The Break - Chapter 8

Chapter 8 Ian inhaled deeply on the cigarette. He examined it closely as he rolled it between his index finger and his thumb. He was waiting. Waiting for the familiar form to walk out of the store. He had been following the man for three days. And each day he had seen that everything was as it should be. Today was the day. He had to make sure he got close, very close. Ideally he would be able to get within six inches of the man’s face before he knew he was there. He could do it. He would do it, because he was a professional. He knew that when his target exited the store he would turn right. At that point he would cross the street diagonally. He would move rapidly, but not too quickly as to cause anyone to take notice. If you move to fast, you excite the air. People start to look around attracted to the energy of something in motion. Not a good thing, he did not want to attract attention to himself in anyway. He needed to catch up to him, but he didn’t want to activate the primeval feeling that no one really notices. Once in position, he would lean in closely. Close enough to see the late day whiskers protruding from his pores. That would maximize the shock. He wanted to shock the man’s psyche to the core. The more freaked out the man was, the better. He smiled to himself, he wondered if the man would be able to maintain standing. As he mused on this thought, the door to the store opened and the man step out. Caught in thought, he was taken off guard when the man turned left. Luckily years of experience came in handy. By taking up a position on the opposite side of the street, Ian had given himself room to maneuver with out betraying his presence. Subtly, Ian turned his back to the street and hunched his shoulders to reduce the chance of being recognized. After a short pause, he turned to face the street. Ian quickly scanned the sparse crowd before locating the man. As soon as Ian had acquired the target, he glanced over his shoulder to ensure there was no traffic and he jogged across the street. He closed half the distance between them within ten seconds. He slowed to a walk still closing quickly. He fell into step about seven steps behind the man. He followed in step for almost a block. The man in front of Ian turned right on to a deserted street. Even though it wasn’t the spot the Ian had planned on overtaking the man, this was a very good place to do so. Ian picked up his pace, closed the distance between himself and the man. Reaching out with his left hand, he roughly grabbed his target. Frightened by the sudden contact, the man jerked wildly. But Ian squeezed his shoulder tightly and spun him around. As the man’s body turned to meet his, Ian leaned in so that he was eye to eye with his victim. “Hey, Frankie boy!” Ian said loudly in a very threatening voice. “Oh…my…it’s…holy shit …” Frankie attempted as all of the strength drained from his body. Frankie’s body began to shudder from the shock. His knees began to shake and he head was spinning. He jerked uncontrollably and began to sink to the ground. “Y-y-y-yooooooouuuuu … ” Slipped from Frankie’s mouth, barely audibly as he burst into tears. Ian was taken somewhat aback by the reaction. Earlier he had been amused at the prospect of watching Frankie sink to the ground. Actually seeing it happen was pathetic. Ian moved quickly to steady Frankie and return him to a fully erect position. For a fleeting moment, Ian felt bad. “Jesus, what have we done to this guy?” Just a quickly his attitude changed back. “Fuck Frankie.” He thought. “Whasamatter, Frankie?” Ian said. “You didn’t expect to see me again?” “Wha … what the … WHY?” Frankie said totally flustered. “Why? Cause it’s time Frankie. Time for you to do your job.” “Wha…I…job…what…?” Frankie stammered. This was becoming very trying for Ian. “I guess I maximized the shock, but this is getting old. Plus, this was supposed to be a quick encounter. “Look,” Ian started. “It’s time and you know what I’m talking about.” Ian hissed as he grabbed Frankie by the shirt and pulled him to within inches of his face. Now, Ian wanted to really set the terror. He purposely breathed heavily into Frankie’s face and said, “Get your shit together. I’ll be in touch.” Ian released Frankie and quickly turned and disappeared onto the street where the store was. Frankie just stood there blinking his eyes – stunned. “What the fuck.” He said out loud. “Who was that?” Frankie thought quickly, searching, trying to remember. “I’ve never seen that guy before, but it’s like I know him.” He thought as a wave of terror flushed over him. All he knew was the he was afraid, very afraid and he should be. Jesus Christ.” He said aloud again. “What the fuck is happening?” ---------------------------------------------------------------- Ass was bustin’ on