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!.
On Tour
Saturday, May 29, 2010
reviews (Comments)
Hi, everyone! I'm just dropping in to let everyone know the band will be on tour for the next two weeks. When we get back, we'll have some great new giveaways of band merchandise and our new book. If you're not already a groupie, sign up, so you'll have the latest info when we return.
Maelstrom Extra: Nothing But Trouble
Wednesday, May 19, 2010
reviews (Comments): 7
This is a Three Word Wednesday offering, so be sure to check out Three Word Wednesday for more fun!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It had been a tight touring schedule and tonight the demons were tired and hungry. Vic leaned against the bar, pale and brooding, sniffing the air occasionally for a whiff of his favorite blood type. Lazaro already had his eye on someone - a studious-looking sort who probably had just the type of intellectual brain he liked to call dinner. As for Bo...Ricky looked around. If the bass player wasn't in a dark corner with one of the girls who had been vying for his attention during the last set, then he was probably up to no good in the manager's office, maybe with the manager himself.
Ricky sipped his drink, thinking how he dreaded nights like this. He needed to do something fast and pacify the band members before things got out of control, but he was out of sorts, himself. Days on a tour bus with a group of demons, a naive fairy, and a sexy, moody, djinn could do that to a guy.
He had been hired to babysit demons, though, no matter that his alleged title was "manager," so he set his empty glass on the bar and went to Vic. "Come on, man. You've got a nice stash of blood products in the fridge backstage, remember?"
Vic scowled and showed a hint of fang. "All I have left is AB negative. Nasty stuff. And don't get me started on the plasma. After a few days it starts to taste like the plastic bag it's stored in."
"Maybe you can find a fresh meal later at the hotel." He grasped Vic by the sleeve of his leather coat and pulled.
"Not if Bo starts banging the maids again," Vic protested. Nevertheless, he went with Ricky to where Lazaro was lurking behind a heavy post, keeping an eye on his chosen meal.
"Give it up," Ricky said. "I have it on good authority he repeated third grade twice and dropped out of high school."
Lazaro made a face. "Stupid brains are mushy."
"Exactly. Now come on. Don't you have anything left in your cooler from when you raided that medical school a few days ago?"
"I'm tired of pickles."
"I'm tired of him eating that crap, too," Vic said. "Every time I try to talk to him, it's like formaldehyde-breath."
"At least I don't smell like hemoglobin."
"What's wrong with iron and oxygen, zombie freak?"
Ricky ignored their squabble and led them through the crowd to the backstage dressing room, glad they were too tired to fight him. Inside, they startled Bo on the sofa in the voluptuous embrace of the girl who had been taking door charges earlier.
The girl saw them and shrieked, Bo's incubus seduction spell broken. She squirmed out of his grasp, threw on her clothes and darted from the room.
"Damn you." Bo glared at Ricky. "You couldn't have waited another fifteen minutes?"
No, Ricky couldn't have waited. He needed Vic and Lazaro someplace safe, away from temptation, and besides, the band was entitled to a generous percent of the cover. "She needed to get back to her job taking money at the door."
"Like we care about money." Bo flung himself full length on the sofa.
"Uh...would you please put some pants on?"
"Why? Do I turn you on?"
"In your dreams. You go back on stage in another..." he looked at the time on his BlackBerry. "Ten minutes."
Bo shrugged in unconcern while Lazaro fumbled in a cooler for snacks and Vic bit into a plastic blood bag. Ricky headed for the door, in no frame of mind to watch the vampire and zombie feed.
He was in the hallway leaning against the door and wondering how much trouble the guys would give him when it was time to take the stage again, when Kalila walked up, her breasts nearly bursting out of her leather corset and her red hair shimmering below her waist. "So this is where you are."
Ricky suppressed a sigh. "Yes, you found me. What kind of trouble do I have to get you out of?"
Without a word, she kissed him, her lips golden honey and her body sweet fire. His mind a haze of heat and desire, Ricky pulled her to him. Nothing mattered in this moment; not the band, not the show, not even the air he breathed. The djinn was trouble, worse in her way than any of the others, but she was all he needed, now and forever.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Good news, peeps! Maelstrom is now available in print and Kindle versions from Amazon and e-book format from Fictionwise!.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It had been a tight touring schedule and tonight the demons were tired and hungry. Vic leaned against the bar, pale and brooding, sniffing the air occasionally for a whiff of his favorite blood type. Lazaro already had his eye on someone - a studious-looking sort who probably had just the type of intellectual brain he liked to call dinner. As for Bo...Ricky looked around. If the bass player wasn't in a dark corner with one of the girls who had been vying for his attention during the last set, then he was probably up to no good in the manager's office, maybe with the manager himself.
Ricky sipped his drink, thinking how he dreaded nights like this. He needed to do something fast and pacify the band members before things got out of control, but he was out of sorts, himself. Days on a tour bus with a group of demons, a naive fairy, and a sexy, moody, djinn could do that to a guy.
He had been hired to babysit demons, though, no matter that his alleged title was "manager," so he set his empty glass on the bar and went to Vic. "Come on, man. You've got a nice stash of blood products in the fridge backstage, remember?"
Vic scowled and showed a hint of fang. "All I have left is AB negative. Nasty stuff. And don't get me started on the plasma. After a few days it starts to taste like the plastic bag it's stored in."
"Maybe you can find a fresh meal later at the hotel." He grasped Vic by the sleeve of his leather coat and pulled.
"Not if Bo starts banging the maids again," Vic protested. Nevertheless, he went with Ricky to where Lazaro was lurking behind a heavy post, keeping an eye on his chosen meal.
"Give it up," Ricky said. "I have it on good authority he repeated third grade twice and dropped out of high school."
Lazaro made a face. "Stupid brains are mushy."
"Exactly. Now come on. Don't you have anything left in your cooler from when you raided that medical school a few days ago?"
"I'm tired of pickles."
"I'm tired of him eating that crap, too," Vic said. "Every time I try to talk to him, it's like formaldehyde-breath."
"At least I don't smell like hemoglobin."
"What's wrong with iron and oxygen, zombie freak?"
Ricky ignored their squabble and led them through the crowd to the backstage dressing room, glad they were too tired to fight him. Inside, they startled Bo on the sofa in the voluptuous embrace of the girl who had been taking door charges earlier.
The girl saw them and shrieked, Bo's incubus seduction spell broken. She squirmed out of his grasp, threw on her clothes and darted from the room.
"Damn you." Bo glared at Ricky. "You couldn't have waited another fifteen minutes?"
