Second Childhood, part 14: The Implant Works and the Devils does, too


14 Sheila

“Oh, God, you’re making me come!’ The blonde with the big tits moaned and grabbed the edge of the couch as she arched her back in ecstasy.
No, you’re making ME come! Joey felt the rising, searing, wonderful pain of ejaculation. Oh, god, I’m back!
He leaned back, spent for the moment, then stood slowly and wiped up with the hotel towel.
“Thanks, you were great!” He laughed and clicked off the TV. Porn: so much easier than actual women! Just in time for the Big Apple. Joey Lowe is back on track, baby!

Ok, you’ve been doing pretty well, Harry. No big washouts. Well, there was that night in Des Moines, and Cleveland was a little sketchy, too.
Harry looked at himself in the mirror. Puffy? Not yet. The Big Apple. Gotta really hang with the program tonight. No more than a couple of glasses of wine. Ok. Maybe one martini after the set. You got it together, Hebester.
Yeah, and just for backup, Harry had a fifth of Crazy Cossack waiting in the bottom of his snare case.

A smiling Joey, sitting with Greg Horn and some fat-cat sort of guy, waved from across the crowded restaurant as Boomer and Ace sat down for breakfast.
“He seems like he’s in a good mood.”
“His cock must have recovered.”
“If that’s so, then we can look for the usual shit to come to the surface any minute now.”
“Yeah, his broken down old thing has been keeping him humble, that’s for sure.”

“Hey, welcome to the Peter Issacs show on cosmic satellite radio WNKR. Like we say here every morning, everyone’s a wanker on WNKR, except me, of course. Iris, we have a treat for all you young sluts who like older rock studs this morning. Everyone welcome Joey Lowe and Childhood, in town to play, where? Trump Gardens, right, Joey?”
“Right Peter, we’ll be there tonight with Tony Riggs and the Derricks and The Hashemites.”
“The Hashemites? That freak of a lead singer, Garbage, or Rubbish, or whatever his name is was in here last week. Actually, he seems like a good guy, pretty decent yeller or shouter, whatever it is they do these days. He just looks like my youngest kid got loose with a felt pen on a Ken doll on steroids and then stuck fishing lures all over his body. He must have fifty piercings, and tattoos right up his ass and his shaved head!”
“You’re so old school, Peter.”
“Well, at least I went to school, Iris, something you wouldn’t know about! But seriously, and it’s hard to be serious about this implant thing, Joey, it seems like your old band has been elected, or should I say erected, spokesmen for a whole, limp generation of baby boomers with little wieners.”
“Well, we have the right song for the job.”
“I suppose so; you look great, by the way. You haven’t changed in twenty years, except for your dome. I’m losing a little hair too, that’s why I have this Yankees hat on.”
”You wear that hat because you look like a big penis without it.” Iris chipped in from her booth.
“Maybe I should get a neck implant! The whole band is here, you guys are going to play a song for us?”
“Yeah, we’re all here Ace, Boomer, and Harry. Marco Baldassari on bass. “
“Harry, I haven’t seen you since that night in where? Houston?”
“Austin.”
“!982. They grabbed my sorry ass and rammed me straight into rehab after that night. I’m kind of surprised to see you made it here alive. How did you survive?”
“We chained him to the back of the bus and made him run to El Paso to sober him up.” Said Ace.
“Well, I’m happy that you guys are still going and I wish you luck with the rest of your tour. You’ve got a new record. Has it got any new songs, or just refried old shit?”
“It’s mostly new. We were really glad to get in and record again.” Said Joey.
Harry rolled his eyes, Ace just smiled.
Well, let’s hear, what, The Big One, no doubt. A blast from the past – Childhood! Call in and we’ll lay a couple of tickets on you and maybe some virtual prizes, free downloads free passes to porn sites, that kind of thing. Iris?”
“Yes, Peter?”
“Be a good little girl and show the band your tits to get them fired up.”
“If you insist!”

“Son, I have to say, you look great!” Ace said.
“Yeah, I’ve been working out and taking the party scene a little easy lately.”
“Josh, really, I can’t believe how good you look, like a frikkin’ rock star.” Ace didn’t want to say, you looked like crap last summer, like Guinness was taking over.
“I’ve got some news, dad. I got a record deal.”
“A what? You did? Fuckin’A!” Ace jumped up from the little table and high-fived Josh, who was sitting across from him in a sidewalk café in the Village. “Way to go, son! Who’s it with?”
“Tone. They do young stuff. They really liked my demos and crap and they’re giving me a deal to do the whole album. They’re paying for musicians and a horn section and everything. They want me to open for somebody big in the fall.”
“Well, I always knew you were a genius. It’s high time the rest of the world figured it out. Congratulations! I hope you sell a million and never look back. Who’s helping you on this? Do you have a manager type giving you advice?”
“Actually, no. I went in on my own to Aaron Beckerman. I was kind of wondering about your manager.”
A wave of panic hit Ace. Greg Horn? “Oh, I don’t know, Josh. Greg’s a high-powered guy. I mean, he is a good manager, but you need to be careful if you deal with him. Be non-committal when you see him tonight. Tell him about your deal, but don’t let him draw you into details. He’ll be all over you. He’s a smiling shark. Just tell him you’ll talk to him later about it.”
He might be a good manager, one of the best. He’s managed me until I have almost nothing left.

“Sheila?”
“Yes, thanks for calling, Greg.”
“Certainly, it’s my pleasure. How’s your little girl? How old is she, five?”
“Molly’s seven.”
“Seven! Wow, where does the time go? And my kids are all grown and out in the world. They still hit me up for dough, though! So, what can I do for you?”
“Greg, I’ll cut right to the chase. Ace and I haven’t been too tight the last few years. We’ve kind of gone different directions in our lives while still living together. But all our assets are still tied up in each other. I’m looking for definition, number one, and extrication, number two. I want to know what part of Ace Jones’ music I am entitled to as a wife of nine years with a child. And I want to see how my share might be extricated.”
This girl thinks like me. She’s pretty hot, too. I like redheads.
“Well, we can run it down song by song. I know a good deal of what Ace has and hasn’t got. I also have many years experience dealing with this sort of stuff. I must warn you, I’d have to take a small commission to pay my office help. How far along are you and Ace in discussing all of this?”
“He doesn’t know I’ve called you. Or that I’ve seen Harvey Schindblum about divorce papers. I want to see exactly where I am with all the details before I move on this.”
God, she should be a manager! She already has her fin sticking out of the water.
“Sheila, this puts me in somewhat of a conflict of interest, since I manage Ace.”
“I’m only looking for information for now, and I’m willing to pay for it. You can count on my strict confidence regarding all this as well. I’d be happy to put that in writing. I want to know what my legal share is.”
“I’m a bit concerned that this is going to have an adverse effect on Childhood’s tour and all that.”
“I give you my word that I won’t rock the boat until the tour’s over.”
“Ace’s got a cut on Tracy Boggs doesn’t he?”
“Yes. It’s in the top twenty now and it’s got a good shot at the top five. I want to ensure that I will get my part of that.”
Dammit, I don’t have piece of that! “Let me look into this for a couple of days and get back to you. We’ll see if we can help you get a clearer picture of Ace’s worth and liabilities.”
“Ok, Greg, thanks.”
“Sure, Sheila.” Maybe I can get a little of that song. I own almost everything else of Ace’s, why not that?

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