Heaven Bent

by Robert T. Jeschonek

  Surfer guy laughed. "I didn't, bro!"

  Lillian tugged on my hand, but I stayed put. "So what is it?" I flash him a grin. "Aren't we on a first-name basis, bro?"

  He laughed again. "Byzantine!"

  I frowned. "Byzantine?"

  "Got it in one, bro," he said. "And no, you can't call me Biz. Got it?"

  "No last name?"

  Byzantine laughed again and waved me off. "Get outta here, bro! See you at the party!"

  I let Lillian lead me away. I really wanted that last name, so I could call him by his initials. So I could do things my way, at least that one little bit. But what the hey, things were looking up.

  At least I wasn't in Hell anymore.

  *****

  Lillian and I rode the glass elevator God knows how many floors down. Once again, I found myself wondering why there were no light-up floor numbers in the elevators in Heaven.

  We stopped after a while, and the doors slid open. An all-white hallway stretched to either side of us, lined with glowing panels in the ceiling, walls, and floor.

  Interesting fact: there wasn't a door in sight anywhere along that hall in either direction.

  "So what's this gala they're talking about?" I asked as she turned right and led me onward. "Are they going to send me to Hell in front of a bigger audience?"

  "It's a celebration in honor of the most important new arrivals." Lillian sounded more tense and distracted than before.

  What was there to get tense and distracted about in Heaven, I wondered? "Really? I thought that kind of thing wouldn't matter here. I thought everyone would be equal."

  "You've been listening to too much afterlife P.R.," said Lillian. "Of course it matters. The bigger your footprint, the bigger your impact, the better your karma. Assuming your impact was positive."

  "But I thought you said I'm not the star of the movie, just because I'm here."

  "There are lots of stars in Heaven." said Lillian. "You'll see."

  She stopped at a section of wall that was just as blank as any other. Then she folded her hands, closed her eyes, and bowed her head as if in prayer.

  After a few seconds, an open doorway faded into view in front of us.

  "That's how you open doors around here?" I said. "You pray them open?"

  She gestured for me to walk inside. "These are your quarters. I'll be back for you in two hours."

  "For the gala," I said, and she nodded. "So what do I have to do at this thing tonight, anyway?"

  "Pretend it's the Oscars," said Lillian. "Be yourself, but dial it back a little. Try not to get thrown in Hell for real this time."

  My stomach churned. "That could happen?"

  She just looked at me and held up two fingers. "Two hours, Dad. Be ready. There's a tux in the closet."

  With that, she swooped off down the hallway like an overworked nurse on rounds.

  "They have tuxes in Heaven?" I shouted after her, but she didn't answer. "Is it a rental or a metaphor?"

  She just kept walking.

  I shrugged, then stepped through the doorway and had a look around. My "quarters" weren't bad at first glance--comparable to a luxury suite in one of your better hotels. Very spacious and well-appointed, with plenty of white, gold, and silver like everything else in Heaven.

  Not that I much gave a damn right at that moment.

  I felt a slight puff of air behind me and turned to see that the doorway was gone. The wall where it used to be was an unbroken surface again. I was cut off from the outside world, completely alone.

  It was then that I fell back against the wall and slowly sank to the floor.

  Everything caught up with me at once. I'd been through so damn much, and I'd just had to push it down and keep going. Now, finally, I could let it all out.

  How long had it been since the accident? A day, maybe? But it felt like a decade, after everything that had happened: dying, coming to Heaven, meeting the daughter I never knew I had, getting caught in the middle of a hostage crisis, going to Hell, coming back again. I felt drained in every possible way...and now I had to go to some kind of gala where God only knew what surprises awaited me.

  I slumped forward with my head between my knees. Tears of exhaustion rolled down my cheeks one after another.

  Were you supposed to feel exhausted in Heaven? Were you supposed to cry? I'd never thought so.

  Then again, this Heaven pretty much kicked my expectations in the ass across the board.

  So what next? How could I get through it?

  At that moment, I didn't much care. I just rolled over on my side on the floor, balled up in a fetal position, and sobbed.

