Read Online The Devil of Echo Lake by Douglas Wynne - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Douglas Wynne
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sardonic grin. Before it could form, his face morphed into a mask of overwrought sorrow. “Oh, Billy,” he said, “don’t be ashamed of your selfishness. You’re an artist. It’s your nature to be self-absorbed. It’s practically your duty. You can’t help that that’s the way you’re wired. And now, for the first time in your life, you’re facing it: being honest about it. You were prepared to jump tonight, to let go of all your attachments, to let everyone you love mourn you. That requires a deep well of selfishness. To let your own pain trump everyone else’s. You need to learn to use that. Let that impulse focus and guide you, and it will take you all the way.”
He paused, giving Billy time to absorb his dark logic.
“ Then you will be ready to give something to others, to the world , because you were true to yourself, not consumed by what other people want you to be. But it begins with severing the ties that bind you.”
“Maybe I don’t want to.”
“Don’t lie to yourself.”
“I don’t see why it’s a big deal to let her know I’m alright. Do you have a cell phone? I’ll still go to New York with you.”
Rail cocked his head and spoke over the lowered glass at the driver. “Stop the car.” The driver pulled over. As soon as the car stopped, Rail reached past Billy and opened the door. “Get the fuck out.”
“Why? What did I do?”
“I thought you were serious, but you’re clearly not ready. My mistake. Get out.”
“Whoa, hold up. You can’t just dump me in the middle of Connecticut.”
“The hell I can’t. Out.” Rail pointed a finger at the hot top.
Billy cradled his guitar case to his breast and climbed out of the car. The door slammed shut. The limo crawled forward toward the stream of cars and trucks flying past on I-84, the left blinker flashing as the car picked up speed.
Before he knew he was doing it, Billy took a deep breath and let out a roaring scream, pushing his voice from the diaphragm as if he were on stage with a dead monitor and the band louder than bombs.
“WAIT!”
The brake lights lit, the car slowed, but the amber blinker continued to flash. Billy ran beside the gleaming black limousine. The tinted rear window glided down, and Rail gazed obliquely at Billy with a contempt that made him feel like he was a bum shaking some coins around in the coffee dregs at the bottom of a Styrofoam cup.
“Okay, I’ll do it,” Billy said.
“Do what?”
“Anything. Whatever it takes.”
Rail laughed. A word from the sign on the bridge flashed in Billy’s mind. DESPERATE? The car stopped rolling.
“You really pissed me off for a minute there, Billy.”
“I’m sorry. I am serious. I am.”
“Don’t offend me like that again. I offered to make you a rock star . More beloved and influential than most presidents. Longer term too, if you play your cards right. More pussy than an Arabian prince. And you start talking about your girlfriend? Have some respect for the magnitude of what I’m offering you.”
The door opened. Billy climbed in.
As they closed the distance to New York, the January moon kept pace with the car, and Trevor Rail spoke the truth of Billy’s situation. He said he expected Billy to be an egotist. He would have no use for him if he wasn’t. He had seen artists lose faith and question their own value. He had seen performers sabotage their own success because deep down they didn’t feel they deserved it. You had to be an egomaniac to survive in the long run. Some singers reconciled this predicament by seeing themselves as saints, using their influence to save the world. Rail scoffed at the folly. “I prefer proud sinners. I can lay the world before you like a dish, Billy. But only if you’re willing to make sacrifices.”
Rail poured Billy another drink. He went on in that smooth, droning British lilt. War stories, jokes, little insights into Billy’s childhood. Billy laughed, wept and watched the limo cabin fracture into a
He paused, giving Billy time to absorb his dark logic.
“ Then you will be ready to give something to others, to the world , because you were true to yourself, not consumed by what other people want you to be. But it begins with severing the ties that bind you.”
“Maybe I don’t want to.”
“Don’t lie to yourself.”
“I don’t see why it’s a big deal to let her know I’m alright. Do you have a cell phone? I’ll still go to New York with you.”
Rail cocked his head and spoke over the lowered glass at the driver. “Stop the car.” The driver pulled over. As soon as the car stopped, Rail reached past Billy and opened the door. “Get the fuck out.”
“Why? What did I do?”
“I thought you were serious, but you’re clearly not ready. My mistake. Get out.”
“Whoa, hold up. You can’t just dump me in the middle of Connecticut.”
“The hell I can’t. Out.” Rail pointed a finger at the hot top.
Billy cradled his guitar case to his breast and climbed out of the car. The door slammed shut. The limo crawled forward toward the stream of cars and trucks flying past on I-84, the left blinker flashing as the car picked up speed.
Before he knew he was doing it, Billy took a deep breath and let out a roaring scream, pushing his voice from the diaphragm as if he were on stage with a dead monitor and the band louder than bombs.
“WAIT!”
The brake lights lit, the car slowed, but the amber blinker continued to flash. Billy ran beside the gleaming black limousine. The tinted rear window glided down, and Rail gazed obliquely at Billy with a contempt that made him feel like he was a bum shaking some coins around in the coffee dregs at the bottom of a Styrofoam cup.
“Okay, I’ll do it,” Billy said.
“Do what?”
“Anything. Whatever it takes.”
Rail laughed. A word from the sign on the bridge flashed in Billy’s mind. DESPERATE? The car stopped rolling.
“You really pissed me off for a minute there, Billy.”
“I’m sorry. I am serious. I am.”
“Don’t offend me like that again. I offered to make you a rock star . More beloved and influential than most presidents. Longer term too, if you play your cards right. More pussy than an Arabian prince. And you start talking about your girlfriend? Have some respect for the magnitude of what I’m offering you.”
The door opened. Billy climbed in.
As they closed the distance to New York, the January moon kept pace with the car, and Trevor Rail spoke the truth of Billy’s situation. He said he expected Billy to be an egotist. He would have no use for him if he wasn’t. He had seen artists lose faith and question their own value. He had seen performers sabotage their own success because deep down they didn’t feel they deserved it. You had to be an egomaniac to survive in the long run. Some singers reconciled this predicament by seeing themselves as saints, using their influence to save the world. Rail scoffed at the folly. “I prefer proud sinners. I can lay the world before you like a dish, Billy. But only if you’re willing to make sacrifices.”
Rail poured Billy another drink. He went on in that smooth, droning British lilt. War stories, jokes, little insights into Billy’s childhood. Billy laughed, wept and watched the limo cabin fracture into a
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