WHAT GREW INSIDE HIM

The Talent Agent

Lew parked his Oldsmobile in the circular driveway of a ten-thousand square foot neoclassical home that overlooked a deep blue bay. A sweet scent of exotic flowers permeated the grounds. Lew exited, retrieved his cane, and hobbled up the front stairs. Before he made the top step, a maid exited. "He's sleeping."

A security guard approached Lew from behind. "How did you get past the gate?" The guard reviewed his clipboard. "Sir, we don't have any appointments scheduled."

Lew turned to the guard, "I'm his agent."

"I don't care if you're Santa Clause. If you aren't on the list, you have to leave."

"Check your contract." Lew handed the guard his card. "How is it that we now live in a world that allows serfs to wear uniforms?"

"Serf? How the hell old are you?"

Lew pulled papers from his breast pocket and handed it to the guard. "Page two, paragraph four. The agent cannot be denied access.

"I remember something about this," the security guard said while reading.

"Don't make me call your boss." Lew turned to the maid. "Where is he?"

"Upstairs. But Mr. Lew, he's sleeping."

"It's four o'clock in the afternoon."

Lew entered the home, and with the aid of his cane, shuffled up a spiral staircase and down a hallway to Billy's suite. He examined the door's handle and lock. He then picked up his cane as if it were a baseball bat, reared back, and swung. The cane landed with a thud sending splinters spiraling down the hallway. Lew kicked the door open and entered Billy's bedroom. A young unclothed woman jolted up from underneath sheets. "What the hell," she screamed.

Lew took pleasure from watching her breast bounce about as she scrambled behind Billy.

She clutched and clawed at Billy's neck and back. "Billy—Billy, do something."

"Get out peasant girl." Lew turned his focus to Billy.

"It's okay Pam." Billy pulled the sheet up to cover her. "He's my agent."

"My name is Pamela." She loosened her grip. "What kind of agent is he?"

"Why don't you go downstairs and let me discuss some business?" Billy stroked her arm. "Oscar will fix you anything you like and take you home."

"Will you text me?"

"I will."

"You promise?"

"Sweetie, just relax. I promise I'll text you tonight."

She wrapped herself in the sheet, gathered her clothes, and as she passed Lew said, "You're a creepy old psychopath."

Lew approached Billy. "They get prettier and prettier, don't they?"

"You broke my door."

"You cancelled last night."

"I was sick."

"You don't look stick to me." Lew prodded Billy's shoulders with his cane. "That's the second concert this month. Your fans are roasting you online."

"The thing is Lew...I'm done." Billy stood and put on his underwear. "Two-hundred days a year on the road, late nights, longer days and I'm tire—"

"You're 30, you don't know what tired is."

"People aren't meant to work this hard." Billy put on his pants. "I have all the money I could ever spend."