No, Ricky couldn't have waited. He needed Vic and Lazaro someplace safe, away from temptation, and besides, the band was entitled to a generous percent of the cover. "She needed to get back to her job taking money at the door."
"Like we care about money." Bo flung himself full length on the sofa.
"Uh...would you please put some pants on?"
"Why? Do I turn you on?"
"In your dreams. You go back on stage in another..." he looked at the time on his BlackBerry. "Ten minutes."
Bo shrugged in unconcern while Lazaro fumbled in a cooler for snacks and Vic bit into a plastic blood bag. Ricky headed for the door, in no frame of mind to watch the vampire and zombie feed.
He was in the hallway leaning against the door and wondering how much trouble the guys would give him when it was time to take the stage again, when Kalila walked up, her breasts nearly bursting out of her leather corset and her red hair shimmering below her waist. "So this is where you are."
Ricky suppressed a sigh. "Yes, you found me. What kind of trouble do I have to get you out of?"
Without a word, she kissed him, her lips golden honey and her body sweet fire. His mind a haze of heat and desire, Ricky pulled her to him. Nothing mattered in this moment; not the band, not the show, not even the air he breathed. The djinn was trouble, worse in her way than any of the others, but she was all he needed, now and forever.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Good news, peeps! Maelstrom is now available in print and Kindle versions from Amazon and e-book format from Fictionwise!.
Book Release Announcement!
Monday, May 10, 2010
reviews (Comments): 3
Hey, everyone - Ricky here. That book about us has just been released on Fictionwise, and guess what? It looks like it really is about me. (Sorry, Kalila.)
It's only available in e-format right now, but if that's what you like, click on over and get it. There's a "new book" rebate in effect right now, so it's a bargain!
Maelstrom
It's only available in e-format right now, but if that's what you like, click on over and get it. There's a "new book" rebate in effect right now, so it's a bargain!
Maelstrom
Maelstrom Extra: Feathered Friend
Sunday, April 18, 2010
reviews (Comments): 7
This is a Sunday Scribblings offering, so be sure to check out Sunday Scribblings for more fun!
He had searched the rooms, the gift shop and the lobby. He had checked the hotel restaurant, to no avail. When Ricky stepped out onto the pool deck, it was with no real expectation that he'd have better luck here. He was about to leave in frustration and search the grounds, when something caught his eye.
There he was. But what was he doing standing in the corner, head tipped back, looking at the rain gutter with a goofy grin on his face?
Ricky walked over. "Nevin."
"Hi, Ricky."
"The equipment is loaded and everyone is on the bus, waiting. What are you—"
Nevin motioned for silence. "You'll scare her."
Ricky looked where Nevin indicated. Behind the rain gutter, he could make out bits of twig and grass, and a few pale feathers. "You're holding up the tour over a bird?"
"It's not just any bird. It's a dove. And she has a nest."
"All birds have nests," Ricky said. "It's what they do."
Nevin turned around. "Don't you see? She made it here, in a dangerous place. The gutter could break and the rain could destroy her eggs. A maintenance person could remove her nest and throw it away. Children playing at the pool could come over and find it, and think it's some kind of game or toy." He turned back to the bird with a sigh of pleasure. "She has faith in the world, Ricky. Isn't that lovely?"
Ricky kicked a pebble in annoyance. Birds didn't have faith, only instincts. And even if this particular bird had faith, what of it? "We don't have time for doves, trusting ones or otherwise. We have a gig to get to."
"Oh, Ricky." Nevin looked at him again, but this time with sadness in his eyes. "Where's your sense of wonder?" Without waiting for an answer, he walked away.
Ricky stood for a moment, looking after him, then glanced up again at the bird. She had shifted on her nest and was now eyeing him calmly, as if she knew she was being talked about and that she was safe.
Amazing, really. How did she know Ricky wouldn't hurt her?
"Good luck to you," he said softly. He walked away smiling.
He had searched the rooms, the gift shop and the lobby. He had checked the hotel restaurant, to no avail. When Ricky stepped out onto the pool deck, it was with no real expectation that he'd have better luck here. He was about to leave in frustration and search the grounds, when something caught his eye.
There he was. But what was he doing standing in the corner, head tipped back, looking at the rain gutter with a goofy grin on his face?
Ricky walked over. "Nevin."
"Hi, Ricky."
"The equipment is loaded and everyone is on the bus, waiting. What are you—"
Nevin motioned for silence. "You'll scare her."
Ricky looked where Nevin indicated. Behind the rain gutter, he could make out bits of twig and grass, and a few pale feathers. "You're holding up the tour over a bird?"
"It's not just any bird. It's a dove. And she has a nest."
"All birds have nests," Ricky said. "It's what they do."
Nevin turned around. "Don't you see? She made it here, in a dangerous place. The gutter could break and the rain could destroy her eggs. A maintenance person could remove her nest and throw it away. Children playing at the pool could come over and find it, and think it's some kind of game or toy." He turned back to the bird with a sigh of pleasure. "She has faith in the world, Ricky. Isn't that lovely?"
Ricky kicked a pebble in annoyance. Birds didn't have faith, only instincts. And even if this particular bird had faith, what of it? "We don't have time for doves, trusting ones or otherwise. We have a gig to get to."
"Oh, Ricky." Nevin looked at him again, but this time with sadness in his eyes. "Where's your sense of wonder?" Without waiting for an answer, he walked away.
Ricky stood for a moment, looking after him, then glanced up again at the bird. She had shifted on her nest and was now eyeing him calmly, as if she knew she was being talked about and that she was safe.
Amazing, really. How did she know Ricky wouldn't hurt her?
"Good luck to you," he said softly. He walked away smiling.
Maelstrom Extra: Non-Standard Deviation
Wednesday, April 7, 2010
reviews (Comments): 8
This is a Three Word Wednesday offering, so be sure to check out Three Word Wednesday for more fun!
Kalila was going to be furious.
Ricky scanned the dim, noisy room, trying to identify the one he sought in the sex-saturated atmosphere of hooting men and half-naked women.
There he was, at a corner table, being entertained by a cute Latina with a mane of heavy black curls. Ricky pushed his way through the crowd. “Dammit, Bo, they’ve been looking for you for days.”
Bo traced a finger along the girl’s g-string. “I’ve been doing my best to satisfy them, but there’s only one of me.”
“I’m talking about the band, not the girls, you deviate.”
