In the morning, you hurry over to Kim as soon as you arrive at the precinct. "Hey Kim, I went to an exercise class last night. The teacher didn't turn up and, oh! Do you think something might have happened to her?"
"Has she been reported missing?"
"No."
"Then don't you think we have enough cases to deal with? Besides, missing persons aren't really our department."
"We could make it a side investigation."
"Okay. What do you know about this woman?"
You think about this. "Well, I know her name. And that she teaches that class."
"Then have you considered that she might just be sick?"
"Oh, good point. We could check."
"Fine, we can check, if we're in the area," Kim says, and something occurs to you. He knows instinctively what the look on your face means. "Detective, you don't know where she lives, do you?"
"No."
"Well then, we'll put that mystery to one side for now, shall we?"
You reluctantly nod.
You spend the rest of the day trying to convince yourself that the one exercise class (taught expertly by you) was enough to stop the pain in your leg. By the afternoon, you resort to taking some painkillers, and feel like a failure.
Another thing that makes you feel like a failure preys on your mind. Your mother. It's been two weeks since you went to see her. You wonder if you can get away with giving her a quick call from a payphone, but that won't exactly protect you from her bringing up a certain person you'd rather forget.
You need to pick up some groceries for the weekend anyway, so you decide to go round to see her after work on Friday. She's happy to see you, and doesn't comment on your absence last week as you feared she might.
She gives you her shopping list, and you wonder if you've been getting her shopping for years, as she seems to remember to prepare it for you. You go to the nearby supermarket and pick up everything on her list, as well as some things for you and Kim. It takes you a while at the checkout to sort them into two separate bags, and the people behind you in line start to get impatient.
Your mum looks confused when she opens the door to you a second time. "I brought the groceries you wanted, mum," you explain.
She frowns, then looks at the plastic bag you are holding up. "Oh yes, of course. Thank you, Harrier."
You take the groceries through to the kitchen, and this time you remember where most things go. "I've had a long day, so I won't stop," you say.
"Oh. Won't you have a quick drink with me before you go?"
You really do want to avoid drinking. But your mother looks like she'll be upset if you say no. "Okay, just a small one," you say.
She smiles. "Great, I'll put the kettle on."
You breathe a sigh of relief, and are amused when you see her take two miniature teacups out of a cupboard.
You can't help but make a noise when you sit down. "Harrier, you're too young to be making such a song and dance about sitting down!" she remarks.
"Am I?" you ask. You don't feel very young. But compared to her, you are. You wonder just how old your mother is, seventy, maybe? People in their sixties and seventies regularly turn up dead in this city, and are often logged as deaths from 'old age'. Suddenly you feel even more guilty about avoiding coming to see her.
Then your mother asks the question you've been bracing for. "Isn't Delores with you?"
"No," you say, intending to add some explanation, but then you stop. "So, how have you been?"
"Oh, you know, can't complain," she says, pulling a blanket off the back of a chair and wrapping it around herself. It's cold in here, and you still have your coat on.
"I taught an exercise class!" you say proudly.
"Oh, very good, Harrier! You'll do anything for those children, won't you? They're very lucky to have you, you know."
You just nod and sip your tea, because you don't want to do through explaining again that you're no longer a teacher.
There isn't very much tea in your cup so it doesn't take long for you to finish it. You take yours and your mum's cup through into the kitchen and give them a quick wash. Then you remember the money your elderly students pressed you to take, and you know what you need to do with it.
You open the cutlery drawer and place the coins into an empty section. You still don't remember much about your mother, so you don't know if she'll gladly accept money from you or not. This way, hopefully she'll think she left it there by mistake and realise she can actually afford to use the heating.
Returning to the living room, you give your mum a hug and you say your goodbyes. You take your own groceries home and put them away. You're tired and don't feel like wrestling with your conscience so you just take some painkillers so you can sleep. You have a fun weekend planned with Kim, and you want it to be perfect.
You get up early in the morning, fix yourself some breakfast, then set to work tidying and cleaning your apartment. It doesn't seem such a horrible chore as you're doing it for Kim. You're excited for this weekend. Your leg hurts, but you don't let it stop you from doing what you need to do, you won't let it stop you from having a good time.
You have vague memories of going to see bands, and you get the feeling this is something that the old you enjoyed doing. And you know it's something Kim will enjoy. You smile at the thought of doing something together that he likes. It's almost like a date. Well, not quite. Friends do these things together too, you're sure, but you're going somewhere together in the evening, just the two of you. You wonder if Kim has thought about this.
Once the apartment is as clean and tidy as it's going to get, you take a shower and put on some clothes. You don't know what clothes are suitable for a grungy underground club, and you decide you'll have to ask Kim for advice.
