Trigun Fan Fiction ❯ Midvalley's Serenade ❯ Flirting with Disaster ( Chapter 24 )

Flirting with Disaster

It was just around midnight when we walked through the doors of the May Queen Club. All of the band members were there including Dave and Lenny who had their arms draped over each other's shoulders. It gave me a bittersweet feeling to see their affection. It reminded me of how much I missed the casual intimacy I shared with Nick. After less than 24 hours apart, I already ached for him.

I sighed, shrugged off the thought and greeted them all. They couldn't help noticing the legend standing beside me. I would have given Hot Lips McCoy a formal introduction, but except for Toby, who is bashful, everyone else was already stepping up to reclaim acquaintance and talking over old times. Dixie, Lenny and Sunny had all had the privilege of backing him up or sharing the bill with him on gigs. I was surprised that Jason and Randy, relative novices in the music business, already seemed to know him also. Finally Toby screwed up the courage to say hello. McCoy blew him away with charm. He knew who Toby was, had heard him play, was aware of how good he was and said so. The shy bass player bloomed under the compliment and sat back down, but not until he'd let McCoy know what a fan he was.

The manager came over and took our drink orders himself. He was delighted to see I'd brought McCoy back with me.

When he brought back the drinks, he asked McCoy if he might consider playing a gig or two. Hot Lips had no objections and agreed to talk dates and times in a few days. I asked Fleming if he'd mind if we set up our equipment and have a jam session.

"Stay here all night if you want to. My two favorite horn players of all time jamming in my club? Hell, I'm honored."

Jason parked the van in back of the club and he and Randy and Dave moved in all the equipment. Dixie asked Fleming, "Mind if I try out your piano? I heard it's a good one."

"Help yourself. I just had it tuned a couple of weeks ago."

Dixie pounded out about ten bars of a low-down cat-house boogie-woogie, then switched to some classical arpeggios and raked her bunched fingers in a sweeping glissando over all the white keys from left to right and then back again.

"It's a nice one all right," she pronounced.

It must have been, because she's picky as hell about the way the music sounds. We tuned up and played all night. No one wanted to be the first to break the spell. Right around seven in the morning, I realized that I had an appointment to look at real estate in just an hour, so I was the first one to quit.

I made a date to meet them all later in the day.

I walked back to the hotel, cleaned up, grabbed a quick cup of coffee and headed over to the real estate office to meet the agent. I must have looked at a dozen properties. I wanted a house with a sizable outbuilding to serve as the studio. For location I preferred a respectable middle-class area, with a fairly low crime rate. Since the sound equipment I planned to buy was so expensive, I worried about theft. I also wanted to be within walking distance of the clubs I'd be playing. I finally found an ideal spot.

It was a modest but very nice two bedroom house that belonged to a couple who had owned a tomas stable that they eventually converted into a jeep repair shop. The shop was a barn of a place and had ample room for a large studio. But oddly enough the thing that really sold me on the property was that of all the houses I looked at it was the only one that I could see myself living together with Nick in. And I could see him in it, had an intuition about the place where he would store his cross punisher and hang his suit.

"I'll take it," I said to the agent and made an arrangement to sign the paperwork later that afternoon. It was noon and fatigue was catching up with me, but there were so many things I felt the need to put in motion right away. I was a little perturbed by Legato's intimation that I might have to cut my tour short and I wanted to make the most of the time I had.

Whether I was on vacation or not, I still took my responsibilities to Master Knives with the utmost seriousness. Over another much-needed cup of coffee at the hotel café, I wrote him a letter to informing him of what McCoy had told me about the existence of other musical psionic talents. I sealed the envelope and placed it in another larger envelope and addressed it to the academy with a special line that read. Attention: MKMEO which indicated an eyes only message for Master Knives. I also wrote to Chapel the Evergreen and asked him to forward my new address to Nick and to let me know how to get in touch with him for consultations.

