Welcome Guest [Log In] [Register]
Welcome to zetaboards. We hope you enjoy your visit.


You're currently viewing our forum as a guest. This means you are limited to certain areas of the board and there are some features you can't use. If you join our community, you'll be able to access member-only sections, and use many member-only features such as customizing your profile, sending personal messages, and voting in polls. Registration is simple, fast, and completely free.


Join our community!


If you're already a member please log in to your account to access all of our features:

Username:   Password:
Add Reply
Drifting into Deep Waters; Prequel to Moon Tears
Topic Started: February 2, 2012, 4:20 pm (7,281 Views)
The Cosmic Gerbil
Member Avatar
Forbidden Forest Ranger
[ * ]
That was exciting when the guys went back in time with the orb :D Poor David though, that is sad about what his wife did :(
Edited by The Cosmic Gerbil, June 8, 2012, 3:22 pm.
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
Lucifer's Angel
Member Avatar
Heavy Metal Seanchai
[ * ]
Chapter 55

"David, the boys are going to be fine and they are big boys", said Charles as they waited for the bus to downtown Montreal.

"How old they are?", asked Evgeni.

"Maurice is seventeen, Jacques is fourteen and Pascal is twelve", said David proudly, taking a picture out of his wallet. The three boys in jeans and white sleeveless shirts looked as though they had been doing chores around the backyard, all of them looking just like their father with straight black hair and dark eyes. The oldest boy Maurice was already taller than his father as he flexed his arm to show off the muscles, a proud smoke on his face as his brothers laughed.

"Nice kids you got there, David. And your oldest boy is really big", said Kris.

"Oui, he was on the football team in high school and works in constructions, he's in Lemoyne across the river working on their new courthouse", said David just as the bus arrived.

"Ilya's going to join us, we're going to the Poulet Noire. He works in his brother's law office when we're not touring", explained Charles.

"That is an odd name for a bar", said Marie.

"Je sais, madame. The owner used to own a poultry farm and he had a pet black chicken, that's why it's called that", said David.

Kris put an arm around her and kissed her cheek. "My father-in-law owns a bar called La Lys Blanc Pays in Pittsburgh, I used to play there", he said.

"You're from Pittsburgh, what team did you play on?", asked Charles as they got on the bus.

"I played on the Scranton team, the Penguins", he replied, referring to the minor league team.

"Nice, I love to watch hockey and skate but I can't play at all. If I break my hands, I can't play", laughed Charles.

"Tomorrow I am rejoining the team, we have a game against Toronto. I can leave you tickets", said Marco.

"Okay, the boys will love that. Hopefully Odette won't be such a party pooper", said Charles.

"She's my sister, she was a nun until her convent lost funding from the diocese and had to close down", explained David.

"And she acts like one, there's no booze in the house", grumbled Charles.

The bus slowly made its way towards the city, stopping occasionally to pick up or let off passengers. The sun was halfway set over the broad St. Lawrence River, the city gradually coming into view. Montreal was smaller than they remember, only a small handful of buildings over ten stories and the largest ones the humongous Catholic churches. But there was a palpable sense of anticipation in the air of this lovely French city on an island in the St. Lawrence, the numerous bars, clubs and movie theaters open and primed for business. Many of the bars and restaurants had set up outdoor tables and chairs, looking as though they had been plucked out of a side street in Paris.

The bus stopped on Rue St. Jacques as David and Charles led them over towards Le Poulet Noire, its namesake on a swinging wooden sign above the door. "Bonjour, mes amis", said a tall man in heavily-accented French as he clapped them on the back. He was tall and muscular with pale blond hair cut short surrounding his round Slavic face with its prominent cheekbones and light green eyes, wearing black slacks and a white shit with a dark red embroidered vest over it, his black fedora resting on the bar.

"Bonjour, Ilya. This is our friend, drummer and manager Ilya Bereslov. Ilya, this is Kris and Marie Letang, Evgeni and Ellen Malkin, and Jordan Staal", said David as they all shook hands.

"Very glad to meet you all, one round of vodka", Ilya told the bartender.

"It's Polish vodka, Russian vodka cannot be imported", said Ilya as the bartender poured everyone a generous shot of Belvedere.

"Commie bastards. Anyways, Jordan is going to be our security guy on the next tour", said Charles.

Ilya nodded and took a sip of vodka. "Good, I can draw up a contract and sign it here if you want", he said.

"Are you a lawyer?", asked Jordan dubiously.

"I am a legal secretary for my brother's law firm when the band isn't touring. I have a law degree from McGill, any contract I do is legally binding", he replied.

"Ilya is a genius, ask him anything", laughed Charles.

"Nyet, I just have a big brain", he chuckled.

"How did Kenneth MacAlpine become king of Scotland?", asked Ellen.

"His father was a Scotii and his mother was a Pictish princess, he became king because the succession was matrilineal and and he became king of both the Scots and the Picts", he replied.

"Whom was Paris named after?", asked Marie.

"The Parisii tribe, a Celtic tribe that was settled on the banks of the Seine", he replied.

"What is the oldest kind of rock?", asked Evgeni.

"The Pre-Cambrian, those are the oldest type of rock found on Earth at over 4600 million years old, or 4.6 billion years. It is named after the Latin name for Wales, which is Cambria, the Cambrian rocks are slightly newer", he said.

"Dude, you are a genius", said Jordan in awe.

"All you need to do is read more books, Jordan. When my family arrived in Canada when I was a boy, I spent a lot of time at the library practicing my French and English. I made my way through the entire Encyclopedia Brittanica in English and then another one in French", he said.

"How old were you?", asked Kris.

"I was ten, it took me a year to read both", said Ilya as everyone looked impressed.

"He's a great guy to have on road trips", said Charles.

"Then why are you a drummer, dude? You're a genius", said Jordan.

"I am good at playing the drums and it's more fun than working in a law office, Jordan", he chuckled.

"Mr. Malkin, what part of Russia are you from? And do you know what your last name means?", asked Ilya.

"I am from Chelyabinsk, and I'm not sure', he replied, giving the name of the other city as Magnitogorsk had not been founded yet.

"Lovely area, my parents had a dacha near the city. Malkin actually comes from the Hebrew word for queen, is your family Jewish?", he asked.

"Nyet, we are Christians. Maybe I had ancestor who was Jewish", he said thoughtfully.

"I never intend to make anyone feel dumb, Evgeni. But I always like learning new things", said Ilya.

"You would love the library at my father's house, Mr. Bereslov", said Ellen.

"Da, her father have a big library with lots of books", said Evgeni.

"How lovely, you can never have enough books", chuckled Ilya.


Maurice sprawled out on the couch as his brothers paid rapt attention to the cowboy radio serial on the family Philco while their aunt Odette read a biography of saints at the dinner table. He tried not to snort when the horses' hooves clattered on the ground, sounding more like dried coconuts on a wooden plank than real horses' hooves. I want to go with Mick to Mullane's, but Dad's not here, he thought sourly.

"Isn't that great, they got the bad guy", said his youngest brother Pascal eagerly.

"Oui, that's great", he replied with a forced smile.

Maurice squirmed on the couch as his eyes struggled to stay open, having been working at the construction site in Lemoyne all morning, hauling concrete and then nailing insulation to the inside of the building. It's either that or I'm bored shitless, this is for babies, he thought with a frown.