You're filled with excitement when you hear Kim pull up in his motor carriage. You rush out of your apartment and down the corridor to meet him at the front door.
"Oh, Harry," he says in surprise as you open the door. A smile forms on his face. "What are you smiling about?"
"Kim, it's tonight! Sułislaw and the Pseudomorphs!"
Kim shakes his head and smiles as he follows you down the corridor. "Have you even heard this band before?"
"Well, no," you admit. "But how can they not be great with a name like that?"
"I suppose so."
"There's just one problem," you say as shut the door of your apartment behind him. "I really don't know what to wear."
"It's no big deal, these places rarely have dress codes," Kim says.
"Oh. So are you just going like that?" you ask, not that you mean to say that Kim doesn't look great in his regular clothes.
"Of course not. I don't want those people to know I'm RCM. This is my night off. If anyone gets hit by a flying beer bottle, I didn't see it."
"Oh. Yeah. So what are you wearing?"
"You're really worried about this, huh?"
"I just want to look cool!"
Kim smiles. Then shrugs. "Just wear something black. Take a look through your closet while I go get changed."
You rummage through your closet and pull out all of the black items. You're still searching through things that have fallen off hangers onto the bottom of your closet when you hear Kim clearing his throat behind you. You turn around.
Kim looks amazing. He's wearing a denim jacket, a tight white t-shirt and even tighter leather trousers. Black fingerless biker gloves and shiny black boots complete his look. His hair is freshly slicked back and he smells nice too. You recognise the scent as his leaving present cologne.
"Whoa," you breathe. Then shut your mouth again before you can say anything that might get you in trouble.
Kim flashes you a smile, and adjusts his glasses. God, he's so cool. What you wouldn't give to put your arms around his waist and pull him close to you. "So, what have you got?" he asks before you can pursue that thought further.
"Well, I found these," you say, pulling out a pair of black velvet flares. "And this is perfect." You hold up the Fuck the World jacket you, er, obtained in Martinaise. "Except you're not wearing your Pissf****t jacket."
He waves a hand. "It doesn't fit me as well as this one does," he says dismissively. "That doesn't mean you can't wear yours. The Basement Bar is rather a fuck the world kind of place."
"But I can't find a good black shirt," you say.
Kim thinks for a moment, and then smiles. "I think I know the perfect one," he says, starting to look through your pile of clothes. He pulls out a flimsy garment that you don't recognise at first.
You take it and see that it is the mesh shirt, another Martinaise find. "Perfect!" you say, and rush off to get changed in the bathroom.
"I'm not sure about those trousers," Kim says when you return.
"Oh no, Kim, these are great. They're my widest pair of flares."
Kim smirks. "You know what? They're very you," he says. "So, are you ready to go?"
You take the bus a couple of stops down and walk the rest of the way to The Basement Bar. As you reach the stone steps that lead down to it, you have a vague recollection of vomiting here, then someone grabbed you by the back of your shirt and dragged you away. Jean? One of the bouncers? You're not sure.
You turn to Kim. "So, excited to be here?" you say.
"Mm-hmm," he says, but you suspect he is playing it cool.
You follow Kim down the steps and pay to get in. You hear music pumping from behind the double doors, much louder when you go inside. A crowd is already forming around the stage. The band isn't here yet, but people nod their heads and tap their feet to the heavy bass beat of the music playing over the speakers.
You both go over to the bar, and Kim orders a soda water. You've never seen Kim drink other than last week, and you know how strict he is with his cigarettes, but you can't help but wonder if he's doing this for you. The bartender sees your look of indecision, and goes to serve someone else.
The music is loud, so you can't lower your voice as much as you want to. "Kim, what do I order?"
"Anything you want," he says, but you suspect he means anything that won't result in him having to carry you home.
You realise you have no idea what drinks bars serve that don't contain alcohol. Maybe you forgot, maybe you never knew. The bartender is coming back over to you and you think about ordering the same as Kim, but then your eyes settle on a piece of paper taped to the counter, ink running from being soaked with spilled drinks. It bears the names of several cocktails you know and love, but then you notice a small section at the bottom titled non-alcoholic cocktails. When the bartender asks you again what you want, you point at one.
The bartender raises an eyebrow, clearly taken aback by a large manly man such as yourself ordering not only a cocktail but a non-alcoholic one. You watch him do some complicated things with ice and a cocktail shaker, and five minutes later you have a Blue Sunset in front of you. It shades from yellow at the top of the glass to blue at the bottom, has a curly straw and a slice of orange of the side.
"Nice choice," Kim says. You can see him having second thoughts about ordering a soda water.
