The Singer

Notes: Yes, the story sucks but if I go through editing or rewriting it again, I'll go crazy. Admittedly, I only rewrote some bits up to the bar scene...

I ran through the rest of it, hopefully there aren't too many  boring bits and errors such as spelling and being in tense. It's a meant to be romancey but it doesn't come out that well.

Not a very interesting story but at least I finished it.

Oh, and just so you know, the numbers do not represent chapters but the order of time, if that makes any sense. And the long --- or *** mean skips in time in the same chapter...

Guess I needn't warn you about anything else. Try to enjoy.

The Singer

3

In a stuffy grey room, sitting on available couches, the four wear skinny jeans, tight shirts and leather, and other items of clothing they found that seemed to match the dress code described by a burly man with huge arms who stood a few metres away from them curling his lip. Present in their room is a steady and irritatingly loud noise of yellowed fingernails drumming on a coffee table. The man blows a raspberry and begins twisting in his clothes and ends his tapping with a loud thump of his left leg driving into the floor.

His cheek twitches and eyes dart irritably across his silent companions. Aloud, he snaps, “She’s taking her time, ain’t she.” Which is delivered in the sort of tone that demands no response. He leaps out of his seat, pacing quickly along one side of the room several times before kicking at a little refrigerator and looks around, as though looking for something else to treat in the same manner.

He walks to one of the occupied couches, crouching slightly behind it and pants, “Hey. Ray you listening, you deaf or something?”

The man, Ray, twitches his cheek and narrows his eyes but keeps his silence

He continues, shaking Ray’s shoulder, “Look at what we’re doing,” he says, breath hot and wet behind Ray’s neck. “We used to do this for the fun of it, dude.”

“Kyle, you need the money.”

“You were getting evicted.”

“You didn’t—don’t even have a place, so shut up.” Ray pulls his hands off.

Kyle looks hurt, or angry, it’s hard to tell. Probably angry. He looks like he’ll say more but a placating hand falls on him, a woman has entered the room. She looks around, frowning. “Is there a problem? Well sort it out later, you’re up now so get ready.”

She watches them leave the room, not even speaking to one another. The stage, as one expects, is huge, the ceiling done shaped and one side of the stage is covered by a large curtain, hiding them as they arrange themselves. Their instruments are readily set across the yellow floor.

The drumset, keyboard and guitars are spread far from each other. Though not used to being so distant to his bandmates onstage (where they’d usually be struggling to fit everything and setting up the equipment themselves) Ray is relieved for the space today. He hears one of his friends grumbling and picking up their issued guitar and adjust the strings. Reminding himself to do the same, partly to take his mind off Kyle and partly to arrange the equipment comfortably, he wonders if it was the right thing to accept this job.

He shakes his head, tapping the instruments with the drumsticks and nudging parts closer or further from him. Before he realises, the curtains fly open and she flaunters down to the crowd. He swears that when she passes she gave him—them, someone backstage?—a little wave.

Noise escalates. Ray hadn’t paid much attention to it before, too deep in his own thoughts, but now he notices how loud her audience is. Though there were mere single screams earlier, now there is shouting everywhere, a sound like everyone in the crowd beating pots and pans, all noise centred to one tiny figure on this stage.

She raises her hand in the air, turning this way and that then walking down a path blinded by a billion specks of light from cameras, phone and jewellery. Ray seems to see the enormity of the size of people watching them—no, her. He sees signs, lined up lettered shirts, every kind of person from squealing teens to fat hairy men in the crowd. There’s a rising feeling of horror in his stomach and his hands feel lifeless.

Ray is used to smaller crowds and stages, some places would be terribly unorganized, sometimes having cops storming in with tasers held high. Ray’s place onstage would usually be at the back or centre, Fred and Henry would sing and Fred might play the guitar while Henry used whatever instrument was available, and Kyle would be anywhere, depending on whether or not he arrived. Ray feels sorry for Henry and Fred, reduced in positions and it is his fault…

Guitar notes ring through the air and, with a nerve-gathering sigh,  Ray clenches a drumstick in each hand, ready to enter the song. His hands still shake and he begins. Today probably won’t be his best performance and hopes it won’t affect the others.

How did he end up here?

2

“So, uh, w-wanna meet up…Sunday?” Ray beams as he leans over the bar table. “No? Er, I cuhcould buy you something…now?”

The girl in front of him snorts and giggles infectiously and soon he finds himself joining her…up until he chokes on his glass and she starts to thump his back.

He inhales several times and she starts to rubs his back. “You look so different!”

After a while, he manages to gasp, “A…g-good kind…of different. Y-yea?”

Following a call from behind, Ray waves at the girl and staggers to the front, sliding behind his drums. While a bandmate begins to make a speech, Ray calms himself and fights the giddiness and dizziness from the heat of the room.