Bo drew back, offended. “I’m not devious. Why do you call me that?” He looked at the girl on his lap. “I play straight with you, don’t I babe?”
She giggled. “You’re not exactly straight. Natasha says you go both ways, but that’s okay with me. You’re honest, at least.”
Bo gave a curt nod. “There you have it, Ricky. I’m not devious at all.” He gestured toward a chair beside him. “Sit down and have a drink. You need to learn to relax.”
“You’ve been missing rehearsals and they’re all out looking for you. Do you still want to be with the band or what?”
“I haven’t missed any shows, have I?”
“Not yet.”
“Good. Tell the others I’m having fun and I’ll see them when I see them.”
Ricky leaned his hands on the table. “That’s not how it works. You should be glad it’s me who found you and not Kalila.” He racked his brain for a way to entice him back. “Come with me now. I’ll take up for you. You won’t be in trouble.”
Bo shoved a bill in the girl’s g-string and motioned her off his lap. Then he looked up at Ricky with a dour expression. “Don’t lie to me. Kalila’s mad I lost track of time. I’m sorry.”
“I’ll make sure she doesn’t punish you.”
“You’re just a human. You can’t do anything.”
“You’re a demon and she knows time is a tricky concept for you. You haven’t missed any shows, so all’s well that ends well, right?”
“I guess.” He stood up and reached in his pocket. “I don’t suppose there’s time for just one more—”
“No.” Ricky motioned for him to follow and started weaving his way out of the smoky club.
“Can’t we stop on our way back for even a few minutes?”
“Not even for a few seconds.”
Outside, Bo paused to look up at the clear night sky while Ricky continued toward the parking lot. After a moment, he ran to catch up. “You know, this band stuff is a lot harder than I thought it would be.”
“A lot of things are in life.” Ricky unlocked the doors and gestured for him to get in.
“Yeah, but—”
“None of that.” He slid into the seat and fumbled for the ignition. “We each have a job to do, so let’s just stay on track. No deviations, no thinking. Thinking is how a person gets in trouble.”
“Not me. I have other ways.”
“You can say that again.”
“So…no chance at all for a little fun?” Bo rested a hand on Ricky’s knee.
Ricky slapped his hand away. “You just don’t know when to quit, do you?”
Bo leaned back in his seat and sighed. “Damn, you’re grouchy.”
Ricky glanced in his mirrors and prepared to merge onto the freeway. “Yeah, Bo. Whatever you say.”
Kalila was going to be furious, all right.
Kalila was going to be furious.
Ricky scanned the dim, noisy room, trying to identify the one he sought in the sex-saturated atmosphere of hooting men and half-naked women.
There he was, at a corner table, being entertained by a cute Latina with a mane of heavy black curls. Ricky pushed his way through the crowd. “Dammit, Bo, they’ve been looking for you for days.”
Bo traced a finger along the girl’s g-string. “I’ve been doing my best to satisfy them, but there’s only one of me.”
“I’m talking about the band, not the girls, you deviate.”
Bo drew back, offended. “I’m not devious. Why do you call me that?” He looked at the girl on his lap. “I play straight with you, don’t I babe?”
She giggled. “You’re not exactly straight. Natasha says you go both ways, but that’s okay with me. You’re honest, at least.”
Bo gave a curt nod. “There you have it, Ricky. I’m not devious at all.” He gestured toward a chair beside him. “Sit down and have a drink. You need to learn to relax.”
“You’ve been missing rehearsals and they’re all out looking for you. Do you still want to be with the band or what?”
“I haven’t missed any shows, have I?”
“Not yet.”
“Good. Tell the others I’m having fun and I’ll see them when I see them.”
Ricky leaned his hands on the table. “That’s not how it works. You should be glad it’s me who found you and not Kalila.” He racked his brain for a way to entice him back. “Come with me now. I’ll take up for you. You won’t be in trouble.”
Bo shoved a bill in the girl’s g-string and motioned her off his lap. Then he looked up at Ricky with a dour expression. “Don’t lie to me. Kalila’s mad I lost track of time. I’m sorry.”
“I’ll make sure she doesn’t punish you.”
“You’re just a human. You can’t do anything.”
“You’re a demon and she knows time is a tricky concept for you. You haven’t missed any shows, so all’s well that ends well, right?”
“I guess.” He stood up and reached in his pocket. “I don’t suppose there’s time for just one more—”
“No.” Ricky motioned for him to follow and started weaving his way out of the smoky club.
“Can’t we stop on our way back for even a few minutes?”
“Not even for a few seconds.”
Outside, Bo paused to look up at the clear night sky while Ricky continued toward the parking lot. After a moment, he ran to catch up. “You know, this band stuff is a lot harder than I thought it would be.”
“A lot of things are in life.” Ricky unlocked the doors and gestured for him to get in.
“Yeah, but—”
“None of that.” He slid into the seat and fumbled for the ignition. “We each have a job to do, so let’s just stay on track. No deviations, no thinking. Thinking is how a person gets in trouble.”
“Not me. I have other ways.”
“You can say that again.”
“So…no chance at all for a little fun?” Bo rested a hand on Ricky’s knee.
Ricky slapped his hand away. “You just don’t know when to quit, do you?”
Bo leaned back in his seat and sighed. “Damn, you’re grouchy.”
Ricky glanced in his mirrors and prepared to merge onto the freeway. “Yeah, Bo. Whatever you say.”
Kalila was going to be furious, all right.
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: Day Eleven
Tuesday, June 2, 2009
reviews (Comments): 1
El Paso, Texas
The tour is almost over, and a good thing because I’m at about the end of my rope. That breakdown south of Albuquerque was a disaster, but at least I was able to salvage something for us in Las Cruces.
We had a small incident soon after our arrival, with Vic insisting we go to Carlsbad after the gig and Nevin arguing with him about whether or not bats were “nice” animals. It got ugly and Nevin disappeared in a huff. I found him at the Natural History museum and persuaded him to return. It wasn’t too hard to do, since the museum featured desert wildlife, including snakes and lizards. Nevin is more into birds and bunnies than reptiles.
Last night’s gig went off well, even though it was a Monday. I used Twitter and Facebook to get the word out to the New Mexico State students and they came out and had a great time. To the best of my knowledge, no one is missing or anemic after last night, so I figure it was a success.
Our gig tonight is in El Paso.
It was just a short drive from Las Cruces, so I slept in this morning. Nevin and Kalila had waffles, coffee, and strawberries waiting for me when I woke up, and were very nice to me. Makes me wonder if there are things going on I don’t know about. I sure hope not.
