Trigun Fan Fiction ❯ Midvalley's Serenade ❯ Stomping at the White Cat Saloon ( Chapter 13 )

Stomping at the White Cat

When we arrived at Evergreen's Academy, Legato said to Nick and me, "We must resume our conversation later. But I have instructions for Leonof and Chapel the Evergreen that ought not be delayed."

Nick said, "I must deliver the Bishop's letter as well."

I glanced casually at Nick and said, "Meet you in the dining hall for lunch?"

He nodded his assent as he helped remove his bike from Legato's armored car.

I walked back to my quarters and cleaned up. Sometime later, I heard Nick's step on the staircase. He didn't come to my room. I spent a good half hour mulling over Legato's behavior and trying to make sense of it, but I couldn't. Finally I gave up trying and headed off to lunch.

Nick was already there. I went through the lunch line and asked for a bowl of tomas stew. When I joined Nick at the table, all I saw in front of him was a cup of black coffee and an ash tray that already held 3 cigarette butts.

"Been here long?" I asked him.

"Maybe 15 minutes."

"Three cigarettes in 15 minutes. You must be a little tense."

"Do ya think, Midvalley?" he commented sarcastically.

"Hey, lighten up, Nick. You're not the only one feeling the tension. You've got to find something to do to keep it in check."

"I'm sucking on these instead of you," he said as he held up a freshly lit cigarette in his hand, "not that it's working all that well. What's your plan, Midvalley?"

"Thought I'd play Silvia this afternoon and take my mind off my other horn," I said with a rueful glance at my crotch.

"To tell the truth, cigarettes just aren't cutting it, Midvalley. I don't care how hot it is. I thought I'd head out to the range with a load of ammo and explosives and blow shit up."

"Whatever works," I said with a shrug and took a bite of stew. "You want to hit the White Cat Saloon afterwards?"

"You know what I want, Midvalley. You and me in one bed getting off on each other." He took a deep drag from his cigarette, held the smoke in his lungs and then exhaled through his nostrils, looking almost angry as he did so.

I wanted what he wanted, but felt it was too risky to chance with Legato around. I couldn't face Nick's eyes again. I heard him stub out his cigarette butt and get up from his chair.

"Go blow shit up, Chapel. Blow some up for me," I said to his retreating back.

After I finished my lunch I went back to my place and worked out a song on Silvia, playing a passage and then recording the notes on paper. Then I played some more and when she took me in a new direction I wrote down those notes also. The afternoon flew by, but Nick was always there in the back of my mind, my feelings for him an inspiration for my song. It was nearly first sunset when I came to a pause and was just recording the notes of the last theme that had come to me, when I heard a knock on my door.

"Just a minute," I said, and finished writing the last few notes on the music paper.

I opened the door and there stood Nick, freshly showered and shaved, his skin sun-burnished to a golden bronze, by his afternoon at the range. The deep blue of his suit set off the brilliant blue of his eyes. Contrasted against the crisp pressed cotton of his gleaming white shirt , the honeyed satin of his exposed neck and chest was like a magnet for my lips. I resisted that temptation, but my hand was on his face stroking his smooth cheek before I was aware, and the sudden memory of that cheek against my cock kindled my desire. I felt almost drunk as my psyche lurched between feelings of caution and craving. I took my hand from his face and all I could think of to say was, "You look great."

"You look glad to see me, Midvalley. I like you with your hair rumpled like this, and your shirt-tails out, no socks. It wouldn't take much to get you undressed. I could have my way with you," he said playfully. He brushed his lips against my cheek and whispered in my ear, "I heard you playing when I came in a little earlier. You sounded beautiful."

I blushed. "Thanks, Nick."

If this was what love was, then let me have more of it, I thought. With other sex partners, I had experienced the pleasures of the body, but Nick seemed to value me as worthwhile in my own right, not just for the sex, but for who I was. He didn't judge me for my flaws and failings. He valued me in spite of them. He really loved me. I hadn't felt loved like that since my mother died, and never expected to feel it again, yet against all odds and expectations, it had come to me. The power of the emotion that washed over me as I understood this brought me to the brink of tears.

