Crushes

The Black Dog: a dark name with an attitude. Yet it is just a rehearsal practice center, with a small bar, a stage and many, many practice rooms.

Paul looks up to the huge clock that hangs near the entrance that leads to those practice rooms.

At any moment a large outburst of sounds can be expected. Because several bands will cease their attempt to make music at the same time.

And one of those bands has ten members, all huddled together in a small sound isolated room. The fact that they can make it fit, is a miracle.

As Paul checks if the coffee machine has enough beans to grind, he realises it is not the number, but the lead singer that makes the most noise.

That realisation sinks in because of the loud voice that Val booms through the corridor.

The big bloke steam roles into the lounge with jokes and teases.

“That was fun!” Shouts Val through the lounge.

“Hey dweeb the sweep! We are parched. Hit me with some big brown ale, with a nice foam on top so thick it could be a grandmother’s fluffed up blanket full of feathers.”

“Always taking the scenic route, aren’t you Val? Why don’t just ask for a brown ale?” Says Leroy the King.

Paul knows these guys well. They hang round each Tuesday and each Thursday to practice, and after that, to drink. Most of them have become his friends.

They call him the dweeb that sweeps. Even though he isn’t the one that tidies up.

He is the one that makes sure planning is up to date, he makes the contracts with the bands, he manages the bar and stuff like that. But right now he helps out at the bar and fetched beer glasses.

“Coming right up. Same for you my King?” Paul asks. The King is the nickname of the lead guitarist who is actually called Leroy; Le Roi means king in French. So that is where this nickname stems from.

Although it does suit Leroy perfectly, who acts like a king often enough. Demanding things and giving royal no’s are his trademark.

The lean guitar player slides onto a bar chair. “Yes, one ale please.” He puts on his deep voice but it pales to Val’s rumble. But then again, the lead singer is build like a brick and has a deeper voice to begin with. So that is no fair contest.

They call Val, Neanderthal. It doesn’t really rhyme, but that is just the sort of joke they like to make. But mostly they call him Neanderthal because he is big and so bloody brute sometimes. He can utter quite insensitive remarks and get away with it. He is crude, but has a lot of charisma, which he uses in each performance.

Next to Leroy pops up a shorter guy, in fact, in this band filled with tall guys, and he ended up being the shortest.

“Hey Paul have you seen Kitty? Are they done practicing?” That is what the short bloke can squeeze in.

“No, they are still rehearsing. Should be out any moment,” says Paul, who knows which time slots are booked. And as one band streams out another band streams in fifteen minutes later.

“Talking about being seen. Please tell me Larissa hasn’t popped in here again,” says Leroy to the impromptu barman.

“Wrong. She is here alright. Look, she is talking over there.” Paul points out a young girl who looks a lot like Leroy.

“Blast!” Mutters Leroy angrily.

Val turns his head in the direction of the lead guitarist, as he receives his beer.

“What is your problem? So your kid sisters shows up. At least you can keep an eye on her this way. If she was hanging in another bar, who knows who would have driven her car.” He raises his eyebrows suggestively.

Leroy slowly turns to Val. “Sometimes Val, no make that most of the time, I can’t take your rhyme.”

“So why are you doing it right now? Did I infect you?”

Leroy grinds his teeth “Apparently you did.”

“I don’t use rhyme with everything. You got to, you know, not rhyme sometimes. Deliberately, and with purpose.”

Leroy shakes his head, then he laughs. He doesn’t really mind the way Val plays around with words.

Neither does he mind the rhyming, although Val can get carried away sometimes with his creative moods. But overall, it are brilliant pieces of text that get turned into lyrics for the band.

“So you rather have me go, in counter dispositions? Or perhaps we shall have a word fight. Draw thy sword knave and prepare to bleed!”

Word fights, that is when Val booms a word to you and you have to come up quickly with anything that doesn’t associate with his word. Which is harder than it seems, because often a word connects to another.

“Not now, you Neanderthal, go pester someone else.”

“Like Larissa?”

“No, stay away from my sister. She is off limits!

“I remember the speech, ... my King. None of your band brothers may show any interest or you will gut them alive. ” Val utters this with a solemn voice.

And then adds “Or...at least punch them in the face. Right?”

“Damn right!” Replies Leroy.

Leroy is very protective about his kid sister, whom he considers to be eight years old with cute ponytails. The fact that she is seventeen and fills out a summer dress rather nicely is something Leroy rather denies.

“Thank heavens you lifted the vow of silence. At least we are allowed to say something to her.”

Val adds to that, “Which is excellent because she taking a scenic route right now. But I do have a strong inclination that she is coming this way.”

It is another woolly announcement that Val makes, which is rounded off with a, “Hey Larissa come here to raise a glass and kill dead maggots?”

“Dead maggots?” She asks with an amused frown. One never knows into what Val spins his tale.

“Dead maggots, that once crawled and twisted in your mind, leaving holes behind. You can kill them all, with some alcohol.”

Val just pulls this short poem out of his sleeve.

