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CHAPTER 27 “The dark lady has said you were asking after me.” Kim jumped, wheeling around to see Raine standing in the doorway of her apartment. She scowled. “Most people knock.” “Ah, but I am not as most others are.” Her scowl deepened, but she tried to hide it. She had, after all, asked to talk to this strange boy standing in her doorway. “Speak like a normal human being, or I’ll kick your ass so hard you won’t remember the words to Bela Lugosi’s Dead.” He seemed to pale, if that was at all possible under the thick white makeup he had on. Raine had been in the presence of the band long enough to know doubting Kim Kissably’s anger wouldn’t get anyone anywhere. Kim smiled at his reaction, and motioned him into the room. She watched as he took a few steps, then stood with his hands folded in front of him. The boy wore at least as much makeup as his girlfriend. His face was white, his cheeks accented with purple so they looked properly sunken, his lips were black, and his shocking green eyes were lined so heavily in black that Kim found it hard to look away. He had the Robert Smith hairdo to properly accompany his Goth as Fuck look and Victorian wardrobe (which had more than likely been either bought or made by Ebony herself). “You wanted to speak to me?” His voice had a lost a bit of the pretentious edge he had started with. “Has Ebony spoken to you?” He raised his left hand, showing Kim a thin silver ring he had never worn before. “Is that an answer enough?” “I suppose it will have to do, since you’re as evasive as your girlfriend.” “Thank you.” “Is it a gothic trait that I should know about? Or just something going on between you two?” “Yes, we keep a tally of how many people we confuse in a day. It’s actually a rather enjoyable venture once you get into it.” “Thank you for the snide remark.” “You are very welcome, Mistress Kissably. Now, you were intending to discuss something with me?” “I want to know what Ebony’s getting herself into. She’s very smart, and I respect her opinion, but there’s no way I’m letting her get married to some bloke I know nothing about.” “Don’t you mean some thing with a prick you know nothing about?” “I’m dropping my bloody shield for a second. For the sake of one of the strongest grrls I know. I just need to be sure that she hasn’t let love blind her.” “You mean the foolish concept of love.” His green eyes held steady on her face. “Don’t you?” “I understand that you must hate me, considering the things that I say up on stage... But I want you to know that I don’t consider you amongst the masses, Raine. And yet I know nothing about you... Maybe I respect you because you’re willing to wear makeup. I don’t know.” “That’s quite a thing to respect.” “You’re unafraid to challenge the basic expectations society has.” “So you respect kindred spirits?” Kim narrowed her eyes. “Kindred spirits isn’t a term I’d use to connect myself to anything--” “With a prick. Mm hm. Why are you questioning me, when it’s you who are most likely to corrupt or hurt Ebony? Or the rest of your ... grrls ... for that matter.” Kim opened her mouth, enraged, but Raine held his hand up and shook his head. “I would never ask her to quit the band. She knows her limits, and she may even be able to one day teach you yours. Or maybe I’m giving her too much credit because of my involvement with her.” He shrugged. “She hasn’t been hurt yet. I doubt she will be. But I assure you, if she ever is hurt, it won’t be through any fault of mine.” “Do you--” Kim stopped, gathering herself, trying to resolve with what she was about to say. “Do you love her?” He thought for a moment, probably looking for the safest way to approach this topic with Kim, then spoke. “I've dreamt in my life dreams that have stayed with me ever after, and changed my ideas; they've gone through and through me, like wine through water, and altered the colour of my mind. And she is one. A waking dream, granted, but isn’t waking better than any sleep?” “Do you and Ebony trade tips on how to be maddening? Leave Wuthering Heights out of this!” “It’s the only language referring to love that you can understand.” She scowled. “Just tell me, yes or no, without any bloody games. Do you love her?” “Yes. More than any mortal words could ever describe.” “So Bronte’s words aren’t mortal?” “No. Hers are words that will never die. Words that can touch even the hardest hearts, as you yourself have proved.” “Look, I didn’t ask you here for you to make attempts at psychoanalyzing