Summer Shorts-Four Short Stories (6 page)

In no time at all, a very large, menacing
black man all dressed in black laid his hand on Craig's shoulder
and whispered strongly to be heard of the loud rock music blasting
the deck "I believe we have not had the pleasure of your
acquaintance. Your credentials, please." Slightly frightened by the
imposing figure, Craig fished out his driver's license and stated
"Craig Carpenter, writer. Larry Davis should have explained that I
was filling in for him on the "Columbus Today" article. The man
disappeared through the patio door and into the house. He soon
reappeared and gestured towards Craig.

Pushing ahead of her husband, Terri pulled
Libby gently but firmly and whispered "I thought we'd never get
away from these Goths. Craig, get Libby a drink…first thing".
Reaching the door, the man held up his hand and barked "Just him,
Madame." Craig shrugged and offered "Meet you at the boat dock in
an hour", to which Terri added "Not if we can get back to sanity
first".

The large man led Craig through the sun room
that adjoined the porch, then deeper into the mansion. Crossing a
large hall which contained a massive oaken stairway leading to the
upper level, they walked to the closed doors of the study. Glancing
around, to Craig it appeared as if the entire mansion had been
built centuries earlier on a Scottish moor and had been somehow
transported to the lake. The massive wooden panels alone would cost
a fortune to replicate. The floor was marble with rugs that
undoubtedly came from Iran adorning it at every turn. Despite the
bright sunshine outside, the mansion seemed deliberately dark and
amazingly silent.

The large man knocked two singular times,
then opened the door. Craig stepped into the study to be blasted by
a loud burst of electric guitar; yet, there was no one playing…just
a gold guitar sitting in a stand next to a large Marshall
amplifier. "It's a tape…'Fire Dance'…isn't that what you want?
Isn't that what you always want?" The voice came from the other
side of a large dark red leather chair that had its back facing
Craig. The chair swiveled and there he sat: Phoenix Gressil in the
flesh, holding a remote control. "That's the very same
guitar…that's the very same amp…and yes, I am saddened by the loss
of Ian". Phoenix said it like he had a thousand times…tired, weary,
and bored…not only of interviews, but of life in general. His
hoarse voice still rang with his London accent, even though his
years in America had toned it down somewhat.

Looking up to behold and take countenance of
his visitor, Phoenix nodded and added "But you are the local
reporter…not a music critic. You want to know why me…why this
house…why the fuck did I choose this god-forsaken-shit pond in the
middle of a corn field?"

Craig laughed. "Now that's the Phoenix
Gressil we've all come to know and disdain. So yeah: tell me why;
you grouchy old bastard." Phoenix slapped his knee, coughed until
he nearly gagged, then laughed until he turned purplish red.

"Fuck me, there is intelligent life in this
shit hole. Botis, fetch us some brandy." Phoenix bellowed, calling
his man servant. The big man returned with a brandy bottle and two
snifters.

Botis filled the glasses halfway, and then
passed one to Craig and one to Phoenix. "Craig, you've brightened
an already tedious goddamn day. Like you rednecks say: I take it
you ain't from around hyah." Carefully sloshing his brandy around
the snifter until he had covered the insides of the glass with it,
Craig replied "Actually I am… I just never drank the water." Again
Phoenix almost busted his gut laughing.

The two bantered and drank for nearly a half
hour. Phoenix then shocked Craig with this invitation: "You said
you play. Go ahead. Give it a go." Craig stuttered in shock "What,
that?" gesturing towards Phoenix's trade mark 1959 Gibson Les Paul
"Gold Top". It was the guitar so well known that when Rolling Stone
magazine did a cover story on Black Raven, the cover photo was of
just that guitar. The world knew to whom it belonged.

"Play it, for Christ's sake, Craig. It won't
bite you…but he might" Phoenix snickered as from behind the
Marshall amp emerged a black Rottweiler that must have weighed one
hundred twenty pounds of solid black muscle and teeth. "Sykes, it's
okay. He's a friend" Phoenix said and the dog lay back down on the
floor. "Over the years, he's had to gnaw a leg or two of some
bastard who thought he could make off with Goldie (the guitar's
nickname). Haven't ya, Sykes?" The dog whined lightly.

