Dark Star: Confessions of a Rock Idol (20 page)

“To what did Mr. Lester attribute his behavior in that instance?”

“He said it wasn’t him doin’ those stunts. He thought he either got some bad drugs or was hallucinating, you know, having flashbacks. He said it felt like he wasn’t in control of himself. Heck, I didn’t know what to believe. Still don’t.”

“Wasn’t it shortly after this that Everett Lester drew back from you?”

“He began calling on me less and less,” Charlie said.

“For drugs, you mean?”

“For drugs, for friendship.” He shrugged. “Everett blew me off, big-time.”

“Why do you think he did that?”

“He became too good for me. I don’t know, ask him. He’s sitting right there. Put him on the stand. Maybe he’ll do a little preaching for you.”

After I destroyed the rock waterfall at The Groove, Tina Drew gently washed my bleeding knuckles in warm, soapy water, and Gray arranged for a driver to pick me up.

As I rode alone in the black limo that glided toward our hotel in Santa Clarita, I stared out the dark window at the bright blue sky and rocky canyons.

People driving cars alongside the limo peered in, as usual, to see if they could catch a glimpse of whatever “star” might be sipping champagne and basking in glory behind the black glass.

Little did they know how lonely such a life could be.

I brought the cigarette in my fist to my mouth, took a long drag, and knocked the ashes to the floor.

This is no good.

I remember feeling confused. Frustrated. Alone.

No good.

My phone rang and I let it.

The driver, a fidgety young man with big brown eyes and high, bushy eyebrows, kept peering into the rearview mirror.

I dug in my bag and snatched the phone. “Yeah.”

“Everett? It’s Mary,” my sister said in a jovial tone.

“Hey.”

“Can you hear me?”

“Yeah,” I said, sounding like a zombie.

“Are you okay?”

“It’s always about me, isn’t it?”

“Where are you? What’s the matter, Everett?”

“How’s Olivia?”

“No change. Dr. Treadwell says it’s very good that there’s still no swelling.”

“Have you seen Jerry?”

“Oh, Ev…yes! I’ve seen him every day.”

That got a shot of laughter out of me. “He’s a good guy,” I managed.

“He’s fabulous! I can’t believe what’s happening. We just want to be together all the time. We have so much in common.”

“Sounds like a winner.”

“What about you?” she said.

Dead silence filled the air.

“I’ve been getting letters from a girl in Kansas.”

“Yeah…”

“She’s a Christian. She’s not a fan. Hates our music. But she’s been writing to me for years. She sends roses…sent me a Bible.”

Mary tried to say something but gasped.

“I don’t have anything left, Mary. I’m empty.”

“What’s her name? The girl in Kansas?”

“Karen…Karen Bayliss. She’s from Topeka. Works with her youth group.”

Mary fought to compose herself. “Have you met her?”

“I’ve tried to call a couple times, but…no.”

“You’ve got to talk to her, Everett! That’s so neat. What does she say in her letters?”

I could tell she was crying, as if she already knew what was in the letters.

“She’s been praying for me. Shoot. It’s been ten years.”

Silence on Mary’s end.

“She says there’s some religious battle goin’ on over me. Satan versus God. Do you believe that?”

I could hear Mary covering her phone and weeping at the same time.

“I said a prayer today, kind of. It was something Karen prayed once. Didn’t feel like God heard it, though.”

“He heard,” she blurted. “I promise. He heard.”

“But nothing’s changed.” I raised my voice. “I want to get wasted right now. I made a fool of myself today. I’m an idiot. I hate myself.”

“Ev,” she said, calming herself. “Is Endora still with you? Still on retainer?”

“Yeah.”

“Listen to me. You’ve got to get rid of her. She’s evil. I could hear it in her voice when she called looking for you. Did she tell you she called me?”

“Yeah.”

“I don’t know what’s going on, Ev, but she wants to
own
you and
suppress
you. I’ve prayed about this. She’s bad news. It’s time to cut the cord.”

“Karen says there will be people like that.”

“Would you consider coming back here? You can stay with me and the boys, or Jerry says you can stay with him to dry out and get your feet on the ground. Oh, Ev, please!”

“I’ve got obligations…on this record. Then the tour…”

“Ev, you can’t go on like you are. You could die. Please. Come be with us. We’ll take care of you. Jerry has offered his house—”

“I can’t answer. I don’t know!”

“Please.”

“It’s like a scary ride at a fair. It’s going fast and furious. I can’t get off.”

“You
can
get off! Just do it, Everett. It’s your life. Jump off the ride. You can do whatever you want. Call the shots! Tell the jet to meet you at the airport and fly to Dayton. Jerry and I will meet you.”

The sleek ride eased to a stop in the circle drive outside my lavish hotel, and a cluster of fans descended on the limo like ants on a puddle of Popsicle juice.

“There’s a rehab clinic in Columbus,” she said. “We could take you there.”

The crazy-eyed driver opened his door, then turned around to see if I was ready to be escorted inside. I nodded that I was.

“Mary, listen. I’ve got to go. Let me get back to you.”

“Ev, call Karen Bayliss. Get to know her…”

“I will.”

“Are you still there?”

“Yeah, but I gotta run.”

“Get rid of Endora Crystal! Do you hear me?”

“I hear.” I ducked out of the limo and into the arms of the adoring fans.

“I love you,” I heard Mary say, as I clapped the phone shut and put on my best smile.

Not much is clear after that.