After I posted the letters, I went back to the real estate office, signed the papers, wrote a check for fifty thousand double dollars and the place was mine.

I stopped off at a furniture store and purchased some comfortable couches, easy chairs, a table and chairs for the kitchen. I also bought a king-size bed that had me fantasizing about the activities that would take place there, one of which was sleeping. I was beginning to feel almost giddy with fatigue from lack of sleep. After I arranged for delivery the following day, I went back to the hotel to meet with Lenny. It was time to buy the recording equipment.

The whole band came along with me to Monk's Music. The basic systems were $$150,000.

"Take it or leave it," said Monk.

"Hey, I didn't plan on haggling. I'll take it."

"That's just so nice to hear for a change, Hornfreak. You have no idea."

Monk was in the mood to be pleasant and disposed to be generous in the areas where he could, so in exchange for autographs, free tickets, the promise of backstage passes and out of sheer good will, he threw in a lot of freebies. He gave me extra cords and cabling, power packs, and speakers and microphone stands. But I still needed sound proofing and spent a fair amount on acoustic foam insulation and adhesive for it. The other big expense was for disks and for the machine that could manufacture copies in mass quantities from the master recording. We planned to sell the disks at our gigs. By the time my buying spree was over despite the freebies, I ended up spending about $$220,000. Monk was so delighted by the sale that he threw in free strings for the entire band, a couple of boxes of reeds for Silvia and a jar of horn polish.

He agreed to deliver the equipment that very day. With most of the essential work that would forward setting up the studio done for the moment, I cast about in my mind thinking of what to do next. I must have blanked out mentally. There was not an image I can recall or a thought in my head until finally I felt tugging on my arm and saw Dixie looking up at me trying to get my attention and finally heard her saying my name.

"…valley, Midvalley, hey, wake up Midvalley," she said.

"What?" I responded.

She looked a little irritated and concerned at the same time.

"I've never seen a person die from lack of sleep, and I don't want you to be the first but you already look dead on your feet. I'm taking you back to the hotel and putting you to bed."

I was so brain-dead I couldn't come back with any banter, so I just stood there with my mouth hanging open until she took me by the sleeve and started me moving.

"Randy," she said to the guitarist, "You and the rest of the guys go over to his house and get busy setting things up. She fished in my pocket tossed the key ring for it to her boyfriend.

"But…" I started a feeble protest.

"Oh, shut up, Midvalley," she said and I did.

I'm still a little sketchy on the details of how I got back to the hotel. I remember a cab and the hotel elevator. When I woke up, it was dark outside. I found I was lying on the bed with my shoes and jacket off and a light blanket thrown over me. I had no idea what time it was.

I went into the bathroom, caught the reflection of my pale face in the mirror, and wondered again what Nick saw in me, but with the memory of his affection fresh in my mind, warmth of the recollection suffused me. With that feeling, I washed, shaved, dressed and with the desire to play some music, I put a new reed that I had primed and broken in a bit into Silvia's mouthpiece and left my room.

I knocked on the doors of the suite that my friends had taken, but assumed they were out when I got no response. The lobby clock showed the time as ten thirty.

I walked over to the May Queen to check out the action and found the place was packed for a Monday night. Fleming must have passed the word that Hot Lips McCoy and the Midvalley Seven would be rehearsing for their weekend gig. Hot Lips, Lenny, Dixie, Sunny, and Toby were holding the place spellbound. I don't get a chance just to listen to music that much, but I loved hearing what they did with some of the McCoy trumpet standards. The club patrons seemed to know good music when they heard it.

My stomach was grumbling badly, so when the cute brunette waitress came to take my order, I asked for an Irish coffee and the special.

"Hey, it's Mr. Midvalley," she said, "We're out of the special and just about everything else. How about a salmon sandwich? I remember you liked that the last time."

"Oh, so you remember me from last time," I said, flirting a bit.

