[Vorcla]

Author's Note: adult situations and language


"So, Henderson - how friggin' far away is this place?" Solly Abramowitz groused from the back seat. "What the hell did your Mapquest say - 'second star to the right and straight on 'til morning?' "

Dan Henderson chuckled behind the wheel of the rented BMW 328i wagon as he guided it over Indiana 56. The sun was setting in a riot of dusty pink and gold and azure as the big car tooled down the open country road. The two lane highway followed the meandering Ohio River; farms and fields and woods glided by, a pastoral setting that hearkend back to a simpler, gentler time. The water sparkled to their left. In the front passenger's seat, Ali Bryan smiled as they rolled past a pasture full of Guernsey cows.

A green "Switzerland County" road sign flashed past.

"About fifteen more minutes, Solly," Henderson said. "I promise. And it's only been two hours."

"Well, I feel like we've been ridin' all damned day," Solly continued. "My ass is numb."

Ali laughed. "Solly, we just stopped and stretched twenty minutes ago."

"And just how does one stretch one's ass, little girl? I'd like to know, because my big, fat, hairy tukus feels numb." He rattled a newspaper he'd been reading. "I can't believe none o' you people said anything about the nice review that was in the Cincinnati Enquirer this morning."

"I was busy; didn't have time," Henderson said.

"Right - you usually don't read 'em anyway," Solly said.

"I read my newspapers on the 'net," Ali said. "What did they say?"

"Very nice." Solly cleared his throat. "'Henderson and Foster rock Riverbend!' 'Just like old times.' Dan Henderson was one song into his solo acoustic set at Riverbend Music Center last night when he introduced his 'old partner - Gene Foster!' From then on the rest of the evening was a love fest between two gifted performers and a rapt audience of almost 20,000. Even though it was an impromptu regrouping, the two veteran rockers performed as if they'd been practicing for months. With pristine vocal harmonies and flawless guitar work, they impeccably played one classic hit after another, from the scathing 'Tell Me' to the delicate 'Who'll Love You Now?' No favorite was neglected, from 'Mojave Winds' to 'One Last Shot of Tequila' to 'You're Thinkin' 'Bout Somebody Else' and 'On My Way Out of Phoenix.' The duo more than pleased their audience."

"Oh, wow!" Ali said. "Nice review."

"There's more," Solly continued. " 'One of the non-musical highlights of the evening occurred when Gene Foster removed his suit coat and dress shirt for the electric set to reveal his infamous 'I'm With the Band - Show Me Your Hooters!' logo tee. Two statuesque, squealing and...bouncy young blondes in the first row did just that. "And you ask me why I love rock and roll!" Foster laughed from the stage. He proved that, in addition to being a consummate musician, he still possesses the rougish, 'bad boy' charm that made him a heartthrob in the '80's. One can only wonder if any 'extra-curricular' activities developed from that incident.' "

Henderson snickered, and Ali stifled a giggle.

"After an hour and a half of uninterrupted music," Solly went on, "the triumphant night came to a close. It was incredible music, performed incredibly. The pairing of the two chief songwriters of Arizona, arguably the greatest American rock and roll band of all time, was so satisfying that one can only hope a regrouping of the entire band can't be too far behind.' "

"Oh, that was wonderful," Ali said. "And well-deserved."

"They talk about you, too, little girl," Solly said. "'Opening for Henderson and Foster was a gorgeous young beauty with the sweet voice of an angel. Unlike the Jessicas and Britneys who litter today's musical landscape, Ali Bryan is an intelligent young woman who writes and performs her own original roots rock music and plays and sings her songs to perfection. Her tunes are heartfelt and real. An 'Indie Princess,' Ali's shining talent and her new, higher profile guarantee that she will soon become a superstar.'"

Ali lowered her eyes as her face flushed crimson.

"An' as soon as I can sit Henderson down to talk turkey, I'm gonna buy out your contract from under him, little girl," Solly declared. "I'm gonna get you away from that slavedriver so you can make some real money."

Ali laughed. "You're going to have to come up with quite an offer to get me away from Dan, Solly. Thanks for reading that review for me."

