"But I'd bet that medical facilities here suck," I say. "Not to mention there are twelve-year old prostitutes in doorways. You don't see that back home. We have laws."
"I never said this place was Paradise. It has its faults, and that's a pretty fucking huge one."
"When did you first come here?"
"A few months after Marcellina went into the coma. I needed to get away from everything Damien Cage. So I put on a disguise and went traveling on my own. I asked myself 'What's a country that likely is too poor to know Damien Cage?' A little research and I was here. I landed in the city and took a bus to the small towns out over the hills. Everywhere I went people took me in. They were friendly. Spent three weeks doing that before I met Pedro. Once I got here, it was like I had found a new family. I became a different person. I could think. I didn't have to be me."
"How long did you stay here?" I say.
"Three months," he says. "Jasmine was getting worried. I got word to her that I was alive but never told her where I was."
"Why not tell Jasmine?"
"Not sure. I just didn't want to share this place with anybody."
I smile inwardly.
"But you came back," I say.
"I have duties and obligations," he says. "Nobody will ever say that Damien Cage doesn't do what he says he's going to do. Had to record a new album, do a new tour."
"The Unbroken tour."
"Yes."
"Which turned out to be your biggest. The one that really put Eon Sphinx over the top, getting the attention of Simon Reed who hired you as a judge on America's Top Voice. Don't you think that maybe you're too big now to quit?"
He stares off at the foothills.
"I know," he says. "But truth is, I can't uphold the lifestyle anymore. And I can't get Trent and Ace to stop doing drugs. It's hopeless. Both have been to rehab several times. The music is starting to suffer. When you're young and in your twenties, you have enough creative oomph to be able to handle lots of drugs and still play. But they're losing their edge. They can play the old songs well but coming up with new shit is like pulling fucking teeth. And besides, the message is all wrong."
"What message?" I say.
"Sex, drugs, and rock n roll. I'm sick of it. It's inspiring when you're fifteen and you're rebelling against the world but the people I find inspiring nowadays are different. Like Pedro. He's top of my list. Works his ass off but loves his life. Never complains. Happiest man alive. I see too many kids whining about nothing. Their parents drive BMWs and Volvos. They've got nothing to complain about. The people here have a lot to complain about. But they never do. See the difference?"
"Yeah, I do."
"I want to inspire more Pedros. I want people to see that they do have the power to take control of their lives. They can be happy. They don't need to reinvent the wheel or become CEO of a conglomerate. It can be as simple as becoming a baker. Or a candlestick-maker. Anything that has a market and moves product. A butcher. A tailor. When people came to the United States in the old days, they weren't looking for anyone to take care of them. They just wanted a place to work in freedom. That's all. A place where they're left alone so they can work and feed their family. Like here."
"Have you thought about what it is that you want to do to inspire people?"
"I ponder that question every day. How do you get people to want to live their lives doing work with purpose instead of whining for handouts? Then, on the flipside, you've got shysters out there selling 'biz opps' and motivational tapes at a hundred bucks a pop telling people they can get rich. Nothing wrong with that per se, but there are people shooting heroin in abandoned buildings who are never going to spend the hundred bucks on that. My dad always said the cream rises to the top, even if the entire world is against you. But let's say you're born into a slum in India. You might be a genius but you never get the message. You don't even see the ad for the hundred-dollar motivational webinar. It all comes back to you can't save everybody."
"Who would you like to save if you had the choice?"
He fixes on a spot on the street.
"Marcellina," he says. "She was incredible. She had a brain. Seriously, she beat me at Jeopardy! A girl from the streets. They call it an eidetic memory. She sees something once and remembers it forever. I can't do much for truly dumb people. But there are a million Marcellinas out there right now. People with potential who just don't know they have potential. How do you reach them?"
"How about inspirational music with lyrics that convey your message?"
"No, songs don't sell to the masses unless they carry certain messages. I was at a Christian pop festival a few years back and there was this band that blew me away. They made Eon Sphinx sound like toddlers playing with Fisher-Price instruments. But all they sing about is Jesus. That works for their target people but they're never going to reach a massive audience."