Ricky picked up a shirt, shook out the wrinkles and held it out in front of him. “Not bad.” He looked over his shoulder. “What do you think?”
With a sigh, Kalila got up out of her chair and came closer. “I think the guys are going to freak.”
“Do you like one of the other designs better?”
She scanned the sample shirts with narrowed eyes. “The one at the end.”
Ricky shook his head. “That one is fine for regular gigs, but…”
“Yeah, I know. Charity.” She threw herself back into her chair and folded her arms. “I trust your judgment. Whatever you choose will be fine.”
Something about Kalila’s words rang hollow, but if she said the choice was his, then he would decide. He examined again the shirt he liked best: thick, good-quality cotton, the band name featured prominently, and in a design move that was sure to set Vic’s fangs on edge, an array of dogs, cats and bunnies posing with electric guitars. It was a little cutesy, but it was for a pet charity event. Dark and edgy just wouldn’t do.
“We’ll go with this one.” He turned to Kalila for a reaction, but she was gazing into the distance, as if her thoughts had begun to drift. “Kalila?”
She looked up and blinked.
“Last chance to say no.”
“Are you kidding?” She grinned. “I’m already envisioning Vic and Lazaro’s hysterics. And trying to get the werewolves into those shirts ought to be pretty entertaining, too. You’re brave, for a human.”
“Yeah.” Ricky knew these shirts would sell, but sometimes there were other priorities. He returned his attention to the samples and picked up the simple logo-only shirt. Maybe it would do, after all.
Maelstrom Extra: Design Matters
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
reviews (Comments): 3
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Maelstrom
Maelstrom Extra: The Invitation
Wednesday, September 9, 2009
reviews (Comments): 6
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Maelstrom
Late, as usual, for the band meeting, Bo stretched out his long legs and leaned back in his chair. “I’m going to have to cancel on tomorrow’s gig,” he said. “Something else came up.”
Ricky stared in disbelief. “What the hell are you talking about?”
Bo smiled that same lazy incubus grin that he used to disarm the ladies. “Sinister Posse is in town. You know that, right? They’re playing the Arena, and there’s going to be a big party at their hotel after.”
“And you got us invited?” Kalila clapped her hands. “This will be great.”
Bo gave a smug little smirk. “They only invited me, djinna. The rest of you will have to find your own entertainment for the night.”
While the others protested, Ricky waved a hand for silence. “Look, I’m glad you’re making friends with people in big-name bands, and I doubt you can create any trouble for Sinister Posse that they wouldn’t get up to on their own—”
“Don’t bet on it,” Bo said, still with that maddening grin.
“—but your gig at the Ampersand will be over in plenty of time to get to the party. And even if it wasn’t, you’ve been booked for two months. You don’t cancel over things like this. It’s not the human way.”
Bo sat up. “Maybe I’m tired of doing things the human way, ever think of that? Be on time, follow the set list, don’t engage in carnal acts with venue and hotel staff…I joined this band for the good times, not to follow a bunch of silly rules.”
Ricky was about to answer, but Kalila cut him off. “Let me handle this. Go in the other room and wait while I remind Bo about his contract terms.”
Reluctantly, Ricky left the room, shutting the door behind him. As he leaned against the wall, listening to the sounds of mayhem that followed, he wondered how Bo had managed to ingratiate himself with Sinister Posse. The shouts and muffled booms and thumps continued. Bo would be contrite at the end of all this, that was for sure. And maybe, just maybe, he’d be able to get an invitation for all of them.
Ricky stared in disbelief. “What the hell are you talking about?”
Bo smiled that same lazy incubus grin that he used to disarm the ladies. “Sinister Posse is in town. You know that, right? They’re playing the Arena, and there’s going to be a big party at their hotel after.”
“And you got us invited?” Kalila clapped her hands. “This will be great.”
Bo gave a smug little smirk. “They only invited me, djinna. The rest of you will have to find your own entertainment for the night.”
While the others protested, Ricky waved a hand for silence. “Look, I’m glad you’re making friends with people in big-name bands, and I doubt you can create any trouble for Sinister Posse that they wouldn’t get up to on their own—”
“Don’t bet on it,” Bo said, still with that maddening grin.
“—but your gig at the Ampersand will be over in plenty of time to get to the party. And even if it wasn’t, you’ve been booked for two months. You don’t cancel over things like this. It’s not the human way.”
Bo sat up. “Maybe I’m tired of doing things the human way, ever think of that? Be on time, follow the set list, don’t engage in carnal acts with venue and hotel staff…I joined this band for the good times, not to follow a bunch of silly rules.”
Ricky was about to answer, but Kalila cut him off. “Let me handle this. Go in the other room and wait while I remind Bo about his contract terms.”
Reluctantly, Ricky left the room, shutting the door behind him. As he leaned against the wall, listening to the sounds of mayhem that followed, he wondered how Bo had managed to ingratiate himself with Sinister Posse. The shouts and muffled booms and thumps continued. Bo would be contrite at the end of all this, that was for sure. And maybe, just maybe, he’d be able to get an invitation for all of them.
Maelstrom Extra: Sentimental Notion
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
reviews (Comments): 6
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Maelstrom
Overcast afternoon, threat of rain in the air. In the doorway, the man sits picking out a tune, guitar case at his feet, along with a few crumpled bills.
Kalila tugs on Ricky’s sleeve and stops, entranced by the music and the luster of polished rosewood. “That’s a fancy guitar for a man who has no home.”
“Economy,” Ricky says.
“It must be the most precious thing he ever owned. The last thing he’ll give up.” She nods in sympathy. “Give him some money.”
“I don’t have any.”
While Kalila ponders, the man looks at her, and with a gleam in his eye, plays a tricky chord progression overlaid with a melody that tests the waters of sadness, skirting the edge of melancholy.
Kalila sighs with pleasure and leans into Ricky’s arms. When the little show is over, she reaches in his pocket and removes a wad of bills that hadn’t been there before. She drops it in the case, then pulls Ricky back onto the sidewalk and resumes walking.
“Where did you get that?” he asks.
“Same place your government does. Nowhere at all.”
“It won’t help in the long run.”
“But it’s another day he won’t have to pawn that guitar.”
The sky darkens with the approaching storm, and under the sodium glare of a streetlight, Ricky takes her hand. “For a djinn, you have some sentimental notions.”
Kalila tips her head back and breathes deeply of the electrically charged air. “Just let it be our secret, okay?”
Kalila tugs on Ricky’s sleeve and stops, entranced by the music and the luster of polished rosewood. “That’s a fancy guitar for a man who has no home.”
“Economy,” Ricky says.
“It must be the most precious thing he ever owned. The last thing he’ll give up.” She nods in sympathy. “Give him some money.”
“I don’t have any.”
While Kalila ponders, the man looks at her, and with a gleam in his eye, plays a tricky chord progression overlaid with a melody that tests the waters of sadness, skirting the edge of melancholy.
Kalila sighs with pleasure and leans into Ricky’s arms. When the little show is over, she reaches in his pocket and removes a wad of bills that hadn’t been there before. She drops it in the case, then pulls Ricky back onto the sidewalk and resumes walking.
“Where did you get that?” he asks.
“Same place your government does. Nowhere at all.”
“It won’t help in the long run.”
“But it’s another day he won’t have to pawn that guitar.”
The sky darkens with the approaching storm, and under the sodium glare of a streetlight, Ricky takes her hand. “For a djinn, you have some sentimental notions.”
Kalila tips her head back and breathes deeply of the electrically charged air. “Just let it be our secret, okay?”