Craig picked up the guitar, took it back to
his seat, and unconsciously began to let his fingers run up and
down the neck playing licks that his mind may have forgotten but
his finger muscles remembered from countless hours of playing.
Phoenix slid his chair closer, sitting as far out on the edge of it
as he could, smiling enthusiastically. Phoenix then stopped Craig.
"Let me see your hand." Craig held up his hand, palm down to
Phoenix, who studied the fingers carefully. Turning Craig' hand
over palm up, Phoenix laid his own left hand directly on top of it.
Phoenix drew silent for a moment, and then sat back in his chair as
if he had a revelation. "Our hands match, mate. The finger lengths
are identical. Here now, let me show you something. "With that,
Phoenix fired off an arpeggio high up the neck. He then played it
again slowly so that Craig could follow his finger movement across
the neck and up the strings.

Phoenix handed the guitar back to Craig, and
Craig reproduced the arpeggio flawlessly, laughing aloud when he
was finished. "I always wondered how you did that one. I tried it a
zillion times but never got it right." Phoenix grinned and replied
"You had the tools. You just applied them improperly." Phoenix then
paused and looked deeper into Craig's eyes. "You have the makings
of a great guitarist in you, Craig. I can make you that
guitarist."

Dumbstruck…speechless…grasping for words to
come out of his mouth; Craig put the guitar back into its stand.
"My God, my wife and daughter…they've been waiting for over an
hour!" Craig looked back apologetically at Phoenix who smiled and
said "Then get them. I should like very much to meet them." Dashing
out of the room, Craig ran to the patio door, oblivious to Sykes
who trailed right behind him.

A few moments before; Terri, clearly annoyed
and bored, made her way from the boat dock back up to the patio
with Libby in tow. She grabbed a bottle of soda from a beverage
cart, dropped it, and then proceeded to open it as a young woman
came brushing past her. The soda gushed from the bottle, spraying
the onion skin cover up garment the young woman was wearing. The
woman in the onion skin flashed Terri a look that could kill. Terri
composed herself quickly and stated "I'm very sorry. My daughter
was very thirsty and I didn't realize it was going to explode like
that." The woman in the onion skin also composed herself and
replied haughtily "Yes, children. Aren't they just divine?" An
onlooker interjected "Relax dearie, she won't eat your little girl.
You're more to her liking, though." The onion skin woman tossed the
onlooker a naughty smile, then gave one to Terri…who cringed and
turned towards the patio door to look for Craig.

Craig opened the door, saw wife and daughter
standing just outside and declared "Honey, I'm so sorry. Phoenix
and I were…" He was interrupted by Sykes barreling past him…out the
door…running straight towards Libby. Terri screamed, Libby smiled
at the dog dashing directly toward her, then Craig shouted
"
Sykes, it's ok. She's a friend
." The crowd of
on-lookers were to be more astonished at what was about to occur
than the horrible images they had already envisioned happening.

Sykes stopped directly in front of Libby and
lay down at her feet. Libby, completely unaware of the terror in
her mother's heart, smiled and hugged Sykes who in turn licked her
face. "See Mommy…we did come to get a puppy". Craig was at Libby's
side in a flash, wisely stroking Sykes and smiling at the child to
hide the fright he had just experienced. The on-lookers buzzed in
amazement at the scene…the little girl hugging the great beast that
looked like it could devour her in an instant.

Phoenix suddenly appeared at the door, now
wearing a large sun hat. "It would seem that two members of the
Carpenter family have conquered Sykes' heart today. For that
reason, I want you to see my home, and hear a guitar that has not
been played in a while. Join us, please!" At that proclamation, he
was joined at his side by the woman in the onion skin cover-up. He
smiled to the crowd moving towards the patio door, but under his
breath he whispered to her "It appears he has made his choice." The
woman smiled graciously as guests filed past her and whispered back
"So I have witnessed."

Terri angrily took Craig by the arm and
insisted "I want to leave this place…right now." Craig stood up
from petting the dog and pleaded "Just one song... for the article.
I have to hear him. Please, honey. Besides, Libby has found a
friend." Terri cringed as she looked down at the black beast her
daughter was petting. "He loves me, Mommy." At that, Craig seized
the opportunity by picking Libby up, calling "Sykes come on", and
heading into the mansion with the crowd. Terri reluctantly
followed.

