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Angie squeaked in surprise as a cloud of something—it looked like dust—came out of the bottle and blasted into our faces. Whatever it was went everywhere, into my eyes and up my nose as I waved my hands in front of my face. I opened my eyes and looked at my hands.
“They’re fucking dead,” Stone said.
Glitter. They’d bombed us with glitter.
We were covered in it. All of us, including Angie, looked like we had escaped a second-grade crafts classroom by way of a pride parade. It was on the floor, in my beard, my hair. I had no idea what my face looked like.
The PA came to the green room door. “One minute,” he called out.
Neal sighed. He wiped his sleeve over his face and patted a glittery hand on Angie’s glittery shoulder. “Welcome to the music business,” he said, and we all turned to file out the door.
THIRTY-ONE
Axel: It’s been three days, and I can’t get this shit off me. It’s everywhere.
Denver: When you shower, it just moves down to other body parts. Showering does nothing.
Neal: My shower drain looks like a unicorn ejaculated on it.
Stone: I have glitter in the crack of my ass. Seven Dog Down is going to pay for this.
Axel: I don’t know. The crowd seemed to like it.
Neal: Hometown Portland crowds are the least uptight. Raine won’t stop laughing every time we get naked. Have I mentioned that I’m with Raine now and we get naked?
Denver: Only a few dozen times.
Stone: TMI.
Neal: Too bad man, I’m happy. You should try it sometime.
Stone: Not my style.
Axel: So we’re all wearing glitter to this meeting with William Hale? By the way, can we call him Billy?
Stone: I think we should definitely call him Billy.
Denver: Thirded. And yes, I’m wearing my glitter. He’ll just have to deal.
Neal: I’ll give Angie credit. She got the meeting for us, even though she’s as covered in glitter as we are.
Denver: What do we think of her, by the way?
Stone: I like her.
Neal: Of course you do. She’s tall, blonde, and a former swimsuit model. You two could wash each other’s glitter off.
Denver: NO ONE HAS SEX WITH OUR NEW AGENT. For fuck’s sake, do I have to specify this?
Axel: I think she’s married, anyway. Stone, keep your pants on.
Stone: I’m not the nudist in this band, Shimmy. Besides, you’re single too.
Axel: You just have to bring that up?
Neal: There was no husband at Miller’s funeral service. She was there by herself. Maybe she’s divorced?
Denver: IT DOESN’T MATTER. No one is having sex with Angie. We need an agent, and she seems to be it.
