"This isn't a goddamn sailing vessel, Matt," Jake told him. "We don't need a captain to tell everyone what to do. We've always made band decisions together, both musically and operationally. We let you call yourself a leader because you seem to have some need for that, but nobody has been really in charge since we left D Street West and you know it."
Matt was fuming. He picked up his pack of cigarettes off the coffee table and lit one up, this despite the fact that he still had one burning in the ashtray. "This is fucking bullshit!" he said. "Just a bunch of psychobabble bullshit."
"Call it what you want," Jake said, "but I'll ask you again: Are you going to abide by the decision the band has made or are you going to refuse to play anymore unless Darren is the bass player?"
"And what if I do refuse?" Matt asked.
"Don't make me say it, Matt," Jake pleaded. "We really don't need to go there."
"I'm going there," Matt said. "Tell me what you're gonna do if I tell you to fuck off on this shit, if I say I ain't playing a goddamn note with that dick-sucking freak."
Jake sighed. "Then you would be putting us in a very awkward position," he said. "In order to avoid a breach of contract charge we would be forced to fire you from the band."
Matt's fists clenched so hard and so fast that his cigarette snapped in two, sending a shower of sparks down to the carpeted floor. "Fire me from the band? Me? Are you out of your fucking mind?"
"No, Matt, I'm not," Jake said. "Any member of this band can be removed by a majority vote. Once Darren is voted out — which is pretty much a formality at this point — that would leave me, Coop, Charlie, Nerdly, and you as voting members."
"I ain't voting Matt out of the fuckin' band," Coop said alarmed. "I'm sorry, Jake, but I can't go that far."
"You wouldn't have to, Coop," Jake told him. "Me, Nerdly, and Charlie would all vote for it. We wouldn't have any choice."
"Don't try to bluff me, Jake," Matt said. "You can't fire me from Intemperance. I'm the goddamn guitar player. There ain't no Intemperance without me. There's no way in hell anyone would take the band seriously without me on the lead guitar."
"I know that," Jake said. "If we were forced to do that, Intemperance would cease to exist. National wouldn't authorize another album even if we did find another guitar player, even if that guitar player was a good as you are — which would be doubtful at best."
"So why are you trying to threaten me with that shit if it can't happen?"
"It's not a threat," Jake said. "It can happen and it will happen if you try to go to the wall on this. We'll fire you and the band will break up. National will not be able to file a breach of contract suit that way since it will be them who is making the decision not to utilize our next option period and not us trying to refuse to perform. That way, no one will lose any of their royalties, no one will be sued by National, and there will be no revision back to the previous contract. A year will go by and all of us will be able to start solo careers if we want. If that's the way you want to play it, well... then that's the way it will be. I'm open for that if you feel you can't work with me anymore after this."
Matt looked like he had just been punched in the stomach. His face was pale and his hands were still clenched into angry fists of rage. "You would break up the band over this shit, Jake?" he asked. "Put an end to Intemperance just so you could keep Freakboy in?"
"Isn't that pretty much what you're talking about doing?" Jake asked. "Breaking up the band just so you could keep Darren in?"
Matt didn't want to acknowledge this. He took two steps forward, so he was less than three feet from where Jake was sitting. He stared into his eyes. "Look me in the eye and tell me you ain't bluffing on this," he said.
Jake looked him in the eye. "I'm not bluffing on this, Matt. Darren will be voted out of the band and if you do not go along with the decision, I will be forced to call for a vote to fire you. Intemperance will cease to exist and I'll go with a solo career in a year or so."
Matt apparently saw the message he was looking for in Jake's eyes — or the message he wasn't looking for. He shook his head angrily. "Fuckin' bullshit," he said. He walked back to the couch and sat down. Once again he pulled out a cigarette and sparked up. After taking a few quick, angry drags, he looked at his two bandmates. "Someone is going to have to tell Darren about this shit."
"Yeah," Jake agreed. "I suppose you're right."
"I'll do it," Coop said. "It was my vote that put him out, so I guess I should have the fucking balls to look him in the eye and tell him so."
"I should make you do it, Coop," Matt said. "I really should. He should be able to look at the guy who fuckin' betrayed him when he gets the news."
Neither Jake nor Coop said anything to this.
"I should, but I'm not going to," Matt said. "I'll tell him myself. He should hear it from a friend, you know?"
"You don't need to go quite so overboard on the guilt tripping, Matt," Jake said.
"Fuck off, Jake," Matt said. "You said what you had to say and you laid your fuckin' cards on the table and you made me fold. Now that you've done all that shit, just get the fuck out of my house. You ain't welcome here anymore. You too, Coop. Just get your sell-out, betraying asses out of here. I'll have someone call you when it's time to start hitting the warehouse."
Jake stood up. "I'm sorry you feel that way, Matt," he told him. "There wasn't anything personal about any of this."
"You're wrong about that, Jake," Matt told him. "This was about as personal as you could get. Now get out."
They got out, both of them feeling sick to their stomachs and stressed out worse than anything they'd ever experienced before.
Jake thought the day couldn't possibly get any worse. Shortly after pulling into his garage after returning from his visit to Matt, he found out he was wrong.
Elsa was standing there as he stepped out of his BMW. She looked concerned.
"What is it?" he asked her.
"I tried to get hold of you, Mr. Kingsley," she said, "but I didn't know where you and Mr. Cooper had gone. I tried your sister's number and Mr. Cooper's number and Mr. Tisdale's number but Pauline was the only one to answer the phone and she didn't know where you were. I even tried the recording studio and that awful mannered man, Mr. Crow, but..."
Jake became frightened as he realized that Elsa was damn near babbling. Elsa was the last person in the world he would have thought capable of this behavior. "What's going on, Elsa?" he interrupted. "Why were you trying to get hold of me so bad?"
"It's Miss Brody," she said. "There's been some trouble at her house."
"What kind of trouble?" he asked. "Is she all right? Was it that freak that's been threatening her?"
"She's all right," Elsa said. "I talked to her myself just a few minutes ago." She considered for a second. "Physically, she's all right. I'm not so sure about her state of mind. She did not sound very good on the phone."
"Was she attacked?" Jake asked. "Did that fucking freak attack her?"
"The lady who has been threatening her was involved in some way," Elsa confirmed. "I don't know any of the details other than the attack was not successful and the woman in question has been arrested. Miss Brody wants you to call her at home as soon as you can. She said to let the machine pick up and then talk. Apparently the reporters are already trying to contact her about this."
Jake ran into the house and snatched up the first telephone he came to — in this case, the formal living room extension. He quickly dialed Helen's number from memory. It rang six times and the answering machine picked up. While it was still spewing out her curt, businesslike declaration that she couldn't come to the phone right now, Jake began to talk into the mouthpiece. "Helen, it's me. Pick up the phone."