"Nothing serious I hope," I told her, "Seems he’s had enough bad luck as of late."
"Not sure what’s going on," she said, "He said he’d explain it with part of the story tonight. It’s probably something to do with his wife, Tracie."
"I’ll be interested to find out what’s going on," I told her.
"You and me both," she said, "Tracie has been a sore spot for him ever since we hooked up last year."
"How did you end up with him?" I asked her.
"I was down on my luck," she said, "I had fallen in with a really bad crowd. I tried to keep towards cleaner versions of modeling, but that didn’t seem to be truly in the cards. Push came to shove and I ended up being taken as a prisoner by some cretins. It seems they were starting a new business, one that was highly illegal."
"Drugs?" I asked.
"Snuff porn," she spat as if the words alone were that bitter, "The plot is irrelevant, but the star is only a star once. The star is murdered at the end."
"How could they get away with it?" I asked in wonder.
"They went the traditional snuff flick one better," she said, "Not only did the star get it on film, everyone else got it after the flick was finished. They didn’t have to make many, because rich sickos would pay millions for a true snuff film."
"That’s disgusting," I said.
"You’re not kidding," She agreed, "Well, I was slated to be the star of one. It was in a deserted area of the Arizona desert. Well, mostly deserted. They didn’t take into account that there could be anyone out there."
"Coleman?" I asked incredulously.
"Yep," she said with a nod, "He had always heard the desert was an interesting place, and he figured it was worth a visit. It also gave him a few days of solitude. He stocked his rig with plenty of water and fuel, conserved electricity as best he could, and decided to spend a week out there. He parked his rig by an old strip mine."
"Sounds like a fun vacation spot," I chuckled.
"It was secluded," she said, "He wanted solitude for a few days."
"I know the feeling," I remarked.
"Anyway," she continued, "The building that group of sick bastards was using was on the other side of the hill from Mike’s rig. He heard the commotion and decided to check it out. It was lucky for me that he did. He saw the other two ‘stars’ and me being herded into the building like cattle. He didn’t like the look of it, so he went back to the rig and got his drop pistol."
"Drop pistol?" I asked, interrupting her.
"Unregistered pistol that couldn’t be traced to him" she said, "He keeps one around just in case he gets in a situation and has to use it. Instead of having to stick around and explain it he can just dispose of the weapon and not worry about being tracked by it."
"Ok," I said, "Makes sense, I guess."
"I’m glad he had one," she said with a smile, "He used it to come down and check out what was going on. He looked into the window and saw the second film of the day being done. A young black girl was being brutalized for the film. The first film was a young girl of oriental descent. I thought for sure I was a goner after the second film was finished."
"Coleman watched?" I asked incredulously.
"No," she said, "He couldn’t. He said he threw up and then came up with a plan."
"What type of plan?" I asked.
"One to stop it," she said, "It wasn’t much. He simply went in shooting. He shot the two guards, and then before anyone knew what was happening, he came in the building and shot everyone with a weapon. It was the damnedest thing I ever saw. Mike was like Rambo coming in like that."
"It was either very brave or very stupid," I remarked.
"A little of both," she admitted, "But I didn’t care, I just hoped that he was going to take me out of there. When the shooting stopped, there were but four people left standing. He asked me what was going on and I told him what he already knew. At that point the rage just came flying out of him. He picked up a pistol from one of the corpses. He went around putting bullets into every one of their heads, making damned sure that they couldn’t get up again."
"Good man," I said, "I hope that I have half that much courage if I ever face that sort of thing."
"Me too," she said, "Mike pulled me out of the getup they had stuck me in and got me out of there. He brought me to the camper we live in now and put me down in his bed. He told me to stay there and be quiet. He had some business to take care of."
"I bet you were scared out of your mind," I said.
"Yes," Amy admitted, "But after what I saw I trusted him much more than I did anyone else at that time. I was also mostly hysterical. He left me there for a few hours. I’m not sure how long, to be honest. When he came back he told me that everything was going to be ok. I sat down in the passenger seat for a while and watched him clean up the camp. He then pulled a gas can out of the car and doused most of the area. He pulled the truck out to the road and went back, flicking his cigarette into the gasoline."
"Erasing every trace of his rig from the place?" I asked.
"I guess so," she admitted, "After that, he started heading north. He fed me, let me sleep and gave me a chance to heal. We started talking. I got the idea that he’d been alone for a long time before he picked me up. Surprisingly, our personalities got along really well. The fact that he was a celebrity made no difference to either of us. I didn’t know exactly how famous he was until he started telling this story."
"Doesn’t matter at all does it?" I asked her.
"Not a bit," she admitted, "He will always be Mike Coleman to me. Justin Cole is a person I never met, and will always be slightly hazy to me. Mike is the one who saved me, not Justin. The fact that the two are one and the same doesn’t make a difference to me. I love him regardless, and will stay with him as long as he wants me."
"Never made any attempt to go back, eh?" I asked her.
"Why would I want to?" she said simply, "I have everything I need. A friend who is true, a Friend who loves me the way I am. It works out great."
"Can’t ask for anything more," I said, "I hope you have years of great travel ahead."
