, the words coming from his mouth smooth and sure, with exacting emotion. He sang the verses and the chorus, changed timbre for the bridge, all the while his fingers playing his guitar and his body moving and swaying to the beat. When it was time for the guitar solo he stepped back, going shoulder to shoulder with Darren in a dizzying overlay of lighting effects while Matt twisted and turned while his incredibly fast and agile fingers hammered on the neck of his guitar and tapped surely at the strings. The song ended with another furious crunch of instruments followed by a brief period of silence — the short applause break as it was called. The applause did not wash over them as it would during a full performance — after all, there were only thirty or so people out there — but they did get a resounding session of appreciation. There was lots of hand clapping and a few whistles.
"Yeah, Jake!" Jake heard Mindy scream up at him. "Damn you're good, baby!"
Jake couldn't see her, or anyone else in the audience for that matter, since the stage was as bright as daylight and the seating area was in darkness. Still, he smiled and looked at the place where he thought she was sitting. He then stepped back to his microphone just as Coop did the four count and launched them into the next song.
They played solidly for the next seventy-six minutes, working their way through a mixed combination of tunes from Descent Into Nothing and the new album. Their motions on stage remained as spontaneous and improvised as they'd always been, though this was only because of another battle fought with the National Records executives, who had hired a choreography team and had tried to turn the entire production into a complex, coordinated dance in which every on-stage motion was pre-planned and carefully rehearsed.
"It's the way concerts are evolving," Crow told them when the idea was first explained. "It's part of the MTV effect on the industry. People don't want to see you just going up there and playing your instruments and singing. That's boring. They want to see production, flair, performance. This choreography team is the best in the business. They'll work with you step by step until every concert you do will be exactly the same, with everyone in an exact place at any particular time. You'll move in synchronicity up there, with new modern dance steps, some jumps, and even some basic gymnastic moves."