‘This is really happening?’ Mazz asked.
Linda nodded folding her notes and putting them back in The Prodigal Daughter.
‘When do we leave?’ Johnny asked already picturing LAX without Grace to hold his hand.
‘Wednesday after next; the day after you play the Whisky. You’re not shooting until Sunday so you’ll have time to adjust but you’ll be measured for suits and Richard’s booked you to headline The Marquee with Little Spirit as support on the Friday.’
‘Did you say measured for outfits?’ Mazz said excitedly.
‘Correct. Antony Price, I believe.’
Even Stu who’d hoped never to leave America except to record another album seemed impressed.
‘What song are we doing for the video?’ he asked.
‘Good question. Trudie’s suggested Million Memories.’
The band discussed it. Only Stu felt the song truly worthy, probably due to his heavily featured tom-tom shuffle. Nevertheless it seemed the most obvious choice unless they rereleased Blossoming Angel.
Finally the meeting wrapped up. The band advised they’d use their time in LA to further rehearse ideas for the next album.
Shaking off his flight apprehension, Johnny stood with the rest of his band but didn’t want to leave Linda. Not knowing when he’d see her again he desperately wanted to ask her out but couldn’t think of the words or what premise he’d use. Eventually he picked up his Stetson and followed the others.
* * *
Left alone in the company of Fiona, Linda tried vainly to take stock of her feelings. She’d been looking forward to seeing Johnny and now she had. She wanted to spend more time with him but like Johnny, couldn’t think of an excuse as to why. In the end she sighed and pressed on with her work.
Sunday 24th June 1984
Band and crew stood in the wings and watched the first few Van Halen songs before Mazz pointed out Jump would likely be saved for the encore. One advantage of being the support act meant finishing early; a good thing amidst Vegas’ beguilement. To Johnny’s amusement the girls lead the way into dessert city’s gaudy chaos.
They found Caesars Palace, yards from where they’d played.
Everyone except Johnny got drunk. Everyone except Johnny gambled.
He found it hard watching his bandmates streaming dimes into bandits with no clue as to odds of seeing them again.
Christine looked to be enjoying herself with Mazz and that gave him peace. Since his episode with her earlier he’d felt something akin to guilt; like he’d led her on. Christine saw him. He gave her a wave and wandered over to a roulette table where Stu and Dane sat placing chips. He watched the ball orbit the track anticlockwise before hitting a metal pin and clatter into clockwise spinning wheel.
‘Zero,’ the croupier called. Nobody had bet on zero or double zero. ‘House wins.’
As the croupier gathered Stu and Dane’s chips along with the rest of the table’s Johnny said, ‘Neither of you are Charles Wells or Joseph Jagger.’
‘Just a bit of fun,’ Stu said.
‘Yeah, we’re not risking …’ Dane held his tongue.
Johnny found Jack and Quinn at a blackjack table.
‘You joining us?’ Quinn asked.
Approaching he asked out of earshot of the dealer, ‘If you’re card counting.’
‘How you supposed to count cards with the likes of that strutting around?’
Johnny laughed seeing another leggy blond in bunny ears distracting gamblers. He sighed.
Apart from poker which if you knew enough about you could stand to net money, gambling did as little to inspire him as drink or drugs. If any of The USed team had taken a moment to consider the odds they surely wouldn’t even be in the casino.
The next day they’d be heading to Reno, eight hours away. Johnny headed back alone to think and play his guitar.
* * *
Back in Caesars Palace Mazz decided she’d rather see her quarters behind the bar than in the slot machines. Christine arriving at the same conclusion pulled the lever. Coins rained into the machine’s tray.
‘Quit whilst we’re ahead?’ she said scooping up the money.
The girls headed to the bar and started on cocktails.
With such a long drive ahead Jack and Quinn soon left followed by Stu and Dane. The girls said they’d catch them up but Christine in particular having shared her feelings with Johnny earlier decided she’d need a few more drinks first.
Before long Van Halen’s fans poured into the casino and much to the girls’ delight plenty of good-looking American guys recognised them and started chatting them up. Both girls enjoyed the thrill of the chase and the free drinks that came with it.