"Are you all right, Midvalley," Nick asked.

"I love you," I said. "That's all."

He wrapped me in a close embrace and held me. I could tell he was deeply touched by my words.

A few minutes later, Nick asked me, "You still want to go to the White Cat? We could toss back a few, maybe get a little drunk or a lot. Give my mouth something else to do, besides wishing it were on you. You must have noticed how well I'm behaving. Blowing up shit worked out a lot of the tension."

"I did notice. Tell you the truth, I think you're holding up better than I am. Give me a few minutes to clean up and we'll hit the saloon."

About 15 minutes later, we set out for the White Cat about half an hour away on foot. It was in a rough part of town. Chapel left the Cross Punisher behind, but was packing a Grader automatic tucked in a shoulder holster. I brought Silvia along.

While we walked, Nick was pensive.

"What's on your mind?" I asked him.

"I'm just curious. I know you're a brave man, Midvalley, but somehow, you seem almost scared of Legato."

"I have a healthy respect for Legato, and you have no idea how much I owe him."

"Owe him?"

"I never told you the story of how I came to Evergreen's Academy."

"No, there's a lot about you I don't know, Midvalley."

"My mother ran a whorehouse. That's right. My mother was a madam. The name of the place was Silvia's Cupcakes. She was an independent woman. She used to tell me, "Midvalley, there's two kinds of people who come to a whorehouse. There's those who need to pay for sex and those who need to be paid for sex. My job as a madam is to provide a safe comfortable place for the transaction to take place.

Well there was a third kind of person who came to the whorehouse, the kind that wanted it for free or who wanted more than was on the menu or to rough up the girls, so she hired a bouncer, big guy named Bill McFarlane. They used to say that even his muscles had muscles and he did keep us vermin free. When I first met him, I thought he was a great guy, the father I never had. Trouble was, he drank and he could be a mean drunk. He was also a little in love with my mother.

He was with us for almost three years. I started taking sax lessons just about the time when he started working for my mother. Everything seemed fine until one day, I came home from a lesson and found that McFarlane and all the girls were gone, except my mother. I found her body in her bedroom. She'd been shot in the head at point-blank range with a shot gun. You know what that looks like, Nick. My beautiful mother, Silvia. I guess I went a little crazy at first. I don't remember much, except crying a lot. I didn't know what to do. Finally, I went to the Sheriff's office and told a deputy what had happened. When he heard the victim was a whorehouse madam, he actually laughed.

Another deputy told me that they were too busy too investigate just then, but that I should just go back, not touch anything and wait until they came. Well, they didn't come, so I cried and slept. When I woke up they still hadn't come, so I started to play my sax to take my mind off of my mother's body in the next room, but I couldn't stop thinking of what happened to her. She was so beautiful but someone hated her enough to end her life that way.

I was filled with feelings of pain and anger. The more I played the worse I felt until my mood was so black it was all my mind held and all I wanted to do was to break something, to destroy, to smash… and then all the windows exploded and I stopped playing, amazed. Somehow, I was aware that I had done it with my sax. My head ached afterwards and I felt sick to my stomach and. I threw up in the toilet and lay down on my bed and went to sleep. When I woke up, it was dark. I heard a voice in my mother's room. It was Bill McFarlane. He was drunk, talking to my mother's dead body. He mocked her, cursed her, and told her he was glad he had killed her, said she was nothing but a rotten whore. This was the man who had murdered my mother.

I picked up my sax and started to play. He heard me and said, "Oh it's you, you, whoreson. I'm coming for you."

I don't know if you can imagine how much I hated him. Bill McFarlane came into the room with his finger on the trigger of a shotgun. He was going to murder me too. As I played with black thoughts swirling in my head, I could the see the air in the room seemed to thicken. He said, "What the hell is this," when he saw it. I pictured him dead with his brains blown out. I wanted him dead. I willed him dead, and I blew out his brains with my sax.