  And wished I were alive again.

  *****

  Two and a half hours later, I burst through the lobby doors of the heavenly auditorium, looking like ten million bucks in my sharp black tux. No more tears, no more angst, no more exhaustion; the super-cool grin was back in place like nothing had happened.

  This is one of the talents that come with being a seasoned celebrity: quick emotional turnarounds. When jumping between film sets, high-stakes meetings, and red carpet appearances, you learn fast to juggle moods and never let the bastards see you sweat.

  So forget about overwrought, vulnerable Stag Lincoln. Teflon Stag was back in business, baby.

  "You look great, Dad," said Lillian, who didn't look so bad herself. She was wearing a glittering white gown with intricate black filigree, and her hair was swirled in a killer up-do. "Very handsome."

  I stopped and straightened my lapels. "Think I'll knock 'em dead?" I shot her a smirk. "Oh, wait...they're already dead."

  Lillian's eyes sparkled when she laughed. Her mood had definitely improved. I could tell something had been eating at her earlier, but now she seemed downright lighthearted.

  "Speaking of dead..." I looked around at the crowd of elegantly dressed men and women milling and sipping wine and cocktails in the vast, red-carpeted lobby. "I recognize a lot of these people." One of them, a lovely blonde, waved at me, and I waved back. The three men talking to her all waved, too. "Son of a gun. It's like the Academy Awards of the Living Dead."

  I spotted someone else I knew, a beautiful, willowy singer with light brown skin and a dazzling smile. Beside her stood a Broadway star, a short guy with curly brown hair.

  "And the Grammy Awards and the Tony Awards of the Living Dead, too," I added.

  "Finally!" A familiar voice rang out from nearby. "They brought in somebody with a little class!"

  Turning, I saw a good buddy of mine, a movie actor who'd O.D.'d a year and a half ago. "H.L.!" Without hesitation, I flung my arms around him and hugged him tight. "I can't get away from you, can I?"

  He pulled back and laughed. A more good-natured guy--and intense actor--I've never met in my life or afterlife.

  "Now, I know I shouldn't do this," I said, clearing my throat, "but I'd like to introduce you to my--"

  "Date?" H.L. let go of me and swung around to grab Lillian's hand. "She won't be for long, sirrah." He raised her hand to kiss it. "Enchanté, mademoiselle."

  "I was going to say, she's my daughter," I told him.

  He kissed her hand without missing a beat, then smiled up at her. "Are you sure about that?"

  Lillian pulled her hand away and tipped her head. "A pleasure to meet you. Any friend of my father's is a friend of mine."

  "So you two haven't met." I gave each of their shoulders a squeeze. "Why did I think everyone in Heaven knew everyone else?"

  "Because you're a senile old coot." H.L. was fifteen years younger and never let me forget it. "I'm embarrassed to even be seen with you."

  Just then, the lights in the lobby flashed three times. People drank up and started heading for the doors to the auditorium.

  "Yo, Stag." Another familiar voice broke in behind me, a deep-throated growl that could only belong to one person. "Time for the big show, m'man."

  Turning, I came face-to-chest with a walking mountainside. Unlike the rest of the crowd, he wore a gr
affiti-covered t-shirt under his tux jacket. When I looked up, I saw the usual coal-black shades hiding his eyes, plus a black ball cap without a logo tugged down over his massive head.

  "N.B.!" I grinned and nodded. "Now the party's started!"

  The rapper smirked and shook his head. "I see they're lettin' in anybody these days. There went the neighborhood."

  "You can't handle the competition, can you?" I had to stand on tiptoe to get up in his face. "Even dead, I still got more game than you do."

  "In your dreams, bee-yotch." He flicked a thick index finger at my forehead. "Better just tell 'em to send you to the other place and not humiliate yourself trying to out-playa me."

  The lights flashed again, and I stepped back from him. By that point, the lobby was nearly deserted. "I guess we'd better get to our seats." I tweaked my bow tie and patted my hair.

  "No seat for you, shorty," snapped N.B. "You're comin' with me."

