4F: With a Bang

Tuesday, April 22, 2003.

Eugene McElhenny leaned over a table in The Steel Town Tavern, his lungs heaving and his mouth groping for air, as if he had just run a long distance. The sight in the parking lot had driven him back inside, and now he was fighting emotional shock. He fumbled through his pockets, found his box of Marlboro Reds, and, with two shaky hands, lit a cigarette. Exhaling a thick stream of smoke, he reached into his inner jacket pocket for his cellphone, encountering Ricky’s letter with his fingertips first. His body slowed, then came to a complete halt. The horror in his brain was now replaced by a montage of the events from the last hour.

Earlier in the evening, Eugene and Ricky had come to the Steel Town to discuss something important. Ricky Germaine, possibly the finest rock drummer in the world, was coming to terms with the fact that he no longer wanted to be in 4F, the world’s most prominent band, and, as it would turn out years later, the last truly great band in the long history of popular music. Gene, the bass player, singer, and principal songwriter for the band, had very little idea of what Ricky was going to bring to him that night. He knew that Ricky had been very unhappy since the cessation of the previous year’s one hundred show, six month World Tour. Truth be told, Gene was not terribly happy these days either.

Ricky and Eugene were both family men now, and, at twenty-seven and twenty-nine years-old, respectively, were both well past the novelty of being famous. Gene could easily have gone on with the band, but touring was now completely out of the question. He could not be away from his wife, Carey, his stepson, Jeremy, and his son, Donovan. Ricky also had a wife and two children, in Katie, Eddie and DeeDee Germaine. Two years earlier, they had built houses right next to each other, and their families were nearly inseparable.

Earlier in the evening, Ricky had expressed his despair to his friend; telling Gene that he wanted out of 4F altogether. This would have been complicated enough for any band of notoriety, but with 4F, there was an added wrinkle. When the band had signed their first record contract with their label, High Fidelity Records, the band had also signed a contract with itself, stipulating that they were never to break up until, or unless, one of them were deceased. If a member were to quit, he would forfeit any and all royalties that he would have coming, including those from previous work. It was a unique and unprecedented deal to say the least, but it was one that, at the time, looked out for the best interest of the band as a whole.

Another stipulation of this contract was that each band decision had to be unanimous in order to take effect. For artistic decisions, that meant the consent of Gene, Ricky, and Eli and Ben Shaporo, the brother guitarist/singers of 4F. For business decisions, it meant the consent of all four members, plus 4F’s manager, Lee Jethroe. Lee had worked feverishly to get the band signed to its deal, and was paid accordingly, garnering an equal percentage to every band member. With his relentless negotiating skills, it was difficult for any member to say that Lee Jethroe was not worth it. The problem at this point was that Ben, Eli, and Lee all wanted to continue touring. There were truckloads of money to be made from touring, and Ben and Lee wanted to make as much as they could, while they could. As for Eli? He was the type of musician that simply loved to play, and it did not matter to Eli if he played to fifty or fifty thousand people. He loved nothing in the world as much as his band, except for playing live to the people that loved his band. Eli was a born performer, and his infectious energy was one of the band’s most enduring and alluring traits.

Ben and Eli knew that they could probably convince Gene to do smaller and shorter tours than the previous year’s monstrous undertaking, but Ricky was a staunch obstruction. He simply was not going play live anymore; the 2002 tour had convinced him of as much. Gene simply thought that this stalemate would continue for a while as a sort of status quo, but when Ricky told him that he was at the end of his rope for the whole future of the band, he knew that a storm was rapidly approaching. Ricky had been badgering Lee Jethroe for the past six months to have a look at 4F’s intraband contract, and apparently, he had somehow acquired it. Lee had done everything that his imagination could afford to push him off and stall him. Everyone knew that Ricky was searching for a loophole in the contract. What Ricky found, however, was not a loophole. It was far more disturbing.

The letter in Gene’s pocket included a message from Ricky, and two copies of two separate pages from the 4F contract. The first page, written in Ricky’s hand, read as follows:

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

The first copied page from the contract featured two different sections, each highlighted in green. The first stated that any member of the band convicted of a capital crime would forfeit all royalties from that point on, including royalties from work already released. Gene wondered why this section had been highlighted, as the band had agreed to it. However, when he saw the second highlighted section, he became irate, and even a little confused. It explained that any royalties from a deceased band member would be split amongst the remaining band members. They had absolutely not agreed to that. Between the two sections, Ricky had drawn arrows, and written the word coincidence?

