For Life

“For Life” (a fragment of David Roll’s song)

…

What have I become?

A while ago I was far away

A while ago I was someone else, someone…

A while ago

Why it has to hurt so bad

I was drunk and high

You were by my side, we could try

You were falling and I tore you apart

Which way you wanna dance?

With me

Which way to throw the dice?

It’s just a stupid song

One of many

Tell me will we get by with just one penny?

I left

A penny for your thoughts

I left

you

alone

***

Tom (at the police station)

There was a time when he thought he would get away with just about anything. Money laundering? Only one of such things. David was this guy who didn’t need to pay for his drinks at the local bar cause he was a world superstar. He really was.

Tom

His movies were hot, his music was fire, and he was ever-present as far as all sorts of ads go. From your TV set to some of the towns banners to graffiti to the favourite beverage of your typically tipsy uncle. And as if it wasn’t enough, countless autobiographies for those who read books. Yes, not only did he appear in books but was also the main talking point and central character and narrator of them. Funnily, not one of those volumes devoted to his life was co-authored and all were created from the first page to the very end by ghostwriters. But such was the existence of celebrity. Money talks. And it appeared that he did not give a hoot about that. He was too high on drugs most of the time to make the sense of it being the potential cause of his downfall. It was a secret. It was a lie. But most importantly, it was selling. And it didn’t really matter he was only twenty-nine. The public wanted to know every little detail about him and he delivered.

The public claimed him a long time ago and he signed this agreement with his own blood. Literally, since he nearly died in a motor accident ten years prior to the event I’m about to describe and instead of guarding his privacy, he called some friendly newsmen and the whole situation turned into one hell of a shitshow. He never learnt his lesson though and the attention he was getting constantly was difficult to handle for us, his team that was trying to protect him. Now that I’m relating all this to you he may already be dead.

Ben

“There was a time when he thought he would get away with just about anything”. These are the exact words of David Roll’s agent, Tom Stravinsky. I know it for fact since my informant works in the police. And he was the one to investigate Mr Stravinsky. I know what you’re going to say. It WAS confidential. The man who told me that risked everything including his reputation and his job but he chose to do so because he thought I would make good use of it. What was his business? Well, as he likes to call it, he always stands by the truth, he has a really strong moral code and he acts on it. In the light of the events and apparent murder of David Roll which was an instance of pre-prepared, staged death I can state with ninety-nine per cent certainty that it is Mr Stravinsky who “thought he would get away with just about anything.”

David

I don’t want to start by saying I’m in deep grief after the loss that hit me so hard but it is too important that I cannot stress this enough that the way I behaved last couple of weeks just can’t be ascribed to me being nuts, out of my mind, downright crazy or some other bullshit. I just want to say I truly miss her.

The music was so loud I couldn’t hear my thoughts but I liked it. I needed it. The concert of one of my all-time favourites. I went there incognito mode. I knew Charles, the leader of the group in person so there was a slight chance he might spot me in the crowd and this was the reason why I clung to the wall at the back. Nearing the end of the gig, Charles told us he and the band won’t be seen much throughout the rest of the year, providing no reason for it. So I was lucky to be there. Good old times when one year my senior Charles, soon to be known under a new stage name, and I were jamming in some forsaken garages located somewhere in Massachusetts. The times when he laughed at my Britishness, and my British accent. The times when we thought that our aspirations won’t come to fruition. Yet we kept on dreaming.

I am recording myself now to get people informed so that there is some proof. I am not sure about the dream come true part of what I’ve just said. Something strange is happening right now. And it has nothing to do with Charles, I assume. It started some time ago. I signed a contract with this label called the year it was formed. 1969. I believe. But now I am in a hotel room and I am whispering, as you can tell. I don’t know what to do, I don’t know where to go, I don’t know anything. The one thing I know is that somebody is after me and this, this is real bad. God, wish I didn’t take Molly. I’m so screwed right now. I am such a stupid son of a bitch. Besides, who even takes ecstasy before going to a concert? I don’t know, maybe some people do. It was meant to mess up with how I felt. In a good way. Guess I’m getting too old to get anything to my liking.

I have to get out of this place. Somebody’s watching the building. Okay, I got to go.

Tom (at the police station)

(…) I don’t know what he was thinking. David was always a kind of a neurotic. But this, THIS.

Why on Earth did he not let me know about anything?

He called the police. They gave him something to make him… calmer. I wanted to say, less delusional. But it seemed not fair. His worries proved to be rooted in reality too. They came back after somebody reported some gunfight at the same spot but he was nowhere to be seen. It was not him who rang. The first time the officers noticed “nothing too alarming.”

I asked about the body, fearing the worst, since they said a word or two about the potential casualties but there was no reply and I was almost sure then the situation was pretty serious. Why would I ask such a question though? I felt obliged to. I was his agent after all.

David

One, one, one. Is it working? I hope so. I have to be quiet. I am in some other hotel, roughly twelve miles southwest from the city. The reception lady was kinda, I don’t know, let’s say nosy. She interrogated me, almost. It went something like this:

“Do I know you?”

“I don’t think so.”

“You sell something?”

“Beg a pardon?”

“You came here instead of Tom?”

“Tom?” I was confused to hear my manager’s name.

“Yea, you know, the old man in a hat, the limping man. Snarky guy. If I have to be honest, I didn’t like him, you seem more… mannerly.”

“Are there any rooms?”

“Rooms?”

“Yes, I intend to book a room. Is that so strange?”

“No, sir! Which floor?”

“Something higher than the ground floor. The first will do.”

“Okey-dokey. I think 208 is free.”

“Can I have the key, please?”

“You need to pay the advance though. Don’t you know?”

“Yea, I know that.”

“Listen, you don’t sell anything, do ya?”

