"Ahhh," he sighed as he felt the warmth permeating his tired body.
He turned on the jets and then opened a beer. He dropped a lime inside and had a large drink. He then lit a smoke and stared out at the scenery, unable to believe that there was no show to do tonight, that there was no show to do tomorrow, that the tour was really over and he was in what passed for home.
He made it through three beers and five cigarettes before a buzzer mounted above the balcony door began to sound. This was the doorbell alert. He stepped out of the tub, water cascading off of his skin and put his robe back on, tying it tightly around his midsection. He opened a fresh beer, dropped a lime in it, and then went back in the house, making his way to the front door. As expected his visitor was Eduardo, delivering the item he'd purchased.
"Check it out, homey," Eduardo said, unrolling a plastic baggie about a third filled with green buds.
"Out of sight," Jake said, taking it from him. He could tell just by looking that it was approximately a quarter ounce. He opened it and one sniff told him it was premium shit, as promised. "You're a good man, Eddie. A credit to your profession."
"I try," Eduardo said. "You been in the hot tub?"
Jake nodded. "Trying to soak away the aches and pains of travel. You wanna burn a little with me?"
"I'd love to, but I can't. I'm not off duty for another three hours. The boss don't like it if I'm stoned on the door."
"Understandable," Jake said with a nod. "Did you pull some out for yourself?"
"Sure did," he said. "And I thank you for that. You're my favorite resident of this tight-assed place, Jake. Hands fuckin' down."
"I'm just me," Jake said. "Hopefully I'll never be anything else."
"Amen to that. You need any blow? I gotta line on some premo Peruvian too. It's three bills a gram but it's worth it. Hardly any cut."
"I'll take a rain check on that one, Eddy," Jake said. "I'm a little burned on the blow after the tour. I always am. Check back with me in a week or so. I might score some if I decide to throw a party or something."
"Damn right," Eduardo said with a grin. He had seen the sort of people who showed up for Jake's parties. "Well, I'd better get back to work now."
"All right," Jake told him, giving him a handshake. "Thanks for the shit."
"Anything for you, Jake," Eduardo told him. "Anything for you."
When he left Jake locked the door behind him and went back to the entertainment room. He pulled a water bong from beneath the bar and carried it over to the couch where he promptly tested out the marijuana Eduardo had just sold him. It was every bit as good as it smelled.
For the next two hours Jake watched old movies on his television set, smoked cigarettes, drank beer, and occasionally took a few hits of greenbud. By five o'clock he could hardly keep his eyes open. He went to his bedroom and lay naked on his bed.
He slept for the next fifteen hours without stirring.
The next morning, at ten o'clock, Jake called the storage facility where his Corvette was being kept and asked them to deliver it to him. It arrived thirty minutes later, freshly washed and waxed, the battery charged, the fuel tank and all of the fluids full. It had cost him two thousand dollars to keep his vehicle in such a place but he considered it worth it. They had treated the Corvette almost as if it was alive.
Jake tipped the delivery team twenty dollars apiece and then climbed into the car, thrilled to be behind the wheel again after so long being shuttled around in buses and limos. The Corvette was an eighty-four, metallic blue, with every option available installed. It had been a gift from Mindy Snow — an actress he had dated for a time — back during the height of their relationship. He roared out of the parking garage of his condo building and down the winding Beachwood Drive, coming out of the Hollywood Hills and into North Hollywood.
When he turned left onto Los Feliz Boulevard the traffic thickened up considerably, restricting him to no more than third gear, forcing him to stop at every intersection and wait through at least two light changes. He sighed and lit a cigarette, adjusting his sunglasses on his face and his San Francisco Giants baseball cap upon his head. Twenty minutes and four and a half miles later he entered the neighborhood of Silver Lake, just east of Hollywood. There, nestled up against Silver Lake Reservoir, was the 3200 square foot home that his sister Pauline was currently living in. He pulled into the driveway and stepped out
Pauline's house was located at the north end of the neighborhood, which was the most exclusive part. She had purchased it a month before Jake and the rest of Intemperance had gone out on the Balance Of Power tour. It was a two-story of late seventies architecture that sat on a large lot which sloped down to the shore of the small reservoir. It wasn't the nicest house Pauline could have lived in — after all, she received twenty percent of all band profits and was therefore as rich as any of the band members — but it was hers and not a rental. She had put down sixty thousand dollars and signed a mortgage for the remaining three hundred and fifty thousand dollars of the purchase price. It wasn't her dream house, but it was a start.
Gloria Garcia, Pauline's housekeeper/cook/butler opened the door to his knock. She smiled when she saw him. "Mr. Kingsley," she said, her accent thick. "Welcome home. How was your concert tour?"
"Long but satisfying," he said. "And please, call me Jake."
"I could never do that, Mr. Kingsley," she said. "Come in. Ms. Kingsley is expecting you."
"Thank you," he said, stepping into the entryway.
"I hear you had trouble in Cincinnati," Gloria said. "They said you were obscene?"
"They have a strange idea of what constitutes obscene in Cincinnati," Jake told her. "Nothing I couldn't handle though."
"Very good," she said. "You like chili relleno? I'm making some for lunch."
"I'd love some chili relleno," he said. "Or anything else that you make."
She beamed at him. She was justifiably proud of her cooking. She led him through the house to Pauline's office, which was in the back, overlooking the lake. The office was equipped with a large desk, complete with the most modern computer system commercially available, a printer, and a fax machine. Next to the desk were several large file cabinets and a water cooler. Pauline was sitting at the desk. She smiled when she saw him and stood up to come give him a hug.
"You look great, sis," Jake told her. "It seems the good life is agreeing with you." He was telling the truth. Pauline had always been attractive — she had, in fact, been Nerdly's ultimate fantasy girl since he was about twelve years old — but she was positively beaming these days. Her brunette hair was neatly styled in the latest fashion, her skin was receiving the benefits of regular spa treatments, and her clothing was nothing but custom-fitted designer wear.