The Devil's Beat (The Devil's Mark) Read online

  Mike laughed. “That's not all, look up... no, at the statues.”

  Max did. The first thing he noticed was that they all now sported large penises. He recoiled in surprise. “Holy crap!”

  “Look closer,” coaxed Mike.

  When he did, he noticed that all the statues had been stripped of several layers of paint and the damaged plaster on each had been repaired. Aside from the penises, they looked as good as new. The scroll work at the top of several columns had been restored as well. Max looked wonderingly at the human 2×4 on the floor. “Did he really do all this?” Mike nodded with a smirk. “How did he get time to do all this? He's only been here for a few days!”

  “He told me his secret. He didn't sleep the whole time.”

  “What? No way! He always looked ready to slip in a coma to me.”

  Mike laughed openly. “He told me that secret, too. He called them Captain Rainbow's little pick-me-ups.”

  Max looked again at Josh's prone form, and Mike revealed his last little surprise. “I've never seen someone work so fast and still have such incredible workmanship, so I offered him a job.”

  “You what?”

  “I told him he could stay as long as he wanted and could work for room and board.”

  It took Max a moment to digest this. He wanted to object, but couldn't really come up with a convincing reason why, so he caved. He said, “Okay, but the pants stay on.” Max gestured to the statues sitting on the pillars. “And the penises have to go.”

  “I told him that, too. He agreed to the pants as long as he could go shirtless and shoeless, but he said, the Hermes were supposed to have enormous dicks.”

  “Hermes?”

  Mike snickered. “That's what he called those statues, and get this, he said they were all the rage in Rome when he was growing up. He said everything Athenian was golden back then.”

  Max shook his head. “That guy's mind is a scary place.”

  Mike agreed wholeheartedly.

  They left Josh where he lay on the floor next to the table, where Old Bone was once again watching television. That was when Max saw the painting leaning against the wall.

  It was a portrait of a woman in a heavy gilded frame done in some classical style (he knew music, not art). She regarded Max with wise, sad eyes set in a pretty face framed with dark hair. For the most part, the lighting was somber and dark, but the girl herself sat in a beam of sunlight from a nearby window and seemed to glow with an inner light. Max could feel her loneliness and sorrow. A brass plate embedded in the bottom frame caught his attention. It had one word: “Sarah”.

  Max reeled back as if struck.

  “What’s wrong bud?” asked Mike seeing his friend’s stricken look.

  “Where did this painting come from?”

  “That? Nice isn’t it. Josh found it out back with the lumber. I thought we could hang it in here.”

  “No!”

  “What? You don’t like it. I figured since her name was ‘Sarah’ that—”

  “No, get rid of it!”

  Mike lifted his hands in surrender. “Okay bud, no problem. I’ll take it out now, okay?”

  He grabbed the picture and hurried back through the secret corridor to the kitchen.

  Max stood shaking at the memories.

  ***

  Max finished the song Lucian had brought him. He had tears in his eyes as he strummed the last chords.

  “Good isn’t it?” said Lucian with a great deal of satisfaction.

  “Good? It’s not just good, it’s incredible. It’s perfect. I’ve never written anything half this good. Who wrote it?”

  “You, if you want it.”

  “Me? Lucian, I could only dream of writing this.”

  “Well, you may not have written it, but nobody else need know. It is yours to deal with as you see fit.”

  Max could almost feel the love of his fans upon hearing this. Their adulation and praise. “Jesus Lucian, I don’t know…”

  “Think about it. Regardless of who wrote it, you are the only one in the world who can do this song justice. This song was written for you to sing.”

  “Can I change the name?”

  “Sure, anything you want.”

  “I’m going to call it Sarah’s song. She was my first girlfriend.”

  “Excellent! Sarah’s Song it is.”

  Max was trembling with excitement. Surely taking credit for the song wasn’t a bad thing was it?

  As if reading Max’s mind, Lucian said, “Musicians use ghost writers all the time. Look at the Beetles. Half their songs were written by other people.”

