Five Flavors of Dumb by Antony John

parking. Five for gas. Five for discretionary refreshments.”
    “That’s only twenty.”
    “And ten for my producing skills. I normally charge twenty bucks, but I’m giving you the family rate.”
    Phil snorted. “For thirty, I’ll need receipts of course.”
    “I’ll mail them to you . . . of course.”
    He shook his head as he opened his wallet and took out some bills, and I got the feeling he didn’t like me as much as he liked Kallie.
    “Five-dollar bills, please,” I said, pointing to them helpfully.
    He handed them over like he couldn’t wait to be rid of me. “You’re a pushy one, aren’t you?” he said.
    I beamed as I pocketed the cash, and I could tell by the disgusted look on his face that pushy wasn’t necessarily a bad thing to be.
    By the time I got to the elevator, everyone had already gone downstairs. I jabbed the elevator call button, then waited an eternity as it ground its way back toward me. I didn’t have a clue what Kallie had said, but whatever it was, she hadn’t checked it out with censor Tash beforehand, that was for sure. But it was too late to undo the interview now. I could only hand out the bills as quickly as possible, and hope that Dumb’s good graces could be bought for the bargain price of five bucks apiece.
    I ran outside as soon as the elevator deposited me on the ground floor, but Tash was already laying into her nemesis.
    “Break it up. I’ve got money,” I shouted, stuffing a bill into each of their hands.
    “What’s this?” asked Josh. He held the bill like it was a piece of used toilet roll.
    “It’s your share of Dumb’s first paid gig.”
    Josh froze. “Hold on. You don’t mean—”
    “You told me I had a month to get you a paid gig. I did it.”
    “By ‘paid gig,’” said Josh, curling his fingers into air quotes, “we didn’t mean five bucks.”
    “Fine print’s a bitch,” I agreed sympathetically.
    Our discussion would probably have gone on much longer, except that Tash had pocketed the money and commenced verbally assaulting Kallie again, and I knew I needed to intervene.
    “What’s going on?”
    “Nothing,” bristled Tash. “Kallie’s just explaining who made her spokesperson for Dumb.”
    Kallie’s eyes brimmed with tears. “I didn’t mean for him to ask me all the questions.”
    Tash rolled her eyes. “Then refuse to answer. Tell him that someone else can speak instead.”
    “I’m sorry. I really am. I just wasn’t thinking.”
    “Damn right. You didn’t even have a single intelligent answer.” Tash flicked at the ring in her lip. “We’re not just trying to have some fun, as you put it. Maybe that’s all this is to you, but it actually matters to me.”
    “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
    “For Christ’s sake, stop saying sorry. I never wanted you in this group anyway.”
    “But I was voted in.”
    “Did you see my hand go up?”
    Kallie shook her head. Now that her hair was getting wet from the misty rain it seemed to lose some of its life, hanging slick against her head. “I just thought I could probably win you over. I love what we do. And I’ve been practicing hard. You can tell, right? I really nailed it at the recording session.”
    Tash laughed. “Are you kidding me? Wake up, Kallie. We told Baz to shut down your channel. . . . You never played a note on that recording.”
    Kallie looked like she’d just been slapped. “That’s not true.”
    “Of course it is. You didn’t really think we’d let you screw it up, did you?”
    Kallie turned to me, waited for me to deny it. And although I knew that it was in the group’s best interests for Kallie to leave, I still hated not being able to tell her that Tash was lying.
    I would have understood if Kallie had said something terrible right then, but she didn’t. She simply smiled like she understood, and forgave us all anyway. She studied the five-dollar bill again, proof that she’d lived the life of a rock star for a few precious days, and began