The speaker in front fiddles with the mic before beginning, “Really glad to see you all, see so…many people. Well, we just hope you enjoy listening to us play and if you don’t…” We’re still getting paid, but he coughs instead of saying that.  “I’ll introduce you to the guys up here. We have Kyle, with the guitar, and Ray back there and, uh, Henry. Henry right here, with a guitar but he’ll be singing too. And, I guess we should start about, oh right, I’m Fred and… here we go!”

Fred steps back, relieved, and gives the cue to start.

—

“So…we’ll be taking a break about now,” Fred speaks again, scanning the people. “Be about half an hour…”

Deciding no one was listening, he simply shrugs and waves at the audience that dances to some hidden beat and grower drunker. Ray makes to follow but halts when a hand grabs his shoulder. Gently, he tries to pry off Kyle’s hand. He studies Kyle’s face, flushed with a wide smile. Drunk?

“She’s been watching you,” hisses Kyle and nods. “There.”

Ray strains to look where Kyle is indicating, eyes following the trail of seats along the serving table and sadly realises the girl earlier has left, but he sees who Kyle refers to.

Near certainly, she is watching. Intent, her eyes do not leave the stage as she raises the glass to her lips and motions for a second. Curly blond hair frames her face, her lashes noticeably long and dark. Pretty, thinks Ray. Blushing in her gaze, he dashes to the room provided for them. Kyle wolf-whistles and chuckles behind.

1

 In an expensive looking room, a young woman is on the bed while a man stands nearby.

“
Truly sorry to be pushing this onto you so suddenly.” He thumbs the pages in a clipboard with one hand, thumbing his grey moustache with his other.

“Mhmm.” She lies on her stomach, flipping the pages of a magazine, scarcely looking the contents.

“But these men do want you to find others to accompany you onstage, a band or some dance group, Lady Gaga has those Japanese girls…”

She pouts, “They could have screens that, like, magnify me.”

“…to fill up space, after all…that is a very big stage and there’s only one you on it, people’ll have trouble seeing you and might get a bit angry. And mind, these are your sponsors, you should listen to them.”

“I know.” Rolling over in the bed and tossing the magazine aside, she stares at the curtained window.

Almost as though he reads her mind, he walks over and parts the curtains, sunlight flooding the room, falling over the bed and lighting his ginger hair. “Will you give it some thought?”

“Does my opinion even matter? Trevor, move left a little.”

“Of course…but…well, there’s only a week ‘til your concert, I’m afraid we won’t have much time to look around. Should I send people to scout around?”

“No,” she grunts and begins to rise.

“But Scarlet…”

“I know they want a band up there with me, so I’ll find them.”

“Sure?”

“There’s a whole week left, plenty of time.”

She jumps up, leaving the sheets messy. She grabs a bag, hugs Trevor and departs the room.

—

Three days left and, though it doesn’t seem urgent, she realises she ought to settle with a band today or tonight, rather. She’s been to a few concerts, open performances in the parks and, as night settled, browses a few inns and bars, listening.

She looks, hopefully, plain. T-shirt, jeans and a beaten jacket on her arm. Scarlet flits in and out, unseen wherever she goes. Imagine the commotion if she came strutting out in public with Trevor and a bodyguard…No, today she was unremarkable.

She checks the time and signs. Perhaps two more, and a drink. Then she’d have to call it a night and Trevor’d probably find her some people within an hour, ones she couldn’t care for.

Scarlet walks into the next bar that didn’t seem too loud or suspicious. The place is small, but very full. A bit too stuffy and humid. She orders a drink and, as she waits, notices the song, though faint, is live. She cranes her neck. In luck, there’s a band playing at the far end. She presses through the crowd, being nudged and bumped and she pushes, smelling something awful a few times and feeling the hair of a beefy man dig briefly into her skin.

Happily, she takes a seat when she sees one. It’s close enough to see the band playing, thankfully. As time progresses, she finds herself tapping her foot to the beat and smiling. She half-closes her eyes, abandoning the unimportant noises in the room and focusing to heat the song, the music, the lyrics and vocals… It is a bit difficult, much interference from the crowd and the style metal, but she likes it.

3

He’s not so worried anymore, he barely pays attention to anything other than his drums and, listens to the lyrics, her voice ringing clear. Ray feels much lighter when he plays, as though a weight is lifted from him because he is entirely focused on something simple.

He watches her in front, so distant and so close. Spots of light bounce off her. Ever-changing, the light sources jump up, flicker, hide her.

Ray is looking forward, but he doesn’t much notice the lights. That’s not what he’s trying to catch a glimpse of.

1

Fred squats down, looking at them very seriously. “Guys, you know we’re…well, some of us are a little short on money..”

There was a snort from Kyle.

