Dark Star: Confessions of a Rock Idol Read Free Page A

guilt. No more condemnation. No more fear of judgment or damnation! And Everett, they must know that when they die, they will immediately live again on the Other Side—and possibly even be born into the world as a new baby or even an animal, a new personality. It’s an unending cycle. Do you see? And it can be glorious, if you can just convince people. And you have the power, Everett Lester. You have the following…”

    My attorney, Brian Boone, was small, quiet, and smart. A Harvard Law School graduate, he knew how to listen; and when he did speak, it counted. Brian was not intimidating in stature. Well under six feet tall, he had sandy brown hair, a friendly face, and a calm demeanor. He was one of those people some would describe as “comfortable in his own skin.” I liked that about him.
    Ever since I named Brian as my lead attorney, speculation ran rampant, not so much about his capability, but about the fact that he was a complete unknown. Naturally, because of my celebrity, everyone assumed I would be buying and building another Hollywood “dream team” of millionaire attorneys who would—legally or some other way—find a way to win.
    But I didn’t want the hype or the overkill. Instead, I wanted Brian Boone. This sure-footed, no-name Ivy Leaguer had served as legal counsel for DeathStroke well before the Endora Crystal case reared its ugly head.
    Brian was a true gentleman and one of the coolest customers I’d met. Working with him briefly in the past, I admired how he used his informal, subtle style as a courtroom tactic, which made him uniquely effective. At times he would appear innocent and almost gullible, somewhat clueless to what was going on around him. But then suddenly, he would strike like a blood-sniffing shark with some brilliant revelation.
    As my trial approached, I had told him to surround himself with all the legal assistants he needed to present my case with honesty and clarity. He did so by hiring four of his closest Harvard buddies. And we were on our way.
    Today, Boone wore a dark gray suit. His jacket rested on the back of the chair beside me, as he stood in front of the witness stand, shirtsleeves rolled up.
    “A great deal has been said about Everett Lester’s character during this trial, and over the years in the media,” Boone explained in his cross-examination. “Mr. Dibbs, you have known Everett since the two of you were children, growing up in the shadows of the smokestacks and refineries in Cleveland, Ohio. How would you describe him as a youth?”
    Dibbs straightened his slight posture and rolled his hard hands. “Everett was the best friend anyone could have. I…I was a nobody growing up. Unpopular. Unnoticed. But Everett didn’t care what other people thought. He was real. He would do anything for me, back then and now. Deep inside, there’s always been a big heart.”
    “What was his home life like?” Boone strolled in front of the jury box with his hand on the wood rail and his back to Dibbs.
    “Tough.” Dibbs shook his head, looking down and holding in the emotion. “Everett’s old man, Vince, was a maniac. Heavy drinker. Hardly ever around. Disappeared for weeks, staying with other women. And he was strict. He would…hurt Everett. But his mother, Doris, worshiped his father. She didn’t put a lot into the four kids, just lived for Vince. We always thought, if Vince died or left or something happened to him, Doris would just curl up and die.”
    “You used the word maniac to describe Vince Lester,” Brian said. “That’s a pretty strong word. What exactly do you mean by that? What made him a maniac, in your eyes?”
    My head lowered slowly, the strength rushed out of me, and the backlog of string-tight emotions crept up to my eyes. The voices in the courtroom faded as I remembered…
    Summertime. I was learning to drive. Mom had gone with me once in the station wagon, but she worked the pedals, and it was still all brand-new to me.
    This humid July