  Max had never heard that, but Lucian always seemed to know things nobody else did. “Really?”

  “God’s truth. Why do you think none of them wrote a single good piece of music after they broke up?”

  “Well, I wouldn’t go that—”

  Lucian waived his hands. “Doesn’t matter. This is yours. This is the song that will take you over the top and burn your name into the history books.”

  And it did. And every time Max played it, he lost a little piece of his soul.

  ***

  Mike came back and dragged Max out of his introspective funk. For the next couple of hours, Mike laid out every deficiency he had found in the house. It started with the wiring that had been stapled to the walls in some places, then continued on through structural damage, toxic mold issues, and the complete lack of plumbing. Max got tired just listening to the litany of shortcomings and death traps. It was going to take a lot of work and time to bring this house back to livable condition—let alone to a fully restored state.

  They finished the tour on the balcony overlooking the front hallway. Max started to lean on the railing at the edge of the balcony, but it wobbled alarmingly under his hands so he stood back to look down on the ruins of the once majestic house. He tried to picture what it was going to look like when it was restored to full glory. Mike stood beside him and looked over the same view, but from his scowl, he obviously saw something altogether different—like the list of challenges and headaches this house was going to cause him.

  “Max, I have to be honest with you. Trying to restore this place will be like putting lipstick on a pig. This place is literally falling apart. You would be best served just bulldozing the whole thing and starting over. You could even make the new house, follow the same floor plan, only with electrical conduit, plumbing, heating, air-conditioning, and bathrooms.”

  Max digested this for a moment and then said, “It wouldn't be the same, Mike. I want to restore her, not replace her.”

  “Her, eh?”

  Max smiled, “Yes, she's a real lady, this house, and she deserves better than to die in this state.”

  Mike shook his head. “Max, that just doesn't make any sense. We're going to have to rip it up and replace almost everything anyway.”

  Max said, “I don't care. We are going to keep as much of the original house as possible.”

  Mike laughed ruefully, headed to the stairs. “Hell, you're going to make me earn that ten million, aren't you?”

  Max smiled. “You got it, buddy.”

  Mike headed down the stairs and looked back at his friend as he went. “Well, let me know when you change your mind. I can get some bulldozers to scrape this place in a couple of days for a few thousand dollars.”

  As Mike was looking over his shoulder at Max, a plank on the step sprang up in front of his foot. His foot caught it and down he went—hard. He fell face first into the stairs with a sickening thud and then he rolled a couple of times before coming to a stop on the middle landing. “Mike!” yelled Max as he flew frantically down the stairs after his friend.

  Mike disappeared in a crash of timbers as the landing gave way underneath him.

  Max grabbed hold of the rail to try to keep himself from falling in the hole after Mike. The normally wobbly rail miraculously held, and Max found himself looking into a six-foot hole into a closed space with Mike at the bottom, covered wi
th dust and broken boards.

  To Max's relief, Mike wasn't dead, but he was moaning in pain.

  “Mike, don't move! I'll be right down!

  Mike rolled himself onto his back and lay there looking up at Max. His forehead was gashed and bleeding freely, and his right leg was twisted at a singularly disturbing angle. Mike blinked his one eye that didn't have blood pooling into it. “No 'dozers! Burn it! Just ten gallons of gasoline and whoosh!”

  Max ran down the stairs as strains of “House of the Rising Sun” by The Animals was floating up from the music room. “Now mothers, tell your children, not to do as I have done…”

  For once, Max was glad to have the bodyguards available. With Paul and his men's help, they were easily able to get into the closet space under the stair and carry Mike out to the car while ignoring Mike's bitter complaining.

  Max turned to his head bodyguard. “Thanks Paul. I think you should stay here while I take him to the hospital.”

  “No, sir,” said Paul simply. “We cannot be effective in our jobs if you leave us behind.”

  The fear and adrenalin still pumping through Max brought out his old don't-fuck-with-me-I'm-a-world-famous-rock-star persona. It actually felt kind of nice as he put on his imperious voice. He said, “Paul, who are you working for?”

