And the girl came crying down the hallway, at first to say that she it was not her house, and then to say that she had been invited by the person whose house it was, and behind her was a man who was hurriedly pulling on his pants and fumbling hard with his button fly. The man spoke then: “Who are you?” he said. “My brother Dillard owns this place. He’s the one who invited us. He’s in Antibes and we’re housesitting, if you must know.” I told him that I knew that his brother was in Antibes. “Oh,” he said, “cool, cool, cool. Are you in his band?” He turned to the girl. “He has a band. You knew that, right? Fan Base it’s called. He used to have one called Sneak Attack. That was mostly a solo project. Fan Base is a true band, a four-piece. Dillard sings. I’ll bet this guy plays guitar.” That’s when I took my hand out of my jacket and showed him the gun. After that there was no talk of either band. He just brought me to the safe and then let me lock the two of them in the bedroom. From behind the door I heard the girl. “Fan Base?” she said, voice rising into fury. “Fan Fucking Base?” So, that.
©2022 Ben Greenman/Stupid Ideas
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