Not long after, I felt a presence in my mind and heard a voice in my head. "I'm not easily impressed, but that got my attention."

Maybe half an hour later, Legato showed up. He had sensed the psionic disturbance and that's how he found me. He got your father to accept me at the academy and made sure my mother got a decent burial."

"I'm sorry, Midvalley. I never knew that about you."

"I'm not asking for sympathy. Sob stories are 10 c-cents a dozen on Planet Gunsmoke. You know. You've had your share of bad times. The point is when I was having a hard time, Legato came through for me.

Nick, I remember telling you the night you got raped that the same thing happened to me. It's actually kind of funny, us going to the White Cat tonight, because that's where it happened, in the alley behind the saloon. I just turned 14, but even then I was crazy for music. I attended classes at the academy and I was a good student, but when classes were over for the day, I practiced my saxophone and rehearsed with some other players. When classes were over for the week, I stayed up late and played with whatever band was working at the saloon. I did it for a year, until I started my own band, and had a great time until finally my luck ran out.

You must have seen it happen a hundred times. One night a gang took over the White Cat, the usual losers who find a kind of courage by being in a gang. Some of them didn't have the money to afford a prostitute. Must have been five or six of them decided I was just as pretty and a hell of a lot cheaper. They dragged me out in the alley, wrapped a choke chain around my neck and basically did whatever they wanted with me. Jerked off in my mouth, fucked me up the ass, kicked me until I passed out and then when I came to, the next group was squeezing whatever pleasure they could out of me. They didn't seem to mind the blood at first, but finally I guess I was just too messed up to appeal to anyone. I don't know because I passed out again. Finally someone found me and helped me."

"The way you helped me. I'd like to thank whoever it was."

"It was Legato, Nick, who took me to his room and wiped the come off my face. It was Legato who ran a bath for me and bandaged my wounds and watched over me while I slept. He wasn't Master Knives' right hand man in those days. Just a student, like me, with nothing to gain by helping me. He found me the same way he did when my mother died. He felt my pain and came to help me.

"I never would have guessed that he could be so kind.

"You say I seem almost scared by him, but I'm not scared, exactly. Maybe for you. Legato has had a very hard life. Harder than I think either of us can imagine. Some years ago, while you were assigned to the Drake execution, Legato was recovering from surgery on his arm. I never knew exactly why he needed it, a cancer in the marrow or a potentially fatal tumor, I think, maybe. In any case, Master Knives advised him to have it amputated and replaced with an arm that he had in stasis. Legato was in terrible pain after the operation."

"But you were out on assignments by then, weren't you, Midvalley. How could you know how he felt?"

"I was more than 400 iles away at the time of the operation and I was having sex with an accordion player named Mark. Since I knew Mark pretty well there was an empathic link between us. In his agony, Legato reached out for comfort and found me. He knew of my small healing ability. I was strong enough to survive the pain that came through the link, but Mark wasn't.

"So your friend died, but you can't think the same thing would happen to me? Legato is over that pain now. I think that there's something you're not telling me."

I stopped walking. Nick looked back at me.

"You have always known Legato could link to you if he was in range, yet you seemed ready enough to have sex with Dominique or Caine, anyone but me. You were pushing me away, Midvalley, and I'd like to know why."

"Nearly all my life, Nick, as far as sex goes, I've never had much more than one-night stands. Any affairs I had lasted only a week or two at most. I never really got intimate enough with most of my bed mates to forge a strong empathic bond. I think I was afraid to get too close to them or of them getting too close to me. It may sound irrational, but what I have with you is so special, I'm afraid, that it's too good too last, that if I get too happy, something will come along to ruin it. Despite his devotion to Knives, Legato has needs like any other man and last night he was hungry for me. If he gets jealous, he could make things hard for you. He is the boss after all.

"No, crippled or not, Knives is the boss, and I can take care of myself."

" I hate to break it to you, Nick, but if Legato links to me while we're making love, he'll know. It will be exactly like we're fucking in front of him. No, it's more than that. He'll feel every stroke of your cock in me, the pressure of your lips on mine. There won't be a shred of privacy."

