For Tinkerbell
By Jillian Storm
(Disclaimer: After many false starts and Road Rage flashbacks and counseling, here is chapter two of Some Half-Baked Ideal Called Wonderful. I'm getting the knack of writing something separate from the Road Rage saga finally. Which is good, I need to flex a bit. Characters, not mine. Lyrics belong to Gordon Lightfoot who seems to single-handedly fuel this storyline so far. Enjoy. Let me know how I'm doing.)
***
I suppose I never paid that much attention to Himeno before Hayate's small confession. She'd always been a more or less cute kid. Quite a bit of fun. I still remember the day that Ayame brought her in, brand new twenty- one and coming into Four Doors on her own ID. After a lemonade, ice tea and a well-disguised fruity drink deprived of alcohol, Himeno left as sober as she came in. But she kept coming back, apparently she had a fancy for the fruity drink. Or my jokes. Or Dorothy's unchallenged pool championship title.
I had asked Aya where he picked her up one evening while Himeno was busying herself collecting the pool balls. Turned out that he'd been trying to contact a more risqué house cleaning service and ended up getting the real thing. The sunshine kid cleaned houses for a living, barely paid her rent, and tried to look cute so that guys would hit on her and buy her drinks. Duo and I had no end of fun buying them and asking the waitress to say they were gifts from various other guys in the bar. Himeno had the most fluffed up ego of out lot and we loved her for it.
She was the baby of the group. Sorata and I had been nearing our twenty- eighth birthdays with some dread. Meaning that Duo had to be close if not twenty-eight already. Duo'd been a transfer student and graduated from high school with us back in the day.
It all reminded me of a crazy trip of fake ID's and borrowing Juri's car one weekend during high school. Duo'd just transferred in, and if Juri thought I was leading her brother astray she didn't know the half of it. I was all for the party, but the ideas . . . the ideas Duo had were unrivaled.
"Oh my gosh, Himeno love, stop perusing the lists, we all know you're going to just get a Coke anyway." Aya waves his hand toward the little girl, wrinkling his nose like there was a bad smell causing his voice to come out a bit higher pitched.
She turns pink and her dynamic hair even seems to bristle with embarrassment. I watch her with continued amusement. Since his confession, Hayate has avoided our circle of friends with even more determination. Now that I thought about it, he'd practically turned off the social scene all together when Aya had brought her the first time. Curious. He hadn't seemed to have unsettled Himeno in any way.
"Large *vanilla* Coke." She tells the waitress with a bright smile, then slips from the seat to renew her challenge with Dorothy who stands waiting. If I didn't know better I'd say that Dorothy's more than a little fond of the munchkin herself. At least, she doesn't torment Himeno with the same scarring remarks upon her character that Dorothy seems more than fond of doing for the rest of us.
"Oooo, *vanilla* . . ." Aya echoes, raising his eyebrows with mock surprises and taps one long index finger to his lips. "She's certainly moving up, next it'll be Tequila. They grow up so fast."
"You should complain," Duo says from his lounging position, he'd been zeroed in on every girl who'd walked into Four Doors so far that evening, and had yet to find anything enticing enough to leave his comfortable seat, "At least she shows up to clean your house on time and doesn't steal your booze."
"Hmm. There is that." Aya laughs loudly, three sharp barks as were characteristic to him. For anyone else it might seemed put on or mocking, but I don't think I've ever heard Ayame laugh any other way. "And she's cheaper by the hour too . . ."
That's funny. It's not like Aya didn't secure a large inheritance when his parents died. Leaving himself and his brother well off, practically set for life. The only trouble had come when Aya lost his brother. He'd been old enough to act as a legal guardian but because of his questionable lifestyle and frequent lover choices a set of their grandparents had taken Yuki away. Aya hadn't been allowed to see or speak with his kid brother for five years now. Not that Aya talked about it ever.
Personally, I think Aya's been trying to be everyone's big brother ever since. At least, that's the only reason why I can explain why he retained Himeno's services and gave up on the more . . . exotic . . . cleaning services.
