Scars on My Black

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Star [Kevin]

“You came after all, baby~.”

Petra seemed to purr that line. She dragged me into the room not caring that I was soaking wet. My eyes were mesmerized by the curved patterns etched into the Persian red walls. Each low dip curve held a silver hook hanging many pictures of landscapes. I kicked off my shoes leaving the soggy shoes at the door not wanting to spoil the ivory carpet beneath me.

Petra deposited me on a long black curved couch before she plopped down next to me. She had a pleased smile on her face and leaned her head against the cushion. Her hair was out of its former ponytail and the soft waves of fire fell to her shoulders. Her face was bare of any makeup except the natural markings of freckles sprinkled on her nose.

“We are going to need to discuss a rule” She declared and sat up straighter.

“Rule?“, I asked with a raised one eyebrow at her.

Petra looks unimpressed, “Yes, rules and duties needed to be followed and completed as my boyfriend.“.

I gave a dry chuckle, “Like what? Rule one always say you’re pretty or fuck you senselessly?“.

Petra reached forward and gripped my face tightly, “You are not to revel our arrangement to anyone else. You are to act as the perfect boyfriend to me in the presence of others.“, her silk voice demanded before placing a kiss on my cheek.

I missed it the first time. The smell of roses. It was stuck in the back of my throat as her eyes stared back into mines. She leaned in ever so slightly before she slumped back into her spot, she neither waited for my reply nor an acknowledgement.

She already knew what I was going to say.

“We’re going to watch a movie.” She declared and practically bounced from her spot and over to the remote.

I watched as her short purple hoodie dress rode up high when she bent down for the remote. I looked to the side towards a painting of a sunrise. “Don’t you have Jasmine for this sort of thing?” I questioned.

Petra slumped back to her spot. “You can shut up and be glad you are not on the streets tonight.” She declared pointing her pale finger at me.

I grumbled softly while Petra started the movie. The movie itself wasn’t anything of interest. It was another one of those buddy cop movies with big strong black men either being tall and brooding heroes or villains or the comedy relief. As the night carried on to early morning I caught Petra on several occasions with an expecting look.

At the time I never knew why.

Petra passed out at around one curled up in a ball on her side of the couch. I could not sleep. The amount of questions swirling around my head to why Petra’s invited me here is never ending. However, exhaustion began to set in as my eyes begin to close.

When I opened them again, I notice two things? One, I am still on the couch judging by the crick in my neck. Secondly the warm body pressing against lap. Such as I feared, Petra laid still on my lap still asleep. She was defiantly not there last night. Sadly, I had little time to dwell on the fact as the clock above the Tv struck eight.

Shit, I’m going to be late for work.

I slid her plump body off me and quickly exited the apartment. Luckily, it seemed like Petra didn’t wake up from the lack of calls on my phone while I raced down the bridge to work. I almost fell off my bike as slid through the staff door. Fortunately, my manger was not around so I managed change into my work clothes, spray on a little body spray and get to work.

The hours passed and the usual people came and go from this grease-soaked place. Busy workaholics who could barely wait for a simple hash brown or students from the local college who cannot be bothered or had the time and skill to cook for themselves. I had just finish ringing up the latter when two girls I recognized from my school entered the place.

There judgmental eyes scanned the place in disgust. I could not blame them one bit. The shortest one with lots of ringlets in her hair was first to approach me. She had this fake smile plastered on her disgusting overfilled lips.

“I’m sorry we don’t serve kale-smoothies here and everything here is non-vegan. Even the salad.” I grinned at the girl.

The girl scoffed at me and rolled her eyes, “I just want to put some posters up for my school’s musical talent show if it’s not too much trouble.” She asked.

“Sure. Knock yourself out.” I replied before going towards a new customer who entered the restaurant.

The girl nodded to the other one who began placing two on the window. She then slid one to me. “Cash prize is 5,000 dollars. You should enter. Telling from your job you defiantly need the money.” She cackled before walking out with her friend.

“If she is rich why does she have to hang posters herself”, I mumbled under my breath entering the man’s order. My eyes glanced over the flyer and I sighed seeing the name of the competition.

The Platinum Star Musical Competition.

It’s one of the biggest competitions the school conducted during their week of talent. Everyone who wins it is given a chance to audition for record labels and collaborate with artists. However, last year’s one was odd though. Maybe it was because I entered and I somehow managed to fuck it up for everyone else.

Especially the winner.


It was the early afternoon during my first year at this school. I had just moved states which was quite tiring already and to top it off I had band, before I was kicked off, early in the morning. I did enjoy playing trumpet but all these rules and techniques really put a strain on me to learn. I just want to play what I want to play, the way I want it done.

