17. Kick in the Head
Rocky Horror does not belong to me; it belongs to the eternally awesome Richard O' Brien.
Ok, not much has been happening lately. If you can hang in there for the next few chapters, I promise things will start picking up.
"Ain't That a Kick in the Head" belongs to Jimmy Van Heusen, Sammy Cahn, Lee Gillette, and Capitol Records.
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Like the fella once said...
She'd been hearing that in the back of her mind ever since she woke up. It came and went; she didn't hear it during breakfast or going through her morning routine. The next time it came to her, she had stopped for just a second during that day's tap session. There was some obnoxious jingle (that frankly wasn't worth making up a dance for) playing while she caught her breath, and that phrase started up again. Whatever it was, she wasn't going to let it drive her crazy today.
At least, that's what she thought. As it turned out, trying not to think about it just meant her mind zeroed in on other things, such as how Carly Simon's and James Taylor's funky new duet based on that mockingbird lullaby made for an interesting tap routine, even one as improvised as hers.
From there, her thoughts moved to how glad she was she didn't have an audience; it was one thing if she planned her routines first, but she really needed an utter lack of self-consciousness if she was going to let them watch her do nothing but be as noisy and energetic (and uncoordinated) as possible.
Onward to memories of doing just that, with Eddie sitting down in front, a big smile on his face as he cheered and whistled.
Oh, God; she knew her feet had stopped before she actually felt it. Was this really how it was going to be today? Nonstop thoughts of either Eddie or that song scrap? (At least, she was pretty sure it was part of a song.) She wasn't going to let one of those things bug her today, so which one was it going to be?
Easy; the more she thought of Eddie, the more likely she was going to just curl up on the spot to let guilt and regret have another go at her. So that just left that snatch of song (or was it maybe a line from TV?) front and center. She knew the voice; that sense of familiarity was too much to ignore. The smooth, rich, deep voice conjured up images of tall, dark, handsome, and effortlessly cool; it could only belong to…what's-his-name. She could barely picture his face; the only image she got was a suit. Great start.
She spent a little while longer dancing, not because she was getting tired (although her legs were getting an excellent burn), but because her concentration just wasn't there anymore. What to do with herself now? It was around lunchtime, but she wasn't really hungry. She was too wound up to look for anything good on TV. A look out a hall window showed her a good blanket of snow, sparkling in the sunlight on that early February morning.
A walk! Perfect! She could slip out and head off in any direction (as long as she was back by nightfall), her only company the crunch of snow under her feet. Her mind would be free to wander, and maybe, just maybe, that line would finally click into place. She bundled herself up in no time at all and went out the front door and down the long, snow-covered path to the gate.
Taking a deep breath of the cool, crisp air, she took a moment to revel in her surroundings; the sound of each step - taken slowly, of course; she wasn't about to injure herself twice in two months - was calming, satisfying. As soon as that snippet came to mind, she'd immediately switch to another topic, knowing it was (hopefully) just going to come to her.
That was the idea, anyway. She walked all over the property, only turning back the cold seeped in through her many layers to her legs, and letting her thoughts go on all kinds of tangents. Amazingly, she still had no answer to her question by the time she returned and jumped into a hot shower.
"Have you tried just not thinking about it?" That was Magenta's response while throwing dinner together. She knew her friend was trying to help, but she needed something other than the blunt, straightforward approach right now.
"That's easy for you to say," she fired back, maybe a little sharper than she meant, but the other woman didn't react. (Aside from her brother and missing Transylvania, did anything get under Magenta's skin?) Regardless, she opted to at least put it aside until after dinner. Said meal seemed to fly by, while she barely listened to Frank's latest topic of one-sided conversation.
Hence why she was now here in one of the many lounges, having roped in a couple of Phantoms as her audience. All she told them was, "Let me know if this sounds familiar at all," and they nodded, always eager to please. She said and sang that line as many ways as she could think of; all they could give her was tilted heads and the occasional "Aha" look that turned out to be nothing.
"Talking to yourself, dear?" There was Frank, Rocky on his arm, and Magenta and Riff Raff lurking behind.
She hated not always having a good response to Frank's quips, but this was thankfully not one of those times. "I've got a small but crucial role in a Broadway musical. I'm just warming up."
This earned her a snicker. "I'll get Fosse on the phone, shall I?" With that, the small party swept into the room, the Phantoms scurrying off the sofa to make room for creator and creation.
Maybe she should leave while she was ahead; she doubted that whatever was going on now, Frank wasn't going to need her.
