“No ride?” he asked.
Matt looked up him. “My limo went out on another run,” he said. “That fucking asshole Crow told the driver I’d be up there at least two hours. Two motherfucking hours! Can you believe that shit?”
“He seemed pretty confident that we would play ball,” Jake said. He then looked at Matt’s companion, who was staring at him in amazement. “Who are you?” he asked.
Matt looked over and then seemingly remembered his manners. “Oh ... sorry,” he said. “Jake Kingsley, this is Jim Ramos, my tour paramedic. Jim, meet Jake.”
“It’s an honor to meet you, Jake,” Jim said, holding out his hand.
Jake shook with him. “A tour paramedic? What’s that all about?”
“Sometimes my heart does this funky shit,” Matt said. “My man Jim is here to put it back into low gear when that happens.”
“Really?” Jake asked. “What kind of funky shit?”
“It’s nothing,” Matt said dismissively.
“All right then,” Jake said with a shrug. “Are you still staying over at your pad downtown when you’re in LA?”
“Yeah, the same condo I bought back in the day,” Matt said. “We’ll be heading to St. Louis first thing in the morning. I got a show there tomorrow night.”
“They pulled you off tour for this shit?” Jake asked.
“Yeah,” he said. “Can you fuckin’ believe it?”
“And they flew you here private?”
“They did,” Matt said. “From KC. We got in just past midnight.” He shook his head. “I could’ve fucking told them last night how this was gonna go down and saved everyone the goddamn trouble.”
“Me too,” Jake agreed. “Listen, I can give you a lift to your pad if you want.”
Matt’s face turned to a scowl. “A ride?” he asked suspiciously.
“Yeah,” Jake said. “It’s not that far. And it’s kind of on my way.” It really wasn’t. Jake would be heading back to the valley and Whiteman Airport so he could get back to his Oceano home. Downtown was actually in the opposite direction from Hollywood. But he was still following an impulse.
“Why would you want to give me a ride?” Matt asked. “Maybe you want to try talking me into this reunion thing?”
“No,” Jake said sincerely. “That is not the reason.”
“Maybe you were in on this the whole time,” Matt suggested. “Maybe them sending my limo away was part of the plan.”
“Matt,” Jake said simply, “you’re starting to sound like Coop when we talk about the moon landings or the Challenger explosion. I’m just offering you a ride because it’s the decent thing to do. Sure, our friendship ended badly and there’s a lot of uncomfortable baggage between us, but we were pretty tight once, right?”
“Well ... right,” Matt admitted.
“You and I did some unbelievable things together back in the day. We made some badass music, we boned some serious groupies, we even stuck it up the asses of those suits in there. Remember all that?”
“Yeah,” Matt said, smiling a little now. “I remember.” He turned to Jim. “Me and this guy used to get up to some epic shit together. Amazing shit. Shit for the fuckin’ ages!” He turned back to Jake. “Remember that time they sent us to that fuckin’ movie premier? And we fuckin’ toked up in that fancy ass shitter while those fuckin actors and producers were snorting their coke and acting like they were all better than us?”
Jake laughed, shaking his head. “I remember,” he said. He turned to Jim. “That was the movie premier where I first met Mindy Snow. Thinner Than Water, I think it was. A stupid flick, really, but they all acted like it was Gone With the fucking Wind and Schindler’s List combined. Everyone in that place had a stick up their ass and was walking around with their nose in the air. Matt drags me into the bathroom and pulls out a joint and sparks it up, right in front of these snooty tuxedo wearing Hollywood assholes. They look at us like we’re dogshit on the bottom of their shoes, and Matt just looks at them and says, “you guys want a hit of this? I’m not a Bogart.’”
All three of them started laughing at this tale.
“That’s awesome,” Jim declared. “What did they say?”
“They didn’t say shit,” Matt said. “They left that fuckin’ shitter like they were on fire.”
“Goddamn hypocrites,” Jake said. He turned back to Matt. “And that was the night you fucked that actress, right?”
“Yeah!” Matt said. “What the fuck was her name? Holy shit, I can’t remember it now. Some blonde bitch who is probably doing late-night infomercials or some shit like that these days. One of the worst lays I’ve ever had. She wouldn’t slurp my schlong, wouldn’t take it from behind, just laid there on her back like she was on a goddamn autopsy table waiting for a postmortem. The only time I got her to move was when I pulled out my shit and splooged on her face. She didn’t dig that at all.”
“What did she do?” asked Jim.
“Bitch started hitting me with a fuckin’ blow dryer,” he said, shaking his head. “Chased me out of the goddamn building.”
All three of them had a laugh about that. Just as the chuckles faded away, Jake’s truck emerged from the garage and parked in front of the entry doors. The young uniformed Hispanic hopped out.
“Come on,” Jake said. “My truck is here. Let me give you a lift home.”
“You bought a fucking truck?” Matt asked in disbelief.
“It’s my LA vehicle,” Jake said. “I only use it when I’m in town. It’s practical. I can haul things in it if I need to or I can use the four-wheel drive to get over the passes if it’s snowing and my plane is grounded.”
Matt continued to look at the F150 for a few moments. “Funky,” he said at last. “All right. We’ll go with you as long as you don’t start talking no shit about a fuckin’ Intemperance reunion.”
“I will talk no shit like that,” Jake promised.
“And ... as long as you understand that I still fucking hate you, that I still think you’re a sellout,” Matt added.
“Understood,” Jake said. “As long as you understand that I still think you are an unreasonable asshole who pouts like a fucking baby when he doesn’t get his way.”
Matt gritted his teeth a little at this but nodded. “Fair enough,” he said. “Let’s hit it.”
They hit it, Jake climbing behind the wheel, Matt getting into the front passenger seat, Jim and his suitcase settling into the spacious back seat. Jake tipped the valet and dropped the transmission into gear. He pulled out onto Hollywood Boulevard and started heading for downtown.
“I heard you got married not too long ago,” Matt said as they worked their way through the late morning traffic.
“Yeah,” he said, showing Matt the ring on his left hand. “Laura was the sax player for Celia and me on our first solo releases. We kind of hit it off. Our first anniversary is next month. November 4.”
“You didn’t invite me to the wedding,” Matt grumbled.
“What?”
“The wedding,” Matt said. “I saw that shit on TV and that was the first I heard about it. You had Coop there, Nerdly and his bitch, even Freakboy, but you didn’t even send me an invitation.”
“Uh ... it didn’t occur to me that you would want to be there,” Jake said slowly.
“I didn’t,” Matt said. “I would’ve just wiped my ass with the invite and sent it back to you, postage due. But you still should have invited me. All the other living Intemperance members were there.”
Jake looked over at him for a moment, seeing that he was serious. He then put his eyes back on the road. “I’ll keep that in mind the next time I get married,” he said.