I don't care if Legato and the whole goddamn world knows Midvalley. I want you in my bed tonight. Why are you making this so hard when it's so easy. I'm proud of what I feel for you and I am sick of sneaking around as if it were some cheap twisted thing."

His words struck a chord in me. Something about what he said felt so right that I broke out in a grin, flung an arm around him and kissed him on the lips.

"You really make me feel like a chickenshit. I want to be just like you when I grow up, Nick."

He kissed me back and seemed about to withdraw, when he sighed heavily , pulled me closer to him and deepened the kiss. And there we stood swaying on the boardwalk of a dusty street in Epril town, not 50 yarz from the White Cat Saloon. I was oblivious of anything but the sweet sensation of our lips and tongues at play, until I heard a rough voice curse, "God, you fucking faggots."

With a sigh of blissful satisfaction, Nick released me. I turned, my eyes still soft with tenderness, and watched with pleasure as he grabbed the man and sent him flying headfirst into a tomas hitching post.

"You know, there are probably a lot of guys in the saloon who are going to want to kick the shit out of us if we do in there what we just did out here," I said.

"And there's going to be a lot of guys getting the shit kicked out of them if they make the slightest move to mess with us if we do," said Nick.

We stepped up to the entrance of the White Cat.

"Well, here we are," I said and slid my arm around him. He slid his around me, and we pushed through the batwing doors of the White Cat and walked in on a full-scale brawl in progress.

It seemed to involve students from the academy and bunch of brawny biker types in jeans, chains and leather with Mohawks and flash tats. I made a quick guesstimate and reckoned the students were outnumbered two to one. I saw Bernie and his buddies Ben and Jake, then E.G. Mine, Zazie, and Welch's other friend Ned Pitts who was standing back to back with Caine. I wondered what Caine was doing with the students. Whatever it was, Caine and Pitts seemed to be the focus of the most of the gang's aggression. By the time I realized our side was outweighed and outnumbered, Chapel had already waded into the thick of the action. He launched a good stiff kick to the crotch of a 300 pound plus Goliath who was angling to land an uppercut on Caine's slender jaw and the giant crashed to the floor with his eyes crossed.

My first thought was for Silvia's welfare, so I set her out of harm's way on the bandstand, and on my way back into the fight, found myself face to face with a swarthy muscular man who must have outweighed me by 70 pounds. He took one look at my pastel shirt, smiled and I just knew he thought I was a pushover, but he went down in flames when I clobbered his chin with a high savate kick.

Some gangly punk with uneven, lanky black hair had cornered Zazie and started to slap him around. Zazie was quick and nobody's fool. He dashed past the punk only to run into a bigger man, who grabbed him by the neck. Nick broke the big man's grip on Zazie and picked up the attacker as easily as the Cross Punisher. With a look of great satisfaction Nick sent the thug sailing with a crash through the saloon's big front window.

Then I saw Zazie pick up a full liquor bottle and throw it in Chapel's direction. I was just about to intervene when the bottle knocked out a zit-faced goon with a sawed-off 2 by 4 who was just about to coldcock Nick. Nick and Zazie, the tall and the short, moved into the fray together.

A beefy thug with brass knuckles aimed a roundhouse right at my mouth. I ducked, turned, elbowed him in the gut with all the force I could muster, rammed him hard in the groin with my knee, and left him writhing on the floor, whimpering. In a lull in the action, I saw Ben Evans, Bernie's hefty friend, take down two hulking opponents in under half a minute without even breaking a sweat. Under the fat, he had muscle. I was beginning to see what Bernie saw in him.

Ned Pitts, the boy with sniper talent, was ferociously taking on anyone who came close to laying a hand on Caine. Slender as he was, he had a good left jab and an even better right cross.

Even E.G. Mine was helping. Out of his weapon suit for the evening and dressed in dark blue sweats, his skill with the leg sweep surprised me. He took down five gang members with the technique. Zazie, finished off all five, with well-placed kicks in the nuts with the pointed tip of his leather boot.

