4F: With a Bullet

Eugene McElhenny stood in a bathroom stall in Fairview, Pennsylvania’s local Steel Town Tavern. He was a couple of minutes past emptying his bladder, but still lingered, reading the contents of an envelope that had been given to him only a few minutes earlier. A chill ripped through his flesh as he read.

Gene had come to the Steel Town a few hours prior to meet with his best friend and rhythm section partner, Ricky Germaine. Ricky and Gene were two of the four members of the World-renowned popular rock band, 4F. The band had reached atmosphere-rupturing heights over the course of the last three-plus years, but that did not mean that every band member was happy these days.

Ricky had expressed his dread to Gene earlier in the evening. The demands of touring had taken a brutal toll on both, but Ricky simply could not handle being in the band anymore. Neither of these young men was comfortable with fame, and both disdained time away from their families.

Under any other circumstance, simply quitting the band would have been not only a viable option, but a no-brainer. However, 4F was not a normal band, having signed a unique intra-band contract in the Fall of 1999. This contract stipulated that 4F was never to disband until, or unless, one band member was deceased. If anyone did breach the contract, they would forfeit all monies from that point on, even monies that were from previous work. Ricky wanted out, but Ricky was a man of principles. He would never forfeit anything that he had worked for, or anything he felt he was owed.

On this night, Ricky showed a significant level of despair, accompanied by an unprecedented fear. Over the last year, he had become more and more upset and morose in regards to 4F, but scared? Ricky Germaine feared nothing. Gene had never seen terror in Ricky’s eyes, until this night. He had been very cryptic during their conversation, intimating that there was, perhaps, something in that contract of which they had previously been ignorant. Ricky slid an envelope across the table to Gene, just as Ben and Eli Shaporo, 4F’s guitarist brothers, entered the bar. After pleasantries, he excused himself very suddenly, grabbing a waiting cab outside.

Ben and Eli were about to leave for Hawaii; a ten day vacation to celebrate the completion of 4F’s third studio album, No Stones Unturned. Gene and Ricky had declined the invite, as Ben and Eli were going with the band’s manager, Lee Jethroe. When the band had first begun, Ricky and Gene regarded Lee as both a friend and ally. Over the years, their regard went steadily southward. Gene no longer completely trusted Lee. Ricky flat-out loathed him.

Eli Shaporo, the younger and infinitely more affable brother, had recently purchased a stunning classic Cadillac El Dorado. As Gene would not be joining them in Hawaii, Eli asked if he could take it out a few times while they were gone, in order to not let the car sit idly for too long. Ben suggested that Gene drive them home from the bar on this particular night, so that Gene could learn to start and drive the car.

Before going outside, Gene excused himself to the restroom, and the brothers went outside for a cigarette. When Gene was done peeing, he refastened his jeans, took out Ricky’s envelope, and began to read the hand-written note from his friend.

Gene,

Don’t know exactly what this means, but I have a very bad feeling about it. I’m getting lost for a little while, and taking Katie and the kids with me. My cell will be off, but call me if you need me, and I’ll call you back. It might be best for you to do the same. It could just be me, but I think somebody’s got something in store. Read the attached pages, and get the fuck out of Dodge. I love you, man. Take care of yourself! -Rick

Adrenaline poked at Gene’s stomach as he flipped the letter to the rear and saw two more pages. These were photocopies from the band’s contract. This was the contract that they had signed years ago, and it contained many clauses. The clause about never breaking up was only one. The contract also stipulated that the band share in all proceeds equally, that manager Lee Jethroe was to be paid as an equal band member, and that all decisions be made unanimously. However, when it came time to sign said contract, the legalese was so thick that the band had a very hard time comprehending many sections, finally giving up about half way through. They had had a lawyer draw it up, and had no reason to think that anything was other than what they had agreed to. As Gene read, however, he learned that this was apparently not so.

There were four parts on the two pages that Ricky stressed with a highlighter. One read that death of a band member would result in his share of the proceeds being split equally amongst the remaining members. Another read that any member convicted of a capital crime would forfeit his proceeds as well. The second clause, they had agreed to. The first, they had most-certainly not agreed to. Ricky had arrows pointing to both, with the word coincidence? hand-written in between. Gene flipped to the second page to see that two more sections were highlighted, but the sound of the bathroom door jolted him into action.

“Geno? You still in here?” Ben inquired, rather loudly.

“Yeah!” Gene blurted in reply, folding the papers furiously and shoving them into his inner jacket pocket.

“What the hell, man? We thought you fell in or something.”

Gene flushed the toilet ceremoniously and then opened the stall door. “Now that was original,” he said, smirking, as he crossed the bathroom to the sinks.

Ben had a strange look on his face. He was smiling, but with eyes that were not looking directly at him, or directly away, for that matter. “Yeah, not my best joke ever.”

Gene washed his hands. “So you guys excited about Hawaii?”

“Yeah, it’s not going to be like when we played there. Remember that?”

“Not really.” Gene smiled, drying his hands with a paper towel. “It was too short to remember. All of those places on tour were like that. People are always saying that they envy us for traveling the world, like we see much beyond hotels and arenas.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean,” Ben agreed. “That’s why we’re so excited about this trip. Ten days with nothing but—”

A very loud bang cut off Ben’s sentence. It sounded like a forty-four magnum, but amplified many times. The ground and walls even seemed to rumble.

“What the fuck was that?!” Gene shouted, his hands pressed against the sink.

At first, Ben showed the same confusion as his bandmate, but then an absolutely horrified expression overtook his face. He turned and slammed through the bathroom door without a word.

Gene stood there for a moment, perplexed. His eyes widened, as he felt at his jacket, remembering the one word Ricky had written in that highlighted contract. He raced for the door.