me. I get enough of that from Jessie and Ebony already.” “Then I shall back down.” He bowed deeply, without breaking eye contact. That infuriated Kim even more, and she turned away before she followed through on the impulse to beat him. “Why do you play games?” She closed and opened her fist. “Why do you?” She turned back to look at him again, slowly so she could take the time to calm her breathing. “You’re a perfect match for Ebony. I hate to say that.” “I know you do.” She scowled. “Get out of here before I murder you and she has no one left to marry.” “Ah, but if you kill me, Ebony will revoke your ticket to see Andrew Eldritch live on stage in Germany. That’s something anyone with any taste in music would die for, grrl or not.” “So get out of here and neither of us will have to worry about it.” Raine left Kim fuming in her apartment. *** Most of the band was fine with the idea of the next album being called Blackened Princess. Heather, as always, wasn’t content. She said that it made no sense, and that the picture Chatha had drawn couldn’t be the album cover because it looked like the work of a mad child. “All children are mad,” Ebony offered, not even looking up from the finishing touches she was putting on her fiancé’s hair. He was sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of her, a rather bored expression on his face. “’Specially me.” Chatha plopped herself down on the floor beside Raine, poking at his hair and asking why it was so solid. “Isn’t hair s’pposed t’... I dunno’, move or somethin’?” Without saying anything, Raine patted the top of Chatha’s pink, spiked hair. She made a face, already tired of playing around with him, and wandered off to the main room of the recording studio where she could talk to less boring guys like Darius, the techie. “Look, Heather, it’s six to one. We say that the title and Chatha’s cover design both run.” Getting up out of her chair, Kim followed in Chatha’s path. She stopped at the doorway. “I’m starting up recording on Forgetful Forgettable, if my band would care to join.” “I’m recording separately this time ‘round.” Heather smiled smugly. “What? That destroys the sound, and even you know it. We might all hate each other, but at least we know how to play together. And quite well, might I add.” “Most bands record separately.” “And most bands sound terrible and need computers to properly map their work!” “Look, I’m not bloody well recording with you, especially not right now.” “Fine. Then we’ll bloody well record without, and I’ll look into buying a bloody drum machine!” “Kim.” Elke shook her head. “We need a real drummer. Heather is amazing. No one else can play like her.” “And no one else can incite my rage like her.” Kim narrowed her eyes. “Fine. Bloody well fine. The rest of us will--” “Actually, Kim...” Elke took her by the shoulder and led her into a corner. She leaned in very close, her forehead practically touching Kim’s. “This may sound bad...” “What?” “I think I’ll run the guitar while Heather cuts her tracks.” “What? Elke, that’s--” “It’ll give her moral support, so we don’t lose her. Besides, if we have the vocal track recorded already, I can use that to base my work on, and it’ll be fine.” “But... You’re just... Bloody hell, Elke, I--” Kim pulled away from her. “Do you want to avoid me now?” “Nah, it’s not that.” “Than what is it?” “I just don’t want us to lose our drummer, is all.” Kim shook her head. “Fine. Then the remainder of the band will record together with the help of a click track, I suppose.” Before she could get angry about it, Kim left the room, not waiting to see if Jessie, Geneveve and Ebony would come along. James Carroway was waiting in the hall. He saw the look on her face immediately. “And what’s happened in the melodrama that is the Red Lips Sextet this time?” “Heather and Elke are recording separately.” He sighed. “I must admit, I saw this coming.” “Yeah, well, bugger off. I didn’t see it coming, and it’s my foresight that matters. What if this is the band ending, and I’m too bloody daft to see that?” “But you do see it, otherwise you wouldn’t be at all worried.” “Bugger off!” Kim brushed past him, heading for the big white room where she walked in on Chatha and Darius kissing. Chatha jumped away from the punkish techie so quickly that she lost her balance. Kim shook her head, suppressing a smile, and walked past both of them. “You’re allowed a social life, Darlin’. Don’t worry. If I’m letting Ebony get married, I’ll let you fool around with our tech support.” “Yeh?” “Yeh. Just