Does your mother know
you had to go someday?
Does your mother know
that you would go so fast?
Anyway, that's all you think about,
you'd call her if you could.
When I managed to get the key into the lock, turn it, take it out, twist the doorknob, push open the door, step inside . . . about fifteen minutes later I'd imagine, or at least it felt like it, I scowl at Hayate who's sitting on the couch. Doing nothing. The only light the one lamp on the nearby table. He's watching me as I turn, grab the inside knob, push the door closed (fall into it, more or less), steady myself, find the deadbolt lock, secure it.
"Whadya want?" I slur, taking a few steps before deciding I'd gone far enough and drop into the closest chair. I'm more than a tad relieved as I realize that I didn't miss the chair and I'm safely in it.
"You stink." Hayate says simply.
I stare at him a while, taking a while to digest what he said, process what it means, what it means literally, what it might mean figuratively, what it probably means when Hayate says it.
"Oh really?" I reply, sounding like a smart ass. "Well, you could stink too if you bothered to go out with us anymore." I laugh before I get to my own punch line, "Then we can stink together."
"That's a great idea." Hayate says in what I'm suspecting is a continuation of his pissed off at reality voice.
"Himeno was there," I reply dumbly, trying to remember what that meant and if it were a good idea to mention her.
Hayate's jaw is set, but he doesn't attack me. Instead, he sits politely at a distance and stares at me for a while.
"Dude, when are you going to come back? There is absolutely no way that you're going to get to know the girl if you're always here on the weekends and every weeknight." I realize that I'm having a hard time keeping my head up. "Good grief, I could even steal her away if I were interested. She's so cute and single and available . . ."
Hayate's practically vibrating with fury, or simple anger, or passion, or something, anything, unbridled. With him it's hard to tell.
I hold my head up a moment, my interest in Hayate's unrequited feelings and non-commitment to any sort of pursuit of Himeno decreasing significantly as the world started to spin the other direction this time. "I, I think I need a drink."
"Sure you do." Hayate laughs. A short bark, like Aya's . . . only, I'm guessing Hayate is not amused.
But the letters that you write
in the faded winter light
just tell her, they tell her
that you've got ten dollars
and you'll be all right
and when you get straight
you're gonna come back east some day.
I don't know what I'd do without friends to watch out for me. I mean, Duo's always invited me to his open bar parties where he mixes the most splendid drinks where one is almost enough to smash you into next Tuesday. Dorothy always drives me home from Duo's parties. Sorata gives me an attractive partner in crime; Himeno reminds me that innocence can be cute. Aya loaned me money when I was getting started.
I've come quite a way from getting started. I mean, I did have a spot of trouble with my mother when she found out that I done a little experimenting in things besides alcohol. That was when Aya's friendship came in handy. The guy felt more than a little sorry for me, and he was the obvious one to identify with the hasty decisions of family members. He hooked me up with Saionji where the rent was cheap. But, I mentioned that before.
Honestly, mom and I keep in touch. Mostly through Miaka. My kid sister can be pretty cool when it comes to someone's love life. I mean, honestly! She's a fifteen year old dating a college graduate. A very attractive college graduate. If I could be so lucky.
Our poor mother.
I was thinking about all of that while scooping dead fish from the tanks at work. Didn't I mention that? I'm the assistant manager at a pet supply store. It's pretty much a dead end job unless I decide that I want to breed pedigree pooches. There's an idea.
Anyway, after perversely chasing a few of the large mean fish with the net. I turn around to see Hayate watching me, with his hands stuffed deep in his pockets and his chin lowered so that his hair slips over and about his eyes. An effective shield.
"Hey, gorgeous!"
"Don't call me that." Hayate glowers, although he's pretty unaffected by my comment. "You sound like Duo when you do that."