"I'm going to bed, tante Odette. Keep it down, guys", he said, getting up from the couch.

"Bonne nuit, Maurice", said his middel-aged aunt in her brown housecoat and curly gray hair covered with a kerchief.

He climbed up the stairs to his room and turned on the light after shutting the door, flopping down on the bed. It was a small room with barely any space for the bed and the dark wood wardrobe, the beige walls livened up by various pinups of movie starlets in bathing suits and a red Canadiens pennant hanging over the door. Dad needs to have some fun before the tour starts and so does Charles, but I'm bored shitless. If they were were here, I could go to the bar with Mick. I earn good money and I ought to have fun, he chuckled.

Maurice reached under the bed and took out a shoebox, opening it to reveal a shot glass with an engraving of the Quebec flag and a small bottle of Johnny Walker Black. He poured himself a shot of whisky and sipped at it, feeling the mild burn of the alcohol go through him. Lucky Dad's all right with this, it's Tante Odette I have to worry about, he mused.

Maurice poured himself another shot as he sat up in bed, sipping the whisky. His gaze fell on a framed picture of his family when they had taken a holiday to Niagara Falls when he was fourteen, the place were his mother's face would have been ripped out. Fucking bitch, she up and leaves with some gigolo to Florida, he thought angrily.

He knocked back the shot and poured himself another as he thought back to the day his mother left. It had been shortly after they came back from Niagara Falls, David had seen his wife Claudette was gone and found the note on the dinner table. David had collapsed on the floor and then proceeded to drink all the liquor in the house that was there there for the Victoria Day party he'd planned on throwing.

And I had to clean up the mess and throw out the bottles and put him to bed, make sure he didn't choke on his puke, he thought bitterly. Jacques and Pascal were terrified at their father's state and bewildered at why their mother wasn't there. Odette had moved in soon after and so had Charles, taking over the household while David recuperated. When David had recovered and gotten his bearings, he went to the courthouse and was granted a divorce immediately with full custody as it was a case of abandonement.

I'm never getting married, no way I want my wife to run out on me and the kids, he thought angrily as he put the bottle away under the bed and turned off the light before going to sleep.
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
The Cosmic Gerbil
Member Avatar
Forbidden Forest Ranger
[ * ]
Poor David :( I like Ilya though, he's like a walking encyclopedia :nanner:
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
Lucifer's Angel
Member Avatar
Heavy Metal Seanchai
[ * ]
Chapter 56

"These are some nice seats, David', said Kris as he led them towards their seats in the grandstand at Delorimier Stadium.

"Oui, Marco got them for us. They are very cheap, only twenty cents for a bleacher seat", he replied.

"We see Pirates games in Pittsburgh, baseball is boring game", snorted Evgeni.

"It's not for everyone, but I guess you've never played or watched it before, Evgeni. But it's a great way to spend a summer night", replied Charles.

David, Charles, Kris, Marie, Evgeni, Ellen, Jordan, Maruice, Jacques and Pascal were seated in the grandstand of Delorimier Stadium, watching the Montreal Royals take on their rivals the Toronto Maple Leafs of the International League. The stadium itself was old and resembled an overgrown Little League field rather than any professional stadium. The seating area was all wooden benches under a wooden awning except for the chairs right behind home plate for the mayor and his flunkies, the outfield fences plastered with all sorts of advertisements. The sun was beginning to set and a slight breeze came in from the river as people found their seats, vendors in white aprons selling beer, popcorn, hot dogs and soda.

"If you ladies have any questions, just ask", said Charles with a grin.

Kris gave him a look as Marie giggled. "I don't go there, Kris. I've been coming to Royals games since I moved here", he said.

Everyone became still as the tinny PA squawked out telling everyone to stand for the playing of the national anthem. "Marco sings, listen", whispered David.

Everyone's attention turned towards the field as the second baseman stood in front of a microphone with two attendants holding up the Quebec and Canadian flags, the original design with the Union Jack. First he sang Oh Canada! as the crowd stood in a respectful silence, followed by O Canada, mon pays, mes amours, the Quebec anthem, as the fans cheered and hollered, drowning out the song in their enthusiasm. He sang the French lyrics in his fine baritone that sounded not unlike Sinatra belting out songs from his 60's albums, not stumbling at all over the French words:

Comme le dit un vieil adage:
Rien n'est si beau que son pays;
Et de le chanter, c'est l'usage;
Le mien je chante à mes amis
L'étranger voit avec un œil d'envie
Du Saint-Laurent le majestueux cours;
À son aspect le Canadien s'écrie:
Ô Canada! mon pays! mes amours!

Maints ruisseaux et maintes rivières
Arrosent nos fertiles champs;
Et de nos montagnes altières,
De loin on voit les longs penchants.
Vallons, coteaux, forêts, chutes, rapides,
De tant d'objets est-il plus beau concours?
Qui n'aimerait pas tes lacs aux eaux limpides?
Ô Canada! mon pays! mes amours!

Les quatre saisons de l'année
Offrent tour à tour leurs attraits.
Le printemps, l'amante enjouée
Revoit ses fleurs, ses verts bosquets.
Le moissonneur, l'été, joyeux s'apprête
À recueillir le fruit de ses labeurs,
Et tout l'automne et tout l'hiver, on fête.
Ô Canada, mon pays! mes amours!

Le Canadien comme ses pères,
Aime à chanter, à s'égayer.
Doux, aisé, vif en ses manières,
Poli, galant, hospitalier.
À son pays il ne fut jamais traître,
À l'esclavage il résista toujours;
Et sa maxime est la paix, le bien-être
Du Canada, son pays, ses amours.

Chaque pays vante ses belles;
Je crois bien que l'on ne ment pas;
Mais nos Canadiennes comme elles
Ont des grâces et des appas.
Chez nous la belle est aimable, sincère;
D'une Française elle a tous les atours,
L'air moins coquet, pourtant assez pour plaire,
Ô Canada! mon pays! mes amours!

Ô mon pays! de la nature
Vraiment tu fus l'enfant chéri;
Mais l'étranger souvent parjure,
En ton sein, le trouble a nourri.
Puissent tous tes enfants enfin se joindre,
Et valeureux voler à ton secours!
Car le beau jour commence à poindre.
Ô Canada! mon pays! mes amours!


"He sings great, wow", said Jordan in awe.

"Oui, he could sing professionally if he wanted. Besides, it sure beats listening to the mayor's girlfriend", said Charles as David made a face.

Maurice saw a beer vendor and bought a round of Molsons for the adults along with soda for his brothers, reaching into his pocket for the opener attached to a key chain and passing it along. "Merci", said David.

"Okay, Dad", he chuckled.

Maurice drank some of the beer as he scanned the area around them. Many of the fans were families with young children, workers having beers and waiting for the game and a church group of old ladies in straw hats drinking lemonade. He smiled when he saw Dorothy Connelly sitting withe her brother Mick, waving to them.

"Hey, glad to see you here, Maurice", said the other man in his thick Irish brogue as he clapped him on the back.

"Me too, Mick. And how are you doing, mademoiselle Dorothy?", he asked gallantly as she giggled.

"I'm fine, Maurice", she said, a slight flush on her cheeks. Mick was over six feet tall and muscular, his coal black hair and dark blue eyes contrasting with his pale skin that was now ruddy from his work at the site. Dorothy was tall for a woman at 5'8 and slim with curly chestnut-brown hair and green eyes the color of jade, a touch of freckles on her cheeks and her slim nose, wearing a green sundress the color of her eyes and a straw hat trimmed with white flowers.

