ROCK STAR RISING Read online

  ROCK STAR RISING

  A Paul Kyriazi Novella eBook & Audio

  ABOUT THE FREE AUDIO-BOOK

  This eBook includes a free link to the 3.6 hour audio-book of Rock Star Rising, narrated by Rod Taylor and performed by; Russ Tamblyn, Robert Culp, James Darren, and George Chakiris as Reynaldo. Special appearances by, Barbara Leigh, H.M. Wynant, and Kevin McCarthy. It has sound effects and music. The link is at the end of the novella. The cast of the recorded version of Rock Star Rising are shown in the portraits below.

  Published by RONIN AUDIO BOOKS November 2014

  ISBN: 0-9716183-1-3

  © Ronin Books 2014

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  TITLE

  1 – SHANE RISES

  2 – HARD ROCK CASINO

  3 – JUNCTION IN THE ROAD

  4 – GET TO SEA

  5 – BECOMING MELVILLE

  6 – HE TASKS ME

  7 – PICK UP HEAVEN

  8 – DEVILISH SONGS

  9 – BLACK LAKE

  10 – PREDATORS

  11 – STREETS OF LAREDO

  12 – VENUS RISING

  13 – HEAVEN SENT

  14 – HALLOWEEN

  15 – AGAIN SHANE RISES

  16 – GRACELAND

  17 – LAW OF KARMA

  18 – MEMOIR

  LINK TO THE AUDIO-BOOK

  AUDIO-BOOKS BY PAUL KYRIAZI AVAILABLE AT AMAZON

  1 – SHANE RISES

  A cold, ground-clinging fog rolled through the dark cemetery, licking the forgotten names carved in marble. It seemed to slow and linger on the tombstone that bore a single name; a name not forgotten at all.

  The fog seemed to conjure up five bony fingers that caressed the five letters carved large and deep. All who watched the scene knew that the man who slumbered beneath that five letter name was not in heaven. No, for sure he was in Hell. That is, if he slumbered at all.

  Many of the hundreds of onlookers this Halloween night thought he was still alive, with only an empty coffin buried below that cold marker. But they came anyway.

  Many in the crowd thought him dead for sure. But they came anyway. Most thought his promised resurrection at midnight was just a bunch of B.S. publicity. But they came.

  “I see it,” a sixteen year old girl yelled excitedly to her boyfriend as she pointed up the hill.

  “Let me see,” he said. “Give me the binoculars.” He, put them to his eyes and searched up the hill with them. “Yeah, that's it,” he said. “I'll be damned. That's Shane's grave.” He gave out a comic yell, “Come on Shane, you son of a bitch. It's almost midnight. Get the hell up.”

  The youngsters around him gave out a laugh.

  Just to the right of the group a tall, good-looking man with a hand mike looked into a TV camera and said;

  “This is Steve Landers, here at the Memory Gardens cemetery in Carson, just south of Los Angeles. MTV is here on this Halloween night of 1991 because of rumors spreading amongst die-hard Shane fan clubs, that tonight, on the twenty-first anniversary of his death, Shane will rise from his grave at midnight. To do what? I don't know. But whatever he does in front of these hundreds of fans, MTV is here to cover it for you. This portion of the cemetery, where his grave is located directly behind me, just up the hill, has been roped off by security. But who knows what this crazy crowd will do, as we’re just ten minutes away from midnight. As you know, since Shane's mysterious death, rumors have been flying around that the rock star is still alive. However, all the people that were associated with Shane say that he's dead and gone.”

  About fifty yards away from the MTV announcer stood a heavyset, white-haired man in his fifties, dressed in a three-piece brown suit. He was standing next to the security rope with his eyes glued on Shane's headstone up the hill. Looking around at the crowd with a half-smile, he checked his Rolex. It was four minutes till midnight.

  From out of the crowd, a tall young woman with long brown hair held in a ponytail, approached him. “Hi, I'm Nancy Carter from Music Scene magazine,” she said. “You're Carl Jessup, Shane's agent, right?”