"But it works for Duo . . ." I mock whine, flicking the fish net at him and successfully nailing him with a few drops of tank water. "What are you doing here? If only I worked on commission . . . now let's see." I point just to Hayate's right. "Oh, perfect. You should take two of those. Name the red one Himeno and the blue one Hayate."
"Siamese fighting fish?"
"Okay," I shrug, trying to keep the stupid grin off my face, "Maybe they don't want to share fish bowls, but you could still set them side by side and get more of a reaction that the human versions get . . . just a suggestion."
"I didn't come here for a suggestion." Hayate scowls more. I really shouldn't tease him, the poor guy knocks himself down so much no one ~else~ really has a chance to put him in his place.
"Maybe an iguana, something lizardy and solitary." I can't help myself, "No, sorry. What is it, Hayate?"
"I was wondering . . . I need." Hayate swallows, hard. A second time, "Forget it. I'll manage myself . . ." He turns and walks out faster than I can react.
"Hey, wait!" I call after him, but I'm paged by a frustrated representative trying to explain the ingredient differences in our kitty litter to a customer hung up on particulars. One measly coupon-offered later, I manage to sell the woman the overpriced name brand version. They should give me a commission.
Does your mother know
you have a man in the West?
Does your mother know
you drove him from your door?
Anyway that's all you think about,
you'd call her if you could.
"Where was Himeno tonight?" I ask as Duo and I close the bar. He's comfortably wrapped around my neck and I'm glad he's not going home with any of the girls he'd hit on during the evening. For once the more sober of us two, I have a grip around his shoulders and we start to walk toward the parking lot on the side of the Four Doors. Dorothy had gone ahead to start the car.
As much as I like Duo snuggled up to me like that, the boy is as straight as an arrow. And personally, I'm a bit mystified by the non-relationship he's kept with Dorothy this past year. She snottily cleans up his messes and mocks his love affairs. All the while waiting around for him. At least it looks that way to me. According to Duo, he doesn't have a snowball's chance with her. I wonder what gave him that idea?
After I settled in with Saionji, the nightmare roommate, Duo finished his communications degree and started in with a radio station in town. He was mostly scripting out advertisement spots and doing some voice work for them, but after getting in the know with the core group of djs and radio personalities, Duo was going to be starting his own movies segment in the fall. We were all excited for him.
He could have gone to any station anywhere, but he wanted to be near his old friends. Which was why I was there, working at the oh-so-full-of- advancement-opportunities pet store. No, I had gone to follow Sorata. And while my mother had a good idea of my intentions, Sorata was obliviously happy to have a buddy around to hang out with. Which was how I liked it. Having him happy to see me.
And why was Sorata there? Well, his sister had given him the opportunity of a lifetime-to prove himself as a principal photographer for her women's magazine. And he had talent.
"Himeno?" Duo says, a puzzled lift in the last syllable making the girl's name sound like a bloodhound's howl.
I'm suddenly nervous, and scramble for an excuse, "Himeno? I meant to say Sorata. Heh heh heh, silly me." God, I sound stupid to myself even.
"Sorata." Duo slips a bit, we've managed six steps so far, and he rests heavily against the brick wall just beyond the Four Doors' front window. "Now, there's something that you and Himeno have in common."
"Huh?" I had been curious for Hayate's sake, but now I'm curious for my own.
"Unrequited . . ." Duo coughs.
"Unrequited love?" I demand eagerly, perhaps sour-puss Hayate does have a chance with tulip-head.
"Love? Who said love?" Duo says slyly in low tones. "Why!? Do you love Sorata, Keisuke?"
"Damn you." I scowl adoringly, "What's this about Himeno?"
"Or maybe you love, Himeno?"
"You're impossible." I pull Duo's arm around my neck more securely, trying to lift more of his body weight on my shoulders, even cool Dorothy herself must have reached some point of annoyance by now. But she's sitting patiently in the car, and I wonder at her levels of endurance. "He's an idiot." I tell her after we've strapped a nearly unconscious Duo into the passenger seat.
"I know." Dorothy says.