As more blue liquid vanished Christine knew she’d have an astonishing hangover the next morning but at least they’d be able to sleep most of the journey to Reno.
Eventually the girls identified two suitable candidates to share a hotel room.
Minutes later in a hotel across the road a cork popped.
Champaign flutes bubbled over and Christine and Mazz both said, ‘Bottoms up.’
Tuesday 06th March 1984
On the evening before The USed Wonz’ return to England, Linda parked her car on her empty drive and headed into the apartment to freshen up in readiness for The USed Wonz’ Whisky gig.
Kicking her shoes off, she bent to pick up the day’s mail. In an instant her heart stopped seeing a letter from her bank.
Tearing the envelope open she cursed seeing they’d sent her statement to the apartment – not her office address.
‘Earl?’ she shouted.
No answer.
She thanked God she’d arrived home first.
She stuffed the statement in her handbag. She’d call into the bank tomorrow.
Dropping the bag next to the settee she went outside to water her patio plants. The evening’s sun warmed her face.
Indoors she left The USed Wonz’ meeting notes with her bag but returned to the sun with glasses and Jeffrey Archer novel.
Soon, too absorbed in the pages, she failed to hear Earl’s truck on the other side of the building.
With her back to the glass doors she didn’t see him enter the living area either. Eventually with the sinking sun she went back inside.
‘Oh,’ she said coming face-to-stony-face with Earl.
Wordlessly he disappeared towards the bedroom leaving Linda somewhat bewildered until with a slam of the door her stomach knotted.
There, on the coffee table by the settee where he’d been sitting, lay the bank statement she’d put in her handbag. Her heart sank.
Flopping down she decided right then to switch her accounts to Citibank. Examining the figures and knowing Earl as she did, she imagined how he’d feel. Unable to see The USed Wonz’ meeting notes, she folded the Prodigal Daughter page to mark it.
Sadly her mind cleared. Leaving the statement on the table she got up.
In the bedroom she found Earl on the bed facing the wall, his body stiff with palpable disdain. Wasting no time she pulled a suitcase from the closet. Dropping it next to where he lay she emptied her T-shirt draw into it.
‘What you doing?’ he said.
Linda swept her jewellery into the case. ‘D’you realise that’s the first thing you’ve said to me?’
He rolled over facing her.
Linda carried on throwing things into the case with abandon.
‘What are you doing?’ he repeated with urgency. ‘Stop it.’
‘You stop it.’
She winced at her childish retort. Sparing him a glance from her side of the bed to his she added, ‘Stop hating me.’
‘What? I—’
‘I know how hard you work Earl, and how much you earn. I understand you sweat and toil. But, I know you looked at my bank statement.’
‘Well—’
‘Well nothing. I get how that makes you feel. Why did you open my mail?’
‘I …’
Earl’s words
stalled as Linda continued packing. He seemed afraid.
Acting quickly before his fear turned to rage she said, ‘D’you know what, I don’t care. I created that business from nothing and I’ve been doing it longer than you’ve been doing me.’
‘The world needs labourers.’
‘I know, but you hate being one.’
‘So?’
‘So, I can’t win. I love my work and its rewards. I can’t just stop being a businesswoman so you can be the main breadwinner. And beating me up doesn’t redress karmic balance.’
She gestured flamboyantly.
‘I didn’t know you’d gotten pregnant you silly cow.’
Close to tears she looked Earl in the face. ‘You knew I was sick though. You floored me and left me to die. And what about all the other times?’
At once she saw the change. A switch clicked in Earl’s mind; the air thickened.
Zipping the case shut she knew she’d be lucky to get out the apartment in one piece.
With a case full of what, she had no idea, she dashed for the door slamming it behind her.
‘Get back here,’ Earl roared.
At once from the apartment above three thumps came through the ceiling. Joan had heard them.
From the living area Linda guessed Earl must have hesitated. If he had an ounce of sense he’d stay put.
