This is a Three Word Wednesday offering, so be sure to check out Three Word Wednesday for more fun!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"No," Ricky said. He quit reading a message on his BlackBerry and set it on the coffee table. "It's impossible."
"It's not impossible at all. I'll just conjure--"
"Not that kind of impossible." Ricky motioned for Kalila to sit beside him, but she refused. "What I mean is that using real monsters to promote your Sadistic Monsters album may seem on the surface like a good gimmick, but trust me, it's a bad idea."
Kalila blinked, not understanding. "Why do you have to be so negative? I thought there was no such thing as bad publicity."
Ricky suppressed a sigh. The person who had come up with that saying had obviously never met Kalila and her band of misfit demons. "Venues have rules, you know. Bringing in a bunch of big, hulking, smelly monsters would be in violation of any contract I could get for you."
"So I'll conjure small ones."
"Small monsters?" Ricky raised his eyebrows.
"They come in all sizes, you know."
"I'm sure they do." He gestured toward the spot beside him again, and this time she sat down. "Look, I think it's terrific that you have so many creative ideas about how to promote the band, but you hired me because I understand what appeals to humans, remember?"
"Actually, I hired you because you looked so pathetic. Being broke and unemployed really gets you humans down."
Ricky didn't like the way the conversation was drifting. "So no monsters to promote this album, okay? You guys can do a great job promoting it all by yourselves."
Kalila's eyes lit up. "You think?" She threw her arms around him and Ricky held her close. No way was he going to break it to her now that the band was monstrous enough all on its own.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
AUTHOR'S NOTE: If you enjoyed this story, buy the book! It's available in print and Kindle versions from Amazon and e-book format from Fictionwise!.
Maelstrom Extra: Nostalgia
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
reviews (Comments): 10
This is a Three Word Wednesday offering, so be sure to check out Three Word Wednesday for more fun!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Anybody seen Ricky?”
Vic shrugged and bent back over his guitar. “No telling with those diurnal types.”
“I’m not the human’s keeper.” Bo adjusted the volume on his amp.
Kalila frowned. “It’s not like him to disappear like this. Usually he watches us during setup and rehearsal.”
“Suits me not to have him staring. It creeps me out when the living do that.” Vic strummed a chord and gave Kalila a look. “You ready? I think the acoustics in here are going to be pretty good.”
Kalila strapped on her Stratocaster and was about to suggest they start with Hot Night, Cold Heart, but then shook her head and put the guitar back in its stand. Rehearsal could wait a few minutes. Ricky was acting weird and she was going to get to the bottom of it.
She found him pacing the parking lot, stopping from time to time and looking around with a wistful expression. Kalila had hired him for many reasons – to keep her band of misfit demons in line, to help her get famous without the use of magic, and because he was kind of cute for a human, but nowhere in his contract was there anything about wandering empty parking lots. She strode up to him. “What do you think you’re doing, mortal?”
Ricky stopped pacing and gave her a sheepish look. “Nothing.”
“That’s not what I pay you for.”
“I’m just remembering.” He gazed across the parking lot toward a strip center and an intersection where cars waited for a light to change. “This is all new, you know.”
“Yes. It’s nice you didn’t book us into a falling-down dump, for once.”
Ricky ignored her. “When I was a teenager, it was all dirt roads and meadows. Me and the other kids from my school used to come here to drink beer, race cars, and hang out away from our parents. Now look.” He made a gesture that took in the asphalt, neon, pre-fab shops and tract housing. “No trace of it at all.”
Kalila gave an impatient sigh. “I realize your kind is prone to nostalgia, but everything gets erased by time. The places of my youth have changed so much in the last two thousand years I might as well be on another planet. Sentimentality is a useless emotion.”
“You think all human emotions are useless.”
“That’s because they are.” What would snap him out of this ridiculous mood? She wanted him inside that club paying attention to her, not wandering about, thinking of his high school days. “Well, I guess I better go back inside and see if we can rehearse a few songs while the boys still have things under control.” She started walking toward the club. “Bo says the manager is hot, and Vic and Lazaro are both very interested in the bookkeeper. Smart brains and type O blood, you know.”
She went inside and let the heavy metal door fall shut behind her. Seconds later, it opened and Ricky rushed in. He paused when he saw her waiting.
“I knew that would get you.” Kalila grinned. “Now, enough with the past. We all have a future to think of.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
AUTHOR'S NOTE: If you enjoyed this story, you can now buy the book in print and Kindle versions from Amazon and e-book format from Fictionwise!.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Anybody seen Ricky?”
Vic shrugged and bent back over his guitar. “No telling with those diurnal types.”
“I’m not the human’s keeper.” Bo adjusted the volume on his amp.
Kalila frowned. “It’s not like him to disappear like this. Usually he watches us during setup and rehearsal.”
“Suits me not to have him staring. It creeps me out when the living do that.” Vic strummed a chord and gave Kalila a look. “You ready? I think the acoustics in here are going to be pretty good.”
Kalila strapped on her Stratocaster and was about to suggest they start with Hot Night, Cold Heart, but then shook her head and put the guitar back in its stand. Rehearsal could wait a few minutes. Ricky was acting weird and she was going to get to the bottom of it.
She found him pacing the parking lot, stopping from time to time and looking around with a wistful expression. Kalila had hired him for many reasons – to keep her band of misfit demons in line, to help her get famous without the use of magic, and because he was kind of cute for a human, but nowhere in his contract was there anything about wandering empty parking lots. She strode up to him. “What do you think you’re doing, mortal?”
Ricky stopped pacing and gave her a sheepish look. “Nothing.”
“That’s not what I pay you for.”
“I’m just remembering.” He gazed across the parking lot toward a strip center and an intersection where cars waited for a light to change. “This is all new, you know.”
“Yes. It’s nice you didn’t book us into a falling-down dump, for once.”
Ricky ignored her. “When I was a teenager, it was all dirt roads and meadows. Me and the other kids from my school used to come here to drink beer, race cars, and hang out away from our parents. Now look.” He made a gesture that took in the asphalt, neon, pre-fab shops and tract housing. “No trace of it at all.”
Kalila gave an impatient sigh. “I realize your kind is prone to nostalgia, but everything gets erased by time. The places of my youth have changed so much in the last two thousand years I might as well be on another planet. Sentimentality is a useless emotion.”
“You think all human emotions are useless.”
“That’s because they are.” What would snap him out of this ridiculous mood? She wanted him inside that club paying attention to her, not wandering about, thinking of his high school days. “Well, I guess I better go back inside and see if we can rehearse a few songs while the boys still have things under control.” She started walking toward the club. “Bo says the manager is hot, and Vic and Lazaro are both very interested in the bookkeeper. Smart brains and type O blood, you know.”
She went inside and let the heavy metal door fall shut behind her. Seconds later, it opened and Ricky rushed in. He paused when he saw her waiting.
“I knew that would get you.” Kalila grinned. “Now, enough with the past. We all have a future to think of.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
AUTHOR'S NOTE: If you enjoyed this story, you can now buy the book in print and Kindle versions from Amazon and e-book format from Fictionwise!.
Maelstrom Extra: Personal Superhero
Saturday, June 12, 2010
reviews (Comments): 7
Be sure to check out Sunday Scribblings and Weekend Writer's Retreat for more literary fun!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Here’s something I don’t understand.” Kalila paused outside the old movie theater and gazed at one of the posters. “What’s this fascination humans have for superheroes?”
“It’s a natural impulse," Ricky said. "We all want to think someone will come along and save the day.”
“But you have us.” She spread her arms. “Gods, djinns, fairies…we can do everything your superheroes do. Or at least we could back when your kind still believed.”
Ricky suspected where this was going, but they had been on the road for days, tonight’s gig had been troublesome, and all he wanted was a little walk in the cool night air so he could clear his head enough to sleep. A discussion of how humans had failed Kalila and her supernatural kind wasn’t in any of his late-night plans.
“You abandoned us for humans in masks and tights.”
“Not all of them are human. Superman—”
“Oh, please.” Kalila began walking again.
Ricky hurried to catch up. “It’s just stories; fantasies humans like to tell each other.”
“That’s my point. Why resort to fantasy when you have reality?”
“Because reality is problematic?” When Kalila didn’t answer, he tried to explain. “If I ask you to do something for me, you might do it or you might not.”
“That’s because I’m not your servant.”
“Right. But superheroes always come when called. We made them like that.”
“So it’s about control. You can’t be in charge of us, so you imagine powerful beings in your own image who you can boss around.”
Ricky had never thought of it that way before. “I don’t know if ‘boss around’ is how I’d put it. You have to be worthy and in need.”
“But if you are, then the superhero will always come.” Kalila nodded wisely. “You knew you couldn’t count on a real deity to help, so you invented ones who play by your rules. Since you created them, you’re in charge, which makes you the superhero.”
This was too much philosophy for one night. “Let’s go back to the hotel. Maybe I can find something on TV to help me relax so I can sleep.”
“Will this help?” She conjured a glass of neat Scotch whiskey.
“Not out here.” Ricky looked around. “They have laws about drinking on the streets.”
Kalila laughed. “If a cop saw you, I’d make him think it was a cup of coffee. If you went to jail, I’d get you out again.” She forced the drink into his hand.
Ricky took a sip and sighed with pleasure. Kalila knew her single malts. And in spite of her cantankerous ways, she always came through for him when it really mattered. He put an arm around her and they continued toward the hotel. It was nice to have a personal superhero.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
AUTHOR'S NOTE: If you enjoyed this story, you can now buy the book in print and Kindle versions from Amazon and e-book format from Fictionwise!.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Here’s something I don’t understand.” Kalila paused outside the old movie theater and gazed at one of the posters. “What’s this fascination humans have for superheroes?”
“It’s a natural impulse," Ricky said. "We all want to think someone will come along and save the day.”
“But you have us.” She spread her arms. “Gods, djinns, fairies…we can do everything your superheroes do. Or at least we could back when your kind still believed.”
Ricky suspected where this was going, but they had been on the road for days, tonight’s gig had been troublesome, and all he wanted was a little walk in the cool night air so he could clear his head enough to sleep. A discussion of how humans had failed Kalila and her supernatural kind wasn’t in any of his late-night plans.
“You abandoned us for humans in masks and tights.”
“Not all of them are human. Superman—”
“Oh, please.” Kalila began walking again.
Ricky hurried to catch up. “It’s just stories; fantasies humans like to tell each other.”
“That’s my point. Why resort to fantasy when you have reality?”
“Because reality is problematic?” When Kalila didn’t answer, he tried to explain. “If I ask you to do something for me, you might do it or you might not.”
“That’s because I’m not your servant.”
“Right. But superheroes always come when called. We made them like that.”
“So it’s about control. You can’t be in charge of us, so you imagine powerful beings in your own image who you can boss around.”
Ricky had never thought of it that way before. “I don’t know if ‘boss around’ is how I’d put it. You have to be worthy and in need.”
“But if you are, then the superhero will always come.” Kalila nodded wisely. “You knew you couldn’t count on a real deity to help, so you invented ones who play by your rules. Since you created them, you’re in charge, which makes you the superhero.”