  "Oh, geez," said H.L. "Don't tell you're stepping outside to settle this like so-called men?"

  "Nothin' of the sort." N.B. grinned, showing off his gold teeth. "This hump's goin' to be up on stage for the show." He gripped my shoulder and squeezed hard. "I'm your handler, son...unless you've got a problem with that?"

  "Oh, I've got a problem." I lunged at him, glaring up at his face. "He's got a big mouth and weighs about four and a quarter. That's my problem."

  N.B.'s grin got wider. "Good thing we're in Heaven, fool. Otherwise, I'd teach you about problems."

  With that, the lights flashed once more. Ushers started closing the doors to the auditorium.

  "Get going, you two." Lillian waved at an usher as she rushed toward the last open door, the one that was furthest to the right. "And behave yourself, Dad! Don't make me have to come up there!"

  "I'd like to see that." H.L. winked and marched after her.

  The two of them entered the auditorium, and the usher closed the door after them. That left me and N.B.

  "That's your kid?" N.B. hiked a thumb in Lillian's general direction. "Callin' you dad and shit?"

  I shrugged. "Apparently."

  "What's she, like in her forties or something?" N.B. chuckled. "She's old enough to be my Moms."

  "Time has no meaning in Heaven, right?" I shrugged again.

  "Is that what they're sayin' now?" N.B. snorted and started moving his massive bulk across the lobby. "Then I guess we don't have to hurry, man."

  True to his word, he ambled at a very relaxed pace past the main entrances to the auditorium, aiming for a windowless door off to the side. He pulled it open, and I followed him through into a dimly lit corridor. We were skirting the edge of the auditorium, I guessed, heading for the backstage area. I could hear the orchestra playing a high-energy opening number through the wall.

  Once in the corridor, he slowed down even more and turned to me. "So listen up, dope." His voice was lower now. "I got a message for you."

  My ears perked up, and my pulse quickened. "What kind of message?"

  "You know there's a war on, right?"

  I decided, as well as I knew N.B., I should still keep up my guard. "Is there?"

  "Don't bullshit me, dog." He bumped into my arm. "I know what happened at the fountain today. I know you got told."

  Still, I played my cards close to the vest. "So what's the message then? Who's it from?"

  "You're bein' recruited, son. Welcome to the revolution."

  "Right." I sighed. "What if I'm not interested?"

  N.B. stopped walking and grabbed my elbow. "They need you, man. We all do. You got what it takes to win this."

  "Win what?" I put my hands up in front of me. "What the hell are they having a revolution against? Harps and fluffy clouds? Having your wildest dreams come true for all eternity?"

  He shook his head. "It ain't like that. This place ain't what it seems."

  "Yeah, yeah, I know. It's a metaphor." I waved him off and started walking again. "Isn't anyone ever happy with anything anymore?"

  "Wait, man." N.B. caught up and grabbed my elbow again. "Haven't you wondered why this place is so effed up? Why it ain't the way you'd expect Heaven to be?"

  "Okay, here's the thing." I pulled my arm free. "Maybe I just want to enjoy this whole eternal reward thing for a while. I'm dead, so I might as well make the most of the amenities. Is that so much to ask?"

  N.B. wasn't giving up. "Haven't you wondered why there's nothin' but celebrities here?"

  I gestured toward the auditorium on the other side of the wall. "Lillian said this was some kind of V.I.P. gala."

  "I don't mean in this building, fool." N.B. spread his arms wide. "I mean everywhere."

  I frowned. "Don't think so, Homes. I've seen lots of people I don't recognize."

  "Doesn't mean they ain't famous," said N.B. "Famous writers, directors, athletes, scientists, doctors. Since when is Heaven just for the crème de la crème?"

  I slowed down a little. Lillian had said there were a lot of stars in Heaven...and it was true, I'd seen plenty of them just that night in the lobby.

  "This place ain't right, Stag," said N.B. "That asshole Byzantine runnin' the show...usin' us as his playthings. You'll see."

  He was right about Byzantine being an asshole, that's for sure. "Playthings?"