I got high. There were dark nightclubs, floating limos, spinning purple lights, smoky rooms, spilled drinks, crowded dance floors, and women…

Then there was Endora. Dragging me off when I could barely walk. The sleep-filled ride in her white Cadillac, the dreamlike walk up the sidewalk to her small beachfront home in Malibu.

It must have been the middle of the night. I took the pills she gave me, then slept in a large, soft bed with cool silk sheets and a heavy down comforter.

But I was not allowed to sleep long.

It was still dark when she woke me and led me to a sleek recliner in a small room lit only by candles, dozens of them at all levels. She served wine and the strange, low sounds of what reminded me of funeral music filled the glowing room. The chair felt like it was filled with water. I floated. Smoke arose from four or five stands of incense around me…cinnamon, spice.

I was on something, but this was not a normal buzz.

In and out.

Endora was wide awake, holding my left hand, talking to me very intensely.

Double vision.

She and a friend had contacted Liza Moon.

I fought to stay awake, to keep my eyes fixed on Endora. To keep my head from nodding to the sides and backward.

Liza had spoken of an angel of death in my life…it was Karen Bayliss.

Endora was my only true friend. She was here to help me with this spell.

Karen wanted me to become a slave of the Messiah, and to lead people to Him through my testimony.

Endora would not allow it. She would preserve my life and lead me to the contentment for which I longed.

Karen desired to bring an end to me.

Endora whirled her hands in the air and summoned her spirits to fill me and use me for Satan’s purposes—and his alone.

16

THE INITIAL JOLT OF
the hotel phone rocked me. I smacked the pillow over my head to get back to sleep. But after eight or ten rings, I flung the pillow and fumbled for the receiver.

It was Gray Harris. I was more than an hour late for the recording session at The Groove.

What else was new?

I called room service for coffee, good coffee. Then I meandered into the living room of my penthouse suite and over to a large picture window.

Easing onto the couch on my knees, I leaned over the back, squinting out over the city of Santa Clarita and the surrounding canyons. The sun was bright, and the colorful flags surrounding the shining blue fountain below showed a steady breeze. Just another normal day in southern California.

After going to the bathroom and taking a Valium, I began brushing my teeth when there was a knock at the door.

It was the coffee.

The graying, middle-aged gentleman came into the dining room and set me up with a hot carafe of freshly brewed Columbian, cream, and Splenda. I told him to put fifty dollars on the room for himself. Made his day.

The limo would be here in another thirty minutes, he assured me.

I sat at the large dining room table, poured a cup of coffee, doctored it up, and looked around at the plush accommodations. This was supposed to be “the life.”

I remembered having drinks with several women the night before, and dancing, and cocaine. Endora came to mind, but only the ride in her car. I guessed she must have met up with me and brought me back here.

The conversation with Mary came back to me. The report on Olivia Gilbert. And Mary’s invitation to go to Ohio to be with her and Jerry.

I took the coffee with me when I heard the muffled ring of my personal phone. After finding it buried in my black bag, I snapped it open.

“I’m coming, I’m coming!” I said, peeved, knowing it was someone calling again from the studio.

“Hi…is this Mr. Lester?”

“Who’s this?”

“Um. Mr. Lester, this is Karen Bayliss calling, from Topeka, Kansas. Do you remember my name?”

I stopped what I was doing and walked away from my coffee, back to the window.

“How did you get my number?”

“Mary,” she said hurriedly. “Your sister called me yesterday. She gave me your number. If this is a bad time, I can…”

“Mary,” I said.

“Yes, she was…she wanted me to have your number. She said you had mentioned me, and that…well…she figured you would be too busy to contact me. She’s very sweet.”

“Yeah,” I said with a slight laugh. “You two would get along.”

“She told me you’re in California.”

“Yeah. Doing some recording. I’m late right now…”

“I can let you go.”

“No. It’s okay.”

“It’s good to hear your voice, in person,” she said.

“Thank you for the letters…and gifts.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Why’d you choose me?”

She was quiet. “What do you mean?”

“Why did you start writing to me in the first place?”

“The kids at my school, a lot of them idolized you and DeathStroke. I guess I felt sorry for you,” she said quietly. “I saw in you someone who was…desperate, someone who needed to be loved and prayed for.”

It turned out, Karen would never fail to mention me during prayer meetings among friends. She later confessed that some of her peers grew uncomfortable continuing to lift up one of the most sinister bad boys of rock ’n’ roll.

“So, it was kind of a quest to save the carnival freak, huh?”

“No! I saw you as someone crying out for God’s affection. Just like me.”

“That was ten years ago.”

“Something like that.”

“Good people like you are supposed to
detest
people like me.”

“I’m not good,” she said. “I’m a sinner, just like everybody else.”

“But you’re a Christian.”

“Yes, I’m a Christian. That’s why I can relate to you. Because Christ reached down to me when I was in a dark pit and plucked me out. He gave me new life.”

“I find it hard to believe you’ve ever been in a dark pit.”

“Well, I have.”

“When?”

“I grew up in a Christian home. My father used to be a pastor. I got pregnant when I was fifteen.
That’s
a dark pit.”

“Yes…it is.” I shook my head in embarrassment. “I’m sorry. You’ll notice I tend to think only of myself.”

“Tell me about Endora.”

“What do you know about Endora?”

“Magazines,” she said. “I’ve followed your career like a diehard DeathStroke fan. Plus, your sister mentioned her.”

“Thank you, Mary. Endora’s my psychic. She’s also a friend.”