"Who could forget the table with the three gorgeous guys at it. I never saw blue hair on a guy before, but he sure makes a case for it, and your priest friend was just so darned cute, we all just wanted to squeeze his cheeks. We girls all felt kind of put out when you didn't seem to notice us. I'm embarrassed to say we made bets about whether you three were gay or not.

"Did anyone win?"

"Well, I have to say," she said as she leaned over showing me some cleavage, "that the bet is pending. We're still looking for evidence. I was hoping you might help me win it. If you did, I would be very, very grateful," she said with a smile, "But we think that the blue-haired guy has a case on you."

"What makes you think so?"

"You should have seen the way he looked at you. Not exactly drooling. He looks like he has way too much class for that. Still I've seen and had the look enough times myself to recognize it. Kind of like this," she said and she looked me in the eyes with open invitation and let me see the slightest glimpse of the pink moist tip of her tongue. She was a sexy little thing. I have to admit that my groin twitched at the sight.

Just then another waitress, called, "Hey, wake up, Lisa, I said `Order up'," and Lisa left me on the double. I was relieved when she did. My reaction to her provocative behavior upset me and I opened my link to Nick as wide as I could to see if I could pick up a trace of him. I was certain that just touching his mind would ease my feelings of temptation and guilt.

But I didn't reach Nick through the link. It was Legato who responded to my call in the empty void of the psychic plane. I felt his presence vivid as life and shock as the image and feel of his pink tongue lapping my sex flooded my senses and I heard his voice drip honeyed laughter, "It looks about ready to explode in my mouth."

I felt intense pleasure as the phantom tongue licked me and anger at the violation. I didn't want it, but I wanted it. Nick! I wanted Nick, not this…ah-h. So hot. I wanted to run, I wanted to rut.

"It's not real," I whispered. "This isn't happening."

The music of Hot Lips' solo was not as real as the feeling in my groin.

I stood up and held onto to the table to support myself with shaking hands but found my strength draining away. My legs buckled under me and the last thing I remember was the impact of my body hitting the floor, the feel of carpet under my cheek and then I knew no more.

I was drifting like a cloud across a moon, so light, my atoms held together by the thinnest of ties. I was fading, fading like the notes of a song sung low. It was a sweet sensation to stretch so far. The pain of living dissolved as the bonds that held me on this plane loosened. Gravity had no claim on me. I was too light to fall.

Whispers like the wind, curled like a lover's kiss in my ear.

"Just take a little. A little at a time, master.

Not so much. Not so fast.

A little today. A little tomorrow.

That's right.

Now there's color in your cheeks.

That's all. No more."

Another voice in anger raised,

"You presume to tell me no more?

I should suck his life away.

I should drain him dry as my kind has been drained."

"He can hear us, master.

If he remembers, he won't open the link again."

"Then make him forget, you yellow-eyed abortion.

We'll leave some juice in your beloved spider."

"Yes, master."

"You should see the smile on your freakish face."

"I'm pleased you're feeling better, master"

"You make me sick".

"Yes, master."

The voices and my memory fade…The one so familiar like words to song I should recall. I drift, a mote, tossed aloft above a sea of sand. The wind blows, whirls and swirls a vortex. I take on weight as I am pulled into its path. The whirlpool, strong as the hand of God, sucks me down, the further down I sink, the heavier I get until there is sand in my eyes and my nose and my throat, in my ears, in my mouth,. I breathe sand and drink sand, the weight on my lungs so heavy and the muffled voice says, "Dust thou art.

Dust thou art. Dust thou art." My coffin slides into the ground and I feel the tears of my weeping lover…

I woke to the feel of a wet cloth on my forehead and found myself lying on my back looking up at the crystal chandelier that hung from the ceiling of the club. Hot Lips McCoy knelt beside me, concern written on his face.

"I think I'm going to be sick," I said.

"Try to hold on until we get to the rest room," said McCoy.

He helped me up and half-carried me, I felt on the verge of fainting again, my vision dim as patrons watched me stagger by and some laughed and another whispered, "Boy, is that guy drunk!"