The tour is almost over, and a good thing because I’m at about the end of my rope. That breakdown south of Albuquerque was a disaster, but at least I was able to salvage something for us in Las Cruces.
We had a small incident soon after our arrival, with Vic insisting we go to Carlsbad after the gig and Nevin arguing with him about whether or not bats were “nice” animals. It got ugly and Nevin disappeared in a huff. I found him at the Natural History museum and persuaded him to return. It wasn’t too hard to do, since the museum featured desert wildlife, including snakes and lizards. Nevin is more into birds and bunnies than reptiles.
Last night’s gig went off well, even though it was a Monday. I used Twitter and Facebook to get the word out to the New Mexico State students and they came out and had a great time. To the best of my knowledge, no one is missing or anemic after last night, so I figure it was a success.
Our gig tonight is in El Paso.
It was just a short drive from Las Cruces, so I slept in this morning. Nevin and Kalila had waffles, coffee, and strawberries waiting for me when I woke up, and were very nice to me. Makes me wonder if there are things going on I don’t know about. I sure hope not.
Tour: Day Six
Thursday, May 28, 2009
reviews (Comments): 1
Albuquerque, New Mexico
That whole mess in Pagosa Springs is in the hands of our legal counsel and she seems to think we’ll be able to get away with just paying a fine. I called a band meeting once we arrived in Albuquerque, and everyone acted like they understood what I was trying to tell them about state laws, policies of particular establishments, and the need to look out for their reputations. But I’ve told them all this before, and each time they seem to interpret the whole message as me telling them to be on time for gigs.
So anyway, here we are in Albuquerque, and I’m just hoping things go smoothly tonight.
That whole mess in Pagosa Springs is in the hands of our legal counsel and she seems to think we’ll be able to get away with just paying a fine. I called a band meeting once we arrived in Albuquerque, and everyone acted like they understood what I was trying to tell them about state laws, policies of particular establishments, and the need to look out for their reputations. But I’ve told them all this before, and each time they seem to interpret the whole message as me telling them to be on time for gigs.
So anyway, here we are in Albuquerque, and I’m just hoping things go smoothly tonight.
Tour: Day One
Saturday, May 23, 2009
reviews (Comments): 1
San Angelo, Texas
We hit the road early, and everyone was grumpy about it, but most of them are nocturnal and went to bed not long after we headed out. I tried to get some work done, but Bo was watching one of his porn videos and it was distracting, to say the least. When it got too bad, I went up front with Calvin so I could watch the scenery go by.
We got to San Angelo on schedule and the gig tonight is at a club that’s popular with the college crowd. It ought to be a good time for everyone but me. I’ll be doing damage control, making sure no one gets hurt. Bo, Vic, and Lazaro are hungry after a day on the road. They understand in theory why they shouldn’t feed on their fans, but when you’re immortal, or close to it, self-control isn’t a very important virtue. I mean, it’s not like someone’s going to throw a vampire in jail or something.
But they could throw me in jail. Great job I have, isn’t it?
We hit the road early, and everyone was grumpy about it, but most of them are nocturnal and went to bed not long after we headed out. I tried to get some work done, but Bo was watching one of his porn videos and it was distracting, to say the least. When it got too bad, I went up front with Calvin so I could watch the scenery go by.
We got to San Angelo on schedule and the gig tonight is at a club that’s popular with the college crowd. It ought to be a good time for everyone but me. I’ll be doing damage control, making sure no one gets hurt. Bo, Vic, and Lazaro are hungry after a day on the road. They understand in theory why they shouldn’t feed on their fans, but when you’re immortal, or close to it, self-control isn’t a very important virtue. I mean, it’s not like someone’s going to throw a vampire in jail or something.
But they could throw me in jail. Great job I have, isn’t it?
Maelstrom Extra: Werewolf Strike (Part Five)
Thursday, May 21, 2009
reviews (Comments): 5
Ricky picked his way around the sleeping werewolves. Some were wounded, many still sported wiry tufts of hair, and all were exhausted. He felt a moment of pity as he stepped over a sweet-faced young woman with a nasty gash across her nose. She looked like the sort of girl who knitted cardigans and read stories to children at the library, but lycanthropy was treacherous, turning even the gentlest humans into killers.
This was no time for distractions, though. Ricky’s plan required efficient and unemotional action. Only one werewolf mattered, and Ricky found him lying slightly away from the pack, his guards too deeply asleep to react to the presence of a stranger. Now that he could see him up close and in human form, Ricky was startled to realize the new alpha was the man who had changed the oil in his Lexus last week.
He hesitated, then shook his shoulder. “Blake. Hey, man, wake up.”
Blake stirred and opened his eyes. “What?” He blinked at Ricky in confusion.
Ricky fumbled in his satchel and produced a document and pen. “Congratulations on becoming the new alpha. Sign here.”
Blake looked around, slowly coming to his senses. “Damn, that was some fight.”
“Yes.” Ricky shoved the paper and pen at him again, pointing to the signature line. “And if you’ll sign here, we can secure grant funding to better optimize the coordination of future full moon nights for the strategic benefit of all concerned. And you’ll get breakfast.”
“Breakfast?” Blake’s nostrils quivered and he glanced at Ricky’s still-bulging bag.
Ricky edged closer so Blake could better smell what was in the satchel. “Sign and it’s all yours.” He held his breath, hoping he hadn’t miscalculated. Maelstrom’s werewolves were disoriented for hours after a full moon night, and sometimes weren’t completely right until several days later. But this was an alpha pack leader, the strongest and cleverest werewolf in the Local 666. Ricky watched him scan the document and wondered if he was in any fit state to understand or care what it said.
Blake grumbled and scrawled something across the bottom of the page. Ricky snatched it out of his hands before he could reconsider, and began backing away.
With a snarl, Blake lunged at him. “You said breakfast!”
Ricky tossed him the satchel and watched him tear it open to get at the raw meat inside. Then, while the werewolf was thus distracted, Ricky let himself out of the room, out of the building, and into the morning sun. He was standing near a tree, trying to get his bearings, when someone called out to him.
“Hey, primate!” A swaddled figure slunk toward him, trying to keep to the shadows. “How’d it go?”
After what he had just been through, Ricky found the vampire’s presence oddly comforting. “What are you doing here? You’re going to get yourself killed.”
Vic sidled up to him, hat pulled low over his face to shield it from the sun. “I wanted to make sure everything was okay. Don’t get cocky, though. It’s not because I care about you.”