Henderson glanced in the rear view mirror and frowned.

Gene Foster gazed distractedly out the window, seemingly lost in thought. He'd been silent during Solly's discourse, silent pretty much for the entire trip, actually. It was not like his boisterously exuberant partner to be so quiet.

"Hey, Gino - you okay?" Henderson asked. "The 'Barbie Twins' wear you out?"

"Hmm? Oh, sorry," Foster replied as he shook off the mantle of his reverie. "They were quite a handful. I'm not used to doing a full show, either. Haven't toured in a while. Once I get a few gigs under my belt, I'll get my sea legs."

He winced and shrugged his shoulders.

"Whatsa matter there, Foster?" Solly asked. "Ya got cooties or somethin'?"

"Scratches," Foster muttered almost inaudibly.

"Scratches - on your back?" Henderson exclaimed with a laugh. "Sheena, Queen of Jungle, slice up Tarzan real bad!"

"Actually, it was Shirley," he said quietly. "She was a hellcat. Sheena...not so much - but she had her moments."

"Well, you got what you deserved, Foster," Solly snapped, his voice like the buzz of a busy signal. "You're a sick man - two young babes at the same time. I hope you enjoyed yourself."

"It was okay," he said. "About what I expected - no more, no less." He turned back to the window.

Henderson caught Solly's eye in the mirror. The bombastic manager shrugged with his bushy eyebrows. Ali turned back toward Foster with a look of concern on her face, but Henderson shook his head fractionally. She nodded in comprehension.

Dan Henderson understood his longtime partner better than anyone. If Gene Foster wanted to talk, he'd let you know.

They rode on in silence for a while. Foster stared out across the lush green fields without seeing.

Something had happened to him last night. He had lived every man's fantasy - a wild night of passion with two lusty, insatiable, busty young blondes.

And when it was over, he had felt very unsatisfied and unfulfilled.

Oh, the sex had been incredible, all right. They turned him every way but loose, and he had given as good as he'd gotten.

But when the morning light crept through the windows of his suite, he felt that something was missing. He wanted something more. He had spent years as one of rock's hard-partying "bad boys." Even now, after cleaning up his act and giving up booze and drugs, he still liked to think he could cut a swath through the ladies. He had a running gag he used at gigs - "My doctor said I had to give up drugs, booze and women. I gave up dope, I gave up drinking, and then I told him, 'two out of three ain't bad!'"

But now, even that seemed somehow empty.

In a moment of brutal honesty, he realized that he wanted all those normal things he'd missed out on during his wild years on the road. Gene Foster decided that maybe it was time to settle down and catch up to himself.

He envied Dan and Ali. Even though Ali was so very young, it was obvious they belonged together; they looked so comfortable with each other. Ali was a stunning beauty. She normally would have been a prime target for a Gene Foster conquest, but he had a "hands off" attitude where his buddy's girl was concerned.

So where did that leave him?

Karen...

Last night, he found himself constantly thinking of her, wishing she was there with him instead of the overendowed waitresses.

And when he did think of her, he felt a heaviness in his heart, a smothering sensation of longing. Both of them had always felt they were made for each other, but the time or the situation was never right. Their careers came first. There was always that unspoken promise, though, that maybe someday...

He pursed his lips. Is that what this was all about? Maybe someday was now...

"So, Henderson - how long are you going to keep us in suspense?" Solly asked. "Are you gonna tell us why you're dragging us halfway across Indiana so we can stay overnight in some fleabag hotel in the middle of East Podunk?"

Henderson smiled. "Well, you guys know me. I'm not what you call impulsive. Well, today I did something impulsive."

"Let me guess - you decided to wear a light blue denim shirt today instead of a dark blue one," Solly needled. "Oooooo - daring!" Ali giggled, and even the taciturn Gene Foster cracked a smile.

"Even more impulsive than that. I had so much fun playing with Gene last night that I called Tommy Sullivan. Got him out of bed and asked him if he wanted to put Arizona back together for a gig. He said he was on his way out the door. He'll meet us in Cleveland."

Now he had Foster's complete attention. Ali gasped delightedly, and Solly clutched at his chest.

