“España’s
best pizza parlour… we serve ‘em the way you like ‘em! How may I assist you?”
Paul said, his Spanish accent thick in his voice.
“Erm… pizza
parlour? In Spain?” the voice at the other end asked. “Must’ve got the wrong
number…”
“Who are you
searching for?” Paul quickly asked with the accent. He loved mucking
around… especially when the victim was, none other than, Ben.
“Uh… er… Paul Marazzi.” Ben sounded nervous, and probably scared as well.
“I’m sorry
but there’s no staff by the name of Paul Marazzi here.”
Mark and
Christian were trying very hard not to laugh because if they did,
they’ll give it away.
“Oh… uh, I’m
very sorry then.” Ben was about to hung up when Paul burst into fits of
laughter. He quickly brought his mobile to his ear again. “Paul? Dammit Paul, I
thought I’d called Spain instead of your mobile!” he shouted down the line.
“Whoa, calm
down, boy!” Paul laughed. “It ain’t nothing serious.”
“Oh yeah?!” Ben
argued back. “You watch your back, Paul. ‘Cause when I’m back in that house,
you’re a piece of dead meat!”
“Ooh… I’m
very scared!” Paul giggled down the phone.
“I’m gonna
kill you!” Ben ranted violently down the end of his line.
~~ecaf~~
“I’m gonna kill
you!” his father shouted at him as he kicked his son. “How many times do I have
to tell you not to leave the house without my permission?!”
He was about
to answer that his mother had given him the permission to do so but he was
afraid that he might get his mother into trouble so he decided to clamp his
mouth shut.
“Did I ever tell you that?” he could
feel his father’s breath on his neck as he directed that question at him. “Did
I not tell you?” his father grabbed him by his collar and then, mustering all
the strength he’d had inside of him, pushed his son down on the floor hard
enough to hear a soft crack go off.
He winced as he landed on the floor,
feeling something amiss straight away. There wasn’t much pain, just a little
feeling of pins-and-needles at the end of his foot. He opted to sit on the
floor in this awkward situation and his father could do whatever he wanted to
him – he could sit here whole night! Then, he felt his father grabbing
him by the collar once again.
“No, stop, please!” he heard his
mother begged. “You’re gonna kill him!”
“And that’s exactly what I’ll do!” his
father yelled back at her. He threw his son down. “He’s nothing but… well… he’s
nothing even if he’s compared to a speck of dust!” He kicked his son on
the side, whipping him with the leather belt whenever he could.
“He is not!” his mother shouted
back at him. “He’s your son!”
He picked his son up by the collar
again. “I wish that he is!” his father spat, throwing down his son’s
limp body on the cold marbled floor and made his way to his wife.
“No… please!” he breathed, his voice
barely a whisper as he saw his father walking toward his mother. He could feel
something bad coming their way.
“You can stay there!”
his father said, staring hard into his son’s eyes as his son struggled to stand
up.
‘How could he ever be my father?’ he wondered, taking a
quick glance at the man that stood tall in front of him. A soft cry of pain
emitted from his throat as he put a little pressure on his foot. Wincing, he
dropped into a heap on the floor as pain took over his left leg. It was obvious
to him that he’d either broken or twisted his ankle.
“No…!” he whispered again before the
vision before him was replaced with darkness.
~~ecaf~~
“Anyone saw my guitar’s E string?”
Christian shouted from a chest of drawers nearby.
“Nope!” Paul shouted back from the
other end of the living room. “What about the bass? Anyone saw the strings?”
“No!” Mark and Ben shouted together.
Christian stuck his head into yet another
shelf and rummaged through it, pulling out his head only twice to sneeze.
“Where on earth would those strings
be?” Christian wondered out loud.
Paul ranted a series of curses before
slamming close the doors of an antique-looking shelf.
“Aargh!” Christian let out a soft cry
of frustration, admitting defeat. He walked toward the door, grabbed his keys
off the hook and grabbed his coat before throwing a look at Paul over his
shoulder. “Are you coming with me?”
“To?” Paul asked.
“To the music store. We’ve got a gig
tonight and we’ve got no strings!”
“Alright, alright.”
“Chris, this is the UK. It’s
called “shop”, not “store”!” Mark exclaimed.
“Ta guys!” Christian called hastily
over his shoulder as he tried to avoid another incoming lecture on “The
Difference Between the American English and The British English” by Professor
Mark Daniel Read. Paul and Christian bolted off for Christian’s car, trying to
stay as dry as possible from the pouring rain.