  Paul replied simply, “Tony, sir.”

  Max scowled and growled, “Who does Tony work for?”

  “You, sir.”

  “Yes, me. Now let me make this simple for you. If you don't do as I ask, then you are fired. If necessary, I will fire Tony as well. Do we understand each other?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Max was a bit taken aback by how easy that had been. He had forgotten how good it felt to boss people around. He let his voice go back to normal.

  “All right, then. Wait here, and I'll see you here tomorrow.”

  Paul's blank expression did not change. “No sir. We're coming with you.”

  That took Max a second to process. “Was there something lost in the translation of what I just told you?”

  “No, sir.”

  “So you’re going to stay here.”

  “No sir. As long as you employ us, it is our duty to stay by your side and keep you safe.”

  “Fine, then you are fired.”

  If this disturbed Paul in any way, it didn't show. He said, “Yes, sir. I feel obligated to point out to you that should you terminate our contract early, we will still be paid through the end of the month.”

  “Okay fine. As a matter of fact, I will have Tony give you a bonus.”

  “Yes, sir.” With that, Paul gave a piercing whistle that shot straight through Max's head and headed for one of the guards black sedans. Max watched in bemusement as the rest of the guards materialized from nowhere, and in short order, they got into the cars and drove away.

  Mike groaned from the back Max's car. “That was very touching, Max, but I'm dying back here.”

  “Oh right, sorry.” He turned, sat himself down in his car and headed down the long drive with faint echoes of "Hit The Road, Jack" by Ray Charles following them from the open window of the music room.

  Max looked at Mike's white face in the mirror. “You gonna live, bud?”

  Mike scowled. “Unfortunately, it seem so.” The two were silent for the rest of the ride. Max drove under the speed limit all the way to the hospital emergency room, where Max was getting depressingly well known. After a couple of hours, it was clear that Mike was not even close to death's door. He still looked like hell, and Max cringed every time he thought about what might have happened. He shook it off.

  Max said, “Hey bud, I have a date to go buy a suit. I'll be back.” Max shook his finger at Mike. “Don't go anywhere.”

  “You're funny Max, but smell isn't everything, you know,” said Mike. Before Max could turn away he added, “Max, you know that board wasn't loose before I started walking down the stairs. That house has it in for me!”

  Max stopped and looked at his friend and considered it. Pre-Mississippi Max would have laughed it off as a ridiculous comment, but, now, he gave Mike a weak smile. “Well, maybe you shouldn't threaten to tear her down. Listen, I've got to scoot. I'll see you soon.”

  As Max was leaving he heard Mike call from behind him, “Gasoline, Max! It's the only way to be sure!” He was beginning to agree.

  Sharp Dressed Man

  A short time later, Max pulled in front of Alice's house. The three blonde girls were out front, playing again. The littlest one was running around the yard, randomly ripping up the white puffy dandelions, which infested their yard, and throwing them into the air. The middle one was swinging on the rickety swing set, and the oldest one was leaning against a small tree, reading. The yard was well shaded, with a few patches of hot sunlight hitting here and there. Max wondered why the kids weren't inside in air-conditioned comfort.

  When he got out of the car and went around to the front walk, all six eyes were on him. The one on the swing got up and ran into the house. The little one, now dressed in a yellow summer dress with her hair pulled back in messy yellow pigtails, skipped over to Max. “Hello mister Max. Are you going to take my mama out on a date tonight?”

  “Well, I'm not sure—”

  “That's good, because Mama works too hard. She needs to go play. Everyone has to play, you know?” She imparted this wisdom of the ages solemnly.

  Max nodded and pursed his lips. “That's true—”

  “What she needs to do is get laid,” said the oldest one sourly from where she sat under the tree five feet away.

  If the world were more poetic, Max would have been drinking a martini at a dinner party so he could have sprayed it all over his hostess. Instead, he just gaped at the young teen with no idea of how to respond. The little one said, “Yeah, she's always tired.” Max choked. He was rescued by Alice.