  “Hmm. I was,” Jessup said.

  “Well look, sure, I know Shane's dead, but you still handle his merchandising, don't you?”

  “Yes, I do, my dear.”

  “Well then, what do you have planned for us tonight?”

  “I don't have anything planned.”

  “Nothing planned?”

  “That's right.”

  “Oh, come on,” she pushed. “You can level with me. Look, there are loud speakers set up in the trees, and there are a couple of guys up there that are doing a great job with the fog machines, but are terrible about staying hidden.”

  Jessup stood silent, looking up the hill with a half-smile.

  “Look,” Nancy said, “everyone knows that this thing has been planned out, just like the rumors that the radio stations have been spreading, all planned out it seems. So why don't you just come clean? I know you're doing this to keep Shane's old records selling and my article will do that for you.”

  Bishop finally turned to look at her. “Look...ah....What was your name again?”

  “Nancy Carter, Music Scene magazine.”

  “Look Nancy, I don't know where or who started these rumors. I heard 'em this month, just like you. And when I heard there was a crowd gathering as early at eight o'clock, I decided to drive down here and check it out. That's all.”

  “And what about the speakers and the fog machines?”

  “Ah….How should I know? There's a lot of media and fans here. Look, are you going to hold me responsible for every Halloween prank that happens in the city tonight?”

  “What about all this security, huh? Who arranged that?

  “I don't know. Ask them.”

  She stuffed her pad and pencil into the bag she was carrying. “Okay, then just answer the big question.”

  “If I can,” Bishop smiled.

  “Is Shane alive?”

  Bishop let out a short laugh. “I like your style Nancy. Ah, there have been a lot of sightings, but that's just because there are so many Shane impersonators walking around. And another thing....everyone here tonight must think that Shane's dead, or why else would they come to where I buried him?”

  Nancy looked up the hill at Shane’s grave briefly and then back at Bishop. “So why did you bury him in this God awful place, instead of a swank cemetery like Forest Lawn?”

  “I buried him here precisely because it is a God awful. It fits his image. And besides, if I had buried him at Forest Lawn the ground would have spit him out.”

  Nancy chuckled. “Hey, you know, that's good. I'll use that.”

  “Be my guest. You know, all this kind of stuff you see going on….”

  Jessup's words were drowned out by the sound of organ music suddenly coming from the speakers. The cemetery lights that lined the driveway went out, causing the girls in the crowd to scream, with the boys joining in with mock screams of their own.

  A spotlight from behind the hill shot out it's green-filtered shaft, back-lighting Shane's grave.

  Slowly, a hand arose from behind the headstone with its bony fingers spread, breaking up the spotlight into separate green shafts.

  The hand rose to reveal an arm clothed in thin white material which went transparent in the back light.

  Then the dark outline of a body rose to full height with unearthly pained movements.

  Now both arms were stretched out as high as was mortally possible, reaching for th
e moonless sky. The black green silhouetted figure stood motionless behind the grave as if posing for an album cover.

  The crowd began going wild, jumping, cheering, screaming, yelling. Then they started pushing through the ropes, knocking down the security men who felt like surfers wiping out and being covered by a thunderous wave. Only this was a human wave, an unearthly wave that flowed uphill with continuous force, demanding a closer look at their long-dead idol, their idol who had somehow resurrected himself and pushed through the ground to escape his confinement in Hell.

  When the dark, undead figure of Shane saw the mass of wild humanity approaching, it turned and ran, heading for the woods behind the cemetery.

  The crowd gave hot pursuit, but the figure, with the devil's own speed, out-distanced itself from its pursuers and soon was lost in the trees, and the darkness.

  2 – HARD ROCK CASINO

  Alan Bartlett had just finished his second revolution around the record shaped casino of the Las Vegas Hard Rock Hotel. It was two a.m., but he felt wired, like he had ten cups of coffee in him. Las Vegas always did that to him, not to mention his new Puerto Rican born girlfriend Connie, who was flaked out upstairs in his suite.