David nodded to his eldest son as Maurice went to sit with Mick and Dorothy. "How much you wanna wager the Royals are gonna win? Toronto stinks", said Mick.

"If the Royals win, you buy the drinks next time. If they Leafs win, I buy the drinks", said Maurice as they shook hands.

The team took to the field as the fans cheered. Maurice finished his beer and Mick bought them another round along with a lemonade for his sister. Dorothy nodded in thanks, watching as Maurice drank his beer. He was nearly as tall as Mick, his dark hair just a bit long under his gray flat cap and wearing gray slacks with a short-sleeved white shirt, the pants held up with suspenders. His big muscular forearms and his face were tanned from work, his huge hands dwarfing the bottle of beer as she stifled a sigh.

"Merde, they got the bases loaded", he muttered. The Leafs had the bases loaded with one out as the catcher called a time-out and went to speak with the pitcher, going back and crouching behind home plate just as the umpire walked towards the mound. The first pitch was hit right to Marco at second as he stepped on the bag for the first out and threw to first base for the next one to complete the double play as the crowd roared.

"Dad, Mick and I are going to Mullane's", said Maurice once the game was finished.

"Okay, but don't stay out too late", said David.

"I'm taking Dorothy home and meet you there", said Mick, not seeing the frown on her face.

"Oui, see you later, Mick", he said.

Half an hour later, Mick and Maurice were at Mullane's near his house in the Montreal suburb of Lachine. The bar was in a simple one-story building on a street corner, a hanging sign over the door with its name and a crude outline of County Tipperary. Inside, it consisted of a long polished bar with stools and several small tables with chairs, a dartboard hanging on the wall next to an ancient, battered pool table. A jukebox in the corner was silent for now as they found seats at the bar and Maurice ordered a glass of Molson and Mick asked for a beer and a shot of Jamesons.

"The Royals won, you're buying", he teased as the bartender set down their drinks.

"I know, Maurice. But booze is booze, I reckon", he laughed, knocking back the whisky and chasing it with the beer.

'Too bad Dad's got to go back on tour with the band, I can't go out drinking and leave my brothers with my aunt", said Maurice with a frown.

Mick nodded as he reached into his pocket and took out a pack of Camels and a lighter, opening the box and tapping it until a cigarette fell onto the bar as he placed it in his mouth and lit the tip, taking a drag before replying. "At least your dad has a fun job, I'd love to be in a band that goes to the states, only I can't sing or play for shit", he laughed.

Maurice just shrugged and reached for his pack of Pall Malls, opening the lid of the elegant copper and red box as he retrieved a cigarette and lit it with his brass Zippo monogrammed with his initials. "And some weird people moved in with Marco, they were at the game", he said.

"Yeah, they seem mighty queer. I know the fella with the black hair and the little woman is French, but what about the other guys, they are fucking huge", exclaimed Mick as he tapped the ashes of the cigarette into the metal ashtray in front of him.

"The big guy with dark hair is Evgeni Malkin, he's Russian like Ilya and his wife Ellen is Scottish. The blond guy is Jordan Staal, he's a Dutch guy from Thunder Bay", he said as Mick looked impressed, getting one last drag from the Pall Mall before discarding the butt in the tray.

"Imagine them big guys playing football, they'd beat everyone", said Mick.

"Or imagine them playing defense for the Canadiens, they would stop a lot of forwards and win every fight", said Maurice as he dank his beer.

"Or the Maroons", teased Mick as he pulled out another cigarette.

"Of course, the Maroons. It's almost illegal for you to root for Les Canadiens", laughed Maurice as he lit the tip of another Pall Mall with the embers of the last one as he began to chain smoke.

"And you can't root for the Maroons either, the other Frenchies would have your hide", joked Mick as they both laughed.

Maurice was feeling pretty good after his second beer as he got up from the stool and walked over to the jukebox. He flipped through the selections and chose Take Me Back to Tulsa by Bob Wills and the Texas Playboys and went back to his stool as Mick gave him a thumbs up: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=--_AXFcm48o

Where's that gal with red dress on some folks called her Dinah
Stole my heart away from me way down in Louisiana
Take me back to Tulsa I'm too young to marry
Take me back to Tulsa I'm too young to marry
Little bee sucks the blossom big bee gets the honey
Poor man raise the cotton rich man makes the money
Take me back to Tulsa...
Walk and talk to Suzy walk and talk to Suzy
Walk and talk to Suzy walk and talk to Suzy
Take me back to Tulsa...
We always wear a great big smile we never do look sour
Travel all over the country playing by the hour
Take me back to Tulsa...
Take me back to Tulsa...I'm too young to wed thee


"Good one, Maurice. Reminds you of your old man?", he asked sympathetically.

"Oui, my dad got married too young to my mother and look how that turned out. I'm never getting married, I don't need that shit. They didn't have time to marry in church because my mom was about ready to pop, they had to go to the courthouse and everyone in town knew. Lucky they went to the judge because dad got the divorce quick", he laughed bitterly.

"My old man ran off to Dublin when Mom got pregnant with Kevin, worthless bastard. I'm not marrying either, getting married stinks", said Mick as Maurice nodded in agreement.
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
The Cosmic Gerbil
Member Avatar
Forbidden Forest Ranger
[ * ]
Why was Dorothy forwning when Mick said he was taking her home? Did she want to stay out to hang out with the guys?

Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
Lucifer's Angel
Member Avatar
Heavy Metal Seanchai
[ * ]
Dorothy wants to go out drinking with her brother and Maurice but Mick thinks she's too young for that, she has a little crush on Maurice :wink

Chapter 57

"Kris, you're calm for a guy who's going to meet his dead ancestor", teased Jordan.

Kris just laughed as he adjusted his tie in the mirror. "Je sais, mon ami Neerlandais. Would you rather have me run around like a headless chicken?", he retorted.

Marie straightened his tie as he smiled gratefully at her. "Tres magnifique, ma belle", he said gallantly.

"Merci, Kris", she teased.

"Guys, get a room", laughed Jordan.

"This creepy, we going to see that Paul guy and he your brother", said Evgeni as he combed his hair.

"Aye, but we canna show it. I do wonder who would want to hurt him, isn't he just in a band?", Ellen wondered aloud.

"I hope he isn't involved in any Mafia shit", said Jordan with a frown.

"Me neither. And don't curse when there are women around, it was considered extremely rude", said Kris.

"Sorry, Tanger. I hope none of those chicks smack me, but then again I wouldn't mind", he joked.

"You are crazy, Jordan", teased Evgeni.

Marco emerged from his room and smiled at them. He was dressed in a white summer cotton suit with a Panama hat and white patent leather shoes, his dark hair slicked back and a pale pink carnation in his lapel. "Vamanos, David and Charles are waiting for us", he said.

"Dude, you look sharp", said Jordan approvingly.

"Gracias, Jordan. You will have to get used to wearing suits, nobody wore jeans back then except laborers and cowboys", he replied.