  "To amuse him, son. Why you think you're here tonight?" N.B. snorted. "It's 'cause you're his private bitch. We all are. And something's gotta be done about it."

  I finally reached the end of the corridor and stopped at the exit. "Look, I appreciate the offer..."

  "It ain't no offer. You've been drafted."

  "...but I'll have to get back to you on this, N.B." The music was winding down in the auditorium. I reached for the door handle. "Let me see how things shake out."

  "Lemme guess." N.B. raised his shades so I could see how disgusted he looked. "You're gonna have your guy call my guy and we'll do lunch."

  "No, actually." I gave him the most sincere smile I could muster and opened the door. "I'm going to go out and do this show, and then I'll talk to you later. How do I reach you?"

  "Don't worry about it." He turned his back and walked away, chuckling. "A little bird tells me it won't come to that, son."

  *****

  "Ladies and gentlemen, Stag Lincoln!"

  That's how the dead starlet, initials N.W., introduced me. The audience responded with deafening cheers and applause, leaping to their feet in a standing ovation.

  I stood in the wings and gave it a minute to build. It was always better to let the anticipation rise before walking out at these kinds of things.

  As I waited, I wondered where N.B. had gone after bailing on me in the corridor. I'd still found my way backstage and gotten to the right people who'd prepped me for my cues--but I didn't like the way he'd cut out on me. I didn't like the cryptic things he'd said.

  I just wanted to be left alone. I wanted to get some down time and clear my head. This revolution nonsense was the exact opposite of what I wanted to deal with.

  Taking a deep breath, I straightened my tie and jacket. I let a magnificent smile spread over my features--the smile that's launched a thousand magazine covers.

  And then I strode out with all the poise of a man who's on top of the world instead of someone who's been dead for a day and doesn't know which end is up anymore.

  Instead of going straight to N.W. in the middle of the stage, I went right up to the edge and waved at everyone. Then, I strolled to the other side and did the same thing there. The crowd kept applauding.

  In fact, the standing ovation went on for a good long while after I finally joined N.W. Which did my heart good, I must admit. It's always a joy to feel the love flowing from such a large group, especially when so many of them are your peers. Dead peers, but still.

  Eventually, N.W. tried to quiet them down. "Thank you so much, everyone," she said into the microphone clipped to the lapel of her white fur coat. "Stag would like to say a few words now." She waved her white-gloved hands, signaling for quiet.
>
  But the audience would not comply. They were totally in the lovin'-Stag Lincoln zone.

  "Everyone, please." N.W. kept flapping her hands. "You need to stop now. Let him speak."

  Still, the crowd kept standing-ovationing.

  N.W. looked at me like it was my fault, and I just shrugged. Could I help it if they adored me?

  Finally, N.W. gave her chestnut hair a toss and started unbuttoning her fur coat. "All right then," she said. "Maybe this will get your attention."

  I watched, wondering if she was planning to do a striptease. She undid the first button, then the second, then the third.

  And her tactic totally worked. By the time she finished with all the buttons and spread the coat wide, the applause had stopped. But it didn't change to silence.

  As she shrugged out of her coat and let it fall to the floor behind her, the crowd's reaction changed to gasps and cries of shock.

  And I could see why.

  "Now that I have your attention." N.W. barked the words. "This event has been hijacked by the Heaven Liberation Front."

  Strapped around her elegant mini-dress were belts of what looked like plastic explosives, held together with silver tape and connected by wires.

  Since when do they have bombs in Heaven? I wondered.

  N.W. raised her right hand, in which she held a remote control device with a blinking red light. "In the name of freedom from tyranny," she shouted, "I will detonate this device in sixty seconds!"

  *****

  Chapter 4

  "What's everyone getting so excited about?" That was my reaction as the crowd in the theater went crazy. As thousands of people in elegant evening wear leaped out of their seats and charged toward the exits. "This doesn't make any sense."

  "Didn't you hear what I just said?" N.W., the dead starlet with the plastic explosive girdle, wagged the detonator in my face. "I'm wearing a bomb that's going to blow in less than a minute!"