Different Circles

“No, it’s not true,” Matt said through gritted teeth. “There is not going to be an Intemperance reunion—never! In fact, there’s not even going to be a ‘this’, as you put it. I will not share a stage with Jake fucking Kingsley. Either he is going to go, or I am.”

“Oh,” Hopple said slowly. “That’s too bad as well. I was kind of looking forward to it.”

“I gotta go, Hopple,” Matt told him. “You’ll have that fax tomorrow. For now, I got a few more phone calls to make.”

He hung up the phone without waiting for Hopple’s reply. He then got the hotel operator and then the international operator back. He had her ring the main line for his home in San Juan Capistrano, where he assumed Kim would be staying (she rarely went to her own house, even when Matt was away). It was an assumption that proved to be correct. She picked it up on the second ring and agreed to accept the international charge from the United Kingdom.

“Hey, Mattie,” she greeted once the operator clicked off the line. “Did you talk to Hopple?”

“I did,” he said. “It turns out I’m being audited by the state.”

“Oh,” she said, worry in her voice. “That could be bad.”

“He says it’s nothing,” he told her dismissively. “They just want documentation on my heart surgery and why I deducted it.”

“That should be okay then,” she said. “As long as that’s the only issue they look at.”

“I didn’t call about the audit,” he told her. “I called about the TSF.”

“The festival in September?” she asked. “What about it?”

“Have you heard anything about the lineup?” he asked. “Hopple told me the entertainment fucks are all talking about it.”

“I haven’t heard a thing,” she said, “but I don’t watch those entertainment shows. You know that.”

“Yeah, I do,” he said. “Are you at your desk right now?”

“I am,” she said. “I was just going through some emails.”

“Get on the internet and bring up Music Alive’s site. Hopple says that the press release is there.”

“Okay,” she said. “Hang on a minute. Let me close out the email and bring up Yahoo.” He heard the sound of her tapping on the keyboard and clicking the mouse. “It’s coming up now. I really love this DSL modem you had them put in. It’s so much faster than the dial-up.”

“It had to be,” Matt said. “It took forever to download a fucking porn video with the dial-up. Even the pictures took like fifteen minutes apiece. You can’t jack off at that pace.”

“I suppose that’s as good a reason as any,” she said. “Okay, here we go. Music Alive ... Music Alive ... where are you? I wish the damn search engine would give me the relevant fucking sites I’m looking for and not a bunch of articles about past concerts and speculation about whether or not music is still alive.”

“Yeah, that is a bitch, isn’t it?” Matt said. “Especially when you’re looking for porn.” Which was the only reason Matt ever used the search engine, or indeed the computer. “I was looking for some once and put in ‘great tits’ and do you know what it came up with at the top of the list? Pictures of fucking birds!”

“Birds?” she asked.

“Yeah. Apparently, there is some bird somewhere that is called a great tit. As if that is what anyone typing in ‘great tits’ is looking for.”

“Huh,” Kim said. “A bird called a great tit. Who would’ve thought? Well, hopefully, somebody somewhere is working on a better search engine. They’ll be able to dominate the market if they can come up with one. Here we are ... Music Alive Incorporated. Clicking the link now.” A pause. “Okay, here’s a link for the Tsunami Sound Festival. Loading ... Loading ... ahh, there it is. The lineup for both nights. Hopple was right. You’re listed as the headliner on both nights. Jake Kingsley is listed as the second-to-last act on both nights.”

“Motherfucker,” Matt said angrily.

“There’s even a teaser line here saying that this will be the first time that Matt Tisdale and Jake Kingsley have appeared together since the breakup of Intemperance.”

“Fuck me!” he barked. “Even if I would allow myself to step onto the same stage where Kingsley just fucking played—which I will not—we weren’t going to be playing together. Those fucking record people and their goddamn lies.”

“I’m sure they prefer to call it innuendo,” Kim offered.

“I’m sure they do,” he said. “Get in my rolodex and get me that fuckhead Stillson’s phone number. I need to give his ass a call.”

“All right, hang on.”

A minute later, the number was written down and Matt was making yet another international phone call. This time Jerry Stillson’s secretary tried to refuse to accept the international charge on the grounds that Mr. Stillson was unavailable to speak to Mr. Tisdale currently.

“You’d better make his ass available and do it now,” Matt cut in. “If he’s not talking to me on this phone in the next thirty seconds, he can take his fuckin’ Tsunami Sound Festival and shove it up his ass!”

“Uh ... well ... in that case ... uh ... let me see what I can do,” she stammered.