This was too much philosophy for one night. “Let’s go back to the hotel. Maybe I can find something on TV to help me relax so I can sleep.”
“Will this help?” She conjured a glass of neat Scotch whiskey.
“Not out here.” Ricky looked around. “They have laws about drinking on the streets.”
Kalila laughed. “If a cop saw you, I’d make him think it was a cup of coffee. If you went to jail, I’d get you out again.” She forced the drink into his hand.
Ricky took a sip and sighed with pleasure. Kalila knew her single malts. And in spite of her cantankerous ways, she always came through for him when it really mattered. He put an arm around her and they continued toward the hotel. It was nice to have a personal superhero.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
AUTHOR'S NOTE: If you enjoyed this story, you can now buy the book in print and Kindle versions from Amazon and e-book format from Fictionwise!.
Maelstrom Extra: An Inconvenient Invitation
Wednesday, May 26, 2010
reviews (Comments): 12
This is a Three Word Wednesday offering, so be sure to check out Three Word Wednesday for more fun!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Kalila slipped out of her bottle in a silver mist, poured herself out of the building through gaps in the seal around a door, and drifted into an office park courtyard, where she curled around one of the painted steel spires of a modern sculpture representing the concept of liberty. Or perhaps it was just a rat. Even the humans themselves weren’t sure, and Kalila had no desire to try to figure it out. The sun had warmed the red-lacquered steel and she settled into a comfortable position so she could think.
Sunday brunch with Ricky and his mother. There were so many things wrong with the idea that it would’ve hurt her head to think about it, had she been in human form. For starters, she didn’t care for human food, although she could tolerate it if she had to. But this “meeting Mom” thing was another matter. Although she wasn’t sure of the precise social ramifications, she suspected it would be taken as a sign that she was a girlfriend of sorts, and that simply wouldn’t do.
For Ricky to have suggested it at all was an outrage. She should find him and give him a piece of her mind; make him abandon the ridiculous notion by force if she had to. There was a time not so long ago when she would’ve done just that, but something made her balk, and this new indecisiveness worried her. That she cared what a human might think was puzzle enough, but not wanting to disappoint Ricky was downright un-djinn-like.
She sighed and drifted over backward, elongating herself like a rope and swaying back and forth on the breeze while she tried to bring her scattered thoughts to order. One didn’t spend over two thousand years knocking around the planet without learning how to handle a situation or two. The correct thing would be to track Ricky down and punish him. Severely. The problem was that she wasn’t angry. Instead, she felt oddly excited. No one had ever invited her to meet their mother before. She shouldn’t care, of course, since it was just another human, but the strange feeling of pleasure persisted and she gradually stopped her swinging to contemplate it for a bit.
The twittering of a group of sparrows tussling over a bit of trash brought her back to her senses. Djinns didn’t get emotional. She gathered herself together and slid down the sculpture, drifting past the birds without their noticing. When she reached a service door hidden from view by hedges, she conjured herself into human form, comfortably dressed in jeans, boots, and a natty black jacket. Then she went to the sidewalk and mentally summoned a cab. She would go to Ricky and explain. No brunch. It was simply impossible. Or if she did go, it would have to be a very short brunch, at someplace expensive that served mimosas. And no matter what, he couldn’t introduce her as his girlfriend. Not now, not ever.
A djinn might find humans acceptable company from time to time, but one had to draw the line somewhere.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
AUTHOR'S NOTE: If you enjoyed this story, you can now buy the book in print and Kindle versions from Amazon and e-book format from Fictionwise!.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Kalila slipped out of her bottle in a silver mist, poured herself out of the building through gaps in the seal around a door, and drifted into an office park courtyard, where she curled around one of the painted steel spires of a modern sculpture representing the concept of liberty. Or perhaps it was just a rat. Even the humans themselves weren’t sure, and Kalila had no desire to try to figure it out. The sun had warmed the red-lacquered steel and she settled into a comfortable position so she could think.
Sunday brunch with Ricky and his mother. There were so many things wrong with the idea that it would’ve hurt her head to think about it, had she been in human form. For starters, she didn’t care for human food, although she could tolerate it if she had to. But this “meeting Mom” thing was another matter. Although she wasn’t sure of the precise social ramifications, she suspected it would be taken as a sign that she was a girlfriend of sorts, and that simply wouldn’t do.
For Ricky to have suggested it at all was an outrage. She should find him and give him a piece of her mind; make him abandon the ridiculous notion by force if she had to. There was a time not so long ago when she would’ve done just that, but something made her balk, and this new indecisiveness worried her. That she cared what a human might think was puzzle enough, but not wanting to disappoint Ricky was downright un-djinn-like.
She sighed and drifted over backward, elongating herself like a rope and swaying back and forth on the breeze while she tried to bring her scattered thoughts to order. One didn’t spend over two thousand years knocking around the planet without learning how to handle a situation or two. The correct thing would be to track Ricky down and punish him. Severely. The problem was that she wasn’t angry. Instead, she felt oddly excited. No one had ever invited her to meet their mother before. She shouldn’t care, of course, since it was just another human, but the strange feeling of pleasure persisted and she gradually stopped her swinging to contemplate it for a bit.
The twittering of a group of sparrows tussling over a bit of trash brought her back to her senses. Djinns didn’t get emotional. She gathered herself together and slid down the sculpture, drifting past the birds without their noticing. When she reached a service door hidden from view by hedges, she conjured herself into human form, comfortably dressed in jeans, boots, and a natty black jacket. Then she went to the sidewalk and mentally summoned a cab. She would go to Ricky and explain. No brunch. It was simply impossible. Or if she did go, it would have to be a very short brunch, at someplace expensive that served mimosas. And no matter what, he couldn’t introduce her as his girlfriend. Not now, not ever.
A djinn might find humans acceptable company from time to time, but one had to draw the line somewhere.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
AUTHOR'S NOTE: If you enjoyed this story, you can now buy the book in print and Kindle versions from Amazon and e-book format from Fictionwise!.
Maelstrom Extra: Fickle Djinn
Thursday, June 25, 2009
reviews (Comments): 3
Kalila smoothed an imaginary wrinkle in her skirt. “I’ve changed my mind.”
Ricky didn’t take his eyes off the road. “About what?”
“The photo shoot.” She flipped down the visor and scowled at her reflection in the vanity mirror. “I don’t like this outfit.”
Ricky darted a glance her way, then returned to monitoring the traffic. The exit was easy to miss and they were running late. “You look fine.”
Kalila leaned back in her seat and pouted. “I should’ve worn something darker, something with less sparkle.”
“Well, it’s too late now.” He checked the lane next to him and moved over. “I had to call in a lot of favors to get you this opportunity, so I can’t reschedule. Besides,” he slowed down as he eased the Lexus off the freeway and onto the access road. “You asked me to buy you that outfit. You said it would be perfect.”
“I changed my mind.”
“So unchange it.” Ricky set his jaw and fixed his eyes on the cars ahead of him as if by ignoring her, he could forget he had a fickle djinn in the passenger seat. As they passed a series of small boutiques, though, she grabbed his arm and pointed.
“Over there. It’ll only take a minute.”
Ricky shook off her grip. “No. Now will you please quit the diva behavior? You look terrific. You always do.”
When they got to the studio, Kalila stalked into the building without so much as glancing his way, and ducked into the first ladies’ room she could find. Ricky waited outside the door, glancing at his watch and pacing. They were late. Her hair looked fine. Djinns didn’t need to use the restroom. What was she doing in there for so long?
Finally she stepped out, resplendent in black leather and red coral. “What do you think?”
“I think if you were going to conjure a new outfit anyway, you could’ve left off harassing me about it.”
“But the car trip was so boring. I had to do something to pass the time.” She slipped her hand into his. “Now come on. Let’s go see that photographer.”
Ricky didn’t take his eyes off the road. “About what?”
“The photo shoot.” She flipped down the visor and scowled at her reflection in the vanity mirror. “I don’t like this outfit.”
Ricky darted a glance her way, then returned to monitoring the traffic. The exit was easy to miss and they were running late. “You look fine.”
Kalila leaned back in her seat and pouted. “I should’ve worn something darker, something with less sparkle.”
“Well, it’s too late now.” He checked the lane next to him and moved over. “I had to call in a lot of favors to get you this opportunity, so I can’t reschedule. Besides,” he slowed down as he eased the Lexus off the freeway and onto the access road. “You asked me to buy you that outfit. You said it would be perfect.”
“I changed my mind.”
“So unchange it.” Ricky set his jaw and fixed his eyes on the cars ahead of him as if by ignoring her, he could forget he had a fickle djinn in the passenger seat. As they passed a series of small boutiques, though, she grabbed his arm and pointed.
“Over there. It’ll only take a minute.”
Ricky shook off her grip. “No. Now will you please quit the diva behavior? You look terrific. You always do.”
When they got to the studio, Kalila stalked into the building without so much as glancing his way, and ducked into the first ladies’ room she could find. Ricky waited outside the door, glancing at his watch and pacing. They were late. Her hair looked fine. Djinns didn’t need to use the restroom. What was she doing in there for so long?
Finally she stepped out, resplendent in black leather and red coral. “What do you think?”
“I think if you were going to conjure a new outfit anyway, you could’ve left off harassing me about it.”
“But the car trip was so boring. I had to do something to pass the time.” She slipped her hand into his. “Now come on. Let’s go see that photographer.”
Maelstrom Extra: By the Lake
Thursday, June 11, 2009
reviews (Comments): 4
Gravel crunched under the wheels of the rented Jeep as Ricky pulled into the driveway. “Well, here it is.”
Kalila cast a skeptical glance at the gray clapboard cottage. “This isn’t what I expected.”
“Is anything?” he cut the engine and reached in the back for his overnight bag. “I’ll show you the house, and then we’ll go down to the lake. Uncle Robert said the canoe is in good repair.”
Kalila followed Ricky inside, looking all around and clutching her lamp to her chest. She let him lead her from room to room, and finally selected a spot near an upstairs window where she set her brass oil lamp on a table. “This is where I’ll sleep.”
“I was planning on sleeping in the other room.”
“You can still do that.”
“Right.” He didn't ask whether she’d join him in bed for awhile or just what her intentions were. Djinns didn't like a lot of questions. “Wait here. I want to get something out of my bag and then I’ll show you the lake.”
While she waited, Kalila examined the family photos on the walls, and when Ricky emerged from the other room, she followed him down the stairs.
Outside, a narrow path wound its way from the back porch through the trees, to a dock that listed to one side. “I’m sure it’s not dangerous,” Ricky said, but Kalila had already drawn the same conclusion. She walked to the end of the rickety dock and stood for a moment, looking out over the dark water.
“I’d hardly call this a lake,” she finally said. “More like a large pond.”
“I never said it was much.” He came to join her. “It was the time I spent here with my dad that made it special. It was nice of Uncle Robert to buy it from my mom. The money came in handy. But I would’ve liked to have gotten the place for myself.”
“Family.” Kalila nodded. “It means a lot to you humans. I noticed the pictures on the walls.”
Ricky shoved his hands in his pockets and stared out over the water for a few minutes. Finally he became restless and said, “Want to take the boat out?”