In the bathroom stall on my knees, I heaved the contents of my stomach into the bowl. The strong contractions continued though I brought up nothing. My head felt like it was being split open by a vise.

"Hang on, son. Don't let go," I heard a voice say. It was Hot Lips. He put his hand on the back of my neck and I slumped against his legs.

When I regained consciousness, I was lying with my head cradled in his lap. One of his hands supported my neck, the other rested on my forehead. His eyes were closed as if he were meditating.

I sighed.

McCoy opened his eyes and looked at me.

"Are you feeling better," he asked.

"Some," I said.

The headache and nausea were gone at least.

"Can you stand?" he asked me.

"I think so."

He helped me up.

I swayed a little. He lent his support until my legs felt solid under me. I caught a glimpse of my face in the mirror. I had never seen it so white.

"You gonna be okay, Hornfreak? You gave me quite a scare," said McCoy.

"I'm okay," I responded and moved through the door, down the hall and back to my table. I sat down and McCoy took the chair beside me.

"Try to eat something," he said. "It will help you get your strength back."

I felt that I could eat so I took a bite of the sandwich the waitress had brought.

The band was on a break. Soon they were clustered round the table asking if I was all right. Dixie saw I couldn't answer very well, so she shooed them all away, saying, "Give the man some peace. He'll be fine. Let him get a little air."

She came back to tell me, "Midvalley, you've got to stop burning the candle at both ends. I mean it. Now finish that sandwich and drink some water."

"Yes, ma'am," I said meekly.

I finished my sandwich and drank some water.

When the band finished the break, I felt like I wanted to join them and said so to Hot Lips.

"Best thing for you, Hornfreak," he said, "but play sitting down for a while until you're feeling better. You wouldn't want to faint on stage and damage all those instruments if you come crashing down."

The thought of Silvia dented and damaged was a sobering one so I did as McCoy suggested.

The first song we played was the melancholy blues number, "How Could You Do Me So Wrong." The title of the song and my quickness to flirt with the waitress reminded me of how easily I could fall into my old habits of seduction. She had said something about Legato that struck me at the time, but I couldn't recall it for the life of me. The last person I wanted to think of was Legato, well maybe not the last. My thoughts lingered on the man for a moment. It was exasperating the way unwanted images of him seemed to invade my mind.

What I really wanted was to keep the memory of Nick fresh in my heart, because nothing in my life made me happier than his love for me. I wasn't going to risk the chance of losing it by flirting the way I used to with anyone who had a nice ass and a sexy smile. I'd traveled that route and seen where it lead the time I stumbled in on Nick kissing Dave the Roadie. The crushing sense of loss was almost the equal of what I felt the day I found my mother's murdered body.

I began to think that the only way to keep myself from slipping was to hold the thought of Nick in my mind. I asked the band if we could practice a little on my new song.

"What?" asked Dixie, looking up from the keyboard, "You're finally done with it?"

"More or less."

I opened my sax case, and put the finished score on her sheet music stand.

"Bring on the new music," said Lenny as he tossed off a drum roll and a rimshot.

I played the intro with soft breathy sax notes that evoked the sighing of wind on a summer night. The audience liked the solo and the dance floor soon held couples moving to the romantic strains of the melody. Dixie joined me and the two of us played through the piece a couple of times. McCoy and the rest of the band held back, putting their creative talent into seeing how their particular instrument might mesh with this collection of notes.

Toby was the first to see how he'd fit in a bass line and slid in beside me on the third go round. Sunny with his amped up classical guitar joined in next. McCoy caught my eye, nodded and I backed out and listened to the soaring solo on his golden horn that made me realize new possibilities hidden in my own song. Finally, Lenny who'd been searching for a rhythm to give the structure just enough tension to hold it together and the rest of us maximum freedom to improvise, joined in with me. For the space of two more verses, we were content to explore the possibilities of the song, a teasing foreplay.