the snare, feet working independently on the high-hat and the bass drum and then a crash of the symbol. All of it in perfect time with Ben. They were brothers. Brothers of rhythm. They both had it and it was exactly the same. Not like the head nodding of dancers, but the serendipitous synchronicity of true musicians. It had been that way since they met in band at Deer Creek middle school. They hadn’t even spoken. During the first song they played together they made eye contact and fell into the same groove. They hadn’t gotten out of it yet. Ass sensed the song coming to an end. No one needed to say anything, they all knew. Three staccato shots to the symbol and everyone stopped. “Fuckin’ A.” Said Pete as he picked up his towel from his guitar stand and wiped his forehead. “Yeah.” Ronnie said, head hanging down. He inhaled deeply to return the air to his lungs. “Yeah.” They all took a private moment to revel in what they had just created. This was why they played. This moment where everything felt exactly right. They felt alive with each other and they shared an intimacy that few would ever know. It was the feeling all groups of people feel when they share a moment that is bigger than their collective effort. They had achieved more than they believed they were capable of. That moment. That perfect one moment. “Ronnie,” Big Ron’s voiced shattered the moment. “Yeah.” Ronnie mumbled without looking up. “Can I talk to you?” Big Ron asked. “In the house.” “Sure,” Ronnie said and fell in step behind his father. Pete busied himself undoing his guitar strap. He put his guitar down and wiped his forehead again. “Dudes, gotta piss.” Pete said to his remaining band mates. “Cool.” Ass said as he hopped off his stool and extended to full five-foot one-inch height. Ass was stoked. He tried to remember if he had ever heard anything like the song before. “That was a fucking jam.” He thought as he grabbed a towel and wiped the copious amounts of sweat off his head and upper body. “Ronnie’s got some talent.” He said out loud. “No shit, dude. That was sa-hick.” Ben responded. “I hear that. We are fucking good.” Ass said and believed. “Now all we gotta ...” Ben started and then paused in thought for a moment. He looked up and stared directly into Ass eyes and said in a very committed tone. “Dude, we gotta do it.” “Think?” Ass asked. Ben paced back and forth. “Yeah.” Ben said with finality. “Yeah.” Ass agreed solemnly. “Talk to Pete first?” “Sounds good.” Ben agreed. “Hey, Ronnie’s still not back?” Pete interjected as he returned to the garage. “Shit, I wanna pa-lay, ya know.” Pete walked over and quickly picked up his guitar and began tuning it. Ass and Ben shared a look and then Ass nodded and said, “Yo, Pete.” He looked down at his shoes and kicked at an imaginary speck of dust or his shoe. He looked up and looked directly at Pete. “Look, dude me and Ben. We gotta play or go.” “Hang for a few, Ronnie’ll be right back.” Pete said. “I wanna get that groove again.” “No, dude.” Ass said shaking his head. He started thumping a rhythm on his chest. “Ah…we…ya know … gotta play or we’re gonna go.” “No shit, dudes.” Pete said as he looked to Ben to confirm that he agreed with Ass. Ben just nodded and played a quick bass line. Pete shook his head from side to side as he bit on his right thumbnail. “Uh…Pete…we…uh…we been …well … there’s this dude …” Ass said. “You guys been talking to a dude, she-it.” Pete said with disgust in his voice. He shook his head vigorously. “Fuck, dude. You been talking? You been talking before you said anything to me. What the fuck is that all about? Huh?” “Shit, Pete dude. He just talked to us.” Ass said trying to defend their act of betrayal. “And we gotta play, dude. This garage shit is bullshit, dude. You know it, you’re just like us.” “But you didn’t tell us.” Pete started. “C’mon dude. You know he’s not changing.” Ass said sincerely. “Dude, we know like two hundred songs and we written like sixty of our own. We need to play.” “What’s Ronnie …” Pete tailed off. He saw Ronnie had entered without them noticing. He was standing close to the door. His face was ashen and he was staring blankly towards the others. “Ronnie…dude…I…” Ass tried to explain. “My Dad … ” Ronnie interrupted in a monotone voice. “My Dad…he…um…just told me that…uh…he is buying us an entire new sound system and he talked to one of his buddies that owns Ecks Saloon and we have a gig there tomorrow night.” The three band mates stared at each other in disbelief. The moment they have been waiting eight years for had hit them like an avalanche. After a dumbfounded pause, Pete said, “What? Are we going to play it?” Pete asked. “I guess I don’t have a choice.” Ronnie replied. Tags: Fiction, Online Book, Rebeleyeball, Paul GavinCopyright (c) 2006 Paul Gavin. All rights reserved.