Jordan just shrugged as he fingered his suspenders. Both him and Evgeni wore gray slacks they had brought with them and white short-sleeved shirts and ties, their pants held up by suspenders. Kris wore black slacks and a gray short-sleeved shirt with the top buttons undone at the collar and no tie, his black hair trimmed an inch off his shoulder and hidden under a gray fedora. Both Marie and Ellen wore sleeveless dresses with knee-length skirts, Marie's in purple with black stockings and black pumps and Ellen's in malachite green with matching shoes, her honey-blond hair pulled back into a bun under a little green pillbox hat adorned with tiny white flowers.

There was a knock on the door as David and Charles stood on the other side. Both men wore white summer suits like Marco's along with Panama hats, Charles' tilted rakishly to the side and his hazel eyes dancing with merriment. "Vous femmes est mas belle", he said gallantly, a grin on his face.

"Giroux, you oughtta know better than to make a French or a Russian dude jealous", teased Jordan.

"Oui, merci beaucomp, mes amis. Anyways, let's go before the party starts without us", laughed Charles.

"Don't worry, I'm driving", said Marco dryly when he saw that they were surprised at the black Model T Ford in the garage:
Posted Image

"They still made those?", asked Jordan in disbelief.

"Si, but I bought this one used. It runs good", said Marco as he opened the doors with the key and everyone got inside.

"Marco, can you take the top down?", asked Kris, seeing that Jordan and Evgeni could barely fit in the backseat.

"Si, but it's only a short drive", he said apologetically.'

"At least you can sit on my lap, ma belle", teased Kris.

Marie giggled as she sat on his lap in the front seat of the Model T. That is the one good thing about this car", she joked.

"I'm not little like you, Marie", laughed Ellen.Since both men took up almost the entire backseat, Ellen had laid down with her head in Jordan's lap and the rest of her body resting on her lover's. Evgeni didn't seem to mind as he just laughed, Jordan with a slight blush on his cheeks as he didn't want the big Russian to get the wrong idea.

Marco turned on the engine and backed out of the garage, the radio tuned to a pop station playing Stompin' at the Savoy by Benny Goodman: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4rifhroClGI as he followed David' black Oldsmobile. "They had radio in cars back then?", asked Jordan.

"Si, but you had to put them in yourself. I added one when I bought it, all the stations play pop except for one that has classical music and a news station in French", he explained.

"Shit, when we get back I am gonna listen to nothing but Pantera and Slayer", he muttered.

"Je sais, mon ami Neerlandais. But you have to mind your language", said Kris.

"That going to be hard, but try", Evgeni chuckled.

"You have batter, Zhenya", teased Ellen.

"You and Paul have a resemblance, but it isn't that obvious. His hair is shorter than yours and he has blue eyes, but he is not as French-looking as you are", teased Marco.

"Not all French people look like us", said Kris.

"Yo se, but I was saying you and Paul may be related but there isn't a huge resemblance. Don't worry, I don't think anyone will get the resemblance", said Marco.

Both cars parked in the lot of a club in downtown Montreal on Rue Ste. Catherine, Les Rois Argent. It was a midsize club with a plain exterior with handmade posters advertising various upcoming shows, the fat bald bouncer nodding at David and Charles as he let them pass. The narrow foyer with a coat-check office led into the main room of the club, a stage with a jazz quintet playing Stardust facing a small dance floor and several tables with a bar taking up the whole left side: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kl8s8DExj-g

"Bonjour", said Ilya as he clapped David and Charles on the back, shaking hands with the men and kissing the women's hands.

"I go on a trip to see my wife's family and I missed out on meeting new friends. Bonjour et bienvenue a Montreal, mes amis", said Paul, a genial smile on his face. He was a strikingly handsome young man, six feet tall and well-built with his black hair falling around his ears, his sapphire-blue eyes and fair skin along with his jet-black hair making him look vaguely Irish. His suit was navy blue with white pinstripes and a red silk carnation pined to his lapel, a gray fedora with a blue hatband tilted on a rakish angle on his head.

"Bonjour, my husband always likes to meet new people", said Paul's wife Celestine as he chuckled. She was tiny and resembled a fairy with her soft pale blond hair that fell in loose waves around her shoulders and large blue eyes, wearing a white sundress with a blue sash around her waist and a straw hat trimmed with blue flowers on her head.

"Merci, ma reine. This is my wife Celestine, we just got back from visiting her family in Sorel", said Paul, bringing her hand to his lips and lightly kissing the knuckles.

"Paul, Celestine, this is Kristopher and Marie Letang, Evgeni and Ellen Malkin, and Jordan Staal", said David as Paul shook their hands.

"Bonjour, mes amis. Sean ought to be here soon, he is so bad with time", Paul chuckled.

"Sorry about that, everyone. Parking est mal", said a young man as he approached their table. He was over six feet tall and skinny with shaggy light brown hair peeking out from under the brim of his cream fedora, his gray pants held up by red suspenders and his bluish-gray eyes apologetic.

"This is Sean Kelly, our bassist. This is Kristopher and Marie, Evgeni and Ellen and Jordan", said Paul.

Sean removed his hat and shook their hands. "Glad to meet you guys", he said.

"Are you French, your accent is from up north", said Kris.

Sean laughed. "Oui, my mom is from Hearst like Charles and my dad is Irish from County Mayo. I was born and raised in Hearst with all the other Frenchies, my dad speaks French with a real Irish brogue. My full name is Sean Bergeron-Kelly", he explained.

"Oui, you're a Mick Frog, we're just regular Frogs", joked Charles as everyone laughed.

A waiter came over with a bottle of Pernod as Paul gave him a tip, pouring the green anise liqueur into their cups and adding a bit of water as it went cloudy. "Merci. Sean, Jordan is going to be our new security guy when we go on the tour", said Ilya.

"It's your call, Ilya. I trust your judgment. Mr. Staal, you know this is not going to be the easiest job. We tour out of David's Oldsmobile and my own car, we drive a lot between gigs and some of these clubs are rough, we sometimes have to resort to, um, physicality to get our money. And do you know how to shoot?", asked Paul.

"It can't be worse than juniors, dude. And I can shoot, I got a 9mm unless I need another gun", said Jordan.

"Magnifique, a 9mm is fine. And you are very big", said Paul approvingly.

"You should see my brothers, we're all big guys. My older brother's wife is tall too, my nephews are going to be huge", he joked.

"So Evgeni, are you Russian like Ilya?", asked Paul.

"Da, from Chelyabinsk. Ilay funny guy, he too smart to be playing drums", he teased.

"Playing drums is more interesting than being a lawyer, since my older brother is the lawyer in the family, I'm off the hook", joked Ilya.

"Oui, I wouldn't want to be a lawyer either, mon frere Russe. Imagine you being stuck in an office when you can be on the road and having fun", joked Sean as everyone laughed.

"So where's this tour going?", asked Jordan.

"We have a three-week tour, we're going to Vermont, upstate New York, Ohio and we end the tour in Sault Ste. Marie. The cars just had their tuneups and they are working fine, we got spare tires and Sean is our mechanic in case something happens. We have two weeks back here and then we got another tour coming in the Maritimes", replied Ilya.

"How many tours you guys do?", asked Jordan.

"Whenever we get bookings somewhere, you ought to see our phone bill. We have played almost everywhere in Quebec and New Brunswick, New England, the Upper Midwest and upstate New York. During the winter, we get bookings to play in the winter lodges in the Laurentians and out west, like Banff and the Rockies. Those guys pay good", said Paul as his bandmates nodded in agreement.

