Dani didn't care.
For the first time ever, she didn't care.
She'd thrown up, slept six hours, thrown up some more. She'd never felt so completely relaxed. Every problem she'd ever had was suddenly no big deal. Only one thing had ever made her feel anything close to this—the presence of God. This was like that, with her foot on the sustain pedal.
Feels like I am God.
Even the bickering in the background seemed distant.
Who cares, anyway?
She was floating.
"What did you give her?" Basil's face turned the prettiest shade of red.
"Give Ol' Paunchy Mullet some, too," Dani said. "He could use it."
"Blah, blah, blah," Basil kept carrying on about something.
"You're one to talk," Bobby said, "with the stuff you've been giving her."
Bobby laughed. Dani joined him, vaguely aware of herself trying to make Jon and Cal see what was funny. They didn't seem to get the joke. Jon looked mad. Dani giggled.
"We gotta be at the Whisky in an hour and a half for sound check." Jon sounded whiny, like Vic used to when she got to work late.
"Work?" She knew nobody else heard that part of the conversation going on in her head. Didn't care. "I don't work. I play. Let's play."
"No way she can play in that condition," Jon said, grabbing Bobby by the shirt.
"Just trying to make her feel better."
"We agreed," Jon said. "No—"
"Sleeping with the rentals," Bobby sang, laughing. "Don't blame you, though. I would, too."
Should punch him for saying that. Or maybe Jon should. Dani fell into a fit of laughter, not sure what was so funny as Jon growled something about before the show and after the drugs and "Dani never did it before."
Funniest thing he's said yet.
Dani dozed off, still laughing and wishing she could feel like this forever.
Dani's head buzzed as Inferno faced the packed house. Long days of posting fliers and long nights of partying paid off. People knew who they were—the latest hot band in a town that eats hot new bands for breakfast.
People were starting to come to see them specifically. A handful wore Inferno T-shirts.
As much as she hated to admit it, Basil was probably right. The mostly male crowds probably had something to do with her increasingly skimpy costumes.
She always hated that part of it. Tonight, she didn't care. From the first note, she performed with an abandon unlike anything she'd ever known. From her moves on stage to her finger work on the fretboard, Dani threw every ounce of inhibition to the wind. And the crowd at the Whisky pulled down the rafters.
The rest of the band packed up backstage while Dani searched for Jon. The headlining band's ear-splitting sound chased her into the alleyway.
She squinted. Jon. Wearing a pair of blondes.
Flashbulbs split the darkness.
Inhibitions flooded back. Nerves raw.
I feel naked.
Screaming. Smashing cameras.
As the hounds retreated, Dani spun toward Jon and his new friends. Two steps toward them and the girls took the hint.
"It's for an album cov—"
"Shut up!"
"It was all Basil's—"
Dani told him in no uncertain terms what he could do with their manager, spinning on her heels to head back into the Whisky.
Basil stood in the doorway, blocking her way and laughing. "You want to be rock stars or Ozzie and Harriet?"
"What's wrong with being Ozzy?" Jon said.
Dani shoved past Basil, sending him tumbling into a pair of trash cans. She turned back to Jon. "I can have any man in that place."
All it earned her was an eye roll.
"So do it."
"Maybe I will."
Waking alone in a strange motel the next morning, Dani remembered her threat vividly. She had no idea whether she'd made good on it.
***
Sunshine snuck through a bent slat on the Venetian blinds in Vic's room. Must've forgot to set the alarm. He looked over at the clock. Almost 6:30. He gave his armpits a sniff. If I skip the shower, I'll have time for devotions, long as I make it quick. He'd skipped the last two days.
His Bible wasn't on the end table where he usually set it. Come to think of it, he hadn't seen it since Friday morning, before Kari took him on that ill-conceived trip to Los Angeles.
She'd left messages on the answering machine yesterday expressing concern over not seeing him in church. At least someone noticed. Dad didn't.
"Should probably call her back today."
He rifled through his desk. Bible wasn't there, either. Maybe I left it by the couch. He stumbled into the living room.
He saw it.
The burgundy, genuine leather Thompson Chain-Reference Bible with his name in gilt script on the cover. His fifteenth birthday present, from back when $85 was a lot of money for the Grassigli family. A real preacher's Bible.
Chewed to shreds.