You make your way through the crowd to find a good place in front of the stage. You look around the crowd. Everyone here is so cool, full of leather and ripped up clothes barely held together with safety pins, chains and spikes, experimental hairstyles. But no-one here is quite as cool as Kim. You glance at him and smile. He looks at you. Caught off guard, you raise your glass. He clinks his glass against yours and takes a drink. You try your non-alcoholic cocktail and the pure sugar goes straight into your bloodstream. It's good.
In the crowd, you hear someone shouting to you. A familiar figure with bleached hair sticking out in all directions is waving to you. It's Andre, from the church. Then you see Acele, and Soona. You weave through the crowd, making your way over.
"Didn't expect to see you here," you say.
"I'm all for supporting live music, man," Andre says.
Soona sighs. "I promised Sułislaw I'd come and see his band," she says. "And I hope in return he will finally give me his thoughts on the hole in reality."
"I've heard they're really experimental, they mix all kinds of genres together," Acele says.
Andre puts his arm around Acele. "Yeah, maybe we can get them to play at Disco Elysium some time?" he says.
"Maybe if you let him think it's his idea," Soona says.
"So are you here on some sort of investigation?" Acele asks you.
"No, we're off the clock," Kim says.
"Even cops deserve a break, right?" you say.
"Too right, man. Especially after what happened to you," Andre says.
"How are things at the club?" you ask.
"Oh, you know. Still getting started," he says.
"We think people might be put coming off because of you know, the shooting," Acele says.
"Yeah, that just means people need the club even more," Andre says.
"People get shot every day in Jamrock, and look at this place," Kim says.
"Exactly!" says Andre. "Hey look, they're coming out!"
The crowd goes wild as the band steps onto the stage, taking up their places with their instruments. You suck your drink through your straw, conscious that you might be about to have your glass knocked out of your hand.
You lean over to Soona. "Which one's Sułislaw?" you ask.
She points to a man with long blond hair wearing a leather jacket with nothing underneath who is stepping up to the microphone in the centre of the stage. He holds his hands up dramatically. "Allay, allay," he says, and waits for the noise from the crowd to decrease a little. "We're glad you could all join us tonight to hear our stories in the form of song."
The keyboardist starts to play an intricate melody on the synthesizer and is joined by the guitarist playing a different but complimentary tune. This isn't what you were expecting. You glance at Kim. He is listening, motionless, like the rest of the crowd. Then the bass guitar and drums kick in and the crowd starts to sway and nod their heads. Sułislaw stands with his back to the crowd, his hands clasped behind him. You expect at some point he is going to sing, but for now the band is playing an extended introduction.
Eventually Sułislaw turns around and starts to sing. It's hard to hear his voice over the instruments, but you're sure you hear mentions of Wirrâl and the heat death of the universe.
They play several songs, all of which are long and convoluted, some parts soft and other parts heavy, all complex and multi-layered. This isn't like disco, you can't just feel the beat and go with it. You suspect you would have to listen to this music over and over until you can gather the faintest suspicion about what it means. The crowd seems to enjoy it. You see Kim nodding his head.
The last strains of the current song fade out, and Sułislaw speaks into the mic. "After many weeks' journey across the mountains and the desert, our heroes come to the fabled Valley of the Heads."
You hear Soona sigh beside you. "Still with those damn heads," she grumbles.
"Now the headless man can finally be whole," Sułislaw continues. "Only it is not that simple, our heroes must solve a fiendish puzzle to determine which head he should choose."
The band launches into another song. Part way through as the song builds to its crescendo, Sułislaw brings out a flute and starts to play. The crowd seems to especially love this part.
You're enjoying the novelty of this weird music, and the atmosphere is great. And best of all, you can tell Kim is enjoying himself, in his own restrained way. But what you're not enjoying is the aches from standing still. You imagine the alcohol and the drugs helped with that when you used to go out, before. While the sugar in your Blue Sunrise is keeping your energy up, it is doing nothing about the pain. You should have brought painkillers, or remembered to take some before you came here. You shift from leg to leg, but you can't stand on your left leg for long.
The band leave the stage for the intermission. You slip off to the bathroom, and while you are washing your hands, your attention is grabbed by some green pills by the sink. We can help, they say.
You scoop them up with wet hands. Three round, acid green pills. You should confiscate them at the least. Don't you want us to help with your pain? they tempt you.
Before you can think on it further, you put one in your mouth and swallow it. You put the other two in your pocket and go back into the main hall to find Kim.
He is at the bar and has two identical drinks with umbrellas in them and chunks of pineapple on the side. He hands one to you. "These are Pina Noladas," he says, with clear disapproval of the name.
