His voice echoed dully through the unfinished first few floors. Rudy started up the curling marble stairs, following his BlackBerry’s pool of electronic blue light. He needed to motivate Gabe for his Roseland show next week, and there were scattered U.S. dates around Halloween to prepare for.

He reached the top floor, Bolivar’s bedroom suite, and all the lights were off.

“Hey, Gabe? It’s me, man. Don’t let me walk in on anything.”

Too quiet. He pushed into the master bedroom, scanning it with his phone light, finding the bedsheets tossed but no hungover Gabe. Probably out night crawling as usual. He wasn’t here.

Rudy popped into the master bathroom to take a leak. He saw an open prescription bottle of Vicodin on the counter, and a crystal cocktail glass that smelled of booze. Rudy deliberated a moment, then dealt himself two Vikes, rinsing out the glass in the sink and washing the pills down with tap water.

As he was replacing the glass on the counter, he caught sight of movement somewhere behind him. He turned fast, and there was Gabe, coming out of the darkness and into the bathroom. The mirrored walls on both sides made it seem as though there were hundreds of him.

“Gabe, Jesus, you scared me,” said Rudy. His genial smile faded as Gabe stood there staring at him. The blue phone light was indirect and faint, but Gabe’s skin looked dark, his eyes tinged red. He wore a thin black robe, to his knees, with no shirt underneath. His arms hung straight, and he offered his manager no indication of greeting. “What’s wrong, man?” His hands and chest were dirty. “You spend the night in a coal bin?”

Gabe just stood there, multiplied in the mirrors out to infinity.

“You really stink, man,” said Rudy, holding his hand to his nose. “What the hell you been into?” Rudy felt a strange heat coming off Gabe. He held his phone closer to Gabe’s face. His eyes didn’t do anything in the light. “Dude, you left your makeup on way too long.”

The Vikes were starting to kick in. The room, with its facing mirrors, expanded like an unpacked accordion. Rudy moved the phone light, and the entire bathroom flickered.

“Look, man,” said Rudy, unnerved by Gabe’s lack of reaction, “if you’re tripping, I can come back.”

He tried to glide out on Gabe’s left, but Gabe didn’t stand aside. He tried again, but Gabe would not give way. Rudy stood back, holding his phone light out on his longtime client. “Gabe, man, what the—?”

Bolivar opened his robe then, spreading his arms wide, like wings, before allowing the garment to fall to the floor.

Rudy gasped. Gabe’s body was gray and gaunt throughout, but the sight that made him dizzy was Gabe’s groin.

It was hairless and doll-smooth, lacking any genitalia.