CHAPTER FIVEPUBLIC TELEVISION
Shortly after the Sauce Piquante Festival on the bayou, The Divebomberz got a booking agent who found them gigs at bars and fraternity parties from New Orleans to Baton Rouge. His name was Ron and he took fifteen percent commission off the top. What did he care if the band wasn’t right for the job? He got paid, no matter what. One Monday morning, Jesse and Butch paid Ron a visit at his small, cluttered office on the second floor of a rundown building on North Rampart Street, near Louis Armstrong Park. They banged on the frosted glass door. Ron pretended not to be there.
Jesse shouted through the glass. “Come on, Ron. We know you’re in there. We need to talk. You owe us money. We need to get paid.”
A chair squawked back from its desk and a grumbling shadow s