“Not particularly.”
“But I…well, look.” he took a small box out of his pocket and opened it. Inside was a small wooden fish, red with a glitter tail and a hook sticking out of its belly. “One of the lures my dad made,” he explained. “I’ve had it as a keepsake all these years, but I think it belongs here.” He pointed across the water. “Somewhere out in the middle of the lake he loved to fish at.”
“So coming here is sort of a pilgrimage for you.”
“And a chance to spend some time alone with you, away from all the distractions that clutter up our lives. That’s why people come to places like this, to focus on the things that really matter.”
“I see.” Kalila looked out over the water again, her eyes narrowed in thought. “So you wouldn’t have brought just anyone.”
“No. This place is special.”
They stood together for several minutes, watching the reflection of sun and cloud on the glassy surface of the lake. A hawk flew overhead, the wind sighed in the pines, and water burbled and lapped at the dock. Finally Kalila asked to see the fishing lure again, and she took it from Ricky’s hands and examined it in the afternoon light. Then she handed it back. “I think I understand now,” she said. “Let’s go get that boat.”
Kalila cast a skeptical glance at the gray clapboard cottage. “This isn’t what I expected.”
“Is anything?” he cut the engine and reached in the back for his overnight bag. “I’ll show you the house, and then we’ll go down to the lake. Uncle Robert said the canoe is in good repair.”
Kalila followed Ricky inside, looking all around and clutching her lamp to her chest. She let him lead her from room to room, and finally selected a spot near an upstairs window where she set her brass oil lamp on a table. “This is where I’ll sleep.”
“I was planning on sleeping in the other room.”
“You can still do that.”
“Right.” He didn't ask whether she’d join him in bed for awhile or just what her intentions were. Djinns didn't like a lot of questions. “Wait here. I want to get something out of my bag and then I’ll show you the lake.”
While she waited, Kalila examined the family photos on the walls, and when Ricky emerged from the other room, she followed him down the stairs.
Outside, a narrow path wound its way from the back porch through the trees, to a dock that listed to one side. “I’m sure it’s not dangerous,” Ricky said, but Kalila had already drawn the same conclusion. She walked to the end of the rickety dock and stood for a moment, looking out over the dark water.
“I’d hardly call this a lake,” she finally said. “More like a large pond.”
“I never said it was much.” He came to join her. “It was the time I spent here with my dad that made it special. It was nice of Uncle Robert to buy it from my mom. The money came in handy. But I would’ve liked to have gotten the place for myself.”
“Family.” Kalila nodded. “It means a lot to you humans. I noticed the pictures on the walls.”
Ricky shoved his hands in his pockets and stared out over the water for a few minutes. Finally he became restless and said, “Want to take the boat out?”
“Not particularly.”
“But I…well, look.” he took a small box out of his pocket and opened it. Inside was a small wooden fish, red with a glitter tail and a hook sticking out of its belly. “One of the lures my dad made,” he explained. “I’ve had it as a keepsake all these years, but I think it belongs here.” He pointed across the water. “Somewhere out in the middle of the lake he loved to fish at.”
“So coming here is sort of a pilgrimage for you.”
“And a chance to spend some time alone with you, away from all the distractions that clutter up our lives. That’s why people come to places like this, to focus on the things that really matter.”
“I see.” Kalila looked out over the water again, her eyes narrowed in thought. “So you wouldn’t have brought just anyone.”
“No. This place is special.”
They stood together for several minutes, watching the reflection of sun and cloud on the glassy surface of the lake. A hawk flew overhead, the wind sighed in the pines, and water burbled and lapped at the dock. Finally Kalila asked to see the fishing lure again, and she took it from Ricky’s hands and examined it in the afternoon light. Then she handed it back. “I think I understand now,” she said. “Let’s go get that boat.”
Tour: Home!
Thursday, June 4, 2009
reviews (Comments): 1
Home
After yesterday, I hope it’s obvious to everyone why we don’t let Lazaro post.
The El Paso gig was fantastic! Not only did we draw the local crowd, but we had some of our Las Cruces fans follow us over, and we had some from Juarez, too. Just to see us!
We packed the club and the fire marshal had to come out twice! Bo seduced him the first time, and we thought that would be an end to it, but we knew stronger measures were needed when he came around the second time. Ricky says let’s just hope no one finds the body.
After the gig, we went to Juarez and partied until sunrise.
What a crazy place! If they have any laws, we sure weren’t aware of them. Bo, Vic, and Lazaro were like kids in a candy store. I told them afterwards that maybe we shouldn’t be so hard on humans, since it’s obvious that some human societies have more silly rules than others, and some places are actually quite friendly to our lifestyle. They just burped and went to sleep. That’s males for you.
Ricky was very distressed about our foray into Mexico, but I made it up to him when we returned. Maybe when all this is over I’ll send Ricky on a nice vacation someplace. Then again, he’d probably spend all his time just worrying about what we were up to, so it’s probably best we all stick together.
We’ve got a gig tonight and I need to go get ready, but the tour is essentially over. We had a great time, met lots of cool humans and other creatures, saw new places, and sampled new cuisine. It was a lot of fun and I can hardly wait for Ricky to book the next one!
You’ll be doing that soon, Ricky, won’t you?
Ricky?
Damn, where did he go?
After yesterday, I hope it’s obvious to everyone why we don’t let Lazaro post.
The El Paso gig was fantastic! Not only did we draw the local crowd, but we had some of our Las Cruces fans follow us over, and we had some from Juarez, too. Just to see us!
We packed the club and the fire marshal had to come out twice! Bo seduced him the first time, and we thought that would be an end to it, but we knew stronger measures were needed when he came around the second time. Ricky says let’s just hope no one finds the body.
After the gig, we went to Juarez and partied until sunrise.
What a crazy place! If they have any laws, we sure weren’t aware of them. Bo, Vic, and Lazaro were like kids in a candy store. I told them afterwards that maybe we shouldn’t be so hard on humans, since it’s obvious that some human societies have more silly rules than others, and some places are actually quite friendly to our lifestyle. They just burped and went to sleep. That’s males for you.
Ricky was very distressed about our foray into Mexico, but I made it up to him when we returned. Maybe when all this is over I’ll send Ricky on a nice vacation someplace. Then again, he’d probably spend all his time just worrying about what we were up to, so it’s probably best we all stick together.
We’ve got a gig tonight and I need to go get ready, but the tour is essentially over. We had a great time, met lots of cool humans and other creatures, saw new places, and sampled new cuisine. It was a lot of fun and I can hardly wait for Ricky to book the next one!
You’ll be doing that soon, Ricky, won’t you?
Ricky?
Damn, where did he go?
Tour: Day Nine
Sunday, May 31, 2009
reviews (Comments): 1
Still Stranded, New Mexico
Can you believe it? The mechanic won’t work on our bus today! Apparently his god thinks some days are better than others, and Sundays aren’t for working. He’s the only mechanic in this miserable village, and Ricky says even if there were other mechanics, they wouldn’t be working either.
Just look at this place!
Humans are a very strange species. How can they live like this?
Ricky is mad. He says cancelling gigs is bad for our publicity, and what Bo is getting up to with some of the rural livestock is even worse. Vic has taken to hanging around the local cemetery, our werewolf Calvin has been seen going native with a pack of local coyotes, and Nevin just sits around looking at all the dust and sighing a lot. None of us is quite sure what Lazaro has been doing, but there are rumors, and they aren’t pretty.
I’m fed up with this situation. I’ve requested a meeting with my legal counsel to see if there’s a loophole to the “no magic” part of the contract. I know I can’t repair the bus by magic, but can I inspire the human mechanic to get off his butt and fix it? This is an important question and I intend to get an answer before this morning is over.
Can you believe it? The mechanic won’t work on our bus today! Apparently his god thinks some days are better than others, and Sundays aren’t for working. He’s the only mechanic in this miserable village, and Ricky says even if there were other mechanics, they wouldn’t be working either.
Just look at this place!
Humans are a very strange species. How can they live like this?
Ricky is mad. He says cancelling gigs is bad for our publicity, and what Bo is getting up to with some of the rural livestock is even worse. Vic has taken to hanging around the local cemetery, our werewolf Calvin has been seen going native with a pack of local coyotes, and Nevin just sits around looking at all the dust and sighing a lot. None of us is quite sure what Lazaro has been doing, but there are rumors, and they aren’t pretty.
I’m fed up with this situation. I’ve requested a meeting with my legal counsel to see if there’s a loophole to the “no magic” part of the contract. I know I can’t repair the bus by magic, but can I inspire the human mechanic to get off his butt and fix it? This is an important question and I intend to get an answer before this morning is over.
Tour: Day Three
Monday, May 25, 2009
reviews (Comments): 1
Santa Fe, New Mexico
We arrived in Santa Fe several hours ahead of our setup time. Since it was a nice, windy day, giving me lots of energy, I made Ricky take me to see the sights.
For starters, Santa Fe isn’t really that old, only four hundred years. Second, there sure are a lot of churches! It’s a good thing Vic is nocturnal and couldn’t go with us because he would’ve had a meltdown. We saw a church with a labyrinth out front and another that had a spiral staircase supposedly held up by a miracle.
I told Ricky it’s not a miracle and I offered to explain the magic behind it, but he got weird and said some things should remain mysteries. That’s humans for you!
I had a great time shopping on the plaza, especially at the leather and jewelry shops. I felt a little bad for Ricky after awhile, having to carry all those bags while I went from store to store and examined the silver and turquoise jewelry for sale on the plaza, but Calvin wasn’t with us and I sure wasn’t going to carry my own bags.
Finally we went back to the hotel, got everyone together and went to set up at the venue. While we were doing that, Bo disappeared with the manager and came back half an hour later much happier. The manager was happier too and gave us a round of drinks. For some reason, Ricky was annoyed about all this.
The show went great, and we all had a fine time creating our own after-hours party on the plaza.
Ricky got a little nervous when the cops came, but Nevin used his fairy magic to make them happy, and they ended up joining the fun. We danced, sang, and played music until the sun came up over the mountains and the native women arrived with their colorful blankets and hand-made jewelry to sell.
I bought a silver bracelet to remember the night by.
We arrived in Santa Fe several hours ahead of our setup time. Since it was a nice, windy day, giving me lots of energy, I made Ricky take me to see the sights.
For starters, Santa Fe isn’t really that old, only four hundred years. Second, there sure are a lot of churches! It’s a good thing Vic is nocturnal and couldn’t go with us because he would’ve had a meltdown. We saw a church with a labyrinth out front and another that had a spiral staircase supposedly held up by a miracle.
I told Ricky it’s not a miracle and I offered to explain the magic behind it, but he got weird and said some things should remain mysteries. That’s humans for you!
I had a great time shopping on the plaza, especially at the leather and jewelry shops. I felt a little bad for Ricky after awhile, having to carry all those bags while I went from store to store and examined the silver and turquoise jewelry for sale on the plaza, but Calvin wasn’t with us and I sure wasn’t going to carry my own bags.