  He had left her sleeping, cuddled up in the fetal position, hardly taking up any room at all in their oversized bed. He had noticed the satisfied smirk on her sleeping face as he got dressed to go down to the casino. And why shouldn't she be satisfied? In one day and night, he had wined her and dined her, Colorado River rafted her, gambled her, Sigfreed and Royed her, and finally multiple orgasmed her. She had never been treated so well, Alan figured.

  It had been only five months since Alan had attended a series of success seminars. Now here he was in Las Vegas, fifteen pounds lighter, new car, new luxury condo, new clothes, a higher position at his company, and the damnedest, hottest, new girlfriend any man ever had.

  He now had everything, everything a thirty-three year old could want, as he sat down at the bar and ordered a Tequila Sunrise. He slipped a twenty in the video poker machine imbedded in the bar top, and by the time his drink came, Alan had hit a full house and a flush, moving his credits up to thirty-four.

  To the side of him, a pretty woman in her early forties approached the bar. Still engrossed in his video poker, Alan failed to notice her checking him out. She slowly took a seat next to him and waved to the bartender, “Give me a highball, will ya?” She slowly looked over at Alan and said, “Looks like you're doing pretty good.”

  “Oh?...oh...hi,” Alan said, turning toward her “Yeah, not bad. I started with a twenty.” He felt an awkward silence, so added, “Are you going to play?”

  “Ah, no, just drinking.”

  “Oh, can I buy you a drink?”

  “That's okay. I've got one coming.”

  Alan felt like he had to keep the conversation going for a while to be polite, so he asked, “So...ah...What's keeping you up so late tonight?”

  “Well, this is Vegas, baby,” she smiled. “And besides, I'm still wired from my show.”

  “Ah, you're in a show, huh? What show's that?”

  “Can't you guess?”

  “Well, I guess...maybe...ah...the Splash show.”

  “Why do you think that?”

  Alan went back to his poker machine playing as he talked. “Well, because you're tall, beautiful, so that's my guess.”

  “Honey, they want 'em young for that show, and besides the late show is topless.”

  “I'd buy a ticket for that.”

  “Oh, would you?” she smiled seductively.

  “Oh...I mean...I didn't mean...you know... to see you... I meant...”

  “Yeah, I know what you meant...Oh, Jesus! Wait.”

  “What? What, what, what happened?”

  “You had a possible flush and you didn't hold the four cards,” she said, pointing to the machine. “All hell, too bad.”

  “Yeah, unlucky at cards...”

  “...lucky at love?”

  “Yeah,” Alan smiled. “That's what they say.”

  “So you really don't recognize me?” she asked.

  “No, I'm sorry I don't.”

  “My photo is all around the casino. It's right over there,” she said pointing to the wall opposite them.

  Alan saw a poster with her photo on it advertising her nightly show there at the Hard Rock. “Oh, I see now. I'm sorry. I...you know...I never followed music much. My older brother did. I mean, he would have known you.”

  “But you’ve heard of Shane haven't you?”

  “Oh yeah, who hasn't? Like that thing a few weeks ago.”

  “Where he rose from the grave on Halloween night?”

  “Yeah, that was wild.”

  “That was bullshit,” she said, shaking her head.

  “Yeah, I guess.”

  “Anyway, I sang back up with Shane in the old days, in the seventies. Wow, twenty years ago. My stage name was Medusa, and I legally changed my name to that. It still is like it says on the poster.”

  “You mean like the snakes-in-the-hair Medusa?”

  “You know your mythology. And you are?

  “Alan...I’m Alan.”

  “Yeah, nice to meet you, Alan.”

  “Same here.” He took a sip of his drink and then asked, “So how did your show go tonight?”

  “Ah, it was pretty cool. We rocked out pretty good. The old Shane fans dug it. I never had a single on my own, so I can't draw a big crowd. Shane promised me a single, but it never happened. He wasn't big on keeping his promises.

  “Whoops,” Alan said, shaking his head, then smiling. “There goes my twenty dollars. Well, I guess it's my unlucky night.”

  “Unlucky at cards perhaps,” she said, sweetly.

