The dancing prowess of Jun and Odile paved the way to fame for musician Vincent Friday. Seven years on, as his album sales stagnate, Vince summons the stars of his best-known music video to stage a one-night-only reunion show in Vegas. That night, h...
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The girl had good technique, but Vincent Friday wasn't feeling it. He glanced at her head bobbing up and down between his thighs and gripped a handful of her hair. Valhalla came on just then, the best-received of his many tracks about sin and fame in the City of Angels.
Appropriate. The Hollywood sign had whizzed by earlier as his red LaFerrari tore through the silence of Mulholland Drive at dawn. Hell, courting death at 120mph on a hill-hugging road gave him more of a kick than the girl's teeth scraping his flesh.
"Fuck..."
Valhalla carried on about snorting cocaine with skinny models and suffocating on sex like David Carradine. Cued by the lyrics, the girl intensified her efforts and took him so deep, he could touch the back of her throat. His already-careless hold loosened on the steering wheel.
"Fuck me..."
His scheduled tweet went live just then, followed by a flurry of notifications flooding his device mounted on the dashboard. His ardent fans worried for his wellbeing. His haters accused him of murder. You either die a hero, he'd quoted from his favourite movie, or live long enough to see yourself become the villain.
"Famous last words," Vince muttered to himself, his fingers adrift. The hot-tongued girl on his lap, oblivious.
The Dead Man's Curve past Laurel Canyon popped up right on time.
Faster than a bullet, the hypercar swiped the bend and flew straight ahead off the edge... towards the sky. The gates of Valhalla awaited, sang Vincent Friday to himself. His head jerked backwards with the plunge and he caught his lazy grin in the rear-view mirror, his eyes glazed over with ultimate ecstasy.
He locked gazes with his reflection and the world stopped spinning for the briefest of seconds. It left him numb, suspended in a blank-faced trance above the graveyard of the damned. Was this supposed to hurt? Valhalla beckoned and he felt nothing.
Then the illusion dispersed and the million-dollar vehicle crashed and burned just the same as all the others in the valley beneath.