  She called out from the front door. “Hi Max, I'll be right out. Girls, that's my friend Max, introduce yourselves and talk to him for a minute till I get my things! Remember your manners!”

  “I'm Lily,” said the little girl standing in front of Max.

  “Well, I'm pleased to meet you Lily,” said Max. He leaned down and held out his hand to her.

  She looked at the offered hand dubiously. “Girls aren't supposed to shake hands.”

  Nonplussed, Max stood up and dropped his hand. He said, “Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to –”

  The older girl under the tree scowled as she snapped out, “Don't be stupid, Lily. Women can shake hands just like men. You just don't have to.”

  Angrily, Lily put her hands on her hips. “Uh, uh, Mama said so!”

  “She did, not you little twerp!”

  Lily puckered her lips belligerently and then whirled and ran to the house yelling, “Mama! Jayne Ann is being mean and telling lies!”

  Max watched her go, uncertain what to do. Kids were just not his thing. Not wanting to make things worse, he turned to the girl scowling at him from under the tree and hesitantly said, “So, uh, you're Jayne Ann? Hi, I'm...”

  “I know who you are! You fake!” She slammed her book closed, got up, and stormed off to the house.

  The barb hit home hard. Max had no trouble understanding what she was talking about. Since his fall, he had spent a lot of time thinking that himself. He hadn't been able to pick up his guitar without being overwhelmed. He started to murmur, “damn” under his breath, but then caught himself. He tried to come up with a curse that didn't involve God or Jesus and only came up with “fuck,” which struck him as extremely unclassy as well as unsuitable for small ears.

  He was still contemplating this conundrum when Alice came out the front door. All Max could do was stare. He had done her a disservice in his earlier estimation of her attractiveness. She beautifully filled out the pink, low cut dress he had bought for her when they shopped for his suit. It emphasized her smooth, tanned skin, wide hips, long legs, and heretofore unseen curves. Her hair was up in a complicated style that kept most o
f it on top, but ringlets fell on both sides of her sweet face. She definitely wasn't a girl like a lot of women that Max had known on tour. She was a woman in every sense of the word.

  Max completely missed what she said. He started. “I'm sorry, what?”

  Alice smiled at the unintended complement. “You really have a way with the girls.”

  At first, Max thought she was talking about the way he was staring at her. His cheeks reddened, and he dropped his gaze. He started to stammer out an apology when he realized she was talking about her girls. A couple of times, midstream, he changed what he was saying. It came out something like, “Sorry, I, um, well, yeah, they are, well, I don't think Jayne Ann likes me terribly much.”

  Instead of commenting on his blush, Alice apologized for her daughter. “Yeah, I'm terribly sorry about that. She had a huge crush on you before... before everything and... well, anyway she's... “She stopped herself and forced a smile at Max. “Hi, Max! Good to see you! How's your day?”

  Max smiled in relief. “It's been, uh, interesting. I met three delightful little girls. I want to thank you for doing this for me. I hope it isn't too much of a bother.”

  Her smile grew sunnier, and she said, “Oh, it's no bother, hon. It's nice to get out of the house and do something besides laundry for a change, so I should be thanking you.”

  “Well, you are most welcome.” He gestured grandly to his car. “Shall we?”

  She said, “We shall.” The two of them climbed into Max's car and headed out.

  Along the way, after giving him directions to their first destination, Alice said, “So, why only interesting?”

  “Huh?”

  “Your day, silly, why did you say it was interesting?”

  “Oh, that... Remember how I told you that my house was haunted?”

  “Sure.”

  “Well, it just tried to kill my friend Mike for threatening to doze it down and start over.”

  “Oh, goodness! Is he alright? What happened?”

  “He was walking down the stairs when a board popped up and he went flying ass over teakettle. He hit a landing and fell through it. I took him to the hospital. He has a nasty leg break, lots of bruises, and maybe a mild concussion.”