Then Dixie sang.

"When the sky turns dark,

And fireflies start to spark,

And I feel myself sliding into love.

Inside your warm embrace,

How my heart begins to race.

At the tenderness

I feel in your kiss…

Though you may travel far away,

Yet in my heart you'll stay.

These feelings I will cherish all my days.

Till you come back to stay.

To remind me I will play this serenade."

The band improvised again for the longest time, then Dixie sang the second verse.

"With the suns' first light,

Imagine my delight,

When I find you lying close to me so warm.

This passion that I feel,

How it makes my senses reel,

Lying lost in love

In your arms.

Though you may travel far away,

Yet in my heart you'll stay,

A feeling I will cherish all my days.

Till you come back to stay,

To remind me I will sing this serenade."

I don't know how long we jammed on the song, but when it finally played itself out, the crowd showed its appreciation. After making the music, I felt much better about everything. We sat down for another break afterwards.

The waitress Lisa, came by to see if I wanted anything else. I didn't respond to the obvious innuendo and ordered another sandwich. She brought it back quickly, smiled at me and said, "That was a really pretty song. No hard feelings?"

"Thanks for the sandwich," I said. She left to wait on another table.

I listened to the talk of my friends and found out that Dixie had put Randy, Jason and Dave in charge of putting up the sound insulation and setting up the recording equipment. I was a little nervous about this at first, but found out from McCoy, that the two had experience working with the old technology. They musicians had spent time as go-fer/interns at a satellite studio in Augusta when McCoy was recording some of his biggest hits, and that's where he'd met them.

Lenny suggested some of the itinerary and dates of the tour that he'd been considering. The plan was to hit the five biggest cities first and then a number of the good sized towns. Hot Lips broke in with a few suggestions. He agreed with the basic plan, but had so much tour experience that we gladly took advantage of his hard-won knowledge and used all of his additional advice.

Even if headquarters recalled me after a month on tour, we would at least have hit the biggest population centers where we had the best chance of making some extra money. We were going to start recording sessions the next day if possible, get the mini album finished by the end of the week, and then start manufacturing copies from the master disc.

"That reminds me," I said to Lenny. "We should get some cover art for the disk case. They always seem to sell better."

"And liner notes," said the drummer. "But first we need to come up with a song list. Obviously you want to have your new songs on it. With just a little more rehearsal, I think we're there."

After a little more talk about the possible lists of songs, we went back to rehearsing. Around 2 AM all but the most devoted fans left the place to get some sleep before their work day started. I was just getting my second wind, but with the rest of the band stifling yawns, we agreed to call it quits for the night.

They packed up and headed back to the hotel.

As for me, refreshed from the sleep I'd gotten earlier, I decided to head over to my place and see what progress Randy, Dave and Jason had made with the studio. It was hard to believe that I had felt so ill just a few hours before.

I walked through the door and found the place transformed from the way I'd seen it that morning. The sound insulation on the walls made the former stable cave-like. Randy stood behind a blinking panel of instruments and adjusted levers on it as Dave greeted me.

"Oh, hey, Midvalley," said Dave, "how do you like the set-up?"

It wasn't the first studio I'd ever been in, but it was the first that was mine. A thrill ran through me, the pride of ownership.

"I like it a lot. You guys have done wonders."

"We were just about to try out the recording system. Why don't you be the first to play something since it's your studio."

I stepped up to a microphone, adjusted the height and sound-checked with Randy. He gave me a thumb's up from behind the glassed in wall of the shop's business office which served as a booth. In memory of my mother, I played "Silvia's Tune".

I went in with the three of them to hear the playback afterwards. Monk hadn't lied about the quality of the system. It was excellent.

Randy handed the trial master disk to Jason who put it in the duplicating machine with the recordable blank disk, pressed some buttons on the bank of instruments and then leaned back in his chair. "Won't be long now."