The tide of the battle had turned, and the only bikers still on their feet were scrambling to get away through the batwing doors. In a few seconds more, it was all over but the groaning.

Chapel demonstrated the next order of business by picking up a bruised and beaten rowdy and ejecting him into the street. When he picked up the next bozo and chucked him out of the saloon, I was right behind him, hauling the brass-knuckled gorilla by the ankles, his head bumping on the stairs as I stepped down into the street to leave him lying in the sand. The students caught on next, and after we cleared out all the riff-raff, Chapel grabbed a broom, started sweeping up broken glass and said,

"Let's help Miss Adelaide clean up this mess."

I found a clean mop and a bucket and started to swab up the liquor spilled on the floor. The students began setting chairs and tables aright and when they had finished that, Miss Adelaide supervised the Randall City boys in fastening down the plywood board she always had as back up in case the big glass window got broken.

Miss Adelaide, all of 60 years old with hennaed hair and a black silk dress, waggled a finger at Chapel and said, "When I saw you waltz in here, I knew you wouldn't be able to resist pitching someone through my nice new window. Old habits die hard."

"I'll pay for the damages, Miss Adelaide," I volunteered. I knew that the students and Nick were always short on funds.

"But I broke the window," said Nick. "Most of the damage is the window." I knew it was useless to argue when he took that tone.

"So pay me back later."

"I make the damages $$500," said Miss Adelaide.

I pulled out my checkbook and wrote one out for that amount and handed it to her.

"Any chance of getting some beers, Miss Adelaide?"

"This round is on the house for helping me out," she said and she went to the tap and started filling mugs.

Almost all of us were clustered around two tables. After I took a good swallow of ice cold beer, I asked the group at large, "What started this brawl anyway."

Zazie took the lead in answering.

"It was kind of a test of unarmed combat skills, part of Chapel the Evergreen's course in hand-to-hand combat. We weren't supposed to use weapons or any powers."

"Yeah," piped up Bernie Welch, "I asked him how are we supposed to find a fight? He told us not to worry, the fight would find us, and he was right!"

"What exactly triggered the fight though?"

Bernie hooked a thumb in the direction of a back booth hidden in shadows. "They were kissing," he said. A closer look on my part revealed Ned Pitts, the class's star sniper, his lips buried in the slit of Caine's mask, his hand pressed on Caine's chest. I swear I saw a slight swelling there where a breast ought to be.

"The gang took exception."

"Ah," I said and just barely managed to pull my gaze from the kissing couple.

At that point the doors of the saloon swung open, I turned my head to take a look at the newcomer. Legato stepped into the barroom and the students at the table scrambled to their feet and greeted him with enthusiastic splutters and stammers, "Mm-Master Legato!"

Legato wore a warm smile as he spoke. "I see by the mess in the street that you managed to pass your hand-to-hand combat examination. Chapel the Evergreen will be very pleased with you," he said. "I think you should all head back to the academy now to give him the good news." he suggested in his calm, compelling voice.

"Thank you, Master Legato," the students said as they stumbled over each other in their haste to leave. Nick and I stood up also as if to leave. I knew he had used his mind powers to get the students to leave. I just wanted to go back to Nick's place.

"But, please, not you two," said Legato. "I was hoping to find you here. Won't you stay here with me for awhile. There is music here tonight, is there not, Midvalley? I am sure you brought Silvia along. I barely heard you play last night and I am one of your biggest fans."

I had to smile at that. Nick and I sat down again. Legato pulled out a chair and joined us.

"What are you drinking tonight, Legato? Would you care for some bourbon, beer, or brandy?" asked Nick.

"Bourbon is fine, I think."

"Miss Adelaide, may we have a bottle of bourbon and three glasses, please?" Nick called out.

"Cigarette?" he asked as he offered the pack to Legato.

"Don't mind if I do," said Legato and Nick struck a match and lit the cylinder that Legato held between his lips.

Nick offered me one, but I passed.

Miss Adelaide brought over the drinks and returned to washing glasses at the bar.