Ricky suppressed a smile. “That’s good to know.” He held out the contract. “Duly signed, releasing Calvin and our road crew from any obligation to participate in future strikes, as long as they’re satisfied with their wages and working conditions.”
“Good job, human.” Vic grinned, baring his fangs. “So I guess the tour is on?”
“You bet your unlife it is.”
NOTE: The first post of the tour will be tomorrow, May 22, and the band members will be posting daily through June 4. Add us to your blog reader and stop by often!
This was no time for distractions, though. Ricky’s plan required efficient and unemotional action. Only one werewolf mattered, and Ricky found him lying slightly away from the pack, his guards too deeply asleep to react to the presence of a stranger. Now that he could see him up close and in human form, Ricky was startled to realize the new alpha was the man who had changed the oil in his Lexus last week.
He hesitated, then shook his shoulder. “Blake. Hey, man, wake up.”
Blake stirred and opened his eyes. “What?” He blinked at Ricky in confusion.
Ricky fumbled in his satchel and produced a document and pen. “Congratulations on becoming the new alpha. Sign here.”
Blake looked around, slowly coming to his senses. “Damn, that was some fight.”
“Yes.” Ricky shoved the paper and pen at him again, pointing to the signature line. “And if you’ll sign here, we can secure grant funding to better optimize the coordination of future full moon nights for the strategic benefit of all concerned. And you’ll get breakfast.”
“Breakfast?” Blake’s nostrils quivered and he glanced at Ricky’s still-bulging bag.
Ricky edged closer so Blake could better smell what was in the satchel. “Sign and it’s all yours.” He held his breath, hoping he hadn’t miscalculated. Maelstrom’s werewolves were disoriented for hours after a full moon night, and sometimes weren’t completely right until several days later. But this was an alpha pack leader, the strongest and cleverest werewolf in the Local 666. Ricky watched him scan the document and wondered if he was in any fit state to understand or care what it said.
Blake grumbled and scrawled something across the bottom of the page. Ricky snatched it out of his hands before he could reconsider, and began backing away.
With a snarl, Blake lunged at him. “You said breakfast!”
Ricky tossed him the satchel and watched him tear it open to get at the raw meat inside. Then, while the werewolf was thus distracted, Ricky let himself out of the room, out of the building, and into the morning sun. He was standing near a tree, trying to get his bearings, when someone called out to him.
“Hey, primate!” A swaddled figure slunk toward him, trying to keep to the shadows. “How’d it go?”
After what he had just been through, Ricky found the vampire’s presence oddly comforting. “What are you doing here? You’re going to get yourself killed.”
Vic sidled up to him, hat pulled low over his face to shield it from the sun. “I wanted to make sure everything was okay. Don’t get cocky, though. It’s not because I care about you.”
Ricky suppressed a smile. “That’s good to know.” He held out the contract. “Duly signed, releasing Calvin and our road crew from any obligation to participate in future strikes, as long as they’re satisfied with their wages and working conditions.”
“Good job, human.” Vic grinned, baring his fangs. “So I guess the tour is on?”
“You bet your unlife it is.”
NOTE: The first post of the tour will be tomorrow, May 22, and the band members will be posting daily through June 4. Add us to your blog reader and stop by often!
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: Werewolf Strike (Part Four)
Thursday, May 14, 2009
reviews (Comments): 7
Vic passed a hand over the lock and slowly turned the handle. He opened the door half an inch, then closed it again. “Remember,” he whispered, “If you get yourself killed, I’m not making you into a vampire. You’ll just have to stay dead.”
“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Ricky said, pitching his voice low in case he had miscalculated and there were werewolves nearby. “I don’t suppose you’d reconsider?” He pointed to the cooler at his feet.
“You think I’m crazy?” Vic pulled his leather coat tight against his body. “Good luck, human. I’ll tell Kalila to make sure you get a nice funeral.”
Ricky watched him slip into the night, then turned to the task at hand. Willing himself not to be nervous, he let himself into the building and set the cooler down quietly. The vestibule was empty, and in the distance he could hear sounds of bickering and a faint metallic rattle. He had once asked Calvin how the local werewolves kept from getting caught in lupine form, but had only half-believed the answer. Tonight, he needed that information to be true.
Leaving the cooler near the door, he moved quietly down the hallway, following the sound of raised voices. A maze of halls led to a locked steel door, on the other side of which came the sound of rattling cages and voices raised in protest. Ricky glanced at his watch. They couldn’t have locked themselves up yet, could they? He dared a peek through the door’s tiny window of fortified glass and could make out long rows of cages with people moving among them. Some were already shaggy, and a few waited patiently in their cages while others argued with the union leaders.
Ricky took a step back and considered. Then he looked again, this time ignoring the werewolves and trying to get a view of the room’s ceiling. To his relief, it was a drop ceiling, at least thirty feet high, with no way to reach it from inside the room without a ladder. He hurried back to the entry, retrieved his cooler, and went upstairs.
It took nearly ten minutes of frantic searching, and Ricky had almost decided to go with his backup plan to use the air ducts when he found an entry into the ceiling over the great room below. He took the bags of meat out of the cooler and hauled them into place. Below, some of the werewolves were being locked into cages and the ones still wandering loose were becoming hairier by the minute.
Clearly the alpha was the one walking the rows, snarling orders, so Ricky selected the spot farthest away, lifted a corner of a ceiling tile and dropped a steak into the room. He followed its trajectory with his eyes as it landed beside a sullen young male. The werewolf looked at the steak in confusion, but before he could grab it, an older, hairier half-wolf grabbed it.
Two other wolves saw something going on and trotted over. Ricky set the ceiling tile back in place and listened to the ensuing squabble. He selected another steak, made sure the alpha had his back turned, and dropped it where the lower-ranking wolves would be sure to find it. The snarling and arguing grew louder as the half-changed wolves fought over the meat. Cages and order were forgotten as Ricky dropped more steaks into the room. Now the alpha realized what was going on and joined the melee, fighting the others for his share and status.
Ricky tossed two of the last three ribeyes into the room and lay on his belly, listening to the howling below, as heavy bodies heaved, bit, and knocked each other against the cages. It was quite a fight. Whoever was left standing at the end of it would not only be the leader, but very hungry. Luckily, the last steak was a juicy one. Ricky hoped it would be enough.
(To be concluded next week!)
“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Ricky said, pitching his voice low in case he had miscalculated and there were werewolves nearby. “I don’t suppose you’d reconsider?” He pointed to the cooler at his feet.