“I think you mistook me for someone.” I said patiently again.

“Well then. Here is the key.” She ended this conversation with a rather mysterious-sounding tone.

I went upstairs and here I am talking to a recorder in the corner of this shabby cabin. I think I will stay here until tomorrow morning.

Charles (to Ben Poe, journalist, author of the upcoming book “For Life”)

(…) The way we re-met was uncanny. I’m talking about David of course, my pal from the Bay State years, I can proudly say. We had a great time playing together, I remember he could play several instruments and it has never ceased to impress me. I stuck to guitar and “normal” stuff like, you know, singing, while he… well, he played the drums, the sax, harmonica, piano, and guitar, obviously. It wasn’t only that he played those though, he was doing it really well. And a great singer, too. It’s such a great loss to the world now that he’s gone.

So, I guess I don’t have too much to say about him from the last years when our careers, sort of, blew up cause we parted prior to that and heard about one another on the radio or in the newspapers. But then again, like I’ve already said, how our last meeting panned out was incredible. I mean, this conversation I had with him… it was very emotional. If you want to know my impression of him just before everything happened. He didn’t want to die, he just got into some big mess and surrounded himself with horrible, greedy people. In show business it is kinda inevitable but you should have at least one or two people that anchor you in real life. If you don’t do that, you very quickly start to live in an illusion, you think you control your life but in fact you let others decide your fate.

Basically, we met after my concert which he attended without me knowing that. He moved to the same hotel our band stayed in. I don’t know what the likelihood of our encounter was but chances are it was one in a million shot. Especially taking into account how frightened he was and how he stood firmly by his choice to limit leaving his room to absolute necessity. When he was on his way to the common bathroom I spotted this familiar haircut of his. Both of us were quite taken by surprise so we asked the obvious to elicit confirmation that we’re not too high at the moment to hallucinate:

“Dave?”

“Charlie?”

“What the hell are you doing in here?”

He rushed me into his room. Then he explained that he went to see our gig and then ended up in a random hotel on the outskirts, pointing at the floor. He said he was trying to - for the lack of a better word - “relax” at last after Jane’s death. He was trying to blend in. I know it may come off as a paradox but he felt safer in a crowd. He said his strategy was to shout at the top of his lungs provided some danger arose and to hope somebody would help him out. But “what’s about this running around,” I asked. I realised pretty quickly something was off. David was the most outgoing person that I have ever known and I met quite a few worthy contenders. Of course he had his insecurities and sometimes there was an aura of awkwardness about him but it is normal I suppose among regular people as well. The thing is he looked scary. Moderately scared and scary. As if he was brainwashed into believing some all-pervading entity wanted him dead. (…)

David

I woke up the next morning after I talked with Charles. It was so surreal I couldn’t believe it happened. When someone knocked at the door at five thirty I was sure it was Charles who was checking out and came to say goodbye which reminded me I should be changing locations. Instead of him I saw two burly men in grey suits with an unpleasant grin.

They said: “Come with us.” They grabbed me by the arm. They handcuffed me. And after that they said I could remain silent for my own good. I only asked what this treatment is for and they replied “You know what you did.”

It appears that I am to be found guilty of something. But I did no harm to anyone…

They said I can have my last wish. “I don’t want to die,” I said. Then they laughed, ruling a mere possibility of my survival out. And then they said: “Record it. Tell the world what you did. We’ll see you tomorrow.”

They uncuffed me. They tossed a recorder in my direction and left me alone in an almost black-colour dark room with no food or water. God, what do I do, I’m so tired of all this shit. Everyone follows me around.

What have I become?

A while ago I was far away

A while ago I was someone else, someone…

A while ago

Why it has to hurt so bad

Oh, by the way, I would like to thank Tom, my agent, for getting me out of trouble so many times before now. I think I owe him some rise. Anyways, if you people find this let him know from me that he was a good partner. He’s a good guy.

***

Ben

Welcome. You must be Roll’s doppelganger. God, you look like a spitting image of him.

Frankie

Yes, I am. I worked for the same company as Roll. 1969.

Ben

And this was the way you were hired?

Frankie

Pretty much.

Ben

Tell me more about the incident.

Frankie

There’s not much to talk about. Stravinsky did him in. He wanted his money as Roll signed most of his possessions over to him after his girlfriend died. At first, he was thankful. Then he wanted it faster. And then he devised this plan to find his doppelganger that would appear publicly and serve as this, what do you call it?

Ben

Strawperson?

Frankie

Exactly. And that’s the whole story.

Ben

I’m sure there’s more to it. What was the role of the label?

Frankie

1969? Oh, they were all in it together with Stravinsky. Right from the beginning.

Ben

Could you elaborate?

Frankie

Well, I don’t know if I want to.

Ben

And what would persuade you?

Frankie

You’re writing a book about it all, don’t ya?

Ben

How do you know?

Frankie

It’s simple. Otherwise I wouldn’t be sitting here.

Ben

What do you want?

Frankie

A share of the cake.

Ben

How much?

Frankie

Half.

Ben

For what?

Frankie

For giving you all the names and details involved.

Ben

Before we proceed, just tell me one thing. Why do you do this? Why this change of heart? I’m sure Tom Stravinsky would pay you handsomely for all the possible inconveniences.

Frankie

Yes, but he would not give me one thing.

Ben

Which one?

Frankie

The rights to his favourite song of Roll. It’s called “For Life.”

Ben

Wait. I know this song.

Frankie

Everyone knows it. I want to be able to perform it at my concerts as David Roll.

Ben

How so?

Frankie

Stravinsky and Roll’s legacy in his hands will be destroyed only after you publish your book. The police don’t have enough proof. WE can work it all out. We can destroy him once and for all and save David Roll for the world.