Myron remembered his own childhood. Every friend of his had claimed to see a “surprise” Springsteen show at the Stone Pony in Asbury Park. Myron had his doubts. He’d gone three times in high school when he heard the rumors, but Bruce never showed.

“Anyway, we became HorsePower, but I wrote every song—every melody, every lyric. We used backing tapes onstage. I taught Gabriel how to carry a tune but for the most part I dubbed over him or studiofied it.”

He stopped now, took a deep sip, seemed lost. To bring him back, Myron asked, “Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why did you need him as a prop?”

“Don’t be daft,” Lex said. “He had the looks. It’s like I told you—Gabriel was the beautiful, poetic, soulful façade. I viewed him as my greatest instrument. And it worked. He loved being the big star, nailing every piece of young ass who crossed his path, making money hand over fist. And I was happy too. Everyone was listening to my music. The entire world.”

“But you never got the credit.”

“So? That’s never mattered much to me. I was about the music. That was all. The fact that the world considers me a second banana . . . well, the joke is on them, isn’t it?”

Myron guessed that maybe it was.

“I knew,” Lex went on. “That was enough for me. And in a sense, we were indeed a real rock group. I needed Gabriel. Isn’t beauty in a sense its own talent? Successful designers put their dresses on beautiful models. Don’t the models play a role? Big companies have attractive spokespeople. Aren’t they relevant to the process? That’s what Gabriel Wire was to HorsePower. And the proof was in the eating. Listen to my solo stuff from before I met Wire. The music is just as good. No one cared. Do you remember Milli Vanilli?”

Myron did. They were two male models named Rob and Fab who lip-synched someone else’s music and rose to the top of the charts. They even won a Best New Artist Grammy.

“Remember how the world hated those two guys when the truth came out?”

Myron nodded. “They were vilified.”

“Exactly. People actually went out and burned their records. How come? Wasn’t the music the same?”

“It was.”

He leaned in conspiratorially. “Do you know why the fans turned on those two guys so horribly?”

Just to keep him talking, Myron shook his head.