"Ah, Mama, I think I'm havin' the Big One!" Solly rasped. "Henderson - you better not be screwin' with me."

"Scout's honor," Henderson said, laughing. "He's up for it."

Foster shook his head. "Cleveland? Arizona's gonna play in Cleveland on Friday? That's like the-day-after-tomorrow Friday? Boy, when you decide to be impulsive, you go all-out. I like that."

"Well, I was originally scheduled to play for an hour," Henderson said. "I thought the band should be able to an hour in our sleep, after all those years we played together. It's like riding a bicycle; you saw how much fun we had last night. Plus it'll be at the Rock Hall. Kind of appropriate."

"Oh, honey, that's wonderful," Ali cried. "But that's only three. What about..."

"Well...that's 'why I'm draggin' you halfway across Indiana' this evening - and we're here."

He turned into a long driveway, and his passengers stared appreciatively.

"It's...it's Vegas...in the middle of nowhere!" Solly exclaimed.

"It's beautiful," Ali breathed.

The brightly lit alabaster spires of the Belterra Casino, Resort Hotel and Spa complex loomed in the twilight against the backdrop of the Ohio River. Out on the glassy water, the gambling boat, styled after an old time paddlewheeler, floated placidly at anchor.

"And now I see why we're here," Foster said, grinning, as he pointed at the huge, brightly lit marquee. It read:

ONE NIGHT ONLY!
CENTERSTAGE SHOWROOM
"CHAINSAW JIM" WALTERS
OF
'ARIZONA!'

"Walters!" Solly exclaimed. "You gotta drag us all the way out to 'Green Acres' for this? Ya couldn't just call him on the phone?"

Henderson and Foster exchanged a knowing glance.

"I need to see him play," Henderson said. "I haven't heard him live since he...cleaned up his act. I need to make sure he can still cut it."

"As hard as this is to believe, some people play better stoned than they do straight," Foster explained.

Ali turned away as she thought of "Spike" Martin.

Solly nodded. "So Walters is the unknown quantity in the equation. You two guys obviously play fine, and Mr. 'Peace-Love-and-Granola' Sullivan has never touched an illegal substance in his life." He scowled. "That son of a bitch Walters better be able to cut it. If he screws up an Arizona reunion, I'll kill him!"

"Let's give him a chance, Solly," Henderson said, chuckling. "They'll be expecting us at the performers' entrance."

The security guard waved them through, and they were met at the rear dock by a slender, freckle faced man whose thinning red hair was graying at the temples. Jim "Red" Shaw, Walters' tour manager, had been an Arizona road manager, and the four men embraced and greeted each other warmly.

"Boy - you guys are the talk of the rock world," Shaw said. "Henderson and Foster reunite. Cover story on USA Today, New York Times, the Chicago Tribune..."

"And the Cincinnati Enquirer," Solly chimed in.

"Of course you know what people are thinking," Shaw continued. " 'If Henderson and Foster are back together, can Arizona be far behind? Then - what a coincidence. You guys show up here."

"Yep - what a coincidence," Henderson said with an enigmatic smile. He put his arm around Ali. "Red, I'd like you to meet Ali Bryan. She's opening for us on tour."

"Oh, my," Shaw murmured, his blue eyes twinkling appreciatively. He kissed Ali's hand. "Dan, you mean to tell me you let your audience gaze upon this vision of loveliness, and then you two stick your ugly mugs in front of them? You oughta be arrested."

"I been sayin' that for years," Solly muttered.

"Thanks," Ali said, her face reddening. "I'm not used to all these compliments."

"Well, you'd better get accustomed to them, because they'll be coming hot and heavy now," Foster said.

"Tim will stow your luggage for you in your rooms," Shaw said, indicating one of his roadies. "We've reserved the Celebrity Room on the Mezzanine level for you to watch the show. Right this way."

He led them through the maze of corridors that comprised the backstage area. As they walked past some heavy red velvet curtains, they could hear a blistering, fuzz-drenched bottleneck slide guitar solo on the other side.

"Chainsaw Jim" Walters was warming up.