Does your mother know
you walked all day in the rain?
Does your mother know
how deep your love could be?
Anyway that's all you think about,
you'd call her if you could.
Two weeks after Hayate greeted me with his fist, I'm thinking about getting a lottery ticket at the gas station while Duo is flirting with the woman at the register. But I'm not really feeling that lucky, and Duo isn't either as we leave without her phone number.
"It's just as well," I try to consol as we get back into my car, "It's not like we're coming back through here again any time soon."
"What do you mean by that?" Duo exclaims. With good reason. The two of us are staking out a potential gig for him in the next state over. Duo's an aspiring saxophone player, and he's pretty decent player if you want an honest answer. A lot of hopefuls show up now and again at this place to get a chance to play. Duo went twice before and the last time got a pleasant, "You're great but . . ." which left him hanging worse than a girl who teases. Duo's got this rabbits-foot-syndrome and since I went along with the time he got good reviews, he practically insisted I take vacation time to chase off three hours while he follows through on his chances.
"Don't listen to me," I find myself taking a foot out of my mouth again, "You're sure to get an album deal with this audition."
"Shut up, Keisuke, and just look cute."
"That's what I'm good at." I laugh, trying not to get frustrated as Duo hums nervously, off key. Tapping his fingers against the ledge of the car door.
Three hours after the three hour drive, Duo gets his opportunity to play for the talent manager again. It's just a guy at a bar who hires gigs for their place. But Duo holds this guy in high esteem, and so do a whole lot of other folk as I scan the hopefuls. I'm practically the only person without an instrument or a fist full of piano music.
And I will admit, Duo might hum off key, but his sax is pure jazz. Swell stuff, if I'm any judge. But my mother did say I always had a bit of a flair for the artistic side, even if I had no talent personally.
The man who's doing the evaluations, smokes contentedly. And puts out his cigarette with a quick smash, when Duo breathlessly relaxes his saxophone.
"I've always said you have talent kid."
Duo's face lights up, I can feel it from the third to last row of hastily assembled chairs.
"Do you play anything besides the sax? I have a sax player."
I'm out of my seat and meet Duo before he's able to slip more than three steps from the performance area. "You were amazing, Maxwell!" I slip in his last name to provide him some emotional distance, sometimes I'm thoughtful like that. Anxiously, I watch his eyes, dulled and without any emotion. That's good, right? Better than sad, I think.
"Maxwell?"
We both turn back. I catch the door before it closes on a fellow who's followed us all the way to the exit.
"I run and hide, but I never lie." Duo says wearily. He must be frustrated, he's using his pick-up lines on a complete stranger. And a guy. And, well, a very attractive guy. "That's me, Duo Maxwell."
"Duo Maxwell," The stranger repeats for good measure, he's a tall but slightly built man. Fair with silvery-blond hair that reminds me of Dorothy's. Maybe that's why Duo's interested, misplaced emotions . . . but I don't want to carry that thought too far. The stranger holds out his hand, a slight but very friendly smile crosses his features. Causing his eyes to soften behind his glasses. "I'm looking for a saxophone player, and I can't let you leave without giving you an offer."
"What?" Duo says, one eyebrow pushed under the loose wisps of hair, disbelieving.
"He said he's looking for a . . ."
"I heard him." Duo interrupts me, perplexed. "You scout other people's auditions?"
"Is that so terrible?" The stranger laughs almost nervously, I'm instantly charmed. "It's actually the first time. And I wasn't really serious about scouting today either. But you are serious about your music, and that's why I had to offer."
"Who are you? What exactly are you offering?" Duo finally accepting the extended handshake.
"My real name is Henry Feist. My mom calls me Hank. My friends call me Sesame." Then laughing softly again, he adds, "Call me Sesame."
But the letters that you write
in the faded winter light
just tell her, they tell her
that you've got ten dollars
and your rent costs eight
and when you get straight
you're gonna come back east some day.
But the letters that you write
in the faded winter light,
just tell her, they tell her.