"Awesome", he chuckled.

"Hey, you guys have good luck on the tour. Some of them Yankees in New England don't like Frenchies", teased Pat Callahan, clarinetist and leader of the Blueshirts, another local band.

"Hey Pat, glad to see you. Oui, some of those Yankees are boring as hell, they don't like Frenchies or us Micks", joked Sean.

Pat just laughed as he sat down at the table and waitress brought over another bottle of Pernod. He was of average height and muscular with his dark brown hair slicked back under his gray fedora and brown eyes dancing with amusement. However, while the others wore slacks and shirts, Pat wore slacks but also a blue New York Rangers sweater with a neck loosened and the strings slack not unlike a modern-day hoodie, a big red number 14 on the back that was sewn on.

"I'm from Buffalo, the Rangers are my boys. I was born on January 4, 1914", he explained.

"Awesome, dude. Are you in a band?", asked Jordan.

"Yeah, the Blueshirts. We're all from Buffalo and we moved here because that's one boring place and when we got gigs in Niagara or Buffalo, they didn't like our music", he laughed.

"We are going home now, guys. Don't have too much fun, Jordy", teased Kris.

"Fun is my middle name, dude. And don't make too much noise", he joked.

"I think you are going to have a lot of fun on the tour, Jordan. Sometimes we get to drink for free and there's always girls at the shows", said Charles.

"Badass, dude. Looks like I ought to stock up on condoms", said Jordan dryly.

Charles hooted with laughter and clapped him on the back. "Me too, Jordan. I always stuck up at a drugstore, the old guy gives me a dirty look but I'm getting some and he's not. Besides, I don't want some dame getting me for a paternity suit", he joked as he reached into his pocket and took out a pack of Pall Malls in their handsome dark red and copper box along with a brass lighter.

"Of course not, the world does not need anymore ugly, red-haired Girouxs" deadpanned Celestine as she drank a bit of Pernod.

Jordan was momentarily taken aback at her quip, wondering if he heard her correctly. "Oui, monsieur Staal", she giggled.

"My wife is not as dainty as she looks, Jordan", teased Paul.

"Sorry about that, dude", he chuckled as Paul put an arm around her shoulder and kissed her cheek. Man, they're a sweet couple. We're going to make sure nothing happens to them, he vowed.
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
The Cosmic Gerbil
Member Avatar
Forbidden Forest Ranger
[ * ]
Ah, I see now, thanks for telling me that :) I love the piccie of that car :D It would be well fun to have a drive in that :nanner:
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
Lucifer's Angel
Member Avatar
Heavy Metal Seanchai
[ * ]
Chapter 58

Jordan carefully helped load the cases containing the drum kit into the trunk of David's Oldsmobile, arranging the cases so there would still be room for the rest of the stuff. The sun was just beginning to rise as everyone packed their instruments and equipment into the trunk of the car with the rest going in Paul's second-hand black Packard, the stuff taking up less space than a modern band as they had neither a PA or amplifiers.

"Imagine if we had ten guys, we'd have to buy a bus", said Paul dryly.

Jordan nodded in agreement as he checked to make sure everything was packed, seeing that David, Sean and Charles were going in the Oldsmobile and Ilya was going with Paul, deciding on going with the latter group in the Packard. He got in the backseat and was relieved he was going to fit without being cramped, Paul turning the key in the ignition and backing away from the curb as the Olds followed them.

"We should be in Fair Harbor, Vermont by this afternoon if there's no delays. We travel overnight to Ithaca, we're playing a party at a fraternity house at Cornell. Those fraternity parties pay good and we get free drinks. But no drinking before or after tonight's gig, we have to drive and we take turns driving", said Paul.

"I gotcha, dude.What's the farthest you ever played?", he asked.

"We played show out in Flin Flon, Manitoba last year. It's a copper town way out in the country and it was a very long drive. But we made over two thousand dollars apiece for that, the mine owner was a Frenchman from Hearst who knew Charles and Sean", said Ilya.

"Okay, cool. What happens on tour?", asked Jordan.

"For us, nothing. We are not into partying, I don't want my wife to worry about me. And Ilya has never been much of a party person", Paul chuckled.

"Da, I am not into that sort of thing like Charles and Sean. I would rather read something and have some vodka, you can never read enough books", said Ilya.

"Geez, you sound smarter than me, dude. I can't remember the last book I read", replied Jordan, a slight blush on his cheeks.

"That's nothing to be ashamed of, Jordan. What interests you?", asked Ilya.

"Uh chicks, hockey, scary shit", he chuckled weakly.

"All me are interested in girls, but hockey is good too. Everyone in the band is a Canadiens fan, I presume you are a Maple Leafs fan?", he asked.

"Yeah, dude. I am from Ontario after all", he joked.

"I know, it's either them or the Maroons, but since I am not English and and they are awful, it was easy to cheer for the Canadiens. I do remember to cheer in French", said Ilya dryly.

"I've known Kris for years and I still can't speak an French, I suck at languages", he laughed.

"Some people have a knock for languages and others don't, Jordan. I myself speak Russian, Ukrainian, Polish, English and French. My father is Russian and my mother is from Lviv in Poland, there are a lot of Ukrainian people in the city. My mother is Ukrainian on her father's side and Polish on her father's", said Ilya.

Jordan nodded slowly as he tried to digest this information, trying to remember from his eighth grade geography class. "Okay, I think I know where that is. I'm sucky with geography and history and all that, I was a lot better at math and sports. I used to play juniors in Petersborough", he replied.

"I was never athletic, I have weak ankles and can't skate. I much preferred school. But you ought to read things", said Ilya. He reached into his black imitation leather briefcase and took out several copies of Weird Tales magazine, the cheap pulpy magazine adorned with covers of scantily-clad women being threatened by monsters. "There's this writer whom I really like, HP Lovecraft, he is very good. He does scary stories about a monster named Cthulhu and its offspring, hybrids of people and monsters. My favorite stories of his are the Call of Cthulhu, Shadow over Innsmouth and the Dunwich Horror", said Ilya.

"Hey, Kris reads that stuff. He's a big fan and he's got some of it. I really liked the one about the British dude who found out his ancestor was a white gorilla, he went crazy and killed himself", he said.

"You mean Arthur Jermyn, that's a good one. I don't think that's possible, but I still like the story. His non-Cthulhu work is very good", agreed Ilya.

"Kris lent a copy of it to Nailer, he digs it", he chuckled.

"Who is Nailer, that is an odd name", said Ilya.

"Oops, that's our friend James Neal, Kris lent him some stuff and he really dug it, he's a good dude", said Jordan, hoping Ilya didn't ask any more questions.

"I see. I was thinking since we are playing a show near Detroit and we have a bit of time, would you want to see a Detroit Tigers game? Charles and Sean are fans", said Ilya.

"Sure, but the real baseball fan in my family is my nephew Parker. He wants to be a player when he grows up", he laughed.

"How nice. Do you have siblings?", asked Ilya.

"Is this 20 Questions, dude? Just kidding, but I have three brothers, I'm the third youngest. My oldest brother has two boys and my next oldest brother is having a baby too, I swear it's going to be a boy, we can't have girls", he joked.

"That sounds like Charles' family, he has eight brothers and sisters, he is the next to last youngest with his sister Charlotte being the last. His parents come from huge families, half the people in Hearst are named Giroux or are related to them", said Paul dryly.