The second copied page from the contract also contained two highlighted sections. Ricky had obviously been thorough with his research, Gene thought. However, he reflected, if all of them had been thorough when they had first signed the damned thing, then none of this would be happening. The first section stated that if someone were to die, the other band members could choose to continue as the band 4F, with the unanimity rule still in place. The second stated that if 4F were to disband completely, only one person retained the power to make the decisions for the entire band. That person was Lee Jethroe. Ricky had written the words what the fuck? next to the section. It was never a secret that Ricky did not like or trust Lee Jethroe. But then, Ricky Germaine did not trust most people. Gene, on the contrary, was far too trusting; always wanting to believe the best in everyone. Although Gene and Lee had butted heads on several occasions, he never thought that Lee was out to screw anybody in the band. After all, as 4F went, so went their manager. But even Eugene McElhenny could not see this as anything but shady.

As Ricky was handing his letter to Gene, Ben and Eli were entering the Steel Town. Ricky left almost immediately, acting as though he had had too much to drink. Ben and Eli stayed for a drink with Gene and discussed their ten day vacation to Hawaii, which would commence the very next day. Eli asked Gene to take care of his brand new classic Cadillac while they were away, and, as a return favor, slid Gene a large bag of very strong Percocet pills.

They finished their drinks and planned for Gene to drive them home in Eli’s new car, so that Gene could get to know the vehicle’s proclivities. Before leaving, Gene excused himself to the bathroom and read the first half of Ricky’s letter. As he was reading the first of the copied pages, Ben entered and began to speak with him. They were interrupted by the sound of an explosion or crash of some kind, which sent Ben running outside. Gene started after him, but stopped, realizing that he had an opportunity to read the rest of Ricky’s letter.

Gene emotions were swirling with anger and confusion as he opened the front door of the bar. Those emotions were immediately replaced with a sickening thud of both horror and heartache as he took in the aftermath of the sound that he and Ben had heard in the bathroom. Not being able to handle what he had just seen, he rushed back into the bar, grabbed onto a table, and began breathing heavily. His montage had brought him back to the present.

Regaining motion, Gene felt his phone, wrapped his fingers around it, and extracted it from his jacket. Someone was speaking to him.

“Gene. Hey, Gene.” It was the bartender, Terry Fallon. Terry knew what had just taken place outside of the bar, and also knew that any number of reactions were possible from Gene, who was unpredictable on the best of days. “You okay, kid?”

Gene panned to Terry with two bulging eyes, saying nothing. Rather, he shook his head very perceptibly, pushed himself up from the table, and opened his cellphone. It rang four times before Gene’s wife Carey answered.

“Hello?” Her voice was uneasy, but had an air of hope to it.

Gene, hearing his wife’s voice, was suddenly frantic. “Car, it’s me. I need you to—”

“Oh, baby, you’re okay!” she exclaimed with equal parts relief and elation. “I thought something horrible had happened to you.”

Gene paused, curious at the comment. “No, I’m fine, but I need you to grab the boys and get out of there immediately. I’m okay, but something terrible has happened, so you have to get out, like now.”

Now, it was Carey’s turn to pause. “I can’t.” Gene heard a voice in the background. “Eugene, he’s here.”

Gene’s hand dropped to his side, but he quickly regained control and brought the phone back to his ear. “Davies?”

“Uh huh.” Carey began to sob uncontrollably. “He has me here and he’s got a gun on me.” Her voice shook almost beyond recognition. “He’s taken Jeremy.”

“What do you mean? How could he have taken Jeremy if he’s still there?”

“He … he had him picked up.”

“What?” Gene’s shock over what he had seen a few minutes prior turned into a subdued rage. “Where’s Donovan?”

“He let me call my mom and she picked him up. She doesn’t know what’s going on.” She began to cry louder again. “He said he killed you.”

Gene now knew who was responsible for the carnage he had just witnessed. He was shaken, but still relatively calm. “I suspect he thinks he did,” he replied. He heard the phone being muffled. “What’s going on, Car?”

“You’re on speaker,” she said.

Another voice made itself known. “So, you’ve proven to be elusive, I see.”

“Davies, let her go, and get the fuck out of our house,” Gene said in a low tone.

Davies laughed boisterously. “Oh, I don’t think you’re in a position to make demands, seeing as how I’m the one with the gun pointed at your wife.”

“You obviously have what you came for,” Gene replied.

“Yes, I’ve got my son back,” Davies trumpeted, a sick glee tinging his voice. “But there is something else that I want, and it has nothing to do with hurting Murph here. So, before I lose my temper, why don’t you come home so that we can talk face to face. And no cops, please. Don’t be stupid.”

“I’ll be there soon,” Gene said. “And if you hurt her at all—”

“Yeah, yeah, you’re gonna fucking kill me,” Davies said, laughing.

“Doug,” Gene said. “You of all people should know that merely killing you does absolutely no justice to my imagination.” He hung up his phone and swung his head back around to the bartender. “Hey Terry, call me a cab?”