By Jillian Storm
(Disclaimer: After many false starts and Road Rage flashbacks and counseling, here is chapter two of Some Half-Baked Ideal Called Wonderful. I'm getting the knack of writing something separate from the Road Rage saga finally. Which is good, I need to flex a bit. Characters, not mine. Lyrics belong to Gordon Lightfoot who seems to single-handedly fuel this storyline so far. Enjoy. Let me know how I'm doing.)
***
I suppose I never paid that much attention to Himeno before Hayate's small confession. She'd always been a more or less cute kid. Quite a bit of fun. I still remember the day that Ayame brought her in, brand new twenty- one and coming into Four Doors on her own ID. After a lemonade, ice tea and a well-disguised fruity drink deprived of alcohol, Himeno left as sober as she came in. But she kept coming back, apparently she had a fancy for the fruity drink. Or my jokes. Or Dorothy's unchallenged pool championship title.
I had asked Aya where he picked her up one evening while Himeno was busying herself collecting the pool balls. Turned out that he'd been trying to contact a more risqué house cleaning service and ended up getting the real thing. The sunshine kid cleaned houses for a living, barely paid her rent, and tried to look cute so that guys would hit on her and buy her drinks. Duo and I had no end of fun buying them and asking the waitress to say they were gifts from various other guys in the bar. Himeno had the most fluffed up ego of out lot and we loved her for it.
She was the baby of the group. Sorata and I had been nearing our twenty- eighth birthdays with some dread. Meaning that Duo had to be close if not twenty-eight already. Duo'd been a transfer student and graduated from high school with us back in the day.
It all reminded me of a crazy trip of fake ID's and borrowing Juri's car one weekend during high school. Duo'd just transferred in, and if Juri thought I was leading her brother astray she didn't know the half of it. I was all for the party, but the ideas . . . the ideas Duo had were unrivaled.
"Oh my gosh, Himeno love, stop perusing the lists, we all know you're going to just get a Coke anyway." Aya waves his hand toward the little girl, wrinkling his nose like there was a bad smell causing his voice to come out a bit higher pitched.
She turns pink and her dynamic hair even seems to bristle with embarrassment. I watch her with continued amusement. Since his confession, Hayate has avoided our circle of friends with even more determination. Now that I thought about it, he'd practically turned off the social scene all together when Aya had brought her the first time. Curious. He hadn't seemed to have unsettled Himeno in any way.
"Large *vanilla* Coke." She tells the waitress with a bright smile, then slips from the seat to renew her challenge with Dorothy who stands waiting. If I didn't know better I'd say that Dorothy's more than a little fond of the munchkin herself. At least, she doesn't torment Himeno with the same scarring remarks upon her character that Dorothy seems more than fond of doing for the rest of us.
"Oooo, *vanilla* . . ." Aya echoes, raising his eyebrows with mock surprises and taps one long index finger to his lips. "She's certainly moving up, next it'll be Tequila. They grow up so fast."
"You should complain," Duo says from his lounging position, he'd been zeroed in on every girl who'd walked into Four Doors so far that evening, and had yet to find anything enticing enough to leave his comfortable seat, "At least she shows up to clean your house on time and doesn't steal your booze."
"Hmm. There is that." Aya laughs loudly, three sharp barks as were characteristic to him. For anyone else it might seemed put on or mocking, but I don't think I've ever heard Ayame laugh any other way. "And she's cheaper by the hour too . . ."
That's funny. It's not like Aya didn't secure a large inheritance when his parents died. Leaving himself and his brother well off, practically set for life. The only trouble had come when Aya lost his brother. He'd been old enough to act as a legal guardian but because of his questionable lifestyle and frequent lover choices a set of their grandparents had taken Yuki away. Aya hadn't been allowed to see or speak with his kid brother for five years now. Not that Aya talked about it ever.
Personally, I think Aya's been trying to be everyone's big brother ever since. At least, that's the only reason why I can explain why he retained Himeno's services and gave up on the more . . . exotic . . . cleaning services.
