Page 22 - Unlikely Stories 3

Chosen Fool

“All too well, my friend. All too well.” The fight had gone out of
Guy Weyer.
“Wait a minute,” said Rhoda. “This is weird. Are you related to
Hank O’Hare?” She looked at the other three, whose faces were
clean. “You guys are better than good imitations. Something is
wrong.”
“Okay,” Guy spoke rapidly. “I won’t look at her or another
groupie ever again. In fact, we are cutting short our engagement and
leaving Old Millstone tonight.”
“What?” yelled Tree. “We have a contract here! We won’t get paid
if we break it.”
“Never mind that, Paul: I know the owner of Shea’s Lounge in
East Dumpster, and we can be playing there in a week. Then we’d
have enough money to go to the Big Island and do a month at Lava
Lee Houlihan’s. Yes, pack up your instruments, guys, we’re—”
“Whoa!” Rhoda’s voice blasted the small room like a bullhorn. “I
want some answers, and fast. Or I’m going to call a cop. Or a
reporter.”
Dead silence. Guy felt all eyes on him.
“I said we’re out of here. And we won’t be back. Isn’t that good
enough for you?”
“No.” She crossed her arms and stood her ground.
“All right.” Guy Weyer drew a deep breath and indicated the chair
Potts had hastily vacated. “Sit down and listen carefully, Rhoda. You
can believe me or not—no one else will believe you—and then you
must let us go. Is that a deal?”
She nodded and sat down, her mouth set tightly in an ugly line.
“Twenty years ago,” he began, “Chosen Fool was a mildly
successful rock band, what is unfortunately called a one-hit wonder.
It started in the concert circuit opening for Earl Slick and the Brilliant
Teens—before they became Supreme Corpse and the Maggots, if you
remember them. After two albums with unimpressive sales, Chosen
Fool settled into playing small-town gigs, having established a critical
mass of hardcore fans. The leader of the group, Hank O’Hare, had a
pilot’s license, and the band had pooled its money and purchased a
small plane to make the short hops from one engagement to another.
You know what happened next, but not why. On the way to Phoenix

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