Finally we went back to the hotel, got everyone together and went to set up at the venue. While we were doing that, Bo disappeared with the manager and came back half an hour later much happier. The manager was happier too and gave us a round of drinks. For some reason, Ricky was annoyed about all this.
The show went great, and we all had a fine time creating our own after-hours party on the plaza.
Ricky got a little nervous when the cops came, but Nevin used his fairy magic to make them happy, and they ended up joining the fun. We danced, sang, and played music until the sun came up over the mountains and the native women arrived with their colorful blankets and hand-made jewelry to sell.
I bought a silver bracelet to remember the night by.
Maelstrom Extra: Disconnect
Sunday, May 17, 2009
reviews (Comments): 6
Monday night gig in Santa Fe. Not very promising, but it was the best he could do. At least there were plenty of hotels.
“What are you doing, human?”
Ricky glanced up. “If you can’t knock, can’t you at least say hello?” He turned back to the computer and frowned. They would finish the week in northern New Mexico and southern Colorado. There was a nice little hot springs resort up there, if he could get a promise from Bo to behave himself.
“Fine. Hello.” Kalila jutted out a hip and waited, but Ricky’s grunted response didn’t satisfy.
Then head back south for—
“What’s so compelling about words and numbers on a screen?”
—a weekend in Albuquerque. They weren’t big gigs, but a small show in a big town had more publicity potential than a big show in Podunkville.
“Ricky. Are you listening to me?”
“Of course I’m listening. I’m just trying to finalize your tour itinerary. You leave in less than a week, you know.”
“We leave,” she corrected him. “You’re coming with us. Or have you forgotten what happened to our last tour manager?”
“Please don’t remind me.” He turned back to the computer and called up a map. It was a straight shot from Albuquerque to Las Cruces, but there wasn’t much along the way. Maybe—
Ricky punched a few keys, trying to unlock his frozen screen. Then he opened the network status window and cursed. He tried to re-connect, but nothing happened. “Kalila, do you think you could…oh.” Kalila was watching with a smug, catlike smile. Ricky shut down the computer and sat back in his chair. There would be no more work until the djinn had gotten what she came there for. Knowing her, she probably just needed to be noticed.
“Okay, Kalila. You win. What do you want?”
NOTE: Maelstrom will be on tour May 23 through June 4. They’ll be blogging their preparations and their tour right here starting May 22, so make sure we're on your blog reader!
“What are you doing, human?”
Ricky glanced up. “If you can’t knock, can’t you at least say hello?” He turned back to the computer and frowned. They would finish the week in northern New Mexico and southern Colorado. There was a nice little hot springs resort up there, if he could get a promise from Bo to behave himself.
“Fine. Hello.” Kalila jutted out a hip and waited, but Ricky’s grunted response didn’t satisfy.
Then head back south for—
“What’s so compelling about words and numbers on a screen?”
—a weekend in Albuquerque. They weren’t big gigs, but a small show in a big town had more publicity potential than a big show in Podunkville.
“Ricky. Are you listening to me?”
“Of course I’m listening. I’m just trying to finalize your tour itinerary. You leave in less than a week, you know.”
“We leave,” she corrected him. “You’re coming with us. Or have you forgotten what happened to our last tour manager?”
“Please don’t remind me.” He turned back to the computer and called up a map. It was a straight shot from Albuquerque to Las Cruces, but there wasn’t much along the way. Maybe—
Ricky punched a few keys, trying to unlock his frozen screen. Then he opened the network status window and cursed. He tried to re-connect, but nothing happened. “Kalila, do you think you could…oh.” Kalila was watching with a smug, catlike smile. Ricky shut down the computer and sat back in his chair. There would be no more work until the djinn had gotten what she came there for. Knowing her, she probably just needed to be noticed.
“Okay, Kalila. You win. What do you want?”
NOTE: Maelstrom will be on tour May 23 through June 4. They’ll be blogging their preparations and their tour right here starting May 22, so make sure we're on your blog reader!
Maelstrom Extra: Healing Magic
Sunday, May 10, 2009
reviews (Comments): 9
“Can’t you do something for her?”
Kalila looked at Ricky askance. “Call an ambulance. If one gets here quick enough, she’ll live.”
Ricky looked at the prone and bleeding form on the asphalt of the studio parking lot. Her clothes were torn, her shoes were missing and a leg lay at an odd angle. “But you can heal her now.”
The scattered contents of the woman’s purse lay at Kalila’s feet and she prodded a lipstick with the toe of her boot. “It takes a lot of energy to heal a human. It’s not worth it unless the band did this, and we didn’t. She’s an ordinary hit-and-run victim.”
“No one’s ever ordinary, Kalila. I don’t know this woman either, but I’m sure she has friends and family who care about her. What if something’s wrong that the doctors can’t fix?” Ricky saw her hesitate. “Please?”
Kalila yanked off her bangles and shoved them into Ricky’s hands. “Fine. Monitor the area. Make sure I’m not disturbed.”
For several minutes Ricky paced the perimeter of the parking lot, keeping an eye out for curious pedestrians. Finally he saw a familiar figure, clothes clean and mended, purse slung over her arm. He followed her with his eyes as she crossed the street. Although she looked a bit stunned, she was whole and healthy.
“I altered her memory,” said a voice behind him.
Ricky turned around and was struck by Kalila’s ashen skin and pale lips. The healing had taken a lot out of her.
“She thinks she tripped and I happened to be nearby to make sure she was okay and help her put everything back in her purse.”
“Thank you.” Ricky wanted to say more, but he knew how Kalila hated to be caught doing good. He held out his arm. “Want to go for a walk? There’s usually a breeze at the park.”
She took his arm and they walked for several minutes in silence. Finally she said, “It was more serious than it looked.”
Ricky nodded but didn’t answer.
“She hit her head hard when she fell. Your human doctors probably couldn’t have saved her.” When Ricky didn’t answer, she stopped. “What? No ‘I told you so,’ no remarks about my service to your wretched kind?”
“No.” Ricky dug something out of his pocket. “Want these back?”
Kalila put the bracelets on and reluctantly took his arm again. As they neared the park, the wind picked up and she tipped her face toward the sky, sucking the air greedily, feeding off the restorative breeze.
Ricky waited until the color returned to her cheeks and her eyes had lost their listless cast. “Thank you.”
“I’m not Florence Nightingale.”
“I know.”
“I refuse to do that sort of thing every time you get a sentimental human notion.”
“I know that, too. But don’t you feel just a little proud that you did a good deed?”
Kalila looked away with a small jerk of her chin. “Don’t be ridiculous. Djinns don’t do good deeds.”
“Of course they don’t.” Ricky waited, then asked, “So I’m not to tell anyone?”
“Not even your own mother.” Then, with a faint smile, she started to take his hand, but reconsidered and moved in close so he could put his arm around her instead.
Kalila looked at Ricky askance. “Call an ambulance. If one gets here quick enough, she’ll live.”
Ricky looked at the prone and bleeding form on the asphalt of the studio parking lot. Her clothes were torn, her shoes were missing and a leg lay at an odd angle. “But you can heal her now.”
The scattered contents of the woman’s purse lay at Kalila’s feet and she prodded a lipstick with the toe of her boot. “It takes a lot of energy to heal a human. It’s not worth it unless the band did this, and we didn’t. She’s an ordinary hit-and-run victim.”
“No one’s ever ordinary, Kalila. I don’t know this woman either, but I’m sure she has friends and family who care about her. What if something’s wrong that the doctors can’t fix?” Ricky saw her hesitate. “Please?”
Kalila yanked off her bangles and shoved them into Ricky’s hands. “Fine. Monitor the area. Make sure I’m not disturbed.”
For several minutes Ricky paced the perimeter of the parking lot, keeping an eye out for curious pedestrians. Finally he saw a familiar figure, clothes clean and mended, purse slung over her arm. He followed her with his eyes as she crossed the street. Although she looked a bit stunned, she was whole and healthy.
“I altered her memory,” said a voice behind him.
Ricky turned around and was struck by Kalila’s ashen skin and pale lips. The healing had taken a lot out of her.
“She thinks she tripped and I happened to be nearby to make sure she was okay and help her put everything back in her purse.”
“Thank you.” Ricky wanted to say more, but he knew how Kalila hated to be caught doing good. He held out his arm. “Want to go for a walk? There’s usually a breeze at the park.”
She took his arm and they walked for several minutes in silence. Finally she said, “It was more serious than it looked.”
Ricky nodded but didn’t answer.
“She hit her head hard when she fell. Your human doctors probably couldn’t have saved her.” When Ricky didn’t answer, she stopped. “What? No ‘I told you so,’ no remarks about my service to your wretched kind?”
“No.” Ricky dug something out of his pocket. “Want these back?”
Kalila put the bracelets on and reluctantly took his arm again. As they neared the park, the wind picked up and she tipped her face toward the sky, sucking the air greedily, feeding off the restorative breeze.
Ricky waited until the color returned to her cheeks and her eyes had lost their listless cast. “Thank you.”
“I’m not Florence Nightingale.”
“I know.”
“I refuse to do that sort of thing every time you get a sentimental human notion.”
“I know that, too. But don’t you feel just a little proud that you did a good deed?”
Kalila looked away with a small jerk of her chin. “Don’t be ridiculous. Djinns don’t do good deeds.”
“Of course they don’t.” Ricky waited, then asked, “So I’m not to tell anyone?”
“Not even your own mother.” Then, with a faint smile, she started to take his hand, but reconsidered and moved in close so he could put his arm around her instead.
Maelstrom Extra: A Problem
Thursday, March 5, 2009
reviews (Comments): 3
Ricky checked his watch. He was late, but luckily the band was becoming more punctual. It had been awhile since he caught them napping or rambling about in search of prey when they should be getting set up for a show. The sight of the equipment van in the alley reassured him and he waved at one of the werewolf crew before pushing through the service door.
His first order of business was to check in with the manager and exchange the standard pleasantries. Finding no one in the office, Ricky headed toward the club to see how the setup was coming along. The manager would probably be there, and if he wasn’t, someone might know—
“There you are.” Kalila said, appearing out of nowhere like the damnable djinn she was. “We have a problem.”
Ricky looked at her. “Please tell me Bo didn’t already seduce someone.”
“Only one of the cleanup crew.” She waved a hand to dismiss the matter. “No, I’m afraid this is more serious. Lazaro ate—” she called into the darkness of the drummer alcove. “What was his name, again?”
“Ken Blakely!” Lazaro shouted back.
Ricky leaped onto the stage, stomped past Vic and Nevin, and found the drummer placidly hanging a cymbal. “You ate the venue manager? This is a joke, right?”
Lazaro shrugged his big shoulders. “He came back here and messed with my drums.”
Vic stopped adjusting a microphone. “It was his own damn fault. He went back there to look at the drum setup, tripped like the clumsy primate he was, and knocked over the hi-hat.”
“Genuine Zildjian cymbals,” Lazaro muttered.
“But…you don’t avenge simple human mistakes like that. This is totally inappropriate and—”
Lazaro snarled.
“Better watch it,” Vic said, baring his fangs. “You know what he’s like in this kind of mood.”
Regrettably, Ricky did know. “Well …did you at least hide the remains?”
