Heaven, INC: Chapter 50: FUCKING VIC

The music business is a shallow money trench,
a long plastic hallway where thieves and pimps
Run free and where good men die like dogs.
There is also a negative side.
—HUNTER S. THOMPSON

NORTHBOUND HIGHWAY 163,
NEAR MIRAMAR
12:44 P.M. PDT

ON THEIR LEFT, the Miramar airbase was sliding by as Owen said, “Dude, Roscoe’s totally blowing up my phone. He’s probably sending out a ChemSteem search party right now. Or a hit squad.— Wait, I forgot. That’s the Greeks’ job.”

In the side-mirror, Jimmy saw a Porsche five feet off the bumper and when he gave the brakes a little tap, watched the clown lock em up before jumping on the horn and shooting Jimmy the bird. Jimmy smiled as the guy sped by.

“Jimmy, you do realize we’ve still got the La Jolla eleven o’clock, and a six-area in North PB—”

Owen glancing at his watch “—at pretty much right now.”

“I need you to drop me at my car.”

“At the office.”

“Right.”

“Roscoe’s lair.”

“Right.”

“Evil Roscoe, who in his last voice-mail threatened to get you sent back to prison? That’s where we’re headed?”

Jimmy took Miramar Way. “Got shit I’ve gotta do and I need my car.”

“Really? Well how about our To-Do list, remember? Get Signed By Famous Rock Producer. Make Millions. Quit Carpet Cleaning. That’s what it was last night, when we were finishing up the demo. I could, incidentally, add Stay Alive to the list, considering the mind-set of your Greek buddies after the DK hose down, but I won’t even go there.” Owen sighed. “Look, I know all this shit with Ducroix and Evie is messing up your head, I dig that, I really do— but the fucking show is tonight, man. Wild Bill Donovan of Empire Records? You, me, Paulo and Evan? Finally get our chance?”

“You left out Vic.”

“I was trying to leave fucking Vic out of it, since he keeps threatening to quit anyway. Look, so he pawned your guitar—”

“For an eight-ball of coke.”

“— pissed in my beer—”

“Which you were lucky I warned you about.”

“— and screwed Evan’s girlfriend.”

“Gave her crabs, Chlamydia and venereal warts in one fell swoop.”

Owen shrugged a little. “Girl’s lucky she didn’t get that drug-resistant gonorrhea he gave Candy Carter. Last time I saw Candy, she was in a wheel-chair, man, that’s how bad Vic’s gonorrhea was— doctor says she might walk with a limp the rest of her life.”

Jimmy considered Vic’s crippling clap. “Evan’s researching to get Vic’s dick registered as a public health hazard.”

“Look,” Owen said, “I know Vic’s the world’s biggest prick, but after tonight, we’re gonna be rock stars and we’ll figure something out, even if it means kicking him out of the band for someone else. Shit, it’s always been about the songs, right, not the egos or the attitudes. So don’t go blowing it on revenge now, okay? Because if Roscoe fires you, Coolie could send you back to prison. And if he does, then the band’s really done, dude, and could end up cleaning berber for the rest of my life. Dude, I can’t take any more berber. Cannot be done. Besides,” Owen said, “how can Ducroix be the one who killed Evie when Awalt’s already in prison for her murder?”

“I told you, because Awalt didn’t do it. We matched Ducroix’s DNA to Evie.”

“That’s not what the FBI crime lab said.”

“But it’s what PD and Rudy Juarez said. I told you, either the FBI or somebody else got tainted if not altered results. And the sample was misplaced and hasn’t been found.”

“Yeah,” Owen said, “I remember your lawyer telling all this to the jury and the judge nearly throwing him in jail for contempt. Jimmy,” Owen said, “a jury convicted Awalt, I mean, like, he was Evie’s old roommate and totally jealous of you guys. Isn’t that right?”

A right on Kennamar and ChemSteem suddenly loomed.

Dominic, where are you, you murderous prick? What kinda evil crap are you pulling and who’s it on? Cause I know you weren’t kidnaped, I can feel it . . . And if I’m right and I find you, I can kill you and let people think you really were kidnaped. How’s that for justice? How would that work for you, asshole?

“Jimmy? Jimmy, man, I can see it’s all happening again. The obsession, the intensity. Seriously, you’re starting to freak me out all over.”

Jimmy glanced over. “I’m not obsessing.”

“Oh, yeah you are dude. You’re even scratching at your arms again.”

Jimmy looked down. Sure enough, long scratches ran up and down his forearms.

“Man, you gotta let the cops do their job and let us do ours, okay? Let’s just knock out the rest of these jobs and get to the show. Besides, you don’t even know where Ducroix is. If the whole world can’t find him, how can you?”

Wheeling the van into the parking lot, Jimmy said nothing.

“All right,” Owen said. “Whatever. I know how you get when you make up your mind. I’ll call Brody, see if he can help for beer money.” Owen sighed. “Just, hurry, all right? Sound check’s at eight.” He stroked his beard a moment, eyeballing the ChemSteem corporate offices across the parking lot. “I guess I better mix up another batch of DeepKleen, for the Greeks. And in case we need to subdue Roscoe, too. Here, let me climb past you . . . ”