"The lead for 'Tell Me,' " Foster whispered.

Henderson nodded. "He sounds good. It'll be interesting to watch him play."

They rode the elevator to the second floor and exited into a sumptuously-appointed, glassed-in luxury box. The room was enormous; it was all chrome and polished wood and screamed of money. Thick, wine-colored carpet covered the floor. There was a fully-stocked bar and refrigerator, a wide screen TV on one wall, and eight surroundsound speakers tied into the house PA system. A buffett had been laid out for them, including a salad bar and a hot table. A long overstuffed sofa awaited them by the huge front window, which overlooked the stage, and there were chairs on either side of the couch.

"Oh, wow, this is posh," Ali enthused. She turned to Henderson. "I'm not used to this. When we tour, we drive ourselves from town to town in a beat-up old van, haul our own gear, and book one room at a hole-in-the-wall hotel. Some of us sleep in the hall; we draw straws. We eat in cheap greasy spoons. This is...wonderful."

"It is nice," Henderson admitted. "You're playing in a different ballpark now, honey. But Arizona started out the same way you did - crowded into one van, being our own roadies."

Foster smiled wistfully. "In some ways, I really miss those days - but not all that much." He helped himself to a plate of shrimp cocktail and vegetables, and grabbed a Diet Coke.

The lights went down out in the theater, and the capacity crowd stood up and applauded wildly. The TV lit up with a video feed of the stage, and "Chainsaw Jim" Walters strolled out, attired in a pale yellow suit with a powder blue shirt open at the neck, waving to his fans. He was followed by the members of his band.

The years had been less than kind to Walters. He was still fairly slender, although he had a bit of a paunch; his blonde hair was streaked with gray, and combed straight back off his forehead. His seamed, leathery face, however, was a roadmap of years of excess and abuse. Crow's feet hung like netting around his sunken eyes, anchored by the pouches underneath. His veiny red nose was bulbous and pockmarked, the badge of an alcoholic. But his smile was genuine, and his eyes were bright and clear.

"How's it going?" he called out. He slipped an old Coricidin bottle on his left ring finger, picked up his Telecaster, and immediately launched into the vicious power chord/slide intro from "Back Out to the Country," one of his best known Arizona songs. The crowd erupted and came to its feet yet again. When he sang, his voice was strong and sure.

Don't know where I'm goin',
Got to get away.
Back out to the country,
I'm leavin' here today.

Nothin' in this city,
But crime and grief and strife.
Back out to the country,
I'm takin' back my life.

"Jesus - he didn't sound this good in Arizona - and I thought he was great then," Solly commented.

"He's playing with more strength and energy than I can ever remember," Foster agreed.

They watched, and it quickly became obvious that "Chainsaw Jim" was playing and singing the best music of his life. He was animated and lively, and hysterically funny. He would mug for the audience, contorting his rubbery face into all manner of comical grimaces. He would throw in impromptu dance steps; other times he would jump and leap about like a manic, hyperthyroid leprechaun - sometimes while playing. Henderson remembered how, towards the end, Walters, usually drunk to the gills, would find one spot on the stage and stay there all night, rooted like a tree.

Solly was glowering at a handbill promoting the entertainment lineup at the Centerstage Showroom.

"Look at this shit!" he snarled. "Don't get me wrong, this is a beautiful, first-rate facility, but look at some of the entertainment! Wayne Newton, fer Chrissakes! Tom Stevens - The New Elvis Experience! Walters is better than that. This is all second-tier crap. These guys belong in that book - what's it called? - 'Forgotten, But Not Gone.' Not Walters."

"Well, that's kinda where Jim is right now, Solly," Henderson said gently. "Sometimes it doesn't matter how good you are; it's how you're perceived. And he didn't do himself any favors when he did that drunken tour for his 'I'm Back - Did Ya Miss Me?' CD."

Solly nodded, his expression grim. He had set up that tour for Walters, and it had been a disaster. "Chainsaw Jim" delivered one reckless, ragged concert after another - when he showed up at all. One night Solly had found Walters passed out drunk on a couch during an intermission. Enraged, the diminutive manager had dumped a bucket of ice water on the inebriated rocker, and had literally kicked him all the way back out to the stage. Drenched and bedraggled, Walters had delivered one of his best performances in years.

