“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.
Maelstrom Extra: Cold Autumn Day
Thursday, January 29, 2009
reviews (Comments): 3
Posted by
Maelstrom
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
Posted by
Maelstrom
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.”