“They’re out now,” Ben commented,
hinting to Mark.
“Yesh…” Mark replied.
“Should we?”
“Yesh, I zhink vi should…”
Ben and Mark cackled evilly as they
let themselves lose in Christian’s studio, rummaging through every single
drawer they could find as they tried desperately to search for the demo tape
that Christian had recorded a very “personal” song on.
“I wonder how “personal” would the
song be…” Mark mumbled to himself as he moved two clear folders away to look at
the contents underneath them.
“Probably about his last girlfriend,”
Ben said.
“Haha… very funny.”
“What, it’s probably true, you know.”
“Yeah, I know and besides, it’s normal
if Chris penned down his feelings and make it into a song. I mean, that’s what
we did for our third album, didn’t we?”
“The diary concept for the album, you
mean?”
“Duh!” Mark said. “Even you wrote
‘Cherish This Love’ based on your own experience with your ex.” Mark
straightened up and turned to his left, going through the contents in that
drawer. “Tape, oh, tape, where art thou?”
“Mark!”
“Yeah?”
“I think this is the one.”
“Eh?”
“Don’t give me that look, Mark.”
“What look?” Mark asked, trying to
place the innocent card on the table. But, Ben wasn’t fooled.
“The one that says
are-you-sure-about-this-Ben look. The one that goes “you-100%-sure?” look.”
“Okay, okay. Seriously, you found it?”
“If it isn’t this tape, then I don’t
know whether there’s any other…” Ben mumbled as he got on all fours and tried
to search for the switch that the radio had taken possession of.
Mark popped the tape into the one of
the decks and pressed “play”. The both of them listened in silence as the song
played… one part of the tape was filled with the melancholy plucking tunes of
the guitar and the part after that was where Christian recorded his own voice.
“I never know that Christian plays
drums,” Ben whispered as soon as he heard the continuous-and-perfect thumping
of Christian’s fingers on the table to resemble the beats of the drums.
“Sshhh…!”
Ben fell into silence again as he
concentrated on the song. One part of the lyrics caught his attention.
With you out of my life
You won’t know how happy I am
How am I to phrase this feeling
Maybe I can say that
This contented feeling sets me free
But I know that it’s wrong
Contented just isn’t the right word.
Mark, on the other hand, preferred the
chorus. It was a little strange that Christian would write such a song. Was his
ex-girlfriend really that bad?
Now that you’re gone
I can feel life again
I can feel what I’m supposed to
No more bottling up
Now that you’re gone
I can do most of the things I want
No more games with you
Now that you’re gone…
“By the looks of it, Chris’s rather
happy when he wrote this song,” Ben commented as the “play” button jumped up,
signalling the end of the tape.
“Yeah,” Mark nodded in agreement. “It is
rather personal, isn’t it? We shouldn’t even be listening to this…”
“Feeling guilty now, Mark?”
“What if he comes back and finds out?
He might kill us!” Mark exclaimed.
“No, he wouldn’t,” Ben said. “You’re
just being silly. He wouldn’t had the heart now, would he?”
“Ben, Chris is capable of doing everything!”
Mark exasperated. “Who knows what’s to become of our future anymore…” Mark
buried his head in his hands.
“Now, that’s just
exaggerating,” Ben shot back. “You know he wouldn’t.”
Mark and Ben heard the door slammed.
“Speaking of the devil,” Mark mumbled
as he scrambled to his feet quickly and so did Ben.
“Quick, get the tape,” Ben whispered
to Mark. Mark grabbed the tape and stood there, trying to figure out where Ben
had found the tape earlier.
“Ben, where did you…” Mark whispered
back but was cut off by footsteps descending to toward the studio.
“Hel… what are you two doing?”
Christian asked, a frown marred his face as he narrowed his eyes to small
slits.
“I… we… er… we’re just… uh… ” Ben
stammered.
A certain look settled on Christian’s
face as reality sank in. “I know what you guys are up to!”
“You do?” Mark asked nervously as he
quietly dropped the tape into the bin behind him and shoved the bin under the
table with his foot. Thankfully, the tape dropped onto a huge pile of papers
and tissues so it didn’t make any sound.
“You’re trying to get your hands on
that tape, aren’t you?” Christian asked.
“We…” Ben begun but was cut back when
Christian started his wild but true accusations. He himself didn’t know a word he
was talking about. What was he doing accusing his friends of the act that they
might not have done? However, he could be wrong…