  “Yeah, that's for sure.”

  “But then that leaves the other.”

  “Ah... I don't follow you.”

  “The hell you don't,” she said seductively.

  “I'm not quite sure what you mean?”

  “Well, I was supposed to meet my drummer here after the show, but it looks like he stood me up. He probably hooked up with a younger chick.”

  Alan wanted to respond, but couldn’t think of what he could politely interject.

  “Oh well...It's hard for a forty-two year old woman to compete with screaming twenty year old girls. His loss though.”

  Alan finally thought of a remark. “Yeah...that's show business, I guess.”

  She put her hand on his arm. “So how about it? Come up to my room for a drink? What do you say? See what happens? I'm so wired from my show that...sleep is not going to come naturally.”

  Alan looked at her hand, then up at her. “Well....wow....Is that what Medusa does, lures men up to her room at the Hard Rock and….and she turns them into stone.?”

  “Nothing wrong with turning you into stone.”

  Alan chuckled at her innuendo. “Look, this has never happened to me exactly like this before. I'm not exactly this, you know, this type...”

  “Well, this is Vegas, so, take a chance. Something for you to write about in your diary.”

  “I don't have a diary or a journal,” he said, purposely changing the subject. “But maybe I should get one, huh?...I mean, I did plan to be a novelist when I was in college.”

  Medusa stayed on the subject and got off her stool. “Well, come on. This will make a great first chapter for you.”

  Alan quickly downed the remainder of his drink and got up from his stool. “Yeah, if I survive it.”

  “Well, that's the chance you take, because with Medusa, there was, and is, always the possibility of death.”

  Alan felt both excitement and apprehension as he entered Medusa's suite. She immediately went over to the CD player and put on some opera music, as Alan opened the sliding glass door that lead to the balcony. “Hey, this is cool,” he said.

  “What?” Medusa said, as she walked over to him.

  “Oh…You've got a view of the artificial beach, you know, just like me.”


  “Oh, screw the beach,” she said, as she put her arms around Alan’s neck.

  “Yeah, yeah, screw the beach,” he echoed.

  Medusa gave him a short kiss.

  You know,” Alan said, as she moved to his ear. “You being a rock singer, I'm surprised you like opera.”

  “I don't,” she whispered. “But with the balcony door open, we need the opera singing to cover up my singing.”

  “Ah….gotcha.”

  “Not yet you don't.”

  In Alan’s room, his girlfriend Connie was awakened by the sound of a woman's operatic voice. And just beneath that, another woman's operatic screams. She sleepily got up, walked to her balcony door, closed it, and went back to bed.

  Two hours later, Alan returned to his room quietly, hoping that Connie would still be sleeping.

  “Oh, there you are,” came her sweet Puerto Rican accented voice in the dark. “How did you do?”

  “What?” Alan asked, wondering what she meant, but figuring it out quickly. “Oh...I hit a few small jackpots, then put it all back into the machines.”

  “Oh…well, the next best thing to playing and winning....”

  “...is playing and losing,” he said, finishing a slogan they both knew.

  “Yeah, that's what the losers say,” she giggled. “Anyway, I'm really glad you're back, really glad. After all, I'm the one that owes you...”

  Alan approached the bed. “Owes me?”

  “Owes you a thrill packed ending.”

  “Ah....ending?” he asked

  She lifted her head off the pillow. “Yeah, I fell asleep before I could finish you off.”

  Alan definitely wasn’t up for what she had in mind. “Oh, yeah, but ah...tomorrow's better. I'm kinda beat, you know. The smoke in the casino really did me in.”

  “Oh,” she cooed. “Sorry to hear that.”

  “You may be sorry, but I'm dead.”

  “Well, you'd better be careful,” Connie warned.

  “Ah....About what?”

  “My brother said that gambling can ruin a man.”

  “Ah, it was the smoke, not the gambling that ruined me,” Alan said, taking off his shoes. “Hey, let's...let's talk in the morning, huh, baby?

  “Sure,” she said, and let her head fall back on the pillow.