I took a seat far in the back and brandished my silver trumpet. I looked across the room at a Jeremy who was situated in front row next to some blonde girl holding a trombone. She is quite pretty from behind, still is now, I had to admit but it seemed Jeremy has a crush on the blonde.

My eyes traveled across to the teacher. Her long slender frame stood straight as she checked her watch before she locked the door. A frantic knock echoed the thick wooden door. The teacher to sighed softly and opened the door.

“Ms. Nightingale I would expect a more punctual behavior from you.″. The teacher said to the faceless girl.

“I’m sorry Madam.... BluJay...I...could not find my.... mouthpiece.” The girl explained.

Madam BluJay’s thin lips pursed, “Since it’s your first day I will let you in, but it must not happen again.” She moved to the side letting the grateful girl inside.

The auburn-haired girl eased through the seats and instruments finding a seat right next to me. When she finally got herself settled, she glanced over at me and gave me a toothy smile. I gave her a simple raise of hand acknowledging her.

“Now as you may have notice from the flyers around that The Platinum Star Musical Competition is coming up and we expect some original pieces from you all. This competition means big things for you upcoming musicians like to get exposure.”

‘Exposure?’ I remembered thinking, “Why would I waste my time on exposure? Anyone who joins is doing it for the money.“.

“Now, let’s practice some simple scales.“.

I did not think much of the competition as the days go by. I would go to my usual spot in the school’s garden and sit. My music sheet blank resting on my lap and my trumpet still in the case.

Why stress so much over a competition you know you won’t win even if everyone dropped dead?

“Can I sit here?“, a smooth voice asked. I peered up to the same girl from music class.

I gave quick nod before I turned my head back to stare at the leaves falling onto the heads of a pair dudes making out in front of it.

They looked almost poetic.

“I’m Gisele, Gisele Nightingale from Jazz Studies.” She introduced.

“Kevin, Kevin Falcon.“, I replied.

“I see that your sheet music is still blank. Are you having a hard time coming up with anything?” She questions.

“Nope, just don’t want to right now.”

I can tell her head was on the side from the soft chime of her gold-plated earrings she was wearing band the other day.

“Why wouldn’t you want to? This is a lifetime opportunity. You should jump at the chance and prepare the absolute best! I know I am and so is everyone else.″.

I chuckled slightly and looked to the sky. “Listen Gisele, not everyone in the world wants to try. Heck some people even make it their lives not to give a shit. What’s the purpose of trying if the universe is going to fuck you over anyway.“?

“That’s were your wrong Kevin. You know what I think? I think you don’t give a shit because you are afraid to fail.″.

“I don’t give a shit because I always will fail.“.

“Besides, what do you know about me anyway. You think you are better than me because you try? Try all you want and see where it takes you.” I looked over at her now. Chocolate meets Honey. A fierce combination was made.

Gisele was first to look away.

She grabbed her bags and marched away.

The day of the competition had soon came. All musicians from all around the area came to perform.

They were all okay.

Just okay.

Same 4/4 time with the occasionally 3/4. The best one I have heard so far was Gisele’s. It was like 1920′s jazz with a modern spin to it. Madam BluJay and the other judges seemed impressed with it as well.

The crowd erupted in cheers and it was now clear who was going to win this. I gave a quick look over my trumpet before my name was called.

“Mr. Kevin Falcon.”

I took out my crumpled messily written music sheet from my folder. I could hear some murmurs in the crowd and Jeremy face palmed from the side.

I tapped my foot slow and steady on the hard wood floor. The thumping thud of my combat boots backed behind the slow snaps of fingers began to set my tune.

Clicking and Thumping until it felt right. I brought the mouthpiece to my mouth and blew my slow tune.

Slow and steady like a river.

Quicken pace.

My heart was pounding and my skin a blazing.

The pain that burrowed it self in my lungs.

When I had nothing more to say I stopped. I knew I didn’t make the time limit but I had nothing else to give. Nothing else I wanted to share. I looked around at the confused crowd.

Jeremy who was jaw dropped.

I didn’t even realize the tear running down my cheeks.

I ran off stage disqualifying myself.

The crowd’s eyes followed me all the way to my seat. The sound of the auditorium door broke the crowds gaze. I only caught a glimpse of Giselle’s face.

Red and eyes watery as she ran out the room leaving her trumpet behind.

I never did see her again. Maybe she is off making music with some artist since she was the winner.

I handed the man his order and gave him his receipt. I looked up from the register about to deal with my next customer when I froze. Familiar brown eyes stare at me with what I would say sadness.

“Jeremy?“.

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