In less than a minute, after some brief clicks and whirs, Jason pulled out the copy disk, placed it in a portable player, turned on the power and I heard the song I had just recorded. The sound quality was superb. The system was worth every double dollar I had paid for it.

After another excited half hour of exploring the sound mixing and hashing out some tentative plans for the next day, we all seemed to run out of steam at the same time and headed back to the hotel for some sleep.

My furniture was supposed to be delivered around ten in the morning. I was up, dressed, and had breakfasted by eight o'clock.. I checked in at the hotel desk to see if I had messages, but there were none. I walked over to the post office, to give them my new address and then realized I needed bedding, towels and some other items for the house. It didn't take long to buy the things I needed and to arrange for their delivery later that day. If all went well, I would check out of the hotel and sleep in my new house that night. I was pleased by the thought.

The furniture, linens and lamps arrived on schedule. I took some time to make the bed and found myself smiling when I thought of waking up in it with Nick lying beside me. My heart opened, I closed my eyes and I felt for him over the miles through my link. After a moment, I got a faint sense of him. I picked up the vaguest fluttering of anxiety, concentration, a coolness, and then complete cold. I backed out of the link. He was killing someone, I know. I recognized the sensations. It was an execution and I didn't want to distract him, so I went back to work putting thick towels and washcloths in the bathroom and installing a few lamps.

When I finished, I looked around at my surroundings. The house was quiet and peaceful, the chairs and sofas inviting. The place looked like a home. I felt a sense of peace mixed with just a little sadness when the memory of the home my mother made for me crossed my mind.

I sat down in one of the easy chairs, took Silvia in my lap, put my lips on the reed, closed my eyes and played Nick's song. I felt his presence strongly as I did. I only stopped when Lenny, Dixie and McCoy arrived with the rest of the band in tow and dragged me out to the studio for our first recording session. I didn't have to make any decisions about what to do. Lenny and Dixie had already worked out song lists. They were very much in accord with the way I thought about music and very pragmatic about it, having spent a lot more time on the road than I ever did. I was pleased to step back and let them handle the business end of things for a change, It was a pleasure just to settle back , play Silvia and enjoy my vacation.

Dave went out on a sandwich run when our stomachs started grumbling. When he came back, we all took a break. While the rest of the band broke up into small groups, some relaxing, some still working, mixing tracks, Hot Lips came over to sit beside me.

"I think the recording is going well. Very smooth. It's not always this painless, but this is band has a lot of talent. I remember playing some just awful gigs. I played with Skip Walker once."

"Once is enough," I said.

"True enough."

"It's kind of been bothering me, Hot Lips, I can't figure out who started the rumor about me blowing Walker away. I hate to think it was Randy or Jason."

"I heard it from Skip Walker's roadie," said McCoy.

I searched my memory and the image of the man carrying Walker's drumset so awkwardly came to me. Shrewd dark eyes in a bland face, a sparse moustache.

"Well, I'll be," I said.

"You've got to keep your eyes on the supporting players," McCoy said softly. "Things aren't always what they seem."

His eyes scanned the room and considered all the members of the band. Just what was he trying to tell me? I wondered.

McCoy took a bite of his poor boy sandwich , chewed, swallowed and asked, " Have you heard back from Master Knives yet?"

"Who?"

"I guess not. I forgot you have to play dumb. We'll talk about things later. Be sure to check your mail again soon."

He got up and walked away while my mind grappled with what he had intimated to me. How in hell did he know I'd written Knives? Was McCoy working for Knives? And if so, for how long? I'd known McCoy for ages but never seen him around the academy. For God's sake, he was an old man, did Knives recruit operatives that old? He was old enough to be my father I thought with a dismissive shrug, but then so were Leonof and Chapel the Evergreen.

I would never have guessed that Hot Lips knew Master Knives Millions. Feeling unsettled by McCoy's question, I told Lenny I was going into town on a quick errand.

"Take the van," he said and tossed me the keys.

Once outside, I revved the vehicle and headed straight for the post office.