“Of course,” Lazaro snorted. “I’m not stupid.”
“We’re not worried about your human laws and morals,” Kalila said, walking across the stage and picking up her guitar. “And we’re not concerned about tonight. Places like this practically run themselves.”
Ricky ran his fingers through his hair. “Okay, so if you’re not worried about any of the things a normal person would worry about, why did you ruin my day by mentioning it? You said there was a problem.”
“Oh, there’s definitely a problem, human,” Vic said.
Kalila nodded. “Now that the manager is dinner…”
“Please don’t call him that.”
“More like a snack, anyway,” Lazaro said.
“I don’t need to hear—”
“Get over it, human,” Vic snarled.
Ricky turned back to Kalila. “Just tell me what you think the problem is.”
Kalila blinked as if the answer were obvious. “How are we going to get paid?”
His first order of business was to check in with the manager and exchange the standard pleasantries. Finding no one in the office, Ricky headed toward the club to see how the setup was coming along. The manager would probably be there, and if he wasn’t, someone might know—
“There you are.” Kalila said, appearing out of nowhere like the damnable djinn she was. “We have a problem.”
Ricky looked at her. “Please tell me Bo didn’t already seduce someone.”
“Only one of the cleanup crew.” She waved a hand to dismiss the matter. “No, I’m afraid this is more serious. Lazaro ate—” she called into the darkness of the drummer alcove. “What was his name, again?”
“Ken Blakely!” Lazaro shouted back.
Ricky leaped onto the stage, stomped past Vic and Nevin, and found the drummer placidly hanging a cymbal. “You ate the venue manager? This is a joke, right?”
Lazaro shrugged his big shoulders. “He came back here and messed with my drums.”
Vic stopped adjusting a microphone. “It was his own damn fault. He went back there to look at the drum setup, tripped like the clumsy primate he was, and knocked over the hi-hat.”
“Genuine Zildjian cymbals,” Lazaro muttered.
“But…you don’t avenge simple human mistakes like that. This is totally inappropriate and—”
Lazaro snarled.
“Better watch it,” Vic said, baring his fangs. “You know what he’s like in this kind of mood.”
Regrettably, Ricky did know. “Well …did you at least hide the remains?”
“Of course,” Lazaro snorted. “I’m not stupid.”
“We’re not worried about your human laws and morals,” Kalila said, walking across the stage and picking up her guitar. “And we’re not concerned about tonight. Places like this practically run themselves.”
Ricky ran his fingers through his hair. “Okay, so if you’re not worried about any of the things a normal person would worry about, why did you ruin my day by mentioning it? You said there was a problem.”
“Oh, there’s definitely a problem, human,” Vic said.
Kalila nodded. “Now that the manager is dinner…”
“Please don’t call him that.”
“More like a snack, anyway,” Lazaro said.
“I don’t need to hear—”
“Get over it, human,” Vic snarled.
Ricky turned back to Kalila. “Just tell me what you think the problem is.”
Kalila blinked as if the answer were obvious. “How are we going to get paid?”
Maelstrom Extra: Venue
Thursday, February 12, 2009
reviews (Comments): 4
Ricky stepped out of the Lexus and looked around the damp and reeking alleyway. Seeing that Kalila was still peering out the window, he went to the passenger side and opened the door.
“Are you sure this is the right place?” she said.
Ricky helped her out and led her toward a dented blue door. “You can't judge a place by the service entrance.”
Inside, the filthy concrete floor and flickering lights didn’t inspire confidence. They followed a series of hand-lettered paper signs through a confusing warren of rooms and corridors, arriving finally at a small office. Finding it locked, Ricky tried to peer through the grimy window.
“Let’s go,” Kalila said. “I can only imagine what kind of low-life rabble would come here.”
“But you haven’t even seen the club.” Ricky led her down another hall that took them to a dim backstage area disorderly with boxes, cables, electrical cords and empty beer bottles. He found an opening in the stage curtains and held the heavy black drapery aside so she could step through.
In contrast to the cramped disarray of the backstage area, the stage was clean and expansive, its wooden floor in good repair and the lights straightly hung. “It’s more than I would’ve expected, given what’s back there,” Kalila admitted. She walked to the front of the stage and looked out over the dance floor.
Ricky was watching her ponder the dark cavern of a club when he heard footsteps.
The man approaching him was tall and moved with the lanky gracelessness of a wounded giraffe, but the eyes beneath the shock of thick brown hair had a mischievous glint. He shook Ricky’s hand and made apologies for not having greeted them when they first arrived. “Don’t worry about a thing, though,” he said. “Everyone is excited to book you guys and you’ll get star treatment, or as close to it as we can manage.”
They spoke for several minutes, rehashing the terms of the agreement, but Ricky saw nothing new to be gained by the conversation. He had read the contract and was satisfied. It was up to Kalila to validate his efforts, but when he glanced her way, he couldn’t read anything in her face or the lines of her body that suggested what she was thinking.
The manager saw where he was looking and nodded slowly, as if piecing together several things that hadn't made sense before. “Let me talk to her.”
Ricky watched him cross the stage with his odd, loping gait. As he got nearer, the skeptical expression on Kalila’s face changed, and when he arrived at where she was standing, she greeted him enthusiastically.
Ricky waited, mystified, while they talked in low, conspiratorial tones. Finally he went to join them, but as he came within earshot, the manager looked at him and said, “I’d invite you into my office, but it’s kind of a mess. Wait here. I’ll be right back.”
“What was that about?” Ricky asked, watching him leave. “And what were you two talking about? Do you know him?”
Kalila shook her head sadly. “Oh, Ricky. All this time working for us and you still haven’t figured it out?”
“You’re impossible to figure out. Please just tell me what’s going on. Where did he go?”
“To re-print our contract.”
“But the terms were fine. Why do you insist on changing everything I try to do for you?”
“I don’t try to change everything, and besides, he insisted. The contract you saw was the one he gives to humans. I don’t know how I managed to miss it before, but what else would you expect at a place called Mondschein?”
Ricky didn’t understand and waited for her to continue.
“The manager is a werewolf.” Kalila looked around the dingy club, as excited as if it were Carnegie Hall. “Thanks for booking us here, Ricky. This is going to be one hell of a gig.”
“Are you sure this is the right place?” she said.
Ricky helped her out and led her toward a dented blue door. “You can't judge a place by the service entrance.”
Inside, the filthy concrete floor and flickering lights didn’t inspire confidence. They followed a series of hand-lettered paper signs through a confusing warren of rooms and corridors, arriving finally at a small office. Finding it locked, Ricky tried to peer through the grimy window.
“Let’s go,” Kalila said. “I can only imagine what kind of low-life rabble would come here.”
“But you haven’t even seen the club.” Ricky led her down another hall that took them to a dim backstage area disorderly with boxes, cables, electrical cords and empty beer bottles. He found an opening in the stage curtains and held the heavy black drapery aside so she could step through.
In contrast to the cramped disarray of the backstage area, the stage was clean and expansive, its wooden floor in good repair and the lights straightly hung. “It’s more than I would’ve expected, given what’s back there,” Kalila admitted. She walked to the front of the stage and looked out over the dance floor.
Ricky was watching her ponder the dark cavern of a club when he heard footsteps.
The man approaching him was tall and moved with the lanky gracelessness of a wounded giraffe, but the eyes beneath the shock of thick brown hair had a mischievous glint. He shook Ricky’s hand and made apologies for not having greeted them when they first arrived. “Don’t worry about a thing, though,” he said. “Everyone is excited to book you guys and you’ll get star treatment, or as close to it as we can manage.”
They spoke for several minutes, rehashing the terms of the agreement, but Ricky saw nothing new to be gained by the conversation. He had read the contract and was satisfied. It was up to Kalila to validate his efforts, but when he glanced her way, he couldn’t read anything in her face or the lines of her body that suggested what she was thinking.
The manager saw where he was looking and nodded slowly, as if piecing together several things that hadn't made sense before. “Let me talk to her.”
Ricky watched him cross the stage with his odd, loping gait. As he got nearer, the skeptical expression on Kalila’s face changed, and when he arrived at where she was standing, she greeted him enthusiastically.
Ricky waited, mystified, while they talked in low, conspiratorial tones. Finally he went to join them, but as he came within earshot, the manager looked at him and said, “I’d invite you into my office, but it’s kind of a mess. Wait here. I’ll be right back.”
“What was that about?” Ricky asked, watching him leave. “And what were you two talking about? Do you know him?”
Kalila shook her head sadly. “Oh, Ricky. All this time working for us and you still haven’t figured it out?”
“You’re impossible to figure out. Please just tell me what’s going on. Where did he go?”
“To re-print our contract.”
“But the terms were fine. Why do you insist on changing everything I try to do for you?”
“I don’t try to change everything, and besides, he insisted. The contract you saw was the one he gives to humans. I don’t know how I managed to miss it before, but what else would you expect at a place called Mondschein?”
Ricky didn’t understand and waited for her to continue.
“The manager is a werewolf.” Kalila looked around the dingy club, as excited as if it were Carnegie Hall. “Thanks for booking us here, Ricky. This is going to be one hell of a gig.”
Maelstrom Extra: Pants Problems
Friday, January 30, 2009
reviews (Comments): 13
“But Kalila,” Ricky tried to get her to look at the credit card statement. “Did you really need three pairs of the exact same boots?”
“They phase out old styles all the time,” she said. “This way when one pair wears out—”
Ricky rested his elbows on the table, willing himself to remain calm. “You’re a djinn. You can fix them, or conjure new ones, or—” he looked up as Bo emerged from the other room, clad only in a black leather jockstrap. “What the hell? Put some clothes on.”
“I’m trying, human.” Bo ambled over to the sofa and began rummaging among some magazines and damp towels. “It’s just that my favorite pants are missing.”
Kalila leaned back in her chair. “They probably became someone’s souvenir. How many girls did you have here last night?”
Bo was peering beneath a sofa cushion and didn’t look up. “Including or excluding the tranny?”
“Oh, never mind.” Kalila stood and gave Ricky a stern look. “I’m not discussing my shoes with you any more. Just pay the bill and wake me up when we need to leave for the show.”
Ricky watched her dissolve into blue smoke and pour herself into a bottle. By now Bo was standing in the middle of the room, hands on his hips, looking around in exasperation. “Any chance you could put something on?” Ricky asked him. “Even if it’s just a towel?”
“Why? Do I turn you on? I can look for my pants later if you’d like to—”
“No, and I wish you’d quit asking.” Ricky made as if to pick up the credit card bill again, but then reconsidered. “Don’t you ever have misgivings about your behavior? Any regrets?”
Bo quit rifling through a satchel that usually held sheet music and CDs, and couldn’t possibly contain his pants. “I’m sorry, Ricky. What?”
“You know, don’t you ever wish you’d done things different? You’ve gotten the band kicked out of several venues, you’ve been beaten up by jealous boyfriends, shot at by a pissed-off wife, kicked out of the band multiple times, and banned from the zoo. Don’t you think that’s a little excessive? And now you’ve lost an expensive pair of pants because some girl wanted them as a memento.”