"That's all behind him now," Solly murmured softly.

"He's great," Ali said. "Don't you think, hun?"

Henderson nodded. "I just hope he wants to do the Cleveland show now. His schedule's open - I checked."

On stage, Walters grabbed a Guild six-string acoustic/electric guitar.

"Thank you," he said. "As you know, I was the lead guitarist for a little group you may have heard of called Arizona -" He waited until the thunderous cheers that greeted his statement had subsided. "Anyway, those were the best years of my life. I wish I could remember them."

As the laughter died down, he said, "This next song is about the day I woke up and realized that I had to do something or I wasn't going to be on this earth much longer. This is called 'Bottom of the Glass.' "

He began to fingerpick the tune, an uncharacteristically mellow acoustic ballad, and the theater became as quiet as a church. His voice was clean and pure as he sang it.

Don't know how I did it,
I can't remember why.
I tried so hard to quit it,
But I just made you cry.

There's so many things I've missed,
And they all came to pass.
Then one day I saw the truth,
At the Bottom - The Bottom of the Glass.

Ali dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief as he finished the song to another rousing response.

"God..." she whispered. "Just...God..."

Walters left the stage for a short break. He soon returned dressed in a black pocket tee and jeans.

"Now we're gonna peel the paint off the walls!" he announced. With that, he and his band fired up a blazing, almost non-stop hour long set of hard-rocking electric songs, some of them his own, and some of them classic standards like "Good Golly Miss Molly." He played slide; he hooked up a Heil "talk box" for several tunes, sending otherworldly Peter Framptonesque vocal tones out over the audience.

Finally, almost three and a half hours and four encores after he started, "Chainsaw Jim" Walters left the stage, exhausted and happy. He plopped down on a bench in the wings and closed his eyes.

Someone sat down on either side of him.

"I know you haven't eaten because you never ate before a gig because you wanted your throat to be clear," a familiar voice said.

"We've got reservations for five at Jeff Ruby's Steak House across the way," a second instantly recognizable voice announced. "That includes you."

Walters kept his eyes closed. "I've been clean and sober for almost five years," he said. "But I must be having flashbacks, because I swear I just heard Dan Henderson and Gene Foster talking to me."

"Open your eyes, Chainsaw," Henderson said. "Incredible show, by the way."

"Oh, my God!" Walters exclaimed. "How the hell have you guys been?" He leaped to his feet, and the three men embraced. There were tears in "Chainsaw Jim's" eyes as he hugged Dan Henderson.

Ali glanced over at Solly Abramowitz and started when she saw the bellicose manager wiping his own eyes. He felt her stare on him.

"What?" he demanded. "What're you lookin' at? I got somethin' in my eye, is all. An' if you tell anybody, I'll skin you alive - ya hear me?"

She bent over and kissed the top of his head.

"Right - you old softie!" she whispered.

Walters came over and lifted a cursing Solly off the ground as he hugged him. "Solly!" he said. "Damn - it's even good to see you." He turned to Ali and straightened up. Oh...and who is this Princess?"

"This is Ali Bryan, Jim," Henderson said. "She's our opening act."

"I loved your show, Jim," she said as she offered her hand. "You were really kicking butt and taking names at the end there."

"Thank you. We had fun," Walters returned. As he shook her hand, he noticed the look that passed between Ali and Henderson. He smiled to himself. Danny always was a smooth operator when it came to the ladies. Looked like that hadn't changed.

"So...to what do I owe the pleasure of this visit, gentlemen?"

"You're going to Cleveland tomorrow," Henderson announced.

"Arizona's gonna play at the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame Friday," Foster added.

"An' your gonna go if I have to kick your ass the whole way there," Solly growled.

Walters was stunned. He gazed helplessly at Ali, who shrugged. "They believe in getting straight to the point."

"Arizona?" Walters asked in a small voice.

