The last song of the set was one of Jake's, a tune called Living By The Law, which was a political piece about the proliferation of lawyers in society. They started it off with a musical duet of the two guitars, Jake finger-picking a beautiful acoustic backing while Matt played a mournful solo. They gradually increased the tempo of the duet until it reached a point where the acoustic could no longer keep up. At this point, Jake stomped on one of his petals, changing his sound over to full electric distortion, allowing him to grind out a riff instead. They kept this up for another minute, continuing to increase the tempo the entire time, building up to a peak at which point Jake stopped playing, allowing Matt to launch into a full-blown guitar solo that lasted four minutes and displayed every bit of his considerable genius to the crowd. That led him into the main riff of Living By The Law. The rest of the band chimed back in and they belted out the song perfectly. They ended with an extended flourish of guitars, drums, and piano that went on for almost a full minute and then it was over. The applause and cheers exploded through the venue once again.
"Thank you," Jake said, gratitude and pleasure plain as day in his voice. "Thank you so much. You're all great!"
They applauded even louder as the five of them linked their arms around each other and took a bow.
"Enjoy The Boozehounds and have a good night," Jake said into the microphone. "We'll see you again soon."
They walked off the stage, back into the alcove. Jake checked his watch. It was 7:43. They had finished up two minutes early.
"That was fuckin' awesome!" Darren yelled, clapping everyone within reach on the back. "They fuckin' loved us. Loved us!"
"We rocked!" Coop said, his grin ear to ear, his poodle-hair saturated with perspiration. "We really did!"
Bill looked overwhelmed, as if he couldn't really believe he had just performed before an audience-that he had in fact done a blistering two minute solo of his own that had earned him a standing ovation (a fuckin' standing-O from a hard rock crowd for a goddamn piano solo! Jake thought in wonder). Matt simply looked thoughtful, a strange expression on his face that looked a little like expectation. They would now wait for the applause to die down and then they would start clearing their equipment off the stage.
Only the applause didn't die down. It grew louder. They began to clap rhythmically and shout a word out in unison, over and over. The word was more.
"They want an encore," Coop said in wonder. "Can you believe that shit?"
"Let's give the people what they want," Matt said. He turned back toward the stage.
"Wait a minute," Jake said, grabbing him by the shoulder. "We didn't rehearse an encore. What the fuck are we supposed to do?"
"Almost Too Easy," Matt said, naming off the first song-another of Matt's fuck 'em and leave 'em tunes about women-they had done together as a band, a song that pre-dated Jake and Bill's tenure. It was a grinding, simple song full of loud guitar riffs, frequent solos, and heavy backbeat. "We've done that one enough. We know it cold."
"Are you really sure we should do that?" Bill asked. "Won't it piss off O'Donnell?"
"I seriously doubt that," Matt said. "Come on. Let's do it."
They did it, walking back out onto the stage, back out into the hot spotlights. The crowd roared its appreciation at their reappearance. They picked up their instruments and took their positions. Another four-count by Coop and they launched into Almost Too Easy. Matt was right. They knew it cold and performed it flawlessly. The crowd loved it and demanded another.
"Business as Usual," Matt told them over the roar, naming a song they had initially rehearsed to be part of the set but had been forced to cut in the interests of time.
Everyone nodded and there was another four-count. The sound of Intemperance filled the hall one more time.
The crowd demanded even more after they left the stage but that was all they were going to get for tonight. They were following a golden rule, after all. Leave them wanting more.
The calls for the encore went on for some time, dying down only when someone turned off the stage lights and turned back up the house lights. A few minutes after this Michaels and Hathaway came stomping back, fury on their faces.
"What the fuck do you assholes think you were doing?" Michaels demanded. "Your set was supposed to be forty-five fucking minutes. It's five minutes to eight!"
"Just giving the people what they want," Matt told him with a shrug. "Just giving them what they want."
"Oh you're real fuckin' funny," Hathaway said. "Now we're running late. Our set starts in thirty-five minutes and your shit is still on the stage!"
"What's the big deal?" Matt asked. "It's not like you guys do sound checks or tune your instruments or anything."
This infuriated both of them. "You fuckin' hackers!" Michaels screamed. "We were playing on this stage while you assholes were still listening to Sonny and Cher on your parent's eight track players! How dare you..."
"And you're still playing here, aren't you?" Matt said. "What's it been? Eight years? Eight years and you're still playing in Heritage and you have the nerve to call us hackers? Did you hear that applause they gave us tonight? Did you hear them calling for encores? Did you hear them yelling out 'Fuck The Hounds'?"
"Let's see what O'Donnell has to say about this," Hathaway said.
"Yes, why don't you do that?" Matt suggested. "In fact, here he comes now."
O'Donnell had a lot to say actually. None of it was what Hathaway and Michaels really wanted to hear however. He congratulated the members of Intemperance on an outstanding show, telling them it was the best performance by a first time band he had ever seen in his life.
"You boys are going places," he gushed. "Holy fucking shit. Come to my office when you're done clearing the stage. I want to schedule you for the next couple of weekends if you're up for it."
"No," Michaels said firmly. "That ain't gonna happen."
O'Donnell turned slowly towards him, his face neutral. "How's that?" he asked softly.
"I don't want this band opening for us anymore. They're rude, unprofessional, and they ran far past their allotted time. If you want to sign them, sign them for nights we're not here."
O'Donnell seemed to think this over for a moment. Finally, he said, "There's gonna be a lot of nights you're not here if you ever tell me how to run my establishment again. These boys will be performing when I say they're performing. If you don't like it, you're free to play some other venue."
Michaels' face was so red it looked like he might explode. "We're The Boozehounds!" he shouted. "If we're not here, no one is gonna come to this fucking place. We're what brings the crowd in."
"For now," O'Donnell agreed. "But I think that's gonna change real soon."
Chapter 2: One Year Later
September 23, 1981
Heritage, California
Willie's Roadhouse was located five miles north of downtown Heritage, on the Eden Highway, which ran along the Sacramento River levee. The club was one of four businesses that sat atop a large wooden pier, built on stilts next to the levee, that jutted out over the west bank of the river. Stairs led down from the pier to the Heritage Marina, where dozens of boats were permanently berthed and dozens more had been parked in the temporary berthing for the concert that had taken place at Willie's tonight. Similarly the parking lot located adjacent to the pier was completely full, as was every available space alongside the twisting levee road for a quarter mile in both directions. There was only one thing that could draw a crowd like this out to the small roadhouse on a Wednesday night and that one thing was listed on the marquee.