don’t do anything too kinky in this room, because I’m going to be spending a great deal of my life walking in and out of it, and I really don’t need to see that.” “Awright. So what’re we doin’ t’day?” “Forgetful Forgettable. Though it’s without drums and lead guitar.” Darius rolled his eyes, muttering something about how it figured, then he blew a kiss to Chatha and left the room so he could look after the mixing board. “Tha’s wha’ y’get fer startin’ with a depressin’ song, y’know. If you’d’ve gotten our recordin’ started wi’ Raisin’ the Dead--” “Raisin the Dead, huh?” “Oh, shu’ up. If you’d’ve star’ed with a happier song like tha’, then we’d’a kept th’ Bog Monstah an’ Elke fer our recordin’ sessions.” “Ah, but Forgetful Forgettable needs to be recorded at some point.” “That’s very true.” Jessie had come through the door, holding it open for Ebony and Geneveve. “Putting it off wouldn’t have been any better, anyway.” “Listen t’ the American, she always bloody well knows what she’s saying.” Kim walked over to her microphone and switched it on. “So are we ready, or what?” “On your command,” Geneveve said. She was relatively sober today. Since Kim had told her she had to be off the drugs while recording, or her fate would be worse than a thing with a prick that had pissed Kim off. And none of the grrls wanted to have to experience that. On a cue from Kim, Darius started everything recording. For a moment, there was nothing, then Jessie came in with a mournful, beautiful bass line. The song would have started with this raw line, anyway, not the drums, so Heather’s absence was no loss. Twelve bars of lingering thoughts and pain, all purely bass. Jessie’s own creation. Then Jessie dropped into a four-bar pattern, and the other instruments joined in. Kim waited for a measure to pass before closing in on the mic and trying her best to find the proper emotion for this song; a song that was against all her past tendencies in writing and recording. It laid everything bare, easy enough to be torn apart. She had told her grrls she’d written it through a persona, of course; trying to appeal to the softies that pop culture seemed to be full of. Trying to get better record sales. But thinking of the lyrics, and keeping her ears tuned to Jessie’s pained bass, Kim slipped into the song without any pretenses. She was mildly aware that Carroway, standing behind the glass with Darius, was going to see right through her as she sang. It only bothered her slightly. “Where do I look to find the elusiveness that keeps promising things? Where do I reach out to feel everything that has passed me by? There are so many could-haves, doing their best to taunt me. So many would-haves, and they just won’t go away.” It was the bass’s turn to be prominent again, going back to the opening bass line. Two bars in, Kimberly started singing the chorus. There were no sounds except the bass and her voice. “I try my best to forget these things. To quit wishing for happiness that has left me behind. I’d rather live this life forgettably and naïve than strive to find a new way.” Two more lines of bass, then Chatha came in over it for a quick solo. The bari-sax had been created for slower, moodier songs, so she was finally in her element. The other instruments picked up under her, and Kim contributed her voice again.
“Where did all my chances slip away to? Where are the gods who took
my life in their hands? There’s consideration and blame enough to go around. I
feel so forgettable. Will you forget me when I’m gone?” This is where an intense guitar stroke was supposed to come out of Elke, and Heather’s drums should have been beating intensely.
“Will you forget me when I’m gone? I try my best to forget these
things. To quit wishing for happiness that has left me behind. I’d rather live
this life in a forgetful bliss than find a new way to live.” Kim took a breath and tried to hold off on the next chorus, but she knew she had to let it out. If she left these words to linger in her mind, she’d drive herself insane. “I do not want to live on in your memories if I can’t learn how to remain alive. There are so many things in front of me that just don’t make sense. Please don’t be incensed. None of this is about you.” She felt Jessie’s eyes on her and flinched away from that. “I’m talking about the forgetful forgettable. Why does she have to be me?”This
chapter also quotes Emily Bronte's Wuthering Heights. Really, go read it! |
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Talk to LL,
the author. |