“You think I’m crazy?” Vic pulled his leather coat tight against his body. “Good luck, human. I’ll tell Kalila to make sure you get a nice funeral.”
Ricky watched him slip into the night, then turned to the task at hand. Willing himself not to be nervous, he let himself into the building and set the cooler down quietly. The vestibule was empty, and in the distance he could hear sounds of bickering and a faint metallic rattle. He had once asked Calvin how the local werewolves kept from getting caught in lupine form, but had only half-believed the answer. Tonight, he needed that information to be true.
Leaving the cooler near the door, he moved quietly down the hallway, following the sound of raised voices. A maze of halls led to a locked steel door, on the other side of which came the sound of rattling cages and voices raised in protest. Ricky glanced at his watch. They couldn’t have locked themselves up yet, could they? He dared a peek through the door’s tiny window of fortified glass and could make out long rows of cages with people moving among them. Some were already shaggy, and a few waited patiently in their cages while others argued with the union leaders.
Ricky took a step back and considered. Then he looked again, this time ignoring the werewolves and trying to get a view of the room’s ceiling. To his relief, it was a drop ceiling, at least thirty feet high, with no way to reach it from inside the room without a ladder. He hurried back to the entry, retrieved his cooler, and went upstairs.
It took nearly ten minutes of frantic searching, and Ricky had almost decided to go with his backup plan to use the air ducts when he found an entry into the ceiling over the great room below. He took the bags of meat out of the cooler and hauled them into place. Below, some of the werewolves were being locked into cages and the ones still wandering loose were becoming hairier by the minute.
Clearly the alpha was the one walking the rows, snarling orders, so Ricky selected the spot farthest away, lifted a corner of a ceiling tile and dropped a steak into the room. He followed its trajectory with his eyes as it landed beside a sullen young male. The werewolf looked at the steak in confusion, but before he could grab it, an older, hairier half-wolf grabbed it.
Two other wolves saw something going on and trotted over. Ricky set the ceiling tile back in place and listened to the ensuing squabble. He selected another steak, made sure the alpha had his back turned, and dropped it where the lower-ranking wolves would be sure to find it. The snarling and arguing grew louder as the half-changed wolves fought over the meat. Cages and order were forgotten as Ricky dropped more steaks into the room. Now the alpha realized what was going on and joined the melee, fighting the others for his share and status.
Ricky tossed two of the last three ribeyes into the room and lay on his belly, listening to the howling below, as heavy bodies heaved, bit, and knocked each other against the cages. It was quite a fight. Whoever was left standing at the end of it would not only be the leader, but very hungry. Luckily, the last steak was a juicy one. Ricky hoped it would be enough.
(To be concluded next week!)
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: Foreign Words
Sunday, April 19, 2009
reviews (Comments): 1
Two-thirty, and he couldn’t find them anywhere. He had caught Vic napping and he found Bo seducing the front desk clerk, but where were Lazaro, Kalila, and Nevin?
Ricky went outside, his sense of foreboding turning to panic when he discovered a set of heavy footprints leading toward the uncleared land behind the hotel, accompanied by a deep groove in the earth that looked like a drag mark. Ricky followed the footsteps, lost them, found them again, then lost them for good among the brush. He was about to give up when the sound of someone speaking stopped him in his tracks.
It was a gentle, querulous voice, and although he couldn’t make out the words, the speaker appeared to feel strongly about something. Following the sound, Ricky picked his way through the undergrowth and hesitated on the edge of a clearing.
Lazaro stood over a muddy patch of recently turned earth, his features closed and hostile to Nevin’s pleading. Kalila cut Nevin off with a gesture and began shouting in a fast skittering language, punctuating her words with sharp gestures. Lazaro snarled and made the occasional blunt response, to no avail.
Ricky watched and listened for several minutes, then decided to put an end to the matter. He stepped into the clearing. “That’s enough, guys. You mind telling me what’s wrong?”
All three fell silent and stared at him. It was Kalila who spoke first. “There’s nothing wrong, Ricky.”
“Nothing that’s your business,” Lazaro added.
Nevin offered a tentative smile. “And it’s resolved now, anyway.”
“Well, you’re running late. You’re supposed to set up at three, and instead you’re out here in the mud, up to no good.”
Kalila came toward him. “Honestly, Ricky, paranoia is very unattractive. Don’t we pay well enough for you to hire a therapist who can help with that?”
“All I know is that Lazaro isn’t into nature walks, and whenever you talk in your demon language, it’s so no one will know the latest trouble you’ve gotten into.”
She took his arm and started leading him back toward the hotel. “You’re such an American. I bet you don’t know any other languages except your own, do you? When you’re multi-lingual, some words just come more naturally in one language than another. It doesn’t mean we’re hiding anything.”
“If you knew how complicated English was, you’d understand why we don’t like it much,” Nevin said, falling in behind them.
“Too many consonants and strange word constructions,” Kalila agreed. “Our own language flows. It has a rhythm to it, like the way water flows. It’s easier to speak a language that isn’t cluttered up.”
“So please don’t take it the wrong way,” Nevin said.
Ricky nodded, reassured, then stopped and looked back. Through the branches, he could make out Lazaro stomping on the mud, as if tamping down something that lay beneath. “Tell me he’s not doing what I think he’s doing.”
Nevin turned to Kalila, wide-eyed, and blurted something Ricky didn’t understand. Kalila answered with a scowl and a gesture.
“If I find out anyone’s gone missing from this hotel…”
Kalila said something that sounded like an order, and Nevin dashed toward the trees. Then she tugged on Ricky’s arm again, all smiles and placating words. “You need to trust us. We’ve been around a lot longer than you have, you know.” She met his skeptical gaze and gave a little shrug. “Okay, don’t believe us. Be paranoid whenever we speak in our own language. But about that therapist…”
Ricky went outside, his sense of foreboding turning to panic when he discovered a set of heavy footprints leading toward the uncleared land behind the hotel, accompanied by a deep groove in the earth that looked like a drag mark. Ricky followed the footsteps, lost them, found them again, then lost them for good among the brush. He was about to give up when the sound of someone speaking stopped him in his tracks.
It was a gentle, querulous voice, and although he couldn’t make out the words, the speaker appeared to feel strongly about something. Following the sound, Ricky picked his way through the undergrowth and hesitated on the edge of a clearing.
Lazaro stood over a muddy patch of recently turned earth, his features closed and hostile to Nevin’s pleading. Kalila cut Nevin off with a gesture and began shouting in a fast skittering language, punctuating her words with sharp gestures. Lazaro snarled and made the occasional blunt response, to no avail.