“Actually, I think it was the tranny,” Bo said thoughtfully. “She was asking where I got them and what they cost.”
“And doesn’t this tell you something about the need to make a few changes?”
Bo considered. “We should make my pants an ongoing line item in the budget, shouldn’t we? This seems to be happening a lot lately.”
“Uh…right.” Ricky sighed and rubbed his forehead. “How about you bring that up at the next band meeting?”
“Nah.” Bo waved a hand in disgust. “Everyone's okay with it when it’s the djinn’s new boots on the bill, but no one wants to pay for an incubus’ pants.” He went into the bedroom, muttering that he would just have to wear his old pants for the night’s show, and nobody better steal them, no matter what their gender.
Ricky sat for a moment, pondering. Then he reached for his BlackBerry and made a memo to himself to mention both the boots and the pants at the next meeting. Either everyone’s clothes went onto the budget or no one’s did, and if Bo’s pants didn’t constitute a business expense, then neither did Kalila’s shoes. It wasn’t going to be a fun conversation, and if anyone had any regrets by the time it was all over, Ricky had a feeling it was going to be him.
“They phase out old styles all the time,” she said. “This way when one pair wears out—”
Ricky rested his elbows on the table, willing himself to remain calm. “You’re a djinn. You can fix them, or conjure new ones, or—” he looked up as Bo emerged from the other room, clad only in a black leather jockstrap. “What the hell? Put some clothes on.”
“I’m trying, human.” Bo ambled over to the sofa and began rummaging among some magazines and damp towels. “It’s just that my favorite pants are missing.”
Kalila leaned back in her chair. “They probably became someone’s souvenir. How many girls did you have here last night?”
Bo was peering beneath a sofa cushion and didn’t look up. “Including or excluding the tranny?”
“Oh, never mind.” Kalila stood and gave Ricky a stern look. “I’m not discussing my shoes with you any more. Just pay the bill and wake me up when we need to leave for the show.”
Ricky watched her dissolve into blue smoke and pour herself into a bottle. By now Bo was standing in the middle of the room, hands on his hips, looking around in exasperation. “Any chance you could put something on?” Ricky asked him. “Even if it’s just a towel?”
“Why? Do I turn you on? I can look for my pants later if you’d like to—”
“No, and I wish you’d quit asking.” Ricky made as if to pick up the credit card bill again, but then reconsidered. “Don’t you ever have misgivings about your behavior? Any regrets?”
Bo quit rifling through a satchel that usually held sheet music and CDs, and couldn’t possibly contain his pants. “I’m sorry, Ricky. What?”
“You know, don’t you ever wish you’d done things different? You’ve gotten the band kicked out of several venues, you’ve been beaten up by jealous boyfriends, shot at by a pissed-off wife, kicked out of the band multiple times, and banned from the zoo. Don’t you think that’s a little excessive? And now you’ve lost an expensive pair of pants because some girl wanted them as a memento.”
“Actually, I think it was the tranny,” Bo said thoughtfully. “She was asking where I got them and what they cost.”
“And doesn’t this tell you something about the need to make a few changes?”
Bo considered. “We should make my pants an ongoing line item in the budget, shouldn’t we? This seems to be happening a lot lately.”
“Uh…right.” Ricky sighed and rubbed his forehead. “How about you bring that up at the next band meeting?”
“Nah.” Bo waved a hand in disgust. “Everyone's okay with it when it’s the djinn’s new boots on the bill, but no one wants to pay for an incubus’ pants.” He went into the bedroom, muttering that he would just have to wear his old pants for the night’s show, and nobody better steal them, no matter what their gender.
Ricky sat for a moment, pondering. Then he reached for his BlackBerry and made a memo to himself to mention both the boots and the pants at the next meeting. Either everyone’s clothes went onto the budget or no one’s did, and if Bo’s pants didn’t constitute a business expense, then neither did Kalila’s shoes. It wasn’t going to be a fun conversation, and if anyone had any regrets by the time it was all over, Ricky had a feeling it was going to be him.
Maelstrom Extra: Cold Autumn Day
Thursday, January 29, 2009
reviews (Comments): 3
Dry leaves crunched under Ricky’s feet and he pulled his coat tightly around himself. The park was an unfamiliar one, but it could’ve been any park, anywhere. It all ran together when one was on tour.
He stopped to look around and immediately wondered why he bothered, since there was little to see but bleak skies and jagged oaks whose dry leaves fluttered to the withered grass below. In the distance, an empty swing set sat forlorn, a reminder that summer was over.
It was just another depressing corner park in a dejected, soul-warping town. What was it like to live in a place like this? Were the people here content or did they long for the city, the way Ricky yearned for bigger things he couldn’t put a name to?
“I doubt the cattle of this place give much thought to anything at all.”
Ricky started. “Must you appear out of nowhere like that?”
Kalila turned up the collar of her cashmere coat. “I came from somewhere. Just because it isn’t somewhere you can see doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist.”
“Please don’t get technical on me.” Ricky started walking again.
Kalila tagged after him, her hair splayed on the wind. “So what are you doing out here? You should be at the hotel nagging us about something.”
“I needed some fresh air.”
“I know how that is.” She took a deep breath and sighed in satisfaction. “I can’t feed properly on still days. Wind like this is a feast.” She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. “So why did you need air? You’re awfully pensive.”
“I just wanted to get outside for a little while, see the town.”
Kalila glanced around skeptically.
“And I got to thinking about the turning leaves, winter coming…”
“You’re getting metaphorical, aren’t you?”
Ricky shoved his hands in his coat pockets. “Time is ruthless. Why shouldn’t I think about it sometimes?”
Kalila shuddered. “It’s unpleasant. You can’t do anything about your mortality, so why worry?”
“That’s easy for you to say. You can take your life in a new direction anytime you want, but if I screw up…”
“You’re not screwing up.”
“Three of your gigs have fallen through.”
“But the others haven’t. The shows we played have gone well—”
“Except the one where Vic bit the girl who was supposed to take the cover charges and Bo spent half the first set playing bondage games with the bar manager.”
“A detail.”
“Yeah.” Ricky sighed. “My life is full of those kinds of details, and compared to yours, I’ve only got an eyeblink in which to achieve—”
“What, Ricky?” Kalila’s voice took on an edge. “What’s so damn important that you think you’re not accomplishing? Money? Fame? A wife, kids, and McMansion? What?”
Ricky stopped walking. “I’m not sure, okay? I just know there’s something better out there. Something bigger than what I’ve got now.”
“Oh.” Kalila nodded wisely. “You’re right about that. There’s a lot you don’t understand. But your human brain wasn’t made to understand it. You can feel it at what I guess you’d call a spiritual level, but…” she frowned as she searched for words to explain. “This world is like a puppet show. You see things move and they look real enough, but what matters are the things you can’t see beneath the surface.”
“Now who’s talking in metaphors?” Ricky started walking again.
Kalila hesitated, then caught up to him, matching his stride as they crunched through the dry autumn leaves.
They walked for a long time without the need of words, and after awhile, Ricky reached for her hand and was relieved when she didn’t pull away. It was comforting to have her here, even though she wasn’t human and couldn’t really understand. She had listened, and it helped. And when they came to a giant sycamore tree and looked up to see the clouds parting, Ricky felt her fumbling caress as she twined her fingers through his.
He stopped to look around and immediately wondered why he bothered, since there was little to see but bleak skies and jagged oaks whose dry leaves fluttered to the withered grass below. In the distance, an empty swing set sat forlorn, a reminder that summer was over.
It was just another depressing corner park in a dejected, soul-warping town. What was it like to live in a place like this? Were the people here content or did they long for the city, the way Ricky yearned for bigger things he couldn’t put a name to?
“I doubt the cattle of this place give much thought to anything at all.”
Ricky started. “Must you appear out of nowhere like that?”
Kalila turned up the collar of her cashmere coat. “I came from somewhere. Just because it isn’t somewhere you can see doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist.”
“Please don’t get technical on me.” Ricky started walking again.
Kalila tagged after him, her hair splayed on the wind. “So what are you doing out here? You should be at the hotel nagging us about something.”
“I needed some fresh air.”
“I know how that is.” She took a deep breath and sighed in satisfaction. “I can’t feed properly on still days. Wind like this is a feast.” She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. “So why did you need air? You’re awfully pensive.”
“I just wanted to get outside for a little while, see the town.”
Kalila glanced around skeptically.
“And I got to thinking about the turning leaves, winter coming…”
“You’re getting metaphorical, aren’t you?”
Ricky shoved his hands in his coat pockets. “Time is ruthless. Why shouldn’t I think about it sometimes?”
Kalila shuddered. “It’s unpleasant. You can’t do anything about your mortality, so why worry?”
“That’s easy for you to say. You can take your life in a new direction anytime you want, but if I screw up…”
“You’re not screwing up.”
“Three of your gigs have fallen through.”
“But the others haven’t. The shows we played have gone well—”
“Except the one where Vic bit the girl who was supposed to take the cover charges and Bo spent half the first set playing bondage games with the bar manager.”
“A detail.”
“Yeah.” Ricky sighed. “My life is full of those kinds of details, and compared to yours, I’ve only got an eyeblink in which to achieve—”
“What, Ricky?” Kalila’s voice took on an edge. “What’s so damn important that you think you’re not accomplishing? Money? Fame? A wife, kids, and McMansion? What?”
Ricky stopped walking. “I’m not sure, okay? I just know there’s something better out there. Something bigger than what I’ve got now.”
“Oh.” Kalila nodded wisely. “You’re right about that. There’s a lot you don’t understand. But your human brain wasn’t made to understand it. You can feel it at what I guess you’d call a spiritual level, but…” she frowned as she searched for words to explain. “This world is like a puppet show. You see things move and they look real enough, but what matters are the things you can’t see beneath the surface.”
“Now who’s talking in metaphors?” Ricky started walking again.
Kalila hesitated, then caught up to him, matching his stride as they crunched through the dry autumn leaves.
They walked for a long time without the need of words, and after awhile, Ricky reached for her hand and was relieved when she didn’t pull away. It was comforting to have her here, even though she wasn’t human and couldn’t really understand. She had listened, and it helped. And when they came to a giant sycamore tree and looked up to see the clouds parting, Ricky felt her fumbling caress as she twined her fingers through his.
Maelstrom Extra: Sensible Shoes
Monday, January 26, 2009
reviews (Comments): 2
Kalila pushed open the shop door and stood for a moment, getting her bearings. Everywhere she looked, human females huddled over shiny new shoes, gawking and fondling them as if each one were a prize. She sniffed in irritation and made a beeline past spike-heeled pumps, strappy sandals, and metallic gold flats.
“Can I help you?”
Kalila spun around. The clerk was young, weak-chinned, and clearly eager to please, which was exactly as he should be. “I need new boots,” she informed him. “I’m a musician, and I want something that will look good on stage.”
The clerk quit staring at her breasts long enough to glance at her feet, then led her to a wall display. “Something like this, maybe?”
Kalila raised her eyebrows. “You think I’m crazy? I’d break an ankle in those heels.”
“Maybe this?”
“I hate wedges.”