"Da, imagine that. Lucky our families were not like that", laughed Ilya.

"I'm an only child, imagine having all those kids around", joked Paul as him and Ilya laughed.

Yeah dude, your dad's a fucking wizard, he thought dryly.


"Merci for inviting us over, our Tante is busy with her nun work", said Pascal shyly.

"Il n'y a rien, Pascal. It's the neighborly thing to do", said Marie.

Jacques just rolled his eyes as he glanced down at his comic book, embarrassed at having to spend time with the women instead of being by himself. They were on a bus heading to downtown Montreal as their aunt Odette was busy volunteering at a local soup kitchen for homeless people and the boys were left by themselves, Marie and Ellen offering to take them. I want to be by myself in the house, like Maurice. I don't want to hang with a bunch of women, he thought sourly.

"Jacques, isn't it exciting to go to the city?", asked Pascal eagerly.

"No, because we're with grownups", he retorted.

"What do you feel like doing, Jacques?", asked Ellen.

"I want to see the Devil Doll movie, that looks really awesome", he said.

"But Tante Odette says it's a bad movie, it's too scary", said Pascal, his dark eyes wide.

"Tante Odette is a nun who thinks everything is bad, mon petit frere. I like scary movies", he said defiantly.

"If your aunt says you can't see it, I don't want you to get into trouble", said Marie.

"She doesn't have to know, Madame Letang. She's a nun, they think everything is bad", said Jacques dismissively.

"We'll take you to the movies, but you can't see that one. I don't want to get in trouble with your father and your aunt", said Ellen.

"Papa doesn't care, he's in a jazz band and they do crazy things on tour, I bet. And Tante Odette doesn't have to know", he replied smugly.

"Aye, you're a naughty boy, Jacques Briere", laughed Ellen.

The bus stopped outside of a movie theater on Rue Ste. Catherine as them and a few other people left the bus. It was a smaller one but still it was done in an ornate, pseudo-Moorish style with golden gilt trim and neon lights on the exterior that were now turned off, brightly-colored posters on the walls advertising several movies. "Too bad Zhenya and Kris couldn't join us, they're busy with Marco", said Ellen as she looked at the marquee with the names of the movies on them.

"Who's Zhenya?", asked Jacques.

"That's my husband, Zhenya is a nickname for Evgeni", she explained.

Jacques just shrugged as he glanced at the posters advertising the movies. His eyes went wide in delight when he saw the poster for The Devil Doll starring Lionel Barrymore, the lurid poster promising all sorts of illicit thrills. "That looks awesome", he murmured:
Posted Image

"I want to see that one, mesdames", said Pascal, seeing the poster for Red River Valley starring Gene Autry:
Posted Image

"Gene Autry is for babies, Pascal. His songs stink and the movies are boring", said Jacques, rolling his eyes.

"Jacques, don't say that to your brother", chided Marie.

Jacques just snorted as he glanced over at the tiny woman who smaller than he was, muttering under his breath as Ellen bought four tickets for Red River Valley with Gene Autry.

The interior of the theater lobby was smaller than a modern cinema but far more ornate with its thick maroon carpets and gilt chandeliers and fancy maroon wallpaper, only the snack stand dispensing popcorn, hot dogs and candy giving any indication this was a movie theater. The seating area itself was cavernous and just as ornate as the lobby with maroon velvet curtains hiding the silver screen and plush velvet seats that were as comfortable as a living room couch arranged in rows, a piano player near the orchestra pit playing a piece by Chopin as the patrons found their seats. On both sides of the room were extra balcony seats that looked down onto the main floor of the theater that were half-price compared to the regular seats, half-hidden by curtains that would be opened when the movie started.

The group found seats near the middle of the theater as the seats gradually filled up for the matinee performance that afternoon, many of the other patrons mothers with young children as well as older kids playing hooky from school and a few single people. The lights dimmed slightly as the pianist left his piano behind and went right upstairs to the projection booth, the clicking of film being fed into the projector as the curtains parted to reveal the screen. The first few programs shown on the screen were ads for a local department store and a lawyer's office before a few upcoming previews of new movies appeared, one for a Hopalong Cassidy serial, another for a Shirley Temple film and another for a musical starring Eleanor Powell. It was followed by a short newsreel segment in French about Quebec premier Maurice Duplessis and his visit to Laval for the opening of a hospital, the stern-looking old man about as warm and welcoming as Old Father Frost. After that came a Bugs Bunny short where he outwitted Elmer Fudd yet again, much to the delight of the children in the crowd.

The movie itself was not exactly a sophisticated film, as it was filmed somewhere on a back lot in southern California and the majority of the actors were just people found on the streets of Los Angeles, the so-called Indians clearly white people in cheap greasepaint and feathers. The children cheered when the handsome hero portrayed by Gene Autry formed a posse to round up the evil cattle rustlers, occasionally breaking out his guitar and singing a song as the action momentarily stopped for the musical numbers.

Jacques squirmed in his seat and rolled his eyes at the corny cowboy movie, wincing at the cheesy, annoyingly happy country songs as sung by the handsome cowboy in his fancy duds. This movie stinks, I want to see The Devil Doll. And I'm stuck here with two broads and my brother, he thought sourly.

"Jacques, wasn't that awesome?", said Pascal happily when the movie was over.

"No, it was stupid, dummy", he retorted.

"Jacques, don't talk to your brother like that", chided Ellen.

"I'm telling the truth, this movie stinks. It's for babies", he grumbled.

Marie and Ellen just looked at each other and sighed. "Let's go home then", said Marie as Ellen nodded.
Edited by Lucifer's Angel, June 13, 2012, 9:09 pm.
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
The Cosmic Gerbil
Member Avatar
Forbidden Forest Ranger
[ * ]
Sorry if you said before but how old are Pascal and Jacques? :blush:
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
Lucifer's Angel
Member Avatar
Heavy Metal Seanchai
[ * ]
Jacques is fourteen and Pascal is twelve, that's why Jacques doesn't want to see the movie and wants to see the scary one :)
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
The Cosmic Gerbil
Member Avatar
Forbidden Forest Ranger
[ * ]
Hehe, OK then :) I hope that soon Jaques will be able to choose something fun that he wants to do :)
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
Lucifer's Angel
Member Avatar
Heavy Metal Seanchai
[ * ]
Chapter 59

Maurice balanced on a small platform and gripped his hammer tightly as he leaned down and squinted down at the nail in his hand, aiming the hammer and feeling it hit the nail as it moved down into the wood. His concentration was totally on the nail and the wooden planks he had to nail to form the second floor of the building, the acrid taste of the nails in his mouth as he took another out and hammered it into the floor planks. The steady sound of hammering and sawing and scraping filled the air as the city hall in Lemoyne across the river gradually took shape, the workers in their yellow aluminum hard hats and work clothes like so many worker ants around the site.

Maurice finished nailing one plank to the floor and started on another, carefully aligning the plank alongside the previous one and hammering it to the supports underneath it as he felt the sweat forming under his yellow aluminum hard hat and collecting in his black hair as he paused momentarily to wipe away the sweat. He surveyed the area and nodded in satisfaction when he saw that the floor was almost done, needing only about five or six more planks to go before work would be done for the day, estimating that it was about four-thirty judging from the light of the sun and the slight breeze in the air indicating evening would be soon. Glancing down at the first floor he could see Mick and a few other workers plastering the walls on the first floor of the building, adding a layer of sand plaster to the walls that would be covered with brown paint tomorrow, the gentle swooshing sound of brushes and trowels a steady rhythm like a metronome.