Does your mother know
you had to go someday?
Does your mother know
that you would go so fast?
Anyway, that's all you think about,
you'd call her if you could.
When I managed to get the key into the lock, turn it, take it out, twist the doorknob, push open the door, step inside . . . about fifteen minutes later I'd imagine, or at least it felt like it, I scowl at Hayate who's sitting on the couch. Doing nothing. The only light the one lamp on the nearby table. He's watching me as I turn, grab the inside knob, push the door closed (fall into it, more or less), steady myself, find the deadbolt lock, secure it.
"Whadya want?" I slur, taking a few steps before deciding I'd gone far enough and drop into the closest chair. I'm more than a tad relieved as I realize that I didn't miss the chair and I'm safely in it.
"You stink." Hayate says simply.
I stare at him a while, taking a while to digest what he said, process what it means, what it means literally, what it might mean figuratively, what it probably means when Hayate says it.
"Oh really?" I reply, sounding like a smart ass. "Well, you could stink too if you bothered to go out with us anymore." I laugh before I get to my own punch line, "Then we can stink together."
"That's a great idea." Hayate says in what I'm suspecting is a continuation of his pissed off at reality voice.
"Himeno was there," I reply dumbly, trying to remember what that meant and if it were a good idea to mention her.
Hayate's jaw is set, but he doesn't attack me. Instead, he sits politely at a distance and stares at me for a while.
"Dude, when are you going to come back? There is absolutely no way that you're going to get to know the girl if you're always here on the weekends and every weeknight." I realize that I'm having a hard time keeping my head up. "Good grief, I could even steal her away if I were interested. She's so cute and single and available . . ."
Hayate's practically vibrating with fury, or simple anger, or passion, or something, anything, unbridled. With him it's hard to tell.
I hold my head up a moment, my interest in Hayate's unrequited feelings and non-commitment to any sort of pursuit of Himeno decreasing significantly as the world started to spin the other direction this time. "I, I think I need a drink."
"Sure you do." Hayate laughs. A short bark, like Aya's . . . only, I'm guessing Hayate is not amused.
But the letters that you write
in the faded winter light
just tell her, they tell her
that you've got ten dollars
and you'll be all right
and when you get straight
you're gonna come back east some day.
I don't know what I'd do without friends to watch out for me. I mean, Duo's always invited me to his open bar parties where he mixes the most splendid drinks where one is almost enough to smash you into next Tuesday. Dorothy always drives me home from Duo's parties. Sorata gives me an attractive partner in crime; Himeno reminds me that innocence can be cute. Aya loaned me money when I was getting started.
I've come quite a way from getting started. I mean, I did have a spot of trouble with my mother when she found out that I done a little experimenting in things besides alcohol. That was when Aya's friendship came in handy. The guy felt more than a little sorry for me, and he was the obvious one to identify with the hasty decisions of family members. He hooked me up with Saionji where the rent was cheap. But, I mentioned that before.
Honestly, mom and I keep in touch. Mostly through Miaka. My kid sister can be pretty cool when it comes to someone's love life. I mean, honestly! She's a fifteen year old dating a college graduate. A very attractive college graduate. If I could be so lucky.
Our poor mother.
I was thinking about all of that while scooping dead fish from the tanks at work. Didn't I mention that? I'm the assistant manager at a pet supply store. It's pretty much a dead end job unless I decide that I want to breed pedigree pooches. There's an idea.
Anyway, after perversely chasing a few of the large mean fish with the net. I turn around to see Hayate watching me, with his hands stuffed deep in his pockets and his chin lowered so that his hair slips over and about his eyes. An effective shield.
"Hey, gorgeous!"
"Don't call me that." Hayate glowers, although he's pretty unaffected by my comment. "You sound like Duo when you do that."
