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“Christ! You don’t know?”
“Sorry.”
“Almost every dead pop star checked out when they were twenty-seven.”
“Really?” I turned to Johnny who seemed suddenly animated.
“Actually, yeah, that’s right,” he said.
“Kurt, Jimi, Janis, Jim Morrison, Amy Winehouse … it’s a mighty long list, man,” Micky added.
“So?” I said.
“Dude … I’m twenty-six.”
Chapter 30
“WELL WHAT DO you make of that?” I asked Johnny as the doors of the elevator closed on Micky Stevens and Hemi.
“Seems genuinely scared, boss.”
We walked back into reception and saw Colette on the phone. She did well to disguise the fact that she was telling a friend about what had just happened. I frowned and she quickly hung up.
Johnny settled himself back into the chair he’d been in before the rock star visitation. I sat behind my desk, put my feet up on the walnut.
“Refresh my memory,” I said. “I was never a big fan. He was in Fun Park, right? Before he went solo and became a massive star.”
“Yeah, granddad,” Johnny replied with a grin.
“I’m more a Nirvana and Chili Peppers kinda guy.”
“Fair enough. Fun Park were big. Three No. 1 singles, a hit album. They’ve just reformed without Micky.”
“But his solo career eclipsed his old band, right?”
“Definitely. He is … was, huge.”
“Was?”
“Gone off a bit recently. Last hit was well over a year ago.”
“Which is an eternity when most of your fans are five- or six-year-olds!”
Johnny laughed. “A bit of an exaggeration!”
“Okay,” I said suddenly serious. “Could he just be delusional? He obviously has issues.”
“I guess we have to take him seriously,” Johnny offered.
“We do? Why?” I paused a beat. “Look, okay. I get it. He’s Micky Stevens … megastar and, I dunno, he seems like a pretty nice guy. But do we believe him?”
“We obviously need to know a lot more about his manager.”
“Alright,” I said firmly and lowered my legs from the table. “Let’s take Micky seriously – at least until we know otherwise.”
Johnny seemed to be lost in thought.
“I reckon this one’s for you, Johnny.”