Ricky watched and listened for several minutes, then decided to put an end to the matter. He stepped into the clearing. “That’s enough, guys. You mind telling me what’s wrong?”
All three fell silent and stared at him. It was Kalila who spoke first. “There’s nothing wrong, Ricky.”
“Nothing that’s your business,” Lazaro added.
Nevin offered a tentative smile. “And it’s resolved now, anyway.”
“Well, you’re running late. You’re supposed to set up at three, and instead you’re out here in the mud, up to no good.”
Kalila came toward him. “Honestly, Ricky, paranoia is very unattractive. Don’t we pay well enough for you to hire a therapist who can help with that?”
“All I know is that Lazaro isn’t into nature walks, and whenever you talk in your demon language, it’s so no one will know the latest trouble you’ve gotten into.”
She took his arm and started leading him back toward the hotel. “You’re such an American. I bet you don’t know any other languages except your own, do you? When you’re multi-lingual, some words just come more naturally in one language than another. It doesn’t mean we’re hiding anything.”
“If you knew how complicated English was, you’d understand why we don’t like it much,” Nevin said, falling in behind them.
“Too many consonants and strange word constructions,” Kalila agreed. “Our own language flows. It has a rhythm to it, like the way water flows. It’s easier to speak a language that isn’t cluttered up.”
“So please don’t take it the wrong way,” Nevin said.
Ricky nodded, reassured, then stopped and looked back. Through the branches, he could make out Lazaro stomping on the mud, as if tamping down something that lay beneath. “Tell me he’s not doing what I think he’s doing.”
Nevin turned to Kalila, wide-eyed, and blurted something Ricky didn’t understand. Kalila answered with a scowl and a gesture.
“If I find out anyone’s gone missing from this hotel…”
Kalila said something that sounded like an order, and Nevin dashed toward the trees. Then she tugged on Ricky’s arm again, all smiles and placating words. “You need to trust us. We’ve been around a lot longer than you have, you know.” She met his skeptical gaze and gave a little shrug. “Okay, don’t believe us. Be paranoid whenever we speak in our own language. But about that therapist…”
Maelstrom Announcements
Friday, March 27, 2009
reviews (Comments): 2
Hi, this is Ricky, just sharing the latest.
First, Jeff Truitt's review is now posted. Check it out if you haven't had a chance.
Second, I've asked Bo to talk to Johnny Del Rio about getting permission for us to re-post some of the articles he wrote about us for Out on the Town. In case anyone is wondering why I put Bo in charge of this, you'd best ask him. I don't want to know the details of what an incubus gets up to in his spare time, but all those roses from Johnny have got to mean something.
Next, I've discovered Nevin is keeping a scrapbook of the band's tours and I've asked to share some of it here. The link is currently at the bottom of the page and will be moved to a more prominent place after the bunny benefit is over.
Finally, I see we've had fans reading these stories that keep appearing on this site. I'm still trying to get to the bottom of it, so in the meantime, don't believe everything you read. Please. You have no idea what our lawyer is charging us just to keep her on retainer.
I'll close this post with something Lazaro just handed me. I'm sure this is just his idea of a joke, right Lazaro?
Zombie Haiku: Bunnies vs Humans
Bunnies good.
Like a snack.
But human brains taste better.
If you like thistravesty poem, let Lazaro know. In fact, I recommend you say you like it, whether you do or not. He might just know where you live.
First, Jeff Truitt's review is now posted. Check it out if you haven't had a chance.
Second, I've asked Bo to talk to Johnny Del Rio about getting permission for us to re-post some of the articles he wrote about us for Out on the Town. In case anyone is wondering why I put Bo in charge of this, you'd best ask him. I don't want to know the details of what an incubus gets up to in his spare time, but all those roses from Johnny have got to mean something.
Next, I've discovered Nevin is keeping a scrapbook of the band's tours and I've asked to share some of it here. The link is currently at the bottom of the page and will be moved to a more prominent place after the bunny benefit is over.
Finally, I see we've had fans reading these stories that keep appearing on this site. I'm still trying to get to the bottom of it, so in the meantime, don't believe everything you read. Please. You have no idea what our lawyer is charging us just to keep her on retainer.
I'll close this post with something Lazaro just handed me. I'm sure this is just his idea of a joke, right Lazaro?
Zombie Haiku: Bunnies vs Humans
Bunnies good.
Like a snack.
But human brains taste better.
If you like this
Maelstrom Extra: Bunnies Rock! (Part 1)
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
reviews (Comments): 12
AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is the first in our Bunny Benefit Bash series. Read on to find out how you can help save the bunnies and make your rabbit a rock star!
Ricky struggled with the studio door, encumbered by a laptop slung over his shoulder and a box of promotional materials from the Lupine Defense League. He stumbled inside, only to drop the box on his foot.
A few feet away, Calvin looked up from watching Werewolf Recluse II: New Moon on a portable DVD player. “You should be more careful, human.”
“I don’t suppose you could’ve held the door.”
“I didn’t feel like it.”
Ricky set the box on the desk. “It was your idea that we sponsor a wolf charity. If you’re not going to help, I’ll tell the band they should do something else—Toys for Tots, maybe.”
While Calvin grumbled and tore open the box, Ricky went to check on the band. They were supposed to be practicing, but it sounded like someone had lost their temper. He paused outside the rehearsal room.
“Just play the stupid song, Nevin.”
“I’m not feeling it.”
“Fake it.”
“I can’t. I want to play slow, sad songs today.”
“You’re in the wrong band for that, so try again. Carrion Road, from the top.”
“But Vic—”
Ricky pushed open the door. “Okay, guys. What’s going on?”
Vic stepped away from the mic and waved an arm in disgust. “Tinkerbell here keeps missing notes.”
“He’s being a prissy whiner,” Bo added.
Kalila nodded. “He’s not up to par, and he’s not even making a good faith effort.”
“Something’s wrong with his brain,” Lazaro muttered.
Ricky looked at Nevin in concern. “What’s up?”
Nevin traced a finger across his keyboard. “I’m very depressed.”
Ricky waited for a moment, hoping he would elaborate. “Maybe it will cheer you up to know our promo materials arrived today. We’ll be able to start pitching the wolf charity again. Think how many wolves you’ll be saving.”
Nevin’s lower lip trembled and he dropped to the floor in tears.
Ricky turned to Kalila in alarm. “Did I say something wrong?”