“So, it’ll be really recommendable if you could be looking out for jobs, places we could play and if you’d attend every time because…you shouldn’t get the money if you don’t…” Offering a pointed glare at Kyle, who barely noticed, he mutters, “Well, guess that’s all. Any of you seen anything available?”

Kyle barks rudely, swinging his chair, “We should quit this and just get real jobs. We’ll be dead broke soon.”

“Quiet. Henry? You looked like you had something to say.”

Warily, Henry looks at Kyle and says in a surprisingly soft voice, surprising because he often sang, “I got us something at this park, they’re gathering a few bands. Something like a concert.”

“Good,” nods Fred approvingly and jabs a finger at Henry. “See that? That’ll be good exposure\. When is it, buddy?”

“Next Friday, four in the afternoon. And...”

Henry falls quiet again, a pinched expression meaning he either forgot or got shy. It’s Ray offers encouragement for him to continue.

“There was this pub/bar thing. They get a band to play every Tuesday and Wednesday. But you’ll need to talk with them.”

“Okay, you show me where it is tomorrow, alright?” Fred rose, shaking a leg. Craning his neck, he adds with a faintly authoritive tone to his friends, “Keep Friday clear, okay? I’ll get back to you if there’s anything else. And try to keep yours eyes and ears open.”

4

Stretching in the couch, Fred makes an effort to turn an ear to Kyle’s incessant complaints. In a consoling tone, he groans, “It wasn’t that bad, dude. It pays well too, remember that, ‘kay?”

“Whatever,” growls Kyle. The glint in his eyes suggests he will continue to pursue this topic, but he decides to keep quiet after considering Fred’s glare.

Silence in the plain room once more. They must be quite a sorry lot to have their only hint of conversation to be about whining.

Unexpectedly, the door opens, a blur shooting through. Kyle is the first to react, jumping to his feet and spilling his bottle, roaring, “Oh crap!”

Henry, reacting to his cry, jerks a little in his place and shifts further away from him with a look.

“Just me, boys,” sighs Scarlet, sinking into an available seat in the same couch as Ray. Then she takes a second look at them and slowly says, “Is…there something wrong with my being here?”

“I-It’s fine…um,” Ray babbles and grabs her hand, pulling her up. “I’ve, er, been meaning to t-talk to you.”

“To me?”

Ray nodded quickly, pulling her down the corridor outside the door of their room, squeezing past others with a hasty apology and he tugged her further away.

Scarlet slaps his hand off her, rubbing her arm with a frown. She mumbles, “Something up?”

“Luh-Look, I‘m really -sorry about how those guys’re acting. But they’re f-fine, really,” Ray gulped. “Okay, I’m sorry about one guy acting…”

As though she didn’t know she asked in a perfectly confused but steely voice, “How were they—he—acting?”

“Er.”

2

With a rough shove and a familiar chuckle allowing Ray to know who to blame, he rubbed his arm, turning with curses ready when found himself in front of the girl. He studied her face, beginning to find her strangely familiar.

A wolf-whistle from behind and a shout that Ray prays she hadn’t heard, “Good luck, Lover boy!”

She smiles widely at him, setting her glass on the table. “Hey. Saw you playing up there, earlier. You were pretty good.”

“Th-thanks. You think?”

“Yea, I do. You guys got a name? Didn’t catch it,” she gestures behind to where she thinks the door is. “I came in late.”

“Lighting Day.“ And after that, he wishes they had a better name. He smiles stupidly at her. Well he isn’t sure if it’s a smile or not and not sure whether or not he wanted it to be. Say something, he tells himself, unbelievably frozen in place. Could he say something about the whether, is that her natural hair colour, she’d look better without that jacket, or…

She coughs lightly interrupting the silence with an apologetic smile. “Know it’s a bit sudden, but I was, I am wondering if your band, Lightning Day, could play with me on Wednesday?”

Ray feels his hope sinking. God, she’s not interested in him, in his band, dammit. Perhaps if it isn’t for the drinks and the heat, he’d reacts sooner.

“Hello?” She waves a hand lightly in front of him.

Ray shakes his head, trying to work his jaw. Freddy said we’re tight on cash, well some of us, didn’t he? And should he remind her its Lighting Day?

“Yea. S-Sure.”

A delighted smile spreads. “Really?”

Ray grins in return despite the queasy feeling in his stomach. “Ab-so-lute-ly.”

“Oh great, fantastic,” she giggles. “So it’s all set? Yes!”

Jumping off her seat, she almost disappears into the crowd when Ray reaches his senses, running after her. He yells, “Wait, what’s your name?”

“Oops, oh I completely forgot.”

“Y-You forgot your own name?”

“No no, I…I’m Scarlet.” Scarlet fans herself, jittery.

“Uh, a cold drink and fresh air’ll will help that.”

“My name is Scarlet and well. Can I get your phone, email? I’ll send you details and stuff when I get back.”