"I think we will," she said with a smile.
She picked up some toiletries off the shelves and paid for them. She then headed back to the camper, where Mike was sitting outside going through that ledger book again. I spent the rest of the day doing chores and cleaning up, basically killing time until it was time to go over and listen to the final part of Mike’s story.
Chapter 9
I joined Mike and Amy at around seven that night, being held up by an influx of new campers just before I was going to close the store. Mike had already built up the fire and Amy was beginning preparations on the food for the evening. I apologized for my tardiness, but they didn’t mind. We sat down and Mike lit his first smoke of the session, just like always. Amy put the food on the grill and sat down beside Mike. I knew this would probably be the last time, so I resolved to enjoy it.
"Ok," he said after letting out some smoke rings, "You guys want to hear the aftermath of Ron and Teri’s death, right?"
"At your own speed, man," I told him.
"Well, the first thing I did after that fiasco was get affairs in order," he said, having prepared himself more for the storytelling this time, "I got my father to talk to the coroner, who ruled Ron’s death an accident instead of a suicide. This allowed Ron’s family to receive the insurance money.
"I had to tell Tori about Ron’s death. She broke down on me, though she’d suspected he’d been having an affair for a while. I told her she’d always have an income, and that I’d set it up so she’d get insurance money. It wasn’t much, but it was better than her going broke on top of losing Ron."
"That was decent of you," I said, "Especially considering that none of it was your fault."
"Somebody had to do something," he said with a shrug, "I felt it was the right thing to do."
Amy proceeded to
spin the roast around. I grabbed a beer, feeling that I’d need one. Mike took one himself and tossed his spent cigarette into the fire. We sat there a few minutes before Mike started again.
"Anyway," he said, "Mary had come back into my life again at this point. Her career was down in the dumps too, so we were good support for each other. She encouraged me to go back into the studio again, though it took a year for me to be able to do so.
"I spent most of that year just relaxing and figuring out how to come back. I knew the inquisition was dead, so I pondered doing a true solo album, with me playing on all the instruments. Alas, I didn’t have the patience for that yet. So I decided to go the other route."
"Which was?" Amy asked.
"I got every name player I could to play on the record," he continued, "It became a star studded effort. The album was called A Sermon, and the title track was a cover of an old Police B-Side. That song fit the music business better than any song I had ever seen. Recording took about four months, from July 95 to November 95. By the time I had finished it, I had an album that was mine alone. It was released just before Christmas of that year.
"Justin Cole hit the top of the charts again, let me tell you," he said, "The first single, which was a hard song called Orange Heart, shot to the top. Of course, by this point Mary and I were just about on the outs again. When it came time to shoot the video for Orange Heart, Mary had taken off of her own accord. This was good timing, because it was on that video shoot that I met the woman who was to become my wife.
"Tracie Menlo was her name," Mike said as he fired up another cigarette, "She was beautiful. Long brown hair, she played the temptress to my tortured soul in the video. She also had two kids and was freshly divorced. She didn’t like me much at first since she thought I was your standard spoiled rich rock star. Her ex husband was a print artist that didn’t care she had a brain as well as a very nice body."
"What finally pushed her in your direction," I asked him, "Your charming personality or dashing good looks?"
"Neither one," Mike said with a grin, "I was still wearing my hair long and nearly destroyed by bleach. I almost always had dark circles under my eyes, because I didn’t sleep more than two or three hours at a time. My personality, surprisingly, hasn’t changed too much so you can make your own assumptions about it."
We all laughed at that. Amy told him to keep talking while she pulled the brisket off the grill and cut it up for us. Mike took a second and drained his beer and then he continued with his train of thought.
"She didn’t see anything in me until the wrap party," Mike continued, "I hated parties at that time, not that I’d ever really liked them to start with. Tracie was the same way, she’d just decided to show up because it was a good way to make contacts, and she wanted to see the finished product.
"She ducked out of the party to get away from the mass of losers who were hitting on her inside. After walking around the grounds of the place we were having the party, she came across me. I was sitting on the ground with five glasses of whiskey sitting in a widely spaced circle in front of me."
Mike caught our surprised glances and decided he’d better explain that a bit more about that little display he was describing.
"It was a continuation of a tradition," Mike explained, "Ever since we wrapped up on the first Inquisition album, all of us had gotten together for a shot of whiskey to celebrate. We continued that tradition throughout the entire existence of the band. When Cookie was ousted, we eliminated her glass, but it was set out for her as a tribute after the first sessions were completed in 1991. The first after her death.
"We continued that tradition after Trip’s death as well. Two empty glasses were set out, filled with whiskey and set ablaze by whoever was still smoking at the time, usually Ron. I continued the tradition alone after the sessions for ‘A Sermon’ were completed in late 95. I was continuing it again for the Orange Heart video.
"Tracie saw this display and saw me use my cigarette to light four of the five glasses. She sat down and we started talking. She and I never did return to the party, nor did we end up in the bedroom. It wasn’t the animal attraction that Teri and I had always had, nor the best that I can do right now type of attraction Mary and I had always had. Tracie was intelligent and funny, and she wanted to be an actress. She stuck to modeling, however, because she knew she could make enough to support her two kids with it.