"But it works for Duo . . ." I mock whine, flicking the fish net at him and successfully nailing him with a few drops of tank water. "What are you doing here? If only I worked on commission . . . now let's see." I point just to Hayate's right. "Oh, perfect. You should take two of those. Name the red one Himeno and the blue one Hayate."
"Siamese fighting fish?"
"Okay," I shrug, trying to keep the stupid grin off my face, "Maybe they don't want to share fish bowls, but you could still set them side by side and get more of a reaction that the human versions get . . . just a suggestion."
"I didn't come here for a suggestion." Hayate scowls more. I really shouldn't tease him, the poor guy knocks himself down so much no one ~else~ really has a chance to put him in his place.
"Maybe an iguana, something lizardy and solitary." I can't help myself, "No, sorry. What is it, Hayate?"
"I was wondering . . . I need." Hayate swallows, hard. A second time, "Forget it. I'll manage myself . . ." He turns and walks out faster than I can react.
"Hey, wait!" I call after him, but I'm paged by a frustrated representative trying to explain the ingredient differences in our kitty litter to a customer hung up on particulars. One measly coupon-offered later, I manage to sell the woman the overpriced name brand version. They should give me a commission.
Does your mother know
you have a man in the West?
Does your mother know
you drove him from your door?
Anyway that's all you think about,
you'd call her if you could.
"Where was Himeno tonight?" I ask as Duo and I close the bar. He's comfortably wrapped around my neck and I'm glad he's not going home with any of the girls he'd hit on during the evening. For once the more sober of us two, I have a grip around his shoulders and we start to walk toward the parking lot on the side of the Four Doors. Dorothy had gone ahead to start the car.
As much as I like Duo snuggled up to me like that, the boy is as straight as an arrow. And personally, I'm a bit mystified by the non-relationship he's kept with Dorothy this past year. She snottily cleans up his messes and mocks his love affairs. All the while waiting around for him. At least it looks that way to me. According to Duo, he doesn't have a snowball's chance with her. I wonder what gave him that idea?
After I settled in with Saionji, the nightmare roommate, Duo finished his communications degree and started in with a radio station in town. He was mostly scripting out advertisement spots and doing some voice work for them, but after getting in the know with the core group of djs and radio personalities, Duo was going to be starting his own movies segment in the fall. We were all excited for him.
He could have gone to any station anywhere, but he wanted to be near his old friends. Which was why I was there, working at the oh-so-full-of- advancement-opportunities pet store. No, I had gone to follow Sorata. And while my mother had a good idea of my intentions, Sorata was obliviously happy to have a buddy around to hang out with. Which was how I liked it. Having him happy to see me.
And why was Sorata there? Well, his sister had given him the opportunity of a lifetime-to prove himself as a principal photographer for her women's magazine. And he had talent.
"Himeno?" Duo says, a puzzled lift in the last syllable making the girl's name sound like a bloodhound's howl.
I'm suddenly nervous, and scramble for an excuse, "Himeno? I meant to say Sorata. Heh heh heh, silly me." God, I sound stupid to myself even.
"Sorata." Duo slips a bit, we've managed six steps so far, and he rests heavily against the brick wall just beyond the Four Doors' front window. "Now, there's something that you and Himeno have in common."
"Huh?" I had been curious for Hayate's sake, but now I'm curious for my own.
"Unrequited . . ." Duo coughs.
"Unrequited love?" I demand eagerly, perhaps sour-puss Hayate does have a chance with tulip-head.
"Love? Who said love?" Duo says slyly in low tones. "Why!? Do you love Sorata, Keisuke?"
"Damn you." I scowl adoringly, "What's this about Himeno?"
"Or maybe you love, Himeno?"
"You're impossible." I pull Duo's arm around my neck more securely, trying to lift more of his body weight on my shoulders, even cool Dorothy herself must have reached some point of annoyance by now. But she's sitting patiently in the car, and I wonder at her levels of endurance. "He's an idiot." I tell her after we've strapped a nearly unconscious Duo into the passenger seat.
"I know." Dorothy says.