She set her guitar in its stand and crouched by Nevin’s side. “He finished reading Watership Down last night. He’s worried about rabbits now, and the wolf charity—”
“Wolves eat bunnies!” Nevin wailed.
Ricky took a deep breath. “Well, yes. But it’s all part of nature, you know, and there’s plenty of bunnies left.”
“They breed like rabbits,” Bo pointed out.
Nevin sobbed harder, and Kalila tried to soothe him.
“Now he thinks every rabbit has a unique personality,” Vic sneered. To Nevin, he added, “Didn’t I tell you not to read books? They only give you ideas.”
“That’s not always a bad thing,” Bo told him. “I got a lot of good ideas from The Story of O.”
“Enough,” Ricky told him. He sat by Nevin’s side, hoping to cajole him into a better mood. “There’s lots of rabbit charities. I could find a few for you to choose from, and at your next show—”
“Forget it,” Vic said. “I’m not doing a ‘Save the Bunnies’ campaign.”
Bo gave a little shrug. “I could go for it. They like sex, I like sex…rabbits are cool.”
Lazaro stomped on his bass drum pedal. “They eat vegetables and have tiny brains.”
“How does that differ from Ricky?” Bo said. “I’m telling you, this could work.”
By now Nevin had quit crying and was wiping his eyes. “You guys really think so?”
“We’ll do a bunny benefit, just for you,” Kalila said.
Vic scowled. “But only this once, glitterboy. After that, your rodents are on their own.”
“They’re not rodents,” Nevin said. “Rabbits are lagomorphs.” He gave Ricky a tenuous smile. “So you’ll find us a good rabbit charity? You really want to help?”
Ricky met Kalila’s eyes to confirm it was what she wanted. Then he patted Nevin on the shoulder. “I’ll find some reputable charities for you to choose from, and we’ll organize a…Bunny Benefit Bash. How does that sound?”
Vic threw himself into a chair and pouted. “It sounds ridiculous.”
“No,” Nevin said, “It sounds wonderful.”
To Be Continued...
Attention Bunny-Fans! Do you have a favorite rabbit charity? Ricky needs your recommendations! Leave details in the comments below or in the tag box on the right. You can also email your recommendation to uhamp "at" yahoo "dot" com. Do you have a bunny who'd like to be a rock star? Tell us where to find lapine talent for the upcoming Bunnies That Rock music video!
Ricky struggled with the studio door, encumbered by a laptop slung over his shoulder and a box of promotional materials from the Lupine Defense League. He stumbled inside, only to drop the box on his foot.
A few feet away, Calvin looked up from watching Werewolf Recluse II: New Moon on a portable DVD player. “You should be more careful, human.”
“I don’t suppose you could’ve held the door.”
“I didn’t feel like it.”
Ricky set the box on the desk. “It was your idea that we sponsor a wolf charity. If you’re not going to help, I’ll tell the band they should do something else—Toys for Tots, maybe.”
While Calvin grumbled and tore open the box, Ricky went to check on the band. They were supposed to be practicing, but it sounded like someone had lost their temper. He paused outside the rehearsal room.
“Just play the stupid song, Nevin.”
“I’m not feeling it.”
“Fake it.”
“I can’t. I want to play slow, sad songs today.”
“You’re in the wrong band for that, so try again. Carrion Road, from the top.”
“But Vic—”
Ricky pushed open the door. “Okay, guys. What’s going on?”
Vic stepped away from the mic and waved an arm in disgust. “Tinkerbell here keeps missing notes.”
“He’s being a prissy whiner,” Bo added.
Kalila nodded. “He’s not up to par, and he’s not even making a good faith effort.”
“Something’s wrong with his brain,” Lazaro muttered.
Ricky looked at Nevin in concern. “What’s up?”
Nevin traced a finger across his keyboard. “I’m very depressed.”
Ricky waited for a moment, hoping he would elaborate. “Maybe it will cheer you up to know our promo materials arrived today. We’ll be able to start pitching the wolf charity again. Think how many wolves you’ll be saving.”
Nevin’s lower lip trembled and he dropped to the floor in tears.
Ricky turned to Kalila in alarm. “Did I say something wrong?”
She set her guitar in its stand and crouched by Nevin’s side. “He finished reading Watership Down last night. He’s worried about rabbits now, and the wolf charity—”
“Wolves eat bunnies!” Nevin wailed.
Ricky took a deep breath. “Well, yes. But it’s all part of nature, you know, and there’s plenty of bunnies left.”
“They breed like rabbits,” Bo pointed out.
Nevin sobbed harder, and Kalila tried to soothe him.
“Now he thinks every rabbit has a unique personality,” Vic sneered. To Nevin, he added, “Didn’t I tell you not to read books? They only give you ideas.”
“That’s not always a bad thing,” Bo told him. “I got a lot of good ideas from The Story of O.”
“Enough,” Ricky told him. He sat by Nevin’s side, hoping to cajole him into a better mood. “There’s lots of rabbit charities. I could find a few for you to choose from, and at your next show—”
“Forget it,” Vic said. “I’m not doing a ‘Save the Bunnies’ campaign.”
Bo gave a little shrug. “I could go for it. They like sex, I like sex…rabbits are cool.”
Lazaro stomped on his bass drum pedal. “They eat vegetables and have tiny brains.”
“How does that differ from Ricky?” Bo said. “I’m telling you, this could work.”
By now Nevin had quit crying and was wiping his eyes. “You guys really think so?”
“We’ll do a bunny benefit, just for you,” Kalila said.
Vic scowled. “But only this once, glitterboy. After that, your rodents are on their own.”
“They’re not rodents,” Nevin said. “Rabbits are lagomorphs.” He gave Ricky a tenuous smile. “So you’ll find us a good rabbit charity? You really want to help?”
Ricky met Kalila’s eyes to confirm it was what she wanted. Then he patted Nevin on the shoulder. “I’ll find some reputable charities for you to choose from, and we’ll organize a…Bunny Benefit Bash. How does that sound?”
Vic threw himself into a chair and pouted. “It sounds ridiculous.”
“No,” Nevin said, “It sounds wonderful.”
To Be Continued...
Attention Bunny-Fans! Do you have a favorite rabbit charity? Ricky needs your recommendations! Leave details in the comments below or in the tag box on the right. You can also email your recommendation to uhamp "at" yahoo "dot" com. Do you have a bunny who'd like to be a rock star? Tell us where to find lapine talent for the upcoming Bunnies That Rock music video!