Pieces of India paper pages laid scattered across the floor, neon blue and yellow from highlighted passages giving it the look of confetti.
Vic sank to the floor.
Teddy Bear, laying outside Dani's door, opened one eye, cocked an ear, closed the eye.
Vic took three strides toward the dog, snatching the rolled newspaper from the coffee table. Teddy Bear gave his tail a wag and a flop, eyes still closed.
Vic tossed the paper back onto the table.
"Deal with you later."
Later that morning, Vic shuffled through the piles on his desk, trying to decide which bills could wait. He moved the stack off his mother's Bible, dusting it off and leafing through it. Too much to do right now.
Greg flopped into a chair across from him.
"Don't you knock?"
Greg rapped three times on the desk. "Need a new detail man."
"We have a new detail—"
The main bay door slammed.
"Need a new, new detail man."
Tires squealed, and gravel pinged off the aluminum siding outside the office.
"We I can't keep calling clients and telling them we're going to be late because Corporal Punishment keeps running off the help," Vic said.
"You rather tell 'em the job ain't gonna be done right? Don't think Gunny would like that."
"Dad's not running the company."
"Clearly. Look, I ain't saying you can't stay in here and keep shuffling papers. Just get me someone that can do the finish work like Dani. Better yet, get Dani back."
"I'll talk to her agent," Vic said, pulling a stack of résumés from the filing cabinet. "Meanwhile, that rusty white T-Bird needs to be Peacock Blue by Monday."
Greg stood to his full height. "You need to get Gunny back in here. All that sitting at home's not good for a man."
"Monday. You don't have time to tell me how to run the company."
Much as Vic hated to admit it, Greg was right. It would do Dad good to get his hands dirty. Besides, Dad could be on the job tomorrow. Hiring someone new would take days—if he was lucky. Even if I find someone right away, there's no telling how long he'd last with Corporal Punishment out there. Dani wasn't coming back, but Dad had taught her everything she knew, and he was the next best option.
That decided, Vic turned his attention to returning phone calls before closing time. He tried Kari, but she wasn't home. Not in the mood for that conversation, anyway. He confirmed an appointment to fill in for a pastor taking a missions trip to Peru next month.
"Wish I was going with you."
As soon as Vic opened the front door that night, Teddy Bear bowled him over.
"Stupid dog!"
His blood boiled as he dusted himself off, dragging himself back into the mess he'd left behind this morning. There, in the pile of tattered Bible pages, sat a steaming pile.
"C'mon, Dad, you at least have to let the dog out," Vic said under his breath.
He considered calling Teddy Bear back into the house, since he'd clearly already taken care of business. Forget it. The dog will find his way back when he's ready. Or he won't.
"Going to beat him to within an inch of his life when he does come in," Vic muttered as he cleaned the mess. "Should just put him to sleep. What is he, like ten? That's got to be old enough."
Seemed like the dog's only purpose was to remind Dad that Dani was gone, anyway.
In the tatters, Vic found a full page ripped clean except for a bite mark in the bottom corner. Proverbs 12, Vic noted. He'd highlighted a couple verses in green.
"He that is despised, and hath a servant, is better than he that honoureth himself, and lacketh bread." Verse nine.
And "He that tilleth his land shall be satisfied with bread: but he that followeth vain persons is devoid of understanding." Verse eleven.
Vic glanced through the skylights. "You trying to talk to me about the business or Dani? I already prayed for her today."
Then he noticed the unmarked verse in the middle, in simple black and white:
"A righteous man regardeth the life of his beast: but the tender mercies of the wicked are cruel."
Teddy Bear let out a low whine and scratched at the back door.
Sighing, Vic slid the glass door, dropping to a knee and taking the dog's mane in his fists as he leaned in to eye level. "Hasn't been easy for you, either, has it?"
Teddy Bear licked him on the mouth, the taste of dog tongue making him sputter and jump back.
Stifling what he wanted to say, he tousled the dog's head. "Promise I'll spend more time with you. But why didn't Dad let you out?"
An hour later, having frantically driven every street in the neighborhood, Vic called the police. "He didn't take his car… he's in a wheelchair… last time I saw him? About seven in the… no, last night… Didn't want to wake him when I left… I don't know what he's wearing, probably a Marine Corps T-shirt."