You take a sip of your drink and realise your mouth has gone a bit numb. "Thanks, Kim. No alcohol, right?"
"No alcohol," Kim confirms. "I thought I would join the non-alcoholic cocktail gang."
"Coolest gang there is," you say, adjusting your standing position and sliding a little. The pain in your leg has decreased, it seems your instincts about those pills were right.
"Let's go and get ourselves a good place by the stage," Kim says.
Acele and Andre have wormed their way right to the front. You can't see Soona. You and Kim settle on a position close to the stage but far enough back that you don't have to stand shoulder to shoulder with other people. Your legs have gone to jelly but on the upside you can't feel them at all. You have the sudden urge to whoop and holler.
"Enjoying the band, Kim?" you say, almost spilling your drink. "The band? They're good, aren't they?"
"Yes," Kim says. "Not exactly what I expected, but yes, this is fun."
"Now you have a place to crash in Jamrock, we can come see all the bands here!"
Kim smiles. "I wouldn't mind coming here again," he says. "Although, now I am older, it is harder to stand still for long periods without my back and legs aching."
"I've got just the thing for that," you say, fishing around in your pocket, and pulling out the two remaining green pills.
"What are those?"
You shrug. "Found them in the bathroom."
"What?" Kim frowns at you.
"It's okay, I already tried one so I know they work," you say. "Do you want one?"
"No," he says pointedly, then adds, "thank you." He looks very disappointed in you.
"Are you sure, Kim?" you ask. Kim turns away from you to face the stage. "Kim?"
Your voice is lost in the noise as the band comes back onto the stage and launch into a fast, heavy song. Your legs don't seem to want to stay still, so you dance along with other people in the crowd. Kim stays still. You're concerned that he's mad at you. But soon you're swept up in the music.
The second half of the set is just as good as the first. You don't have to worry about the pain in your leg, but your mind keeps wandering and you find it hard to concentrate on the lyrics at all.
"Thank you and good night!" Sułislaw says, and the band leaves the stage. You clap and cheer along with everyone else. The crowd seems reluctant to leave, and something tells you that this isn't the end of the show.
The crowd continues cheering and stomping their feet, then one by one the band members come back onto the stage.
"Okay, okay, we'll do one of our old favourites as an encore," Sułislaw says. Of course, an encore! You remember now. "Just one, I hear you say. Don't worry, it's fifteen minutes long. And because you've been such a good audience, we'll do an extended solo so it might be closer to twenty minutes!"
As the band plays the opening bars, the crowd goes wild. The song they play as an encore has multiple interlinked sections, varying in style, speeding up and slowing down in a way that seems like strictly organised chaos.
You look at Kim and smile as you join the applause at the end of the song. Kim returns your smile, but you can't help but notice he looks stiff and uncomfortable.
"We could have another drink?" you say, holding up your empty glass.
"No, I think we should make sure not to miss the last bus," he says.
The silence between you as you walk to the bus stop worries you. "Kim, are you mad at me?" you ask.
Kim exhales heavily. He doesn't say yes, but he doesn't need to. "You could have ignored them. The drugs," he says. He wishes you would want to ignore them.
"It'd be rude to refuse an offer like that," you say.
"I can understand being open minded, but you don't have to say yes to everything."
You just nod solemnly.
"For the record, I am not interested in taking drugs you find in bathrooms," he says.
That's it. That's the part he's really mad about. You feel so stupid.
"Come on Kim, there's precious little joy in life as there is," you say.
"So you don't enjoy hanging out with me?"
Kim's words fill you with horror, and shame, and regret. "What? No that's not what I meant at all," you say. "I don't know why I said that."
"I know this may not be quite your idea of fun, but I thought you were game."
"I was! I am." You both see the bus stop up ahead. A group of people are waiting there already. By some sort of silent agreement, you both slow down.
"Was this just another thing you agreed to because you don't like to say no?"
"No! This was my idea if you remember!" you say. "I like going places with you Kim. I really do. I'm glad we're spending more time together. This was fun, and I'm sorry I ruined it."
Kim shakes his head. "Let's go, Harry. The bus is coming."
You get on the bus and take a seat by the window. Kim sits beside you, his arm and leg resting causally against yours. You glance at him, and want to say something, but you don't know what. You just want to know everything is okay between the two of you. His hands rest on his legs, on top of those scandalously tight trousers. No, this is not the time for those kinds of thoughts. You reach out and touch his hand. Without looking at you, he turns his hand over and gives yours a squeeze. You feel comforted. Everything is okay.
While they're named more like a punk band, I based Sułislaw and the Pseudomorphs on Led Zeppelin and Peter Gabriel era Genesis.