Smoking Jimi

It’s 1999, the year we were supposed to party, but for Brad Wilson it brings the ultimate dare.  The million-dollar offer comes through Mitch, his band’s ex-manager, who 30 years ago ripped them off and vanished.  Now, he shows up with fifty thousand in crisp, new bills and the promise of more— much more.  

The offer comes from a wealthy eccentric, Pablo Lupa, who is a fan of Brad’s 70’s band, and has offered the members one million dollars each to reunite and play for him at his South American ranch.  Will Brad and his band make it home with their bounty, or will they fall prey to a wealth-emboldened trickster and his deadly perversions?  Smoking Jimi is a road story like no other— a triumphant, euphoric journey that somehow morphs into a headlong dash for survival.

Mitch flinched as thunder cracked. “Well, you know how those record companies are— you got yer expenses, yer advances, yer this and yer that, but hey, we’re talkin’ peanuts compared to what we’re gonna make off this one gig. Think of it, man— fly to South America, jam for this cat, and bingo, it’s the 70’s again. Only this time, we’re instant millionaires. All of us.”

“We’re short one keyboard player.”

“So? You still play guitar, don’t you?”

I hesitated.

“You were the best. Jimi Hendrix asked about you once. Said you were hot.”

“C’mon, Mitch, Hendrix was dead way before we got to Hollywood.”

“Well, must have been Clapton or one of those cats. You know how I am with names, right?”

Although I knew Mitch was lying, how I wished Jimi Hendrix would have noticed me. When I was still a teenaged, three-chord-playing, growing-his-hair-long, punk-assed wannabe, I saw Hendrix perform in San Francisco. I couldn’t believe anyone could do that with a guitar! It was as if a musical god had descended to earth to show us mortals what could be— if only . . . .

– excerpt

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