She saw the phone seeming to throb crimson. Knowing how long it’d take her to grab shoes and keys before reaching the safety of her car she dropped the case and ran towards the red pulse and managed to dial three numbers before Earl appeared.
‘Who you ringing?’
‘My mother,’ she said facing him.
‘Put it down.’
Not daring to turn her back she put the receiver on the counter top and resignedly approached him correctly guessing she’d not make The USed Wonz’ Whisky gig.
Grabbing her, he saw the phone’s receiver hadn’t been cradled. He threw her sideways and lunged for the receiver. Barefoot, Linda staggered avoiding collision with the coffee table. There, before her eyes, her bank statement appeared as perfect as an angel feather. Seeing the apartment’s address she screamed it out loud.
Earl had the receiver in his hand.
Glaring at her with an expression darker than she’d ever seen he lifted the receiver to his ear and said, ‘Who’s there?’
Linda straightened. Running would be hopeless. She could almost hear the operator speaking into Earl’s ear, Emergency Services. Would the operator have heard her scream the address?
Earl’s expression remained fixed. As he replaced the handset, Linda promised herself this would be the last time he’d ever belt her.
She steeled herself for the worst then sighed as the big open right hand swung back high and offensively.
Bang-bang-bang.
‘I see you, you psycho bastard.’
Linda wobbled. Earl’s hand hung, suspended. He snapped round looking over his shoulder.
Linda looked too and saw Joan, face and palms pressed into the nearest patio window; a demonic look in her eye.
‘I’ll see you go to prison,’ she said.
Everyone froze until the single pane of glass in the door next to Joan exploded.
Linda’s accelerated mind slowed the fragments of glass rushing her kitchen. Thunder boomed within the sparkling blizzard where bushy leaves led by Linda’s ten gallon pot descended fiercely. Her beloved Rainier cherry tree smashed into the teak parquet floor in an avalanche of soil.
Linda swayed focusing on the area destroyed for the second time in as many months. Joan’s husband, a little man in his fifties and no match for Earl, floundered through the jagged doorframe his face gripped with fear but a shovel gripped in his hands.
Earl fled.
* * *
During a radio interview earlier that day Pete the Panther had congratulated The USed Wonz confirming they’d just sold-out the Whisky.
In the venue’s backstage though everyone including Fiona wondered where Linda could be.
‘She couldn’t wait to see you guys,’ Fiona said.
‘So nothing seemed wrong?’ Johnny asked.
‘No, she seemed happier than usual.’
Christine wanted to check the guest list.
‘You can’t go out there in full band dress, you’ll get mobbed,’ Fiona said. ‘I’ll go.’
Christine waited but when Fiona returned she told them she’d seen Linda’s name without a tick next to it. She’d also rung her apartment and the office but nobody had answered.
‘Maybe her mum’s taken ill again?’ Stu said.
‘That’s about the only thing I can think of,’ Christine said.
‘We’ll just have to do the gig without her,’ Mazz said.
Stu smiled. It sounded cute coming from her. Hearing everyone harp on about Linda anyone would have thought she’d be joining them on stage.
Since being back in LA Johnny had wittered on about Linda but they’d seen less of her than they had in September. The situation seemed to make Johnny’s skin itch.
‘She’ll come,’ Stu said seeing his mate’s agitation. ‘If she’s with her mum she’ll leave in time for the first song.’
He could see Johnny hadn’t believed him.
* * *
With Joan in the passenger seat, Linda drove from the police station miles from Sunset Boulevard and the Whisky. Time had flown. The USed Wonz would be rocking nine hundred and ninety-nine fans; too late for her to be the thousandth.
A policeman had arrived ages after Earl’s departure from the apartment. It seemed another patrol car had been in the area and would have been there at once if a speeding truck hadn’t hit it.
Earl had been driving the truck and apprehended.
Later, acting as witness, Joan insisted Linda press charges against Earl. This time she didn’t argue. How else could she guarantee safety from him?
Joan’s husband boarded up her patio door again whilst Joan accompanied Linda downtown.