Does your mother know
you walked all day in the rain?
Does your mother know
how deep your love could be?
Anyway that's all you think about,
you'd call her if you could.
Two weeks after Hayate greeted me with his fist, I'm thinking about getting a lottery ticket at the gas station while Duo is flirting with the woman at the register. But I'm not really feeling that lucky, and Duo isn't either as we leave without her phone number.
"It's just as well," I try to consol as we get back into my car, "It's not like we're coming back through here again any time soon."
"What do you mean by that?" Duo exclaims. With good reason. The two of us are staking out a potential gig for him in the next state over. Duo's an aspiring saxophone player, and he's pretty decent player if you want an honest answer. A lot of hopefuls show up now and again at this place to get a chance to play. Duo went twice before and the last time got a pleasant, "You're great but . . ." which left him hanging worse than a girl who teases. Duo's got this rabbits-foot-syndrome and since I went along with the time he got good reviews, he practically insisted I take vacation time to chase off three hours while he follows through on his chances.
"Don't listen to me," I find myself taking a foot out of my mouth again, "You're sure to get an album deal with this audition."
"Shut up, Keisuke, and just look cute."
"That's what I'm good at." I laugh, trying not to get frustrated as Duo hums nervously, off key. Tapping his fingers against the ledge of the car door.
Three hours after the three hour drive, Duo gets his opportunity to play for the talent manager again. It's just a guy at a bar who hires gigs for their place. But Duo holds this guy in high esteem, and so do a whole lot of other folk as I scan the hopefuls. I'm practically the only person without an instrument or a fist full of piano music.
And I will admit, Duo might hum off key, but his sax is pure jazz. Swell stuff, if I'm any judge. But my mother did say I always had a bit of a flair for the artistic side, even if I had no talent personally.
The man who's doing the evaluations, smokes contentedly. And puts out his cigarette with a quick smash, when Duo breathlessly relaxes his saxophone.
"I've always said you have talent kid."
Duo's face lights up, I can feel it from the third to last row of hastily assembled chairs.
"Do you play anything besides the sax? I have a sax player."
I'm out of my seat and meet Duo before he's able to slip more than three steps from the performance area. "You were amazing, Maxwell!" I slip in his last name to provide him some emotional distance, sometimes I'm thoughtful like that. Anxiously, I watch his eyes, dulled and without any emotion. That's good, right? Better than sad, I think.
"Maxwell?"
We both turn back. I catch the door before it closes on a fellow who's followed us all the way to the exit.
"I run and hide, but I never lie." Duo says wearily. He must be frustrated, he's using his pick-up lines on a complete stranger. And a guy. And, well, a very attractive guy. "That's me, Duo Maxwell."
"Duo Maxwell," The stranger repeats for good measure, he's a tall but slightly built man. Fair with silvery-blond hair that reminds me of Dorothy's. Maybe that's why Duo's interested, misplaced emotions . . . but I don't want to carry that thought too far. The stranger holds out his hand, a slight but very friendly smile crosses his features. Causing his eyes to soften behind his glasses. "I'm looking for a saxophone player, and I can't let you leave without giving you an offer."
"What?" Duo says, one eyebrow pushed under the loose wisps of hair, disbelieving.
"He said he's looking for a . . ."
"I heard him." Duo interrupts me, perplexed. "You scout other people's auditions?"
"Is that so terrible?" The stranger laughs almost nervously, I'm instantly charmed. "It's actually the first time. And I wasn't really serious about scouting today either. But you are serious about your music, and that's why I had to offer."
"Who are you? What exactly are you offering?" Duo finally accepting the extended handshake.
"My real name is Henry Feist. My mom calls me Hank. My friends call me Sesame." Then laughing softly again, he adds, "Call me Sesame."
But the letters that you write
in the faded winter light
just tell her, they tell her
that you've got ten dollars
and your rent costs eight
and when you get straight
you're gonna come back east some day.
But the letters that you write
in the faded winter light,
just tell her, they tell her.