Scarlet offers her hand and soon finds a pen. Ray scribbles his number and the band’s email. Shortly after that, he hastily returns to the stage and she promises to stay for one more song.

4

“Anything else?” Her hand is on the doorknob, he face expectant.

“Thank you, I mean it, for hiring us.”

“S’ok, I needed to find someone anyways,” she laughs a little. After squeezing his hand, they both pop back into the room with a soft greeting from Henry.

Tugging the fridge door open, Fred hands several drinks to the rest of them, Scarlet first with a polite nod and a giggle from her.

“Well,” Scarlet says to Ray as she opens her can, Fanta. “I had a talk to Trevor earlier, he organises all my stuff, finances and all that, and he says we can keep you guys on.”

“What?” Fred looks at her, bewildered. “You mean, we’re…your band or something?”

“No…well maybe a bit. You’ll play at concerts, I guess. Not sure about music videos…” she says, stopping with a thoughtful to the ceiling. “I mean, if you want to, not forcing you or anything.”

“Yes, we’d be happy to…” begins Fred.

“No,” grumbles a sulky Kyle. “Oh, and this loser—“ he jerks a thumb at Fred. “Told me to apologise to you—”

“W-Well you should,” barks Ray.

“What do you think?” Scarlet looks at Henry, who is still for a moment. She looks worried, taking his hesitation the wrong way and continuing with a crease in her brow, “It’s not all bad, is it? I mean, you guys can take the stage for a while, they do that in big concerts. You’d get the chance to show off your owns songs, they do that for other concerts, y’know?”

“We’ll take you on that offer,” beams Fred, shaking her hand and making speak in a prissy voice, “Thank you, gentlemen, it is done.”

***

The night has truly settled in but the skies aren’t as dark as they should be, but a grungy orange and brown.

“Pollution,” grumbles the plump old man they were introduced to as Trevor. He stares at the sky longer than any of them before leading them to the limo—we rented it so we might as well use it said Scarlet to Fred’s humble protests—and ordering it to drive them home.

It takes some moments in the ride before Henry interrupts the conversion, speaking timidly, “What happened to Kyle?”

Trevor answers swiftly, ruffling his moustache, “His rude behaviour and opinion led us to regretfully remove him from your group.” When he saw the puzzled expression Ray wore, he continues, “Thin walls, gentlemen. Have no concern, we will look for a new member, one who meets our expectations.”

And, for mixed reasons and with mixed emotions, the remaining members of the band contemplate this gravely and Trevor does not speak to them further until it is they who have started the conversation.

5

 “I hate you,” mutters Ray, turning in front of the mirror. Behind, Fred rolls his eyes good-naturedly and is joined by the crowing laugh of their newest and youngest member that makes Ray’s lips twitch at a smile.

“
Stop fussing and just get outta here,” advises Fred. The new member adds, “Better late than never. Tell us how it goes, bro.”

“Henry?” Ray directs the question to their quietest member, hoping there’d be no response but he receives a thumbs up.

“I’m going then. And if anything happens, if I die, if we get fired or anything…”

“We’ll never see you again?”

“Quiet, Jack! If anything happens, it’s your fault, Freddy!”

“If you have a baby, can I be the godfather?” Fred responds with an angelic smile through Ray’s fierce glares. As he walks out the door, Fred calls after him, “Be glad I asked for you, okay!”

***

“Well,” coughs Ray, then takes her arm in his.

“Ever been here before?”

“Nope. Trevor recommended it.”

“Figures,” she laughs and tugs him closer. “I’m glad you’re not stuttering anymore.”

“What?”

“Well, Fred says you only stutter when t talk to people you don’t know. SO, I’m glad you …yea.”

"I never realised..."

The pair walk through the door, verify their registration and are led to a table 59. The cloth over the table is a faintly orange. Ray pushes his chair closer to hers, leaving much of the other half of the table empty. She hooks his hand in hers, under the table and he stares at her, glowing in the dark of the restaurant.

 

She whispers to him, “Excited?”

He coughs nervously, feeling hot and is relieved when the menu arrives and they discuss quietly…

“Ever had scallops?”

“Yes, at a fish and chips place. Not nice.”

“Okay.”

“Let’s go for beef.”

“Which?”

“Dunno. Ice-cream and fritters or cake for dessert?”

“You’re thinking of desert already?! Well, choose one of those single dish ones, don’t want them giving us a whole bucket…”

***

Satiated and beginning to feel choked by the ambience of the restaurant, they walk around a local park. Hands swinging, feet stepping in rhythm, they follow the given paths, admiring certain plants, flowers and sounds before leaving to find a grassy plain.

Ray peels his jacket off and flattens it onto the grass and beckons her to sit with him. They hold hands contently. Ray tugs his tie loose and, in the cool and secrecy of the night, awkwardly, “What d’you think of today, Scarlet?”

YeA iT’S fInIsHeD