"It's true what I said about my being a fan of yours. You must remember I had a room close to yours at the academy and I used to listen to you practice. It took me quite out of myself for a time when I heard you play. Do you know what I mean, Chapel?" he asked and turned to look at Nick.

"Yes, I do," Nick answered as he opened the bottle and poured three shots.

"Well, what should we drink to?" asked Legato.

"Can't think of a thing," said Nick, "but you must have one in mind."

Legato closed his eyes and smiled, "To Master Knives," he said and we tossed back our shots.

"Yow!" exclaimed Nick. "Is that the worst bourbon you've ever had?"

"It's right down there isn't it with gargling with razor blades," I offered.

"By the fourth round, it will taste like mother's milk," laughed Legato.

I poured the next round.

"Your turn to toast, Midvalley," prompted Legato.

I held up my glass, "Here's to good music and better bands," I said and gulped down the burning liquid.

Legato shuddered after he swallowed his, but smiled as he said with his dulcet voice. "This bourbon gets better with every shot." He filled our glasses and smiled at Nick. "Your turn to toast, Chapel."

"Here's to cigarettes, bourbon, and black coffee," Nick said as he lifted his glass.

"Hear, hear!" I said, " I appreciate the sentiment, but I'll take my coffee with a little cream…"

"…And lots of cream and sugar for me," said Legato.

We all touched glasses and tossed back the third round.

"Hey, the bourbon is getting better," said Nick. "It's more like swallowing broken glass now. A definite improvement."

"Got another cigarette, Chapel?" Legato asked.

Chapel lit another for Legato and when Nick offered one to me, I didn't turn it down. Nick and Legato both looked pretty relaxed. I still felt a little on edge and hoped the cigarette would calm me a little.

Nick said, "I meant to ask you yesterday, Legato, how is Master Knives' health progressing?"

"I am pleased to say that he is healing. He is able to spend over an hour a day outside the fluid tank, and has begun to walk a little."

"That's good news," said Chapel.

"Let's have another toast on that," I said and poured three shots.

"To Master Knives!" said Legato.

"To Master Knives!" we all said and downed our shots.

We smoked in silence while the liquor loosened us up.

"Should we have another shot?" asked Legato. "That last one went down pretty smooth."

I was beginning to feel very, very relaxed. I sighed and rested my head on my hand and said ,"One more round and I might not be able to hay my plorn, I mean, uh…uh…say my plax."

"Oh, God, Midvalley, you lightweight," said Nick, " you are cut off!"

"Don't cut me off," I said in dreamy tone. "The night is young and so am I."

Nick was telling Legato, "We have to make sure that Midvalley stays sober enough to hay his plorn tonight."

"That reminds me of a limerick I made up," I said.

"Hope it's a dirty one," said Legato. "Let's hear it."

"A near-sighted hornfreak named Max,

was playing a tune to relax.

When he sucked on the reed,

He swallowed some seed, and said

I don't think that was my sax!"

"Good one, Midvalley," said Nick with a grin.

"Not bad, Hornfreak! How about you, Chapel? Have you got one, a Chapel original?"

"Okay, okay. I'm making up one now. It's not as good as Midvalley's, but it's all I can think of.

There once was a gal in December,

Whose tongue was so agile and limber

That she sucked me quite dry

In the wink of an eye,

A sensation I'll always remember."

"I've heard worse," said Legato, "I've made up worse, but it's my turn. Listen.

There was a young man from Carcassus,

whose anus passed natural gases,

now there's no need for Plants,

he just pulls down his pants and his

ass provides power for the masses."

Chapel snorted when he heard this one and burst out laughing. I couldn't help myself either. That was a funny one. Inventive too.

"That was great, Legato," Chapel said with a broad smile on his face. "You slayed me last night with the double meanings. It was hard to keep a straight face. Especially the sausages tucked in hot buns line. You've got a good sense of humor."

"I think you're the only one who gets my humor."