"1996 was a pretty good year for me. Tracie and I began a relationship and it grew into something beautiful. Her two kids liked me, mainly because their own father was a self righteous bugger who barely acknowledged them. Allen Menlo was 13 and was conceived when his mother was barely 17. Julie was 6 and cute as a button. Allen had a hard time with me at first, but when he saw how happy I made Tracie, he started to warm to me.
"Orange Heart tore up the charts, along with its follow up single. The follow up single was a new version of No God which was heavily redone. Tupac Shakur lent the rap vocal to it, which insured its rise to number one since he was dead by the time it was released."
"Death just followed you around," Amy said sarcastically.
"Seemed so," Mike agreed, "But I take no responsibility for Tupac. He brought it on himself with the life he led. The award shows treated me kindly too. Orange Heart and No God both took home MTV video awards, something I find humorous because it was essentially the same video they had refused to play nine years before. I was nominated for seven Grammys, mostly technical ones for producing, though I did manage to pick up best solo record and best male vocalist again.
"Justin Cole was back on top, but I didn’t know what to do next. I didn’t feel like making another star studded album. I wanted a band again, but I wasn’t up to doing that either. Tracie was the one who really worked me up into being willing to do my own album. Not the way I’d done A Sermon but truly my own album, with me playing on all the instruments.
"So by the end of 96 I retreated from public life for a while. I brought Tracie, her kids and her mother to a Caribbean island where I could get a studio. I stocked it with the instruments I would use and knew how to play. While her kids played in the sand and received home schooling from her mother, Tracie and I spent time in the studio. She kept track of the paperwork for me, so I knew what I’d played on each. I also taught her how to run some of the equipment.
"We spent just about 18 months down there. By the time I finished the album, Tracie knew almost as much about producing as I did. I even did the artwork and was thinking about how I could do a video by myself. Doing this record by myself had become a mania for me. It was the first time I’d tried it and it hadn’t been done successfully very often."
"Only person I remember trying it was Phil Collins," Amy said, "And that album was just as bad as his others."
"I’m sure it’s been done, but not by many," I said.
"Well," he said, "Once we went back to LA we looked around into getting a video done on the cheap. We hired some film students and rented the equipment. Then we proceeded to make videos for every song on the album. Amazingly enough the entire process cost just under a million bucks. Not bad, considering how long it took."
"How did it do when it came out?" I asked.
"Not as well as previous ones," Mike admitted sadly, "Looking back on it, I see why. I finally lost the bleached blonde locks, going back to my normal hairstyle. The first video was called Love and Death, in which Tracie played the object of desire again, and I played every other character in the bar. We did several of the videos that way. We charted with it, but in comparison to past albums it really didn’t hold up in either sales or musicianship. You just can’t do a really good album by yourself."
"It didn’t do well?" I asked.
"It didn’t tank," Mike said, "But it wasn’t a blockbuster. I was still personally happy though. I didn’t much care that the album wasn’t doing as well. Tracie and I were really happy. Happy to the point that I actual
ly did something that I never thought I’d do in a million years."
"What was that?" Amy asked.
"I asked her to marry me," Mike said, "She accepted, and we were married in the summer of 98. It was a beautiful ceremony and her kids were involved. Everything seemed to be going perfectly."
"Sounds like an ideal life," I agreed, "But something must have happened, otherwise you would still be with Tracie. I’m assuming she’s out of the picture now."
"I think I know part of this," Amy said looking at Mike intently, "But I want to hear it from you. I need to hear it from you."
"That’s right, you do," Mike agreed, "Well, after the way the solo album tanked I decided that it might just be time to put together another band."
"I remember that band," Amy said, "I think I caught one of your concerts, right about five years ago now."
"Yep," Mike said, "At the end of ’98 I started to pull in people for a new band. I was going for a similar feel to the Inquisition, but with me as the absolute leader this time. Tracie, of course, was the first recruit."
"Did she play anything?" I asked.
"Nope," Mike said with a grin, "But I wanted female vocals and having a good looking woman on stage was essential, seeing as I was just shy of forty by that point."
"Just how old are you?" Amy asked him, "I’m still having trouble figuring that out."
"I’m guessing he was born somewhere around 1960," I said, "Seeing as he was 19 in 1979."
"I was born on April 29th, 1960," Mike said, Tracie was six years younger than I was. Teri was two years older. Mary is just about six months younger than me."
"That puts me a good two decades younger than you," Amy said, "I was born on January 15th, 1980."
"And makes me about twenty years older than him," I said, "I was born in 1940."
"Age doesn’t matter," Mike said honestly, "Love and friendship transcend it. But anyway, I’m digressing again."
"Who else signed on other than Tracie?" I asked him.
"Alex Brookes signed on to do bass," he continued after lighting yet another cigarette, "He was a veteran of the Seattle scene and we had worked together on a few projects. Matthew Retton signed on to do some guitar work. Basically he took some of the pressure off from me. Eddie Ravens became our drummer. He worked with Matt Retton on a few projects and was recommended highly. Rounding out the team was Angie Holmes, who played the keyboards.
Night Strike Page 8