He motioned to a low table cluttered with ankle boots in soft forest colors. “These have been popular this winter.”
“I’m not an elf, so why would I want boots like one?”
The clerk bit his lip and pondered a moment, then redoubled his efforts. He showed her fur and fleece cuffs, buckles, ties, and straps. Short boots, tall boots, black, brown, leather and suede, all were met with haughty djinn disdain. Kalila had finally consented to try on a pair of leather riding boots and was waiting while the clerk rummaged in the back room, when something caught her eye.
Four-inch heels, patent leather, platforms, cuffs and tassels…all the things she had spurned, but…she walked over to the boot as if in a trance. This was perfection. This was glory. This was—
“Uh, ma’am?” The clerk was by her side, waiting with a box.
Kalila shoved the fancy boot at him. “This is what I want. Three pair.” She fumbled in her purse for her credit card.
“Don’t you want to try them on first?”
“Just ring them up, will you?”
While the clerk fumbled in the storeroom, Kalila waited at the counter, nearly bursting with impatience. In her mind she could already see the photo shoots and videos with her feet in these wonderful, magical boots. She barely gave the clerk a chance to put them into shopping bags before she snatched them out of his hands and hurried out the door.
In the parking lot, Ricky was sitting in his Lexus, sending emails and text messages on his Blackberry. Kalila slid into the front seat and opened one of the boxes, ripping apart the tissue paper in her excitement. She held up a boot for his inspection. “What do you think?”
Ricky stared in unreadable silence. Finally he said, “I thought you were going to get something practical.”
Men! Kalila slid back the seat and squirmed as she took off her shoes and pulled on the glorious new boots. When she was shod to her satisfaction, she set her feet against the glove compartment, ignoring Ricky’s glare as her heels nicked the leather.
“There’s something you need to understand, Ricky Landon,” she said, as she rubbed an imaginary spot of dust off one of the toes. “Sometimes the last thing a djinn should have on her feet is a pair of sensible shoes.”
“Can I help you?”
Kalila spun around. The clerk was young, weak-chinned, and clearly eager to please, which was exactly as he should be. “I need new boots,” she informed him. “I’m a musician, and I want something that will look good on stage.”
The clerk quit staring at her breasts long enough to glance at her feet, then led her to a wall display. “Something like this, maybe?”
Kalila raised her eyebrows. “You think I’m crazy? I’d break an ankle in those heels.”
“Maybe this?”
“I hate wedges.”
He motioned to a low table cluttered with ankle boots in soft forest colors. “These have been popular this winter.”
“I’m not an elf, so why would I want boots like one?”
The clerk bit his lip and pondered a moment, then redoubled his efforts. He showed her fur and fleece cuffs, buckles, ties, and straps. Short boots, tall boots, black, brown, leather and suede, all were met with haughty djinn disdain. Kalila had finally consented to try on a pair of leather riding boots and was waiting while the clerk rummaged in the back room, when something caught her eye.
Four-inch heels, patent leather, platforms, cuffs and tassels…all the things she had spurned, but…she walked over to the boot as if in a trance. This was perfection. This was glory. This was—
“Uh, ma’am?” The clerk was by her side, waiting with a box.
Kalila shoved the fancy boot at him. “This is what I want. Three pair.” She fumbled in her purse for her credit card.
“Don’t you want to try them on first?”
“Just ring them up, will you?”
While the clerk fumbled in the storeroom, Kalila waited at the counter, nearly bursting with impatience. In her mind she could already see the photo shoots and videos with her feet in these wonderful, magical boots. She barely gave the clerk a chance to put them into shopping bags before she snatched them out of his hands and hurried out the door.
In the parking lot, Ricky was sitting in his Lexus, sending emails and text messages on his Blackberry. Kalila slid into the front seat and opened one of the boxes, ripping apart the tissue paper in her excitement. She held up a boot for his inspection. “What do you think?”
Ricky stared in unreadable silence. Finally he said, “I thought you were going to get something practical.”
Men! Kalila slid back the seat and squirmed as she took off her shoes and pulled on the glorious new boots. When she was shod to her satisfaction, she set her feet against the glove compartment, ignoring Ricky’s glare as her heels nicked the leather.
“There’s something you need to understand, Ricky Landon,” she said, as she rubbed an imaginary spot of dust off one of the toes. “Sometimes the last thing a djinn should have on her feet is a pair of sensible shoes.”
Maelstrom Extra: Tribute
Sunday, January 25, 2009
reviews (Comments): 7
Normally Ricky enjoyed hanging out with Nevin and Kalila while they were writing a new song, but today he found himself gazing into the distance, forgetting where he was, returning to the moment reluctantly, as if it was a chore.
Nevin’s hands paused over the keyboard. “Is something wrong?”
“You’re acting like you’d disappear if you knew how to do it,” Kalila added.
“No,” Ricky sighed. “I’m fine. This session is going really well, and…” he met their eyes and realized they knew he was lying. “It’s just that today is the anniversary of my father’s death. I’ve got a lot on my mind.”
Nevin came over and gave him a hug. “I’m sorry. You must miss him a lot.”
“I never really had a father,” Kalila said, her voice soft with sympathy, “But I know how special they are to humans.”
“It’s been ten years,” Ricky said. “And it’s a lot easier than it used to be. I think the hardest part is that he was the only person in the family who understood me. My mom and brother are all about status, but Dad didn’t care about things like that. He would’ve been proud of me no matter what I did with my life, even if I was a ditch-digger, as long as I was a happy one.”
Nevin frowned in confusion. “But you aren’t a ditch-digger. And you’re happy, so…?”
“What he means,” Kalila said, “Is that his mom and brother are embarrassed that he manages a rock band instead of working in a bank or something.” She glanced at Ricky. “I’m right, aren’t I?”
Ricky nodded. “Sometimes I think they’re jealous because Dad and I were so close. It’s depressing to think how one mistake on a dark road can change everything. My life could’ve been so different.”
“No offense,” Kalila said, “But we’re pretty happy things worked out like they did so we can have you here. But if it’ll make you feel better, I can blank out some of those memories for you.”
“That’s a nice offer, but I don’t think so.”
“How about your mood?” Nevin asked. “I can fix that up without altering any of your memories.”
Ricky shook his head. “Thanks, both of you, but I’ll get over it.”
Kalila looked at him in confusion. “But why would you want to keep memories that cause you pain?”
“I guess it’s one of those human things,” Ricky said. “The memories hurt sometimes, but they make me happy, too. It’s like having souvenirs of a place that isn’t there any more. The memories help keep my dad special and alive.”
Kalila and Nevin pondered this.
“Would you like us to write a song for him?” Nevin asked.
Kalila agreed. “It's not much, but it’s what we're good at.”
Ricky felt a sting in his nose and blinked back sudden tears. “Thanks, you two. That would be nice.”
Nevin’s hands paused over the keyboard. “Is something wrong?”
“You’re acting like you’d disappear if you knew how to do it,” Kalila added.
“No,” Ricky sighed. “I’m fine. This session is going really well, and…” he met their eyes and realized they knew he was lying. “It’s just that today is the anniversary of my father’s death. I’ve got a lot on my mind.”
Nevin came over and gave him a hug. “I’m sorry. You must miss him a lot.”
“I never really had a father,” Kalila said, her voice soft with sympathy, “But I know how special they are to humans.”
“It’s been ten years,” Ricky said. “And it’s a lot easier than it used to be. I think the hardest part is that he was the only person in the family who understood me. My mom and brother are all about status, but Dad didn’t care about things like that. He would’ve been proud of me no matter what I did with my life, even if I was a ditch-digger, as long as I was a happy one.”
Nevin frowned in confusion. “But you aren’t a ditch-digger. And you’re happy, so…?”
“What he means,” Kalila said, “Is that his mom and brother are embarrassed that he manages a rock band instead of working in a bank or something.” She glanced at Ricky. “I’m right, aren’t I?”
Ricky nodded. “Sometimes I think they’re jealous because Dad and I were so close. It’s depressing to think how one mistake on a dark road can change everything. My life could’ve been so different.”
“No offense,” Kalila said, “But we’re pretty happy things worked out like they did so we can have you here. But if it’ll make you feel better, I can blank out some of those memories for you.”
“That’s a nice offer, but I don’t think so.”
“How about your mood?” Nevin asked. “I can fix that up without altering any of your memories.”
Ricky shook his head. “Thanks, both of you, but I’ll get over it.”
Kalila looked at him in confusion. “But why would you want to keep memories that cause you pain?”
“I guess it’s one of those human things,” Ricky said. “The memories hurt sometimes, but they make me happy, too. It’s like having souvenirs of a place that isn’t there any more. The memories help keep my dad special and alive.”
Kalila and Nevin pondered this.
“Would you like us to write a song for him?” Nevin asked.
Kalila agreed. “It's not much, but it’s what we're good at.”
Ricky felt a sting in his nose and blinked back sudden tears. “Thanks, you two. That would be nice.”
Maelstrom Extra: Just Another Demon Dispute
Thursday, January 22, 2009
reviews (Comments): 6
“You. Are a bitch.”
Ricky paused outside the rehearsal room. What were they arguing about this time?
“You’re jealous.”
“And you’re an arrogant, conniving brat, always stealing the credit.”
“At least I’m not a blood-sucking freak of nature who thinks everything is about him.”
Ricky shoved open the door and Vic and Kalila stopped shouting at each other. At the far end of the room, Bo and Nevin were pretending to ignore the argument while Lazaro tapped out a cadence on a practice pad. “What the hell is going on?”
“Nothing,” Kalila said, “Other than that this vicious spawn of Satan cops an attitude every time I give an interview.”
“It’s not the interview, although it wouldn’t kill her to be a little humble about it,” Vic said. “The problem is she’s a back-stabbing diva who took all the credit for Take a Beating, after we collaborated on it.”
“I wrote the music,” Kalila said. “You can’t have a song without music.”
“And I wrote the lyrics. How's anyone supposed to sing it without words?”
Kalila appealed to Ricky. “Tell our vampire poet that he can bite Emily Dickinson if he thinks words are so damn important. We’re a band. Music is what matters.”
“And you can tell Barbara Eden here that if she doesn’t want lyrics for her songs, she should’ve formed a jazz band.” Vic leaned in close to Ricky, baring his fangs. “I deserved credit for that song. Tell her.”
“Don’t listen to him,” Kalila said, her eyes flashing fire and her voice so sensual Ricky could almost hear her purr. “Tell him I’m right and put an end to this.”
Ricky darted a glance toward the other band members, but they were studiously looking anywhere but at him. “Uh…I think this is one you two will need to figure out on your own.”
Kalila and Vic stared in disbelief. Then Kalila sniffed and picked up her guitar. “What would be the fun in that?”
Vic agreed and went to check his mic. “I’ve got better things to do than argue with a djinn. I’m more of a ‘lie in wait’ type of guy.”
“Good luck with that,” Kalila said.
“I’ll remember you said that. So, Take a Beating from the top?”
“Sure.” Kalila glared at Bo and Nevin. “What’s the matter with you slackers? This is a rehearsal. Ricky, tell these hellspawn…."