The bar was beginning to fill up now. It was nearly eight thirty and I was just wondering why the band hadn't showed yet when I saw a group of 3 men come into the bar carrying instruments. They went straight to the bandstand and started setting up. I didn't recognize any of them. It looked like guitar and bass and a drum set, a three piece band. They'd probably have no objection to me sitting in with them. The guitar and bass player started tuning up. They looked and sounded professional. The third guy setting up the drums, didn't seem like a musician. From something about the way he handled the instruments, I gathered he was a roadie and wondered where the drummer was. Then the drummer walked through the bat-wing doors and my heart sank. It was Skip Walker, the drummer from hell, the one that almost subbed for Lenny at the Come Back Inn, the drummer whose rhythm was off, the one Lenny described as bland and selfish.

His pale blue eyes lit up with recognition when he saw me. He came over to the table, the bar light over his head shining onto the scalp glistening beneath his blond comb over.

"Hey, player. It's been a while. I suppose you'll want to sit in with us on a few numbers, and I don't have a problem with that. Just remember though, that this is my band and the audience wants to hear me on drums, so try not to showboat the way you usually do and we won't have a problem."

He completely ignored Nick and Legato, turned and walked up to the bandstand.

I could see Nick in the chair beside me with a murderous look starting in his eye. If Walker had seen or been able to understand the meaning of the look he was getting, he might have worried a little.

Skip, oblivious, turned to the audience and announced the band, "I am Skip Walker and this is the Skip Walker band. A sax player will sit in with us for a few numbers."

There was some applause as he said this.

The house lights went down. The first number was hard to listen to. It was "Over the Top" which I always thought was a decent show starter, but I could hardly hear the guitar over the drums. There were even vocals, but the words and melody were drowned in the thunder of Skip's drums. It was obvious they hadn't done any rehearsing together. Skip finished off the tune with a five minute drum solo and I do mean finished off. There were patrons of the White Cat getting up to leave.

The next song was "Five Moon's Waltz" a beautiful tune, made nearly unrecognizable by the ferocity of Skip's drum attack. The guitarist was able to take a short solo break and I could tell he was sensitive and talented, but shortly overwhelmed by Skip speeding up the tempo too much. Nobody danced.

As the set went on, I got more depressed as I listened to music being mangled. Finally, Skip beckoned me to the bandstand. There was a loud round of applause. Even without an introduction, lots of White Cat Saloon veterans recognized me. "For the final number of this set, the Hornfreak will join the Skip Walker band in playing "Silvia's Tune."

I swung into the tune with a sweet sax solo in b-flat minor. The bass player joined in with some silky rhythm. The guitar player and I found the groove and to my surprise Walker backed off. For all of three minutes he lightly slapped his snare drum with his brush set and we sounded good as gold. Then Skip's foot on the bass pedal got a little too emphatic and he pushed the tune way too fast. Some couples out on the dance floor had been moving to the music but stopped dancing when they couldn't follow the beat. The rest of the song was a sand steamer wreck and I was relieved when it was over. The way that Skip Walker fucked over the music sickened me.

I brought Silvia's case with me back to the chair, packed her away carefully and sat down. Legato and Nick looked at me with concern.

"What happened up there?" asked Legato. "You look ill. That drummer is awful."

Skip Walker came over from the bar with a bottle of beer in his hand, pulled out a chair and sat next to me.

"God, you're out of practice, Hornfreak. Guess you're spending too much time screwing your fag priest. He must be pretty good in the sack though. You been together for what, six months? Maybe you ought to buy him an engagement ring. But I think your new groupie looks even cuter. You do both at once? I always thought you were way too oversexed."

"This is Master Legato," I said as if that explained it all.

"Gotcha. Kinda like a dominatrix."

Legato watched Walker with the coldest look in his golden eye.

"There's a lot of weird sex freaks in this bar," Walker went on. " There's a couple in the booth back there. They were kissing when I came in and they're still kissing now. I think they're fags too."

"I have had enough of you," said Legato.

"What's that supposed to mean, sissy boy?"

A cloud of dust swirled through the batwing doors of the White Cat Saloon, making us all cough and choke. When the smoke cleared, Skip Walker had vanished.