He finished the floor of the room just as the horn blew announcing the end of the workday, sighing in relief and a smile on his face. Maurice carefully made his way down the ladder to the ground and took off his hat, his black hair damp with sweat as he shook his head and cradled it under his arm, placing his hammer and his identification badge in his toolbox as he followed the other workers towards the clock where they would punch out for the day, his steel-toed boots crunching on the gravel and rocks of the dirt on the ground.

"Maurice, I'm going to go home and take a bath, I'll meet you at Mullane's later", said Mick as he grabbed his card and punched out of work.

"Oui, Madame Letang and Madame Malkina offered to watch my brothers while we go out, they are great ladies", he chuckled.

"Aye, otherwise they would be stuck with the old lady reading Bible stories, bloody dull. And I reckon Mr.Letang and Mr. Malkin and Marco would be more fun for the boyos than your aunt", teased Mick.
Posted Image

Maurice just laughed as he punched out and followed Mick out to his second-hand Ford Model A pick up truck parked in the employee lot. They got inside as he turned on the engine and it coughed to life, backing out of the space and onto the street as Mick turned on the radio to a station playing I'm an Old Cowhand by Bing Crosby: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SkVK0xSl96I


I'm an old cowhand from the Rio Grande
But my legs ain't bowed and my cheeks ain't tan
I'm a cowboy who never saw a cow
Never roped a steer cause I don't know how
Sure ain't a fixin to start in now
Yippie yi yo kayah

I'm an old cowhand and I come down from the Rio Grande
And I learned to ride, ride, ride 'fore I learned to stand
I'm a riding fool who is up to date
I know every trail in the Lone Star State
Cause I ride the range in a Ford V-8
Yippie yi yo kayah

We're old cowhands from the Rio Grande
And we come to town just to hear the band
We know all the songs that the cowboys know
'Bbout the big corral where the doggies go
We learned them all on the radio
Yippie yi yo kayah

I'm an old cowhand
Oh yes, Mr. Bing.
Too hot for you, Uncle Fudd?
Down from the Rio Grande
Oh where the west is wild all around the borderland
Where the buffalo roam around the zoo
and the Injuns run up a rug or two
and the old Bar X is just a barbecue, yeah
Yippie yi yo kayah

I'm a pioneer who began from scratch
I don't bat an eye in a shootin' match.
They don't call me Elmer, they call me Satch.
Yippie yi yo kayah
Yippie yi yo kayah
Get along little horsy
Get along little horsy
Yippie yi yo kayah, oh!


The ride to the house was quiet except for the radio, the men tired and wanting nothing more to shower and go out drinking. Mick dropped off Maurice at his house and went to his own place to shower as he let himself in, Odette looking up from her book and frowning. "I don't like you drinking, Maurice, and I don't like that boy. He isn't a heretic, is he?", she asked.

Maurice just rolled his eyes and took off his boots and socks, placing the boots neatly near the front door and the socks in the clothes hamper in the closet. "He's Irish and Catholic, Tante Odette", he muttered.

"Don't speak like that to me, Maurice-Louis Briere. I wish you didn't drink and smoke after work, I want you to be respectable and find a nice girl, unlike your father", she said.

Maurice snorted in disgust. "Tante Odette, I work hard everyday and I pay the bills when Dad can't, I just want to relax after work. I spent all day nailing wood to the floors and building the frame before that in the hot sun, that's hard work. And I'm never getting married, my mother est un pute", he said angrily.

Odette looked as though she was about to faint when she heard her nephew. "Maurice-Louis Briere, you apologize this minute. You do not call your mother that", she admonished.

"It's the truth, she runs off with son petit ami pourrie and Dad drinks himself stupide when he sees the note. What am I suppose to call her, un saint sacrement?", he grumbled.

"Go get drunk then, you are going to be like your father with his silly band if you don't improve yourself", she huffed.

Maurice rolled his eyes and went upstairs to the bathroom, quickly stripping down and going into the shower as he turned on the water, sighing in relief as the warm water soothed his aching muscles and he washed the grime off his work off of himself. He turned off the water and dried off before going into his room, opening his tiny closet and taking out a pair of gray slacks and a short-sleeved cream shirt as he got dressed, adding a modest gray tie around his neck as he combed his hair and slicked it back with a dab of Murray's Pomade in its distinctive orange tin jar. Posted Image

He nodded in satisfaction at his reflection and added a gray fedora on his head to complete the ensemble before going downstairs and out the door, barely giving his aunt a second glance.

Mullane's was about three-quarters full as many of the patrons had come from work, Mick seating at the bar and saving him a seat as the men clapped each other on the back. "Two Molsons", said Maurice as Mick reached into his pocket for his pack of Camels and a lighter. Posted Image

"Did the old bat give you shit again?", he asked, placing a cigarette to his lips and lighting the tip as he took a drag, tapping the ashes into a metal ashtray in front of him.

"Oui, what do you expect for an old nun? She wants me to be respectable and find a nice girl so I won't end up like Dad", he replied bitterly as the bartender set the beers in front of them.

"Tough shit, Maurice. Your Dad is a cool older fella, playing in a band is awesome. I'd rather do this and fucking plastering fucking walls, that fucking plaster is going to mess with my brain sooner or later", said Mick dryly as he drank a large swallow of beer and took another drag off his cigarette.

Maurice nodded in agreement as he reached into his pocket for his pack of Pall Malls and a lighter, unwrapping the box and shaking out a cigarette as he put to his lips and lit the tip, taking a drag as he sighed. Posted Image"Oui, mon frere Irlandais. And I'm going to turn into a hunchback nailing all those little fuckers into the wood, I can still taste the nails. But the money is good, I hope another job turns up soon", he said as he took another drag off his cigarette.

"Aye, you can never have enough work, 'specially since I just got past sixth grade in school. Reckon I'd rather be working than going to fucking school", said Mick, drinking some more beer and taking another drag.

"One day, you and I are going to have our own construction company, we won't have to be adding fucking plaster to the walls and nailing those little fuckers together. We're going to be as rich as Mr. Pasquale", said Maurice dreamily, tapping the ashes of his cigarette into the ashtray absently.

"Yeah, we'll have guys working for us and we'll be rich", agreed Mick.

"By the way, where's your dad and the band going?", he added, finishing his cigarette and dropping the butt into the ashtray.

"They're going to Vermont, New York, Ohio, Michigan and the Soo Falls, they're gonna be playing their first show tonight. That Jordan fella is gonna come along as security", said Maurice as he finished his own cigarette and placed the butt in the ashtray along with Mick's.

"I want to do that, we're fucking stuck here", he muttered.

"Me too, but we got our jobs and we make dough, so that's enough, mon frere", said Maurice as he lit another cigarette.
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
The Cosmic Gerbil
Member Avatar
Forbidden Forest Ranger
[ * ]
Odette sounds like a very strict lady :O I love the piccie of that truck...it looks so cool :D
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
Lucifer's Angel
Member Avatar
Heavy Metal Seanchai
[ * ]
Chapter 60

Jordan frowned in dismay when he saw the club the band was supposed to play that night, seeing a big wooden ramshackle building that resembled nothing more than a huge shack with a sagging porch seemingly in the middle of nowhere. "Oui, that is the club, Jordan. It's a roadhouse and a lot of clubs around here are like that, there's places like this in the Maritimes too", said David, his hands twitching slightly as it had been a while since his last cigarette.