The fact that Larissa looks up amused and impressed is why he did conjure up these words in the first place.

“Are those lyrics to one of your songs?” She asks.

“Not yet,” says Val with a broad grin. “How do you do it?”

“Do what? Be marvelous?”

“No! Making up a poem just like that,” is Larissa’s reply.

“That is because he does it all day. Val just plays with words like we fiddle around with cords.” Remarks Leroy.

And Leroy is impressed and annoyed at the same time about that.

Because it can be fun when he comes up with something good, like just now.

But to be honest sometimes what he says is so strange and one cannot make heads not tails from his sayings. You always have to think what Val really might mean.

Leroy takes a sip of his beer and realises, that he is just in a bad mood because the other guitarist was fooling around during rehearsals again.

That nags him. Because he takes the music of this fun band very serious.

“I am going to find Odd Todd.” For a good scolding about that unprofessional behaviour that Leroy witnessed.

“And you little sis, don’t you dare go home with anybody but me!”

“I don’t remember you being my father. Neither that you can order me around.”

“No, I am your protective brother.”

“And we can walk home together, since we both live at the same address.”

“No-one else needs to see you home. Certainly not what’s his name!”

“If you mean Erik, that is history.”

“Good.” States Leroy firmly.

Larissa is, however, not impressed with her brother’s attitude.

To tease him she says

“I am seeing Val now.”

Leroy was just sliding of his bar chair as she says this.

His eyes go wide and he halts once the motion is completed.

“You are seeing this Neanderthal!!!”

That mentioned Neanderthal raises his hands in the air, in a desperate and absolute surrender.

“I know nothing, my King!”

Utter bewilderment lies on Val’s face, who indeed hears this fact for the first time.

“Leroy, it was a joke.”

“I am looking at him right now, that is all I am saying.”

“Now go and torment your band brother and order him around...king.” She adds with a sarcastic tone, ...his nickname.

It takes a few glares towards Larissa and to Val, until the King seems convinced it was a joke.

“Really, nothing is going on.”

“A joke, brother dear. Now beat it. And in exchange I will walk with you back to the house, okay?”

Still not sure and suspicious Leroy mumbles his okay to that and seeks the second guitar player of the band.

Once he is out of hearing range Val whispers, “You just signed my death warrant.”

“Did I?” Larissa remarks a bit surprised.

“Maybe you guys should stop calling him King.”

“He only acts this way because you let him think he is important.”

“Yeah, maybe that was a mistake, to grant him that nickname.” Mumbles Val with a slight frown.

At that moment another band has broken free from the small rehearsal space.

Dorian veers up on his bar chair as the girls of this band stream into this lounge.

‘The Soap Bubbles’ are walking in. That is the name of this all girl band, that plays music of long ago mixed with modern sounds. Electro Swing they call it.

Several of those ladies flock to the bar. One of them heading straight at Larissa.

“Hey Larissa, did I kept you waiting?” Asks Meryem.

“Not at all. I brought some with me. Would you like to try?”

Larissa zooms away and returns with a picket basket.

Next thing that happens is, that into Val’s ears, falls a conversation about food. Because Meryem and Larissa pick up a previous talk, it seems.

He hears things about vegan foods, and alternatives to milk based yogurt.

In fact he hears a lot that he doesn’t understand.

Or at least things he never thought about.

“So I baked this myself, and used rosemary in it.”

“But it has cheese in it, hasn’t it?”

“I went for alternatives like agave for the honey and used vegan cheese and red onions.”

Larissa pulls up a bread wrapped in towels, out of her basket.

Fresh baked bread has that delicious smell and Val can’t help himself: He inhales deeply.

“Do want a piece?”

“What is it?”

“Onion bread.”

“Sure, let me try it,” says Val who himself never baked a bread in his life.

Even if he had, he would never ever would consider putting onion in it.

The lead singer of the ‘Soap Bubbles’ and Leroy’s kid sister continue their talk, as Val tastes that freshly baked bread carefully.

Larissa notices the face he pulls.

“What is wrong? Never had bread?”

“Is it always meat for you Neanderthal?”

“I do like my meat.”

“We were not asking about your self grooming ways,” teases Larissa

“Pity. Because that is something I can talk about.” Grins Val back.

“I bet you can.”

“So what do you want to know? How vigorously I tend to my sausage? Whether I am left handed or right?”

“It may be I could be wrong too, instead of right.”

Meryem looks puzzled.“What are we talking about now?”

Larissa chuckles.“Naughty things.”

On the tip off his tongue forms a sharp reply back. Yet he swallows that down, because this is going into the no-go area. Instead Val says, ” Tastes good.”

And holds up the piece of onion bread as evidence in his defense, and as proof for an innocent mind.

~

Meanwhile, someone eagerly awaited has slipped out of the rehearsal room along with Meryem.

In this case, it is Kitty, who has streamed passed the vegan conversation and climbs up a bar chair.

Dorian sees her taking a vacant chair at the other side of this bar, and decides to shift.

Thankfully, there is an empty chair free, right next to her.

“Hey Kitty Kat!”