"Let's get something to eat, and we'll tell you all about it," Henderson said. They left the entertainment Complex and headed across the parking lot toward Ruby's

"So, 'Chainsaw'," Foster began. "What was that chord you threw in on the end of 'Tell Me?' I don't think I've heard you play it before..."



To Be Continued...


Lyrics to "Back Out to the Country" and "The Bottom of the Glass" by Vorcla.

['Ginnis]

MINE! Wouldn't want to loose my first comment status. I'll actually read this when I get back from running around. Yippee!

[Vorcla]

Ha! You have officially staked your claim, Kara!

[Jimbalaya]

"Well, I was originally scheduled to play for an hour," Henderson said. "I thought the band should be able to (do) an hour in our sleep...

Looks like you might be missin' a word here.

This piece was huge an that's the only think I found. You're deescriptions were fantastic and really put me into the story, painted the picture for me

From the start of this the excitement and anticipation build and build, then the cliff hanger. It worked out really well, and I enjoyed it very much. The life in your characters is incredibly vivid.

I'm in love with Ali. Just putting that out there.

Looking forward to the next one. Excellent work, Rick.

['Ginnis]

The lyrics made this for me. I can't critique right now. I'm not equipped. Wonderful, Rick. I mean...I love the feel of it all. It was a bit monotonous, but also heavy in a way that once again reflects the action in the story. I loved getting inside Gene's head for a bit. Impeccably written, nothing funny at all. I mean...thank you.

[dearest]

Wow, I completely missed this one! Finding an unknown chapter of a great story is just a little bit like Christmas. ^_^ Love it, of course. The lyrics were great, and the characterizations were splendid. Hearing Gene's POV, like Kara said, was amazing, all the characters are spot on, and the dialogue was great. Splendid. ^_^ Say, when will Part 7 be up? ^_^ Or is Fallen Angel on hiatus? (I know you're super busy).

[Vorcla]

Thanks, hun. I appreciate it.

I hope to have it up soon. I'm trying to get my rock 'n' roll game face on, but I keep "hearin' this howlin' round my kichen door."

[Venomous Vixen]

This just yanked me right back into the story. The way you described Jim's crowsfeet and nose probably was my favorite part, the arrangement and the image just floored me. Another exciting chapter, another buildup, and I am really looking forward to more. I tried to comb for any errors but found none Just amazing writing here!

[Ambrose]

Yep. This is another fine chapter. While not the most nail-biting piece out there-ok, I'm an adrenaline junkie-you have a way of calmly but surely weaving together imaginary lives and to that end, I find myself inclined to keep reading as long as you keep writing. I also feel the need to give you kudos for so many good, unique and true-to-life descriptions of fancy hotel rooms. People often overlook these kind of ancillary details, focusing on the meat of the story, but sometimes passing scenery can be a pain in the arse to describe right (at least for me) and you always seem to handle it with ease. Nice job.

[Vorcla]

Thanks. As you are probably aware, as a writer of serialized fiction yourself, you have to post this in bits and pieces, and maintaining continuity can be an issue. And you DO have to have some expository sections now and then - can't be helped. These are genrally slower, but if you could view them in the context of the entire piece, it may not seem as slow. "Fallen Angel" is character driven. My horror stuff, while I attempt to have well-drawn characters, is action-driven. Sometimes there so much action it's like riding a sled downhill without being able to steer. When I have to have an obligatory expostiion sequence, it's even more noticeable. There's no happy medium, it seems.

Thanks again, Ambrose.

[RENA HANDS]

I don’t know for me, putting the variation of ‘incredible,’ in the same sentences...makes it flat.

It was incredible music performed incredibly. (Maybe amazingly, remarkably, astonishingly?)

,silent pretty much for the entire trip, (Maybe quiet, still, soundless?) It’s the same with prior question about ‘incredible.’

I LOVE how you threw in the comedic moments into the story.

BRAVO! BRAVO! BRAVO! And my rating...5/5!

[Vorcla]

Thanks....

[Nupur]

I have been reading this series but not commenting regularly due to college and stuff... just want to tell you that Fallen Angel is one of my favourites here and I am looking forward to the next parts. You're doing an amazing job with the plot and characterization. Can't wait for more.