"It's good that you're here, actually," he said, to her surprise. "I want Mr. Flavors' visit to be first-class in every way." He gave her a pointed look. "I know you'll look your best and be on your best behavior. You always are." Just as long as you don't overshadow me hung behind the compliment. Okay, if he told her to stay, she would, from the comfort of a leather armchair; that didn't mean she'd listen to him as he went on about scheduling that night's events and ideas for dinner. When had he ever asked her to help with preparations like this before? Maybe she could pass the time by thinking about that song again.
"Master, far be it from me to dispute your plans," Riff Raff said, sounding anything but contrite, "but is inviting an unfamiliar human with such wealth and connections into the house the wisest choice? Our cousins at the DTV station have warned us that Farley Flavors is a man who gets what he wants, and if he wants to expose us, who knows what he may have planned."
Frank just laughed that throaty little laugh that said You have no idea how wrong you are. "I'm well aware of what your cousins do, Riff Raff, and you can tell them that I have the matter perfectly under control. Save your energy for the next floor show." The glower Riff Raff shot towards Frank made her glad she was sitting off to the side.
"Are you sure this will work?" That came from Rocky, looking both worried and uncomfortable at speaking up. Frank switched out his smugness for a reassuring-yet-indulgent smile. "Don't you fret," he said, patting his creation's hand, "Just leave everything to me. You trust me, don't you?"
"Of course!" Maybe Rocky answered a little too quickly, but at least he was learning what Frank wanted to hear. "I just can't shake this feeling that something's going to happen." She didn't know which was more unexpected: that Rocky was openly questioning Frank so much, or that she actually found herself agreeing with him.
"You worry too much," Frank said, slightly more insistently. "Everything is going to be just fine."
"But what if something happens anyway?" Rocky said, equally insistent.
Frank scoffed. "Wouldn't that be a kick in the head?"
"THAT'S IT!"
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The whole room was staring at her after she'd jumped to her feet. He didn't know why; did she just have an idea on how to keep their secret safe?
"'Kick in the Head,'" she said in a small voice as she sat back down, her excitement folding in on itself. "I had that song stuck in my head all day and I just remembered what it was called."
"Happens to all of us, darling," Frank shrugged before turning back to cup the back of his neck with a hand, a thumb sliding up to stroke behind his ear and make him break out in goosebumps. "As I was saying, we're going to be prepared for anything, and I know exactly how to deal with this Farley Flavors, so I just want you to put this out of your mind. Alright?"
There was that definite tone in his voice which meant no more questions. "Alright."
He closed his eyes and leaned into the touch, but that must have been submissive enough for Frank, who pulled away to clap his hands together and stand up. "Well, we have plans to make, don't we? Magenta, do you still have the number for that distillery in Transylvania? You know the one." Magenta answered this request by reaching down the front of her dress and pulling out a scrap of paper. "Right where you left it, master."
"I knew I could rely on you," he chuckled, snatching the paper from her grip before turning to the rest of the room. "And now, if you'll excuse me, I must place an order with Transylvania's best distillery. I can imagine how backed up they are, but they may make an exception when they learn who's calling for a case of their finest." He snapped his fingers and the servants straightened up. Eddie sighed (if that was even possible). Sounds like our cue.
He started to get up, only for Frank to come over and push him back down. This was different. "Don't you want me there too?" (He didn't sound that pathetic, did he?) His creator just smiled and shook his head. "Sorry to leave you, darling, but this would just bore you. I won't be a moment."
That was how he found himself alone with Columbia. He wasn't complaining; he hadn't really seen her over the last couple of days, and honestly, he was a little worried; but Frank leaving him alone with someone else? Well, his creator didn't even look at her as he left with the servants trailing behind him. Did that mean he trusted her?
That's giving him too much credit, buddy. Ok, that was probably true. Still, he was happy to see her again, and the smile she gave him said the same.
"How's your day been so far?" A good start. See, kid? You're getting the hang of this. "Not bad," she shrugged, "I got outside for a while." "Me too," he said, the story of the day just coming out of him. Frank had insisted they take in today's winter landscape. He even received his own winter coat: dark blue, trimmed with fur, nearly went all the way to his ankles; Frank had a similar one in red. Coupled with thick hats, scarves, gloves, and boots, they left the kitchen arm in arm, setting off across the yard towards the woods. At one point, Frank had him stop and just take in the scenery. With everything somehow looking new when covered in white, a feeling of peace and quiet coming over him.
At least, it did until his hood was yanked down and replaced with a handful of snow inside. The hat and scarf helped a bit, but the sight of his creator doubled over laughing didn't. While he brushed the snow out as best he could, Frank took his time collecting himself, saying between giggles, "I just had to see your face!" At least Frank thought it was funny; he couldn't really see the appeal while trying to get as much snow off as he could before it melted. (If he could, he'd ask just what the hell that was about, but he knew he couldn't.)
