Read Online Au Revoir, Crazy European Chick by Joe Schreiber - Free Book Online
Authors: Joe Schreiber
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here tonight," she said. "It is a good cover for us until things cool off."
"Wait," I said. "You're using my gig as your hideout?"
"What is the matter, Perry? Do you feel exploited.? "
"I liked you better when you were this geeky quiet exchange student."
"Well, perhaps I liked you better when you just shut your mouth and stared at my chest," she said, "but we cannot always get what we want in this world."
"I never ... I didn't—"
"You are expected to be here tonight. Everybody knows that. And so you get up, play your songs, buy us some time." She shrugged. "It is not the best cover, but it will hold for now."
I started to argue again, but Gobi cut me off with the sweep of her hand, as if such things were beneath explanation, especially to one as slow-witted as myself. To my left, the bouncer, a shriveled, capuchin-faced gnome in the hoodie, gave me an indifferent blink. "Five dollars."
"I'm in the band," I muttered. "Perry Stormaire."
"Not on the list."
"That's because I'm in the band. "
"Not on the list."
I opened my wallet and found ten dollars, handing it over. It was my last ten dollars.
"ID?"
Holding up my hand, I showed him the UNDERAGE stamp from the 40/40 Club.
"No alcohol," the gnome said. "You can't—"
"Sit at the bar, yeah, I know."
He waved us forward, making a point of checking Gobi out as she sauntered by. A moment later I heard a staticky blurt of microphone noise, and up on stage, I saw Norrie, along with Caleb and our lead singer, Sasha, marching out, gazing at the crowd with a combination of carefully feigned rock-and-roll disregard and barely controlled panic. They hadn't seen me yet.
"Gobi," I said, a terrible possibility occurring to me. "Wait. You're not going to kill anybody here, are you?"
"Not unless is absolutely necessary." She paused and took a speculative look at the band. "In firefight, would any of them take a bullet for you, do you think?" Her eyes lingered on Norrie. "The one in back, perhaps playing the drums—he is good size, and would make a good shield, if it came to that."
"You're kidding, right? Are you kidding? That's my best friend." My mind was still reeling, trying to imagine a scenario more desperate than being gunned down at my band's first real New York gig, when I felt a hand grasp my shoulder.
As Gobi slipped into the crowd, I turned around and looked at the two adults standing in front of me.
"Mom?" I said. " Dad? "
13
It has been said that "in the future everyone will be famous for fifteen minutes" (Andy Warhol). Describe your fifteen minutes. (New York University)
Staring at them, I realized that forty-five minutes had passed since I'd spoken to my father on the phone.
"We thought we might find you here," he said, raising one hand like he might pat me on the back or haul off and sock me in the jaw. In the end he just let the hand flop back to his side. He was looking at me very closely, with an intensity I'd never seen before and didn't particularly like. It made my skin itch. "I suppose Gobi's here with you?"
"She's ... somewhere," I said.
Dad nodded and started scanning the crowd. I imagined his Terminator-vision analyzing the faces for some trace of the woman with the sole power to bring down his marriage.
"Perry," Mom said, "how could you do this to us? How could you betray our trust?"
" Me betray your trust?" I looked back over at Dad. "Mom—"
" Good evening, New York! " Sasha bellowed from the stage, loud enough to startle everybody, spilling a few drinks and momentarily souring the communal mood. " I heard New York City wants to rock! "
There was a momentary lull as the crowd looked up, judged Sasha not to be an immediate threat, and went back to their drinks and conversations.
" I said, " Sasha insisted, " that I heard New York City wants to rock! "
It wasn't exactly clear why we'd taken Sasha on as Inchworm's lead singer. On the plus side, he did have that element of raw animal savagery vital to a frontman. On the other hand,
"Wait," I said. "You're using my gig as your hideout?"
"What is the matter, Perry? Do you feel exploited.? "
"I liked you better when you were this geeky quiet exchange student."
"Well, perhaps I liked you better when you just shut your mouth and stared at my chest," she said, "but we cannot always get what we want in this world."
"I never ... I didn't—"
"You are expected to be here tonight. Everybody knows that. And so you get up, play your songs, buy us some time." She shrugged. "It is not the best cover, but it will hold for now."
I started to argue again, but Gobi cut me off with the sweep of her hand, as if such things were beneath explanation, especially to one as slow-witted as myself. To my left, the bouncer, a shriveled, capuchin-faced gnome in the hoodie, gave me an indifferent blink. "Five dollars."
"I'm in the band," I muttered. "Perry Stormaire."
"Not on the list."
"That's because I'm in the band. "
"Not on the list."
I opened my wallet and found ten dollars, handing it over. It was my last ten dollars.
"ID?"
Holding up my hand, I showed him the UNDERAGE stamp from the 40/40 Club.
"No alcohol," the gnome said. "You can't—"
"Sit at the bar, yeah, I know."
He waved us forward, making a point of checking Gobi out as she sauntered by. A moment later I heard a staticky blurt of microphone noise, and up on stage, I saw Norrie, along with Caleb and our lead singer, Sasha, marching out, gazing at the crowd with a combination of carefully feigned rock-and-roll disregard and barely controlled panic. They hadn't seen me yet.
"Gobi," I said, a terrible possibility occurring to me. "Wait. You're not going to kill anybody here, are you?"
"Not unless is absolutely necessary." She paused and took a speculative look at the band. "In firefight, would any of them take a bullet for you, do you think?" Her eyes lingered on Norrie. "The one in back, perhaps playing the drums—he is good size, and would make a good shield, if it came to that."
"You're kidding, right? Are you kidding? That's my best friend." My mind was still reeling, trying to imagine a scenario more desperate than being gunned down at my band's first real New York gig, when I felt a hand grasp my shoulder.
As Gobi slipped into the crowd, I turned around and looked at the two adults standing in front of me.
"Mom?" I said. " Dad? "
13
It has been said that "in the future everyone will be famous for fifteen minutes" (Andy Warhol). Describe your fifteen minutes. (New York University)
Staring at them, I realized that forty-five minutes had passed since I'd spoken to my father on the phone.
"We thought we might find you here," he said, raising one hand like he might pat me on the back or haul off and sock me in the jaw. In the end he just let the hand flop back to his side. He was looking at me very closely, with an intensity I'd never seen before and didn't particularly like. It made my skin itch. "I suppose Gobi's here with you?"
"She's ... somewhere," I said.
Dad nodded and started scanning the crowd. I imagined his Terminator-vision analyzing the faces for some trace of the woman with the sole power to bring down his marriage.
"Perry," Mom said, "how could you do this to us? How could you betray our trust?"
" Me betray your trust?" I looked back over at Dad. "Mom—"
" Good evening, New York! " Sasha bellowed from the stage, loud enough to startle everybody, spilling a few drinks and momentarily souring the communal mood. " I heard New York City wants to rock! "
There was a momentary lull as the crowd looked up, judged Sasha not to be an immediate threat, and went back to their drinks and conversations.
" I said, " Sasha insisted, " that I heard New York City wants to rock! "
It wasn't exactly clear why we'd taken Sasha on as Inchworm's lead singer. On the plus side, he did have that element of raw animal savagery vital to a frontman. On the other hand,
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