Inside, Phoenix's man servant had moved the
Marshall amp and guitar into the center of the open hall. He held
the gold guitar…its power cord plugged in and its leather guitar
strap attached. Phoenix strode to the center of the room, gazed
around, and waited for the crowd to quiet down to the command of
his upraised arm. Even though he still appeared aged beyond his
years and quite frail for a seventy year old, a sudden twinkle had
come into his eyes. There appeared to be a sudden infusion of life
into his spirit. Craig wondered if perhaps it was the brandy
working its magic.

"Today, you're going to hear a Black Raven
classic like you never heard it before. Remember 'Midnight Clash'?
Well you are now going to hear the original master of that
recording but a live performance of the guitar part." The crowd
heartily approved with applause, hoots, and whistles.

With a wry smile, Phoenix added "But not
played by me…by my new protégé, Craig Carpenter". Dumbfounded,
Terri turned to Craig and demanded "Did you know about this?" Craig
quickly whispered "I swear to God I had no idea". Craig curiously
nodded to Phoenix and approached him, taking the Les Paul and
putting his arm through the strap. Phoenix handed Craig a golden
guitar pick and whispered "I know that you can do this one. Burn it
for me." The man servant started the play of the tape machine from
the library. Speakers throughout the house rocked with the drum
intro. Craig tapped the side of the guitar awaiting his turn to
play, repeatedly checking the volume knob to make certain the
guitar was on at full tilt.

Craig hit the signature intro riff that set
the feel of the song as he noticed the audience moving to its
driving cadence. He then let loose with the opening solo, gasping
slightly to hear Ian's vocal track come through so clearly as if he
had been standing next to Craig, twirling his hand mic, and
gyrating hypnotically as was his fashion. As the track built with
intensity, Craig played more and more intensely, leading into his
solo or "vamp" as it is known in the music world. He bent the
strings just as Phoenix would have done…taking notes a full three
steps higher as if the guitar was screaming for its life. Then he
assaulted the neck with a fiery, blistering ascending run…capped
off with three more screaming bends in perfect synch with the
crashes of the cymbals. The song reached its climax with a wild
scream from Ian, and a booming power chord by Craig. For a split
second there was a bewildered silence---the audience overwhelmed by
what they had witnessed. The inspired playing by this unknown
commodity dressed like an off-duty insurance agent…coupled by the
eerie sound of the late Ian Logsden was beyond all of their
expectation. They erupted into applause and screams of "Fuck,
Yeah!"

From her viewpoint hallway up the stairs, the
reaction was not lost on Edon, the woman in the onionskin
cover-up…which, from where Craig was standing, appeared
transparent. His reaction to her appearance was not lost on her
either.

Surrounded by newly acquired admirers, Craig
politely pushed his way towards Phoenix who took the guitar and
handed it the manservant. "Welcome to your new life, old chum"
Phoenix said to him. "Phoenix…I just don't know what to say" Craig
babbled. Phoenix stopped him with a finger to his lips. "Then say
nothing now. Deeds speak more strongly than words. You wife is
tired…take her and your Libby home. We'll speak again…soon."

With Libby in his arms and Terri leading the
way, they found themselves alone in the chartered boat. Tired to
the point of being numb, Terri held Libby on her lap during the
drive home No one spoke. Craig was physically driving the car, but
his mind was on another planet of fantasy. In bed that night, while
Terri snored from deep sleep, Craig' mind replayed the day: the
images, the sounds, the joys, the terrors.

******

Craig awoke that Sunday to the sound of the TV and
to the smell of fresh coffee. He staggered into the kitchen where
Libby was sitting the white plastic table having her breakfast.
Since the tiny kitchen doubled as the laundry room, Terri in her
bathrobe stooped to retrieve more clothes from the dryer. She noted
his presence but said nothing, letting her mood simmer as she
awaited the words she expected to hear from Craig. She had been
rehearsing her responses for nearly an hour. He was clearly walking
into an angry ambush.

Libby got the ball rolling, saying "Daddy, I
liked Sykes. When can we go see him again?" Not even waiting for
Craig to reply, Terri unloaded: "Hopefully never. That was an awful
day. I hate that place and those people. And I definitely don't
want Libby around that monster. I almost had a heart attack. It was
going to kill her". Craig cautiously tested the water by adding
"Yes, but fortunately Sykes is a well-trained dog. He clearly liked
Libby." Terri fired right back "That's more than I can say about
those people. Yuck…they give me the creeps…especially that almost
naked vampire woman hanging around Phoenix. Is that is daughter or
his pet groupie?"