They didn't stay outside much longer after that, as Frank announced he was getting cold already. "We may have no suns in Transylvania, but we like to keep plenty warm," was his explanation as they trooped back to the house and shed their winter layers. From there, he was led upstairs to a waiting hot bath (for two, of course). "I imagine," she said, with a little knowing laugh that indicated he didn't need to explain that part any further.
He could only shrug. "That's pretty much it." Other than just lying around afterward, Frank griping about the work needed to keep Earthlings like Farley and the DTV reporters away. In his creator's arms, the man humming to himself, his mind wandered. He'd seen everyone in the house today, except Columbia. Kid, worrying about her all the time isn't going to help . He couldn't help it; after barely seeing her the last couple of days, what else could he do between working out and staying on Frank's good side? "Is everything okay?"
She frowned a little, but not like she was angry. "Yeah, why?" You're not gonna ask, are you? "It's just that, at dinner-" He wanted to ask about her distant look, how she barely reacted to anything Frank said, how she got up and left almost immediately after she finished eating. He settled for "You just looked like you had something on your mind." It wasn't because of something he had done, was it? Had he upset her again and just forgot? As far as I know, you didn't do anything, kid. That helped, but what if he did it by accident? "Sorry, I shouldn't have asked."
"It's cool," she said, waving a hand (sending his anxiety away with it). "I've had part of this song stuck in my head all day and I couldn't remember the name. That's why I got so excited when Frank said, 'kick in the head.'" Oh, I get it. Good thing Eddie did, because now he was lost.
"The song is called 'Ain't That a Kick in the Head.'"
"Why would someone name a song after a kick in the head? It just sounds like that'd hurt."
"It's one of those big-band things people listen to at cocktail parties, but I'd be lying if I said that it's no good." Okay, he understood some of that. His confusion must have been obvious, as she straightened up and moved to the edge of her seat. "It's not about an actual kick in the head. It just means a sudden surprise, like two people who don't expect to fall in love with each other, and then they do, and…" That faraway look came back, although it ended much quicker this time. "Why am I just telling you about it? I'll be right back." She darted out of the room, leaving him to wonder how this was going to go. I know what she's talking about. Don't worry, kid, I think you're gonna like it. Well, if Eddie said so, he didn't have to worry. Right?
"Huh, I forgot this was in a movie," she said, coming back into the room, her head down as she read the sleeve of the record in her hands, and headed for the record player in the corner (each room in the house had at least one). She turned and shot a grin his way as she placed the disc on the turntable. "This isn't exactly rock and roll but brace yourself." He appreciated the warning when an entire horn section blasted out of the speakers. She danced back across the room and into her seat.
He moved his attention to the song and found why it made her so excited. This song was fun, enough to make him want to get up and dance, and he envied the confidence of the singer. There was something else about the singer; he couldn't explain it, but he knew he was hearing a man who meant every word, that he was just that happy about being in love. (also, he was pretty sure this was what Frank was humming in bed earlier). Another voice - her voice - chimed in with the singing. She was bouncing and swaying, waving her hands all over and tapping her feet, with the biggest smile on her face. Her energy was infectious; he didn't even notice the song had ended.
"Did I miss something?" Frank's voice came from the doorway, where he stood, drumming his fingers against the frame before sauntering in. "I heard the music, and I thought there might be a party going on."
"He wanted to know what was so special about 'Kick in the Head,' so I played it for him." Frank wasn't even looking at her (again), focusing only on him, as though being left alone for reasons he barely knew was somehow his fault. The upbeat mood left by the song was quickly vanishing, and Columbia seemed to feel it too. "Well, I think I'll leave you two alone," she announced, standing up.
She was almost at the door, when she turned around. "Don't be mad, Frankie. Gotta kill time around here somehow." If that jab had an effect on Frank (and it probably didn't), he just ignored it, keeping his back to her. This worked out for her, as she looked past his creator to give him a smile and a small wave before disappearing. He quickly smiled back, then turned as Frank reclaimed the spot next to him on the sofa. "Are you going to need to do anything else like that tonight?"
"Oh no, darling, that was just something special. We can easily get everything else from our local contacts." His creator's hand had settled back on his neck, the thumb finding that spot behind his ear again. "I figured half scotch, half bourbon ought to be enough. The galaxy's best, no less!" He wasn't paying much attention now, leaning into the touch like a cat; oh, it was wonderful! (Frank, if nothing else, knew exactly where to put his hands).
His creator leaned in to steal a kiss. "I heard mention of a king-sized bed. I say who needs that when we have this lovely sofa."
He was probably going to have that song stuck in his head for days. He didn't care.
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Thanks for reading! See you next chapter!
Here's hoping work doesn't drag down my motivation and I get the next chapter out in a reasonable amount of time.
Also, Happy (early) Halloween!