"That place looks like it's going to fall apart, dude. And it looks like a haunted house", he replied distastefully.

"It's not going to fall apart and it's not haunted, just crappy", said Sean reassuringly as he reached into his pocket and took out a pack of Kool menthol cigarettes, handing one over to David as both men lit the tips with a match and took deep drags.

Jordan made a face at the acrid, minty smoke coming from the cigarettes and their beatific smiles as they inhaled the nicotine. "You know that shit causes cancer, right?", he asked dubiously.

"Really, I don't anyone with cancer. Besides, I've been in that car for hours and I can't smoke in there or else it'll blow up. I need my cigs", retorted Sean as he took another deep drag off the menthol.

"Jordan, you don't smoke at all?", asked Charles in disbelief, reaching into his pocket for a pack of Belmonts and a lighter.

"Uh, no. My dad used to smoke but he quit", he replied.

Paul smiled sympathetically and clapped him on the back. "Now you know how I feel, I'm the only one of these guys who does not smoke. Celestine is allergic to cigarette smoke and I never liked it anyways", he said as Jordan nodded in agreement.

Ilya chuckled and took out a pack of Chesterfields and his own silver monogrammed lighter with the Romanov coat of arms on the front, lighting the tip and taking a drag. "Da, we just don't blow smoke in his face. And maybe later on we can buy some reefer, that's really good", he said as Charles and Sean looked happy.

"Is that what I think it is?", asked Jordan.

"Da, Mary Jane, me and Sean and Charles smoke it, a lot of jazzers do. If you smoke it before the shows, you play better", said Ilya.

"Shit, that's fucking illegal", said Jordan.

"Oui, so is everything good. The damn Americans actually banned alcohol and look how that turned out", said Charles as everyone shook their heads in disgust.

Jordan just sighed and momentarily wondered what he had gotten himself into, thinking these guys might be as wild as any metal band. "You guys get chicks too, right?", he chuckled.

"Oui, there's a lot of Bettys after the shows, especially in these little butthole towns. That's why I bought a box of condoms", laughed Charles as Sean gave him a fist bump.

"Save some for me then", he said dryly as they finished smoking and went to unload the equipment.

A short fat man in a cheap, ill-fitting blue suit came out of the ramshackle building and walked over to them, sweat already dripping from his cheap felt hat as blue-tinted sweat ran down his face. "You the band for tonight? The show starts at seven, there's chili in the kitchen if you're hungry and here's your drink tokens, pay up later", said the owner in his harsh New England twang, handing them each a cheap tin token with a dollar sign on the back.

"That's one dollar worth of drinks, that's like five drinks", explained David as he pocketed the token.

"Awesome, this is starting to look pretty good", he chuckled.

Jordan helped the band take their equipment out of the trunks and carry them inside the club. The interior of the club was very plain with a small stage surrounded by tattered velvet curtains that had significant moth holes and patches, smelling old and musty as though it hadn't been washed in thirty years. The stage with its scarred wooden surface faced a bar area consisting of a long wooden bar in front of shelves of liquor bottles as a bartender in black slacks and a white apron wiped down beer mugs with a towel, the stage itself facing a seating area with several small tables and a tiny dance floor.

The group sat down at two tables pushed together and a middle-aged woman in an apron and a hairnet came over with several bowls of chili and wax paper packets of crackers, the bartender pouring them each a beer as Paul left them a tip. "Not bad", Jordan murmured as he tried the chili and took a sip of beer.

"Oui, the clubs don't make much money from food so we get it free, they make a lot more on drinks", explained Paul.

They finished eating and drinking the beer as they got to work getting the instruments all set up. Jordan helped Ilya set up the drum kit, starting with the bass drum and adding the toms, the snares, and the various cymbals. "This is the ride cymbal, it's to keep a rhythm during the fast parts when people dance. And this is the hi-hat, I use it when I change passages and when I change the beat", said Ilya as he showed Jordan how to add the various cymbals.

"Okay, I gotcha. Why does this have two discs in it, and what's the bells for?", he asked, referring to the hi-hat he mounted on the stand.

"That keeps a shuffling rhythm when we play more dancey type stuff, I hit it with the sticks and it makes a rattle and a clang that's a good rhythm for dancing", he explained, tapping the cymbal with his stick as it made a pleasant rattle.

"Okay, I see. I don't play drums at all, you learn something new every day", he chuckled.

Ilya laughed as he adjusted the height of the cymbals and tapped them with his drumstick, nodding in satisfaction. "I want to have the big kit, like Gene Krupa in Benny Goodman's band. He's the best drummer ever and I want to have a kit like his, I saw Goodman's band in concert last year and that was amazing. He's got the best musicians in his band and Krupa is the best of them, shows that smoking reefer is not all that bad", said Ilya with a chuckle.

The band finished setting up as Paul and David sat down at a table and talked softly in French amongst themselves, the others leaving to go outside. Jordan just shrugged and followed the others outside as Ilya took out a small wooden box from his jacket pocket and a wooden pipe, watching as he opened the box and gently tapped it so a small amount of dried leaves fell into the bowl, placing the tip of the bowl in his mouth and lighting the pipe as he took a puff. He removed the pipe from his mouth and held it in for a few second before exhaling a huge cloud of smoke as a beatific look formed on his face, passing it over to Sean who took a big puff himself.

Charles took a puff and then handed it over to Jordan, smiling encouragingly at him. Jordan placed the mouthpiece between his teeth and took a puff, feeling his lungs fill with the smoke and holding it in for a bit before taking out the mouthpiece and then exhaling a big cloud to everyone's delight. His eyes watered and he coughed a bit, but a languid, pleasant sensation came over him as his limbs felt weightless and rubbery, a crooked smile on his face as everything seemed a bit more colorful and the birds singing sounded louder and more melodic after smoking.

"Merde, you like this, don't you? This is good shit, these farmers grow good stuff here", said Sean as Jordan passed it on to Ilya.

"Yeah, this feels pretty good. I can't believe the school was telling us this shit is bad for you, this is fucking badass", he giggled.

"Oui, like that stupid Reefer Madness flick. I want to smoke that reefer, the kids smoke and kill people", laughed Charles as Ilya handed him the pipe.

The group continued smoking and passing around the pipe until it was all smoked out, Ilya tapping out the dead ashes on to the ground and cleaning the bowl with an old napkin. Jordan was still feeling the effects as he giggled madly, much to everyone's amusement. "I reckon you never smoked any reefer before, Jordan. You'll get used to the effects soon, but that's why we had to buy it here, this shit is illegal. And when we leave, we can't drive too fast or nothing, else the cops get us", said Charles as they nodded in agreement.
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
The Cosmic Gerbil
Member Avatar
Forbidden Forest Ranger
[ * ]
Hahaha, the guys are getting stoned :lol:
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
1 user reading this topic (1 Guest and 0 Anonymous)
ZetaBoards - Free Forum Hosting
Fully Featured & Customizable Free Forums
Learn More · Register for Free
Go to Next Page
« Previous Topic · Inactive Metallica Fan Fictions · Next Topic »
Add Reply