By the time the statements had been taken Linda felt cold, scruffy and lonely. Not wanting to go back to the apartment she thought of everyone at the Whisky, warm and hopefully cheerful. She wondered if she’d been missed. She hoped so, a bit.
Though Earl would spend the night in a cell she didn’t want to be alone so after dropping Joan off she collected the suitcase and headed to her mom’s.
By midnight she wished she’d stayed home instead.
Thankfully, her mother agreed charges should be pressed against Earl, but Linda suffered another lecture about the importance of having the right man to protect her.
Apparently she’d just have to find another, better man, God help her.
She got into bed late before thinking she probably should have contacted the hotel to pass an apology to The USed Wonz.
Monday 25th June 1984
A few minutes before 11am the silver-haired man put his office phone down.
Talk about being kept on edge. Kyle, the voice on the end of the phone, had once again failed again to confirm what he needed to hear and had in fact, finally admitted defeat as far as gaining confirmation via his current efforts. But he claimed to have been inspired.
Silver’s dwindling hope meant he would have told Kyle not to pursue the case further but for one other cheery breakthrough. Silver had finally managed to stir waters in a different way.
He’d been tracking The USed Wonz’ progress. He knew they’d want to keep their devastating financial loss to themselves but Silver had other ideas. He’d been telephoning the radio stations due to interview the band.
In a practiced Southern States accent, he’d attempted to incite gossip about the band’s loss. Unfortunately for him, until recently stations had dismissed him particularly if he couldn’t give them a telephone number to call back on.
Two days earlier however, he’d struck lucky. Ringing from a quiet public phone a lady at KOMP in Las Vegas dashed him through to the band live on air.
So far as Silv
er could tell from his end he’d certainly rattled the band. Though one of the girls handled the situation, Silver had pictured the DJ seeing the band’s honest reaction.
That morning, calling previously visited radio stations, Silver discovered, as he’d hoped and suspected that Lance, KOMP’s DJ, had been investigating whether there could be truth behind the rumour all the while spreading it further.
Sitting back in his leather chair Silver’s greedy mind once again hoped Kyle would come through with the news he longed to hear.
Wednesday 07th March 1984
Waking with a headache Linda cursed her mother for letting her sleep in. After showering she dressed in casual nonmatching clothes from her panic-packed suitcase.
Soon Linda arrived at her office and saw Fiona on the phone.
‘Gotta dash, the boss just walked in,’ Fiona said wrapping up the call.
Now at her desk, Linda asked with a bitter edge, ‘Was that a personal call?’
‘No,’ Fiona said jumping to attention. ‘It was Gerry from the Whisky. He waffles on so I cut him short.’
Softening she looked up. ‘Sorry Fiona, I wasn’t thinking.’
‘It’s okay. I’m just relieved to see you,’ she hesitated, ‘looking so …’
‘Randomly dressed?’ Linda suggested.
‘Yeah, but alive. We’ve been worried sick. Johnny’s phoned twice already. I figured I’d give you till eleven, before phoning the cops.’
‘Just as well I’m here then, I’ve seen enough of the police.’
Fiona gave an enquiring look.
Deciding she deserved an explanation, Linda told her about Earl’s violence and its link to her time in hospital.
After recounting the previous night’s events and Joan’s intervention, Fiona asked, ‘So Earl’s going to prison?’
Linda nodded. ‘Certainly. When he left he crashed into a patrol car which won’t help him.’
Having talked enough she changed the subject and asked after The USed Wonz’ Whisky gig.
‘They were really good,’ Fiona said smiling again. ‘Well, I thought so anyway. The crowd loved them but Stu told me he thought Johnny hadn’t been his best.’
‘Really?’
‘He was sensational, but Stu reckons he was worried about you.’
‘Oh God,’ Linda said feeling guilty.
‘He was definitely out of sorts beforehand.’
Fiona suggested she go home to freshen up but the thought of returning to the apartment made her nauseous.
‘It’s okay, I’ve got things to wear here,’ she said checking the time.
She guessed The USed Wonz wouldn’t yet have returned to their hotel following their final radio interview. She hoped to catch them before they flew to London.