"Oh sweet Lord," Janice muttered, and then closed her mouth as a middle-aged woman in a hideous-looking strapless dress approached them.
"Janice," she said, holding out her hands for a hug. "How are you doing, darling? Thank you so much for coming."
As Janice and the woman hugged and exchanged one of the fake cheek kisses, Matt turned to Jake and asked, "Who the fuck is that?"
Jake shrugged.
"This, is Georgette Minden," Janice said, shooting them a look. "She is Mindy Snow's agent and one of the hosts of this premier."
"Ahhh," Matt said. "I see. How you doing? Nice shindig you got going here."
"You would have to be Matt Tisdale," Georgette said, stepping forward and giving him a hug and a fake kiss. "I'm very glad you could show up tonight, Mr. Tisdale."
"Like I had a choice," Matt muttered.
"Matt," Janice hissed.
Georgette ignored this exchange. Instead, she turned to Jake. "And you, of course, are the somewhat infamous Jake Kingsley."
"That's me," Jake agreed, submitting to her as she pushed her ample bosom into his chest and made a smacking noise near his left ear.
"You know, Mindy is a big fan of your music," Georgette told them. "She absolutely adores you."
"Oh yeah?" Matt asked, a twinkle starting in his eye.
"Of course, we don't announce that to the public," Georgette said. "It would be bad for her image."
"Of course," Jake said.
"Anyway, why don't you all follow me and meet the stars of the show?"
"Why the fuck not?" Matt said.
The three stars in question were standing near the back of the room, just adjacent to the entrance of the actual theater. Mark Dennison was a handsome, exquisitely fit young man with capped teeth and a prize-winning smile. He was decked out in a custom fit tuxedo and wore a Rolex watch on his wrist. Mindy Snow and Veronica Julius, both of whom were wearing expensive and elaborate formal dresses, flanked him. Mindy's dress was very conservative, almost borderline prudish. It was light blue and completely covered her shoulders. Only the smallest amount of her ample bosom was showing. Veronica, on the other hand, was wearing a skimpy red dress that left very little to the imagination. Her back was bare, her breasts were nearly falling out of it, and her legs — clad in black nylon — were exposed well past the knees.
"They're certainly keeping up with their images, aren't they?" Jake whispered as they approached.
"Well, naturally," Georgette said. "Image is everything in Hollywood."
The introductions were made and handshakes were exchanged all around.
"I'm really glad you guys could come," Mindy told them. "I just love your music." She blushed a little. "Especially your voice, Jake."
"Uh... thanks," Jake said. "I'm glad I could entertain you."
"I think you guys are fabulous too," Dennison told them. "I own all of your albums."
"We only have one album, dude," Matt said sourly.
Dennison actually giggled. "Of course you do," he said. "And a great one it is."
Matt took a step away from him, and a step closer to Veronica, who he had been eyeing ever since she came into view. "How about you, Ronnie?" he asked. "Can I call you Ronnie?"
"No, you may not," she said, glaring at him.
"Forgive me," Matt said. "But do you listen to our music too?"
"I don't listen to music," she said. She turned to a woman who was hovering nearby. "Callie, get me a drink, will you? Scotch on the rocks."
"Of course, Ms. Julius," the woman said. "Coming right up."
"Six ice cubes," she called after her. "No more, no less."
"Yes, Ms. Julius. Six ice cubes."
Janice spoke up at that point and thanked them for the invite. She then led the two musicians away.
"Bye, guys," Mindy called after him as he went. "It was nice meeting you."
Jake looked over his shoulder and gave her a smile.
"What a fuckin' cunt that Veronica bitch is," Matt said when they were out of earshot.
"Matt, please keep your voice down," Janice hissed. "This place is crawling with print reporters. If they overhear you saying something like that it will be all over the tabloids tomorrow morning."
"Right," Matt returned, sounding anything but sincere.
One of the champagne girls came by and offered them all a glass. Janice and Jake declined but Matt took one.
"Is this the good shit?" Matt asked her.
She looked a little taken aback but answered politely. "It's Dom Perignon," she said. "Chilled to precisely forty-six degrees."
"Yeah?" Matt asked. With that, he swallowed the entire glass at a gulp. His eyes watered and he released a wet burp that resonated throughout the immediate vicinity. He pounded his chest a few times. "Not bad," he said. "That is some pretty good hooch." He set the glass back on her tray and walked off towards the bar while Jake smirked in amusement and Janice suppressed an expression of horror.
"Hey, Jeeves," Matt said to the tuxedoed bartender. "Set me up with a Jack and Coke, and don't be chintzy on me with the Jack."
"Right away, sir," he replied. He then looked at Jake. "And you, sir?"
"Rum and Coke," Jake said.
"What kind of rum would you prefer?"
"The most expensive you got," Jake said.
"Of course," the bartender said. He reached down below the bar and produced two glasses.
"No fuckin' way," Matt told him. "That simply will not do."
"Excuse me?" the bartender asked.
"Those glasses ain't big enough. I'll drink something that size in about fifteen seconds. Bust out the water glasses, homey. I want a fuckin' drink, not a shooter."
"Oh my God," Janice moaned. "Matt, this is not the local watering hole. This is a high society party."
"Then these pricks don't know how to drink," Matt said. "Fire me up, Jeeves. Just the way I asked."
He fired them up, taking down two water glasses, filling them with ice, and then concocting an alcohol to coke mixture with a ratio of about fifty-fifty. "Will these meet your requirements, sir?" he asked Matt when he was done.
"Bet your ass," Matt replied. He turned to Janice, who was still flushing in embarrassment. "Don't just stand there, Janice. Give the man a tip. A big one."
Janice kept her lips tightly pursed but did as she was told. She dug a five-dollar bill out of her purse and dropped it in the bartender's tip jar.
"Thank you, sirs," he said, assuming, as Matt had already figured out, that Janice was their servant.
"Matt," Janice chastised once they were away from the bar, "you simply must maintain some composure here."
"What the fuck for?" he asked. "Aren't we supposed to be a bunch of boozing, drug addict, Satanist badasses? I'm only acting the part."
"You're overacting," she said. "This is not the place for such shenanigans."
"Okay," he said. "Sorry. I'll try to maintain."
"Thank you," she said.
He looked around, as if scoping out the crowd. "So," he asked. "Where can we burn?"
"Burn?" Janice asked.
"Yeah," Matt said. "Me and Jake need to toke up one of these joints I brought."
Janice paled. "You brought marijuana here?"
"Of course," he said. "We're gonna watch a movie, ain't we? I don't ever watch movies without being stoned."
"You can't smoke marijuana here," Janet told him. "Go in the bathroom right now and flush it down the toilet!"
"The bathroom," Matt said. "What a brilliant idea. Thanks, Janice."
"What?" Janice said.
The other one of the champagne girls was passing by. Matt grabbed her arm. "Hey, beautiful," he said.
"Would you care for some champagne, sir?" she asked.
"Uh... sure," Matt said. He took a glass from her tray, quickly downed it, belched again, and then set it back down. "Thanks. But I what I really wanted is for you to tell me where the shitter is."
The champagne girl pursed her lips for the briefest of seconds before answering. "The... uh... men's facilities are located over there." She pointed. "Just down that hallway."
"Thanks, sweetie," Matt said, giving her a little pat on the butt. "Come on, Jake. Let's go burn one."