“Hey Dork.” She replies as she scans the lounge.

Dorian takes his unfortunate nickname for what it is. They all call him Dorian the Dork.

Not the best nickname, yet perhaps his band brothers are right, because he is not very good in social gatherings. Plus the term cool has never applied to his line of clothing.

Still, he is liked in this band and never put down or bullied. That doesn’t happen here.

That used to be different on school. Where the fact that he is short, was reason enough to pick on him.

But here he is Dorian the Dork, and the esteemed bass guitarist player of the band.

The only one annoying and on the border of pestering him is Odd Todd.

But he is annoying to everyone. So that doesn’t count.

As Dorian tries to think of something to say to this ‘Soap bubble’ background singer, his mind fails him once more.

But that might also be because she smells so nice. It reminds him of vanilla and strawberries.

Add to that that she has a tendency to wear cute short dresses, sings in a cute vintage band

...and that she isn’t taller than he is, it all is perfect. And what can he say to this perfection?

His mind tries to bring back all his practiced lines. Even a worn out one liner would do.

Sentences and lines tumble through his head but none that could be of use, and suddenly it is too late.

“Ah there you are Paul! I was looking for you.”

“Do you have time for an update?”

“Sure thing Kitty Kat.”

“I will just put this away and be right at you,” says Paul with a smile.

Kitty turns around and Paul gets behind the bar, putting some papers somewhere and then steps up on the other side of the counter.

“Since I am playing bartender anyway. Can I pour a drink?” Paul only steps into the bartender game if one of his usual employees is sick. Which is the case tonight.

“Ah yes an ice tea peach please,” says Kitty.

Pouring this drink for Kitty Paul asks; “So what news from the front?”

“Finally I dared to speak to Ellen. We shared lunch during break and she smiled at me!” Kitty is glowing and words spill out of her mouth.

She had been waiting all day to tell her confidant this news.

“I even asked if she would like to go and do something outside of work. And she said yes!!”

Happiness about that oozes of the background singer.

“I am very proud of you!” says Paul.

“I just don’t know where I could ask her to go. I mean movies, or somewhere dancing might all be to presumptuous.”

“Now we are just co-workers, working at the same store.”

“I see what you mean. You want to invite her and not immediately spell out date, right?”

“Precisely.”

Dorian listens with interest but pretends to mind his phone. He had already caught on that Kitty fancies someone. But hearing this is really though. This is exactly what he not hoped for.

“Why don’t you invite Ellen over to the city park. You can take a ride in the Ferris wheel. I work there Saturdays and Sundays. I can give you a discount.” Offers Paul, who indeed has two jobs going. In fact it used to be three.

Yet walking dogs for ‘Doggo dog walkers’, was too much of a hassle. And the pay was not worth it.

“The Ferris wheel? At Hyde park you mean?”

“Yep that is the one.”

“I can’t. I am afraid of heights. And before you make any jokes...that isn’t because I am not reaching very high to start with. I just get bloody nervous standing on high places.”

“But that is just perfect Kitty!”

“Because that way Ellen will comfort you. I bet you anything that will get you closer. She will be all concerned and worried over you.”

Kitty’s face looks doubtful.

“And it is a nice park with things to do. There is more than just the Ferris wheel.”

Dorian pictures himself with Kitty in the Ferris wheel. He would comfort her. The idea of pulling her tight to him, and wrapping an arm around her, pops up.

But he isn’t the one she will invite. He sighs softly about that.

Then he figures he could show up unexpectedly. Which would be a grand plan until he realises that he has promised to help his sister move. She and her family, have a new house and they expect him to help out with the furniture.

A frown comes on his face about that. He cannot postpone this helping out of his kin. He already promised.

Dorian glances to Kitty once more. Showing up at her outing is not possible. So he better take in the fact that she is sitting next to him.

She is so pretty and sweet! Thinks Dorian

This thought, is however disrupted, as peanuts hit him.

It takes a second but then he spots Todd at the corner of the bar, with a big grin. A grin that screams: you know I just pelted you with peanuts but what are you going to do about it?!

“Cut it out Todd!”

“What did I do?” Replies the guy with the beanie on his head in played innocence.

“Oh don’t be like that, you been bothersome all evening. Swinging that neck of your guitar, nearly in my face.”

“I just stepped back and made a turn, it was you, looking at your hands to find the right accords, that didn’t pay attention.” Defends Odd Todd himself.

“Right!” The word is in agreement yet Dorian’s voice clearly isn’t.

Dorian decides to leave it. This guitar player of his band is not worth it.

Instead Dorian tries to catch up with that talk next to him but only finds that it is being wrapped up.

“Just ask her. It is a sunny Saturday. If she doesn’t have other plans, why wouldn’t she come?”

“Alright I will ask her.” Kitty seems to been persuaded.

“Thanks Paul, you have been a great support!” Says Kitty and slides of the bar-chair.

“Gladly done.”

And just like that she is gone, running off to one of her band mates.

Dorian sighs again. Having a crush is not so nice, when she has a crush on someone else.

~