But Ricky, having sensibly resolved not to be put in the middle of another demon argument, was gone.
Ricky paused outside the rehearsal room. What were they arguing about this time?
“You’re jealous.”
“And you’re an arrogant, conniving brat, always stealing the credit.”
“At least I’m not a blood-sucking freak of nature who thinks everything is about him.”
Ricky shoved open the door and Vic and Kalila stopped shouting at each other. At the far end of the room, Bo and Nevin were pretending to ignore the argument while Lazaro tapped out a cadence on a practice pad. “What the hell is going on?”
“Nothing,” Kalila said, “Other than that this vicious spawn of Satan cops an attitude every time I give an interview.”
“It’s not the interview, although it wouldn’t kill her to be a little humble about it,” Vic said. “The problem is she’s a back-stabbing diva who took all the credit for Take a Beating, after we collaborated on it.”
“I wrote the music,” Kalila said. “You can’t have a song without music.”
“And I wrote the lyrics. How's anyone supposed to sing it without words?”
Kalila appealed to Ricky. “Tell our vampire poet that he can bite Emily Dickinson if he thinks words are so damn important. We’re a band. Music is what matters.”
“And you can tell Barbara Eden here that if she doesn’t want lyrics for her songs, she should’ve formed a jazz band.” Vic leaned in close to Ricky, baring his fangs. “I deserved credit for that song. Tell her.”
“Don’t listen to him,” Kalila said, her eyes flashing fire and her voice so sensual Ricky could almost hear her purr. “Tell him I’m right and put an end to this.”
Ricky darted a glance toward the other band members, but they were studiously looking anywhere but at him. “Uh…I think this is one you two will need to figure out on your own.”
Kalila and Vic stared in disbelief. Then Kalila sniffed and picked up her guitar. “What would be the fun in that?”
Vic agreed and went to check his mic. “I’ve got better things to do than argue with a djinn. I’m more of a ‘lie in wait’ type of guy.”
“Good luck with that,” Kalila said.
“I’ll remember you said that. So, Take a Beating from the top?”
“Sure.” Kalila glared at Bo and Nevin. “What’s the matter with you slackers? This is a rehearsal. Ricky, tell these hellspawn…."
But Ricky, having sensibly resolved not to be put in the middle of another demon argument, was gone.
Maelstrom Extra: Forfeit
Thursday, January 15, 2009
reviews (Comments): 2
Ricky handed Connor the check and waited while he examined it. “This is irregular,” Ricky reminded him. “We shouldn’t have to pay in order to play here.”
“After what Maelstrom did at SineWave last year, you’re lucky anyone will book them.” Connor tucked the check into an envelope and dropped it in the safe. “Besides, a security deposit isn’t the same as paying to play. If they don’t do anything crazy, they’ll get it back at the end of the night. Now come on,” he stuck out his hand. “It’s nothing personal, so let’s shake on it and I’ll get you a drink.”
Ricky shook the manager’s hand and followed him out of the cramped office. The club wasn’t much of a place, just a gutted warehouse with a bit of drywall tacked up and covered with dark curtains to give the impression of rooms and substance. Connor's girlfriend Meredith was supposed to be doing bar setup, but since she wasn't around, Connor went behind the bar and poured them each a scotch.
Ricky accepted his drink and tried not to glance too often at the stage. Lazaro was setting up his drums, Nevin was letting Calvin help with his keyboards, and Vic and Kalila were taping down the electrical cords to their amps. They looked like any other band. Harmless.
Ricky took a sip of his drink.
Connor disappeared into the liquor room at the far end of the bar, then returned, frowning. “I wonder where Meredith went?” Muttering, he flipped open his cell phone.
While Ricky waited to see if he would get an answer, he looked again toward the stage. All busy and accounted for, acting like humans, except…where was Bo? Ricky scanned the stage again, hoping his eyes had deceived him. Vic and Kalila were tuning their guitars and Lazaro was adjusting a cymbal. But Bo?
“Dammit, she was just here a minute ago,” Connor said.
“Restroom?” Ricky offered.
“She would’ve answered.”
“Maybe she went out to her car for something,” Ricky said. He tossed back the rest of his drink. “Excuse me. I’m going to see if my guys need anything.”
While Connor tried again to call his missing girlfriend, Ricky climbed up on the stage. In low tones he said, “Where’s Bo? And don’t make excuses.”
Vic raised an eyebrow. “Do I look like an incubus babysitter?”
“We don’t keep tabs on each other,” Kalila reminded him. “He’ll be set up in time for the show. Don’t worry.”
“It’s not the show I’m worried about.” Grimly, Ricky went behind the stage and followed the narrow hall to the makeshift room that served as both dressing room and storage. The door was closed, but he could hear enough through the thin walls to guess what had happened to Bo. And Meredith.
He paused, hand in the air, unsure whether to knock or walk right in when Connor appeared by his shoulder. “Hey, glad I found you. I was wondering if—” A moan from the other side of the door stopped him in mid-sentence.
Ricky tried to stop him, to no avail. Connor slammed open the door, and there on the dirty sofa, naked limbs entwined, were the bass player and the manager’s girlfriend. Connor roared, Meredith scrambled for cover, and Bo, his incubus hunger satiated by his afternoon tryst, simply looked confused.
There was no need for Ricky to stick around, since an incubus could take care of himself. He backed out of the room and ran down the hall, with the sound of crashes and shouting echoing behind him. When he got to the stage, he shoved his way through a mass of cheap black curtains and stood trying to catch his breath. The band had been playing a simple melody but they stopped what they were doing and looked at him.
“Problem, human?” Vic asked.
Nevin frowned in concern. “You look angry. Did you find Bo?”
“I found him, all right,” Ricky said. “Pack up. There won't be a show tonight.”
“But we paid a deposit,” Kalila pointed out. “And we’ve done nothing wrong.”
“You haven’t,” Ricky said as the howls and sounds of destruction grew louder. “But I think what Bo just did counts as a forfeit.”
“After what Maelstrom did at SineWave last year, you’re lucky anyone will book them.” Connor tucked the check into an envelope and dropped it in the safe. “Besides, a security deposit isn’t the same as paying to play. If they don’t do anything crazy, they’ll get it back at the end of the night. Now come on,” he stuck out his hand. “It’s nothing personal, so let’s shake on it and I’ll get you a drink.”
Ricky shook the manager’s hand and followed him out of the cramped office. The club wasn’t much of a place, just a gutted warehouse with a bit of drywall tacked up and covered with dark curtains to give the impression of rooms and substance. Connor's girlfriend Meredith was supposed to be doing bar setup, but since she wasn't around, Connor went behind the bar and poured them each a scotch.
Ricky accepted his drink and tried not to glance too often at the stage. Lazaro was setting up his drums, Nevin was letting Calvin help with his keyboards, and Vic and Kalila were taping down the electrical cords to their amps. They looked like any other band. Harmless.
Ricky took a sip of his drink.
Connor disappeared into the liquor room at the far end of the bar, then returned, frowning. “I wonder where Meredith went?” Muttering, he flipped open his cell phone.
While Ricky waited to see if he would get an answer, he looked again toward the stage. All busy and accounted for, acting like humans, except…where was Bo? Ricky scanned the stage again, hoping his eyes had deceived him. Vic and Kalila were tuning their guitars and Lazaro was adjusting a cymbal. But Bo?
“Dammit, she was just here a minute ago,” Connor said.
“Restroom?” Ricky offered.
“She would’ve answered.”
“Maybe she went out to her car for something,” Ricky said. He tossed back the rest of his drink. “Excuse me. I’m going to see if my guys need anything.”
While Connor tried again to call his missing girlfriend, Ricky climbed up on the stage. In low tones he said, “Where’s Bo? And don’t make excuses.”
Vic raised an eyebrow. “Do I look like an incubus babysitter?”
“We don’t keep tabs on each other,” Kalila reminded him. “He’ll be set up in time for the show. Don’t worry.”
“It’s not the show I’m worried about.” Grimly, Ricky went behind the stage and followed the narrow hall to the makeshift room that served as both dressing room and storage. The door was closed, but he could hear enough through the thin walls to guess what had happened to Bo. And Meredith.
He paused, hand in the air, unsure whether to knock or walk right in when Connor appeared by his shoulder. “Hey, glad I found you. I was wondering if—” A moan from the other side of the door stopped him in mid-sentence.
Ricky tried to stop him, to no avail. Connor slammed open the door, and there on the dirty sofa, naked limbs entwined, were the bass player and the manager’s girlfriend. Connor roared, Meredith scrambled for cover, and Bo, his incubus hunger satiated by his afternoon tryst, simply looked confused.
There was no need for Ricky to stick around, since an incubus could take care of himself. He backed out of the room and ran down the hall, with the sound of crashes and shouting echoing behind him. When he got to the stage, he shoved his way through a mass of cheap black curtains and stood trying to catch his breath. The band had been playing a simple melody but they stopped what they were doing and looked at him.
“Problem, human?” Vic asked.
Nevin frowned in concern. “You look angry. Did you find Bo?”
“I found him, all right,” Ricky said. “Pack up. There won't be a show tonight.”
“But we paid a deposit,” Kalila pointed out. “And we’ve done nothing wrong.”
“You haven’t,” Ricky said as the howls and sounds of destruction grew louder. “But I think what Bo just did counts as a forfeit.”
Kalila's Thoughts: Variax
Monday, January 5, 2009
reviews (Comments)
Okay, let's clear something up here. People have been reading this silly Variax Variations story, and then asking me why I was so "mean" to Ricky. I wasn't mean to him at all! Yes, he put my new Variax on his credit card, but that was his choice and you can't blame his human behavior on me.
Furthermore, as soon as he got back to his computer, he logged into the band's bank account, transferred the cost of the Variax out of my guitar budget and sent it directly to his bank. He never paid even a single day of interest on my new toy. Not that he couldn't have afforded it. I pay him very well, with regular bonuses and gifts. Who do you think bought him the Lexus?
I want my fans to be assured that I treat my human very well, so let's have no more of these ridiculous accusations that I'm mean to him. Any problems and hangups he has are of his own making, and the accuracy any of stories you find posted here (who's doing that, anyway?) should not be trusted.
If you want to read something good about the band, keep coming back to this site. Ricky has gotten permission to post Jeff Truitt's review of one of our shows, and as soon as he gets some formatting issues figured out, you'll get to read it for yourselves.
Furthermore, as soon as he got back to his computer, he logged into the band's bank account, transferred the cost of the Variax out of my guitar budget and sent it directly to his bank. He never paid even a single day of interest on my new toy. Not that he couldn't have afforded it. I pay him very well, with regular bonuses and gifts. Who do you think bought him the Lexus?
I want my fans to be assured that I treat my human very well, so let's have no more of these ridiculous accusations that I'm mean to him. Any problems and hangups he has are of his own making, and the accuracy any of stories you find posted here (who's doing that, anyway?) should not be trusted.
If you want to read something good about the band, keep coming back to this site. Ricky has gotten permission to post Jeff Truitt's review of one of our shows, and as soon as he gets some formatting issues figured out, you'll get to read it for yourselves.
