The next morning, Rufus wandered into town, floating on a cloud of self-congratulation; The Lucky Dawn slept on behind him.
He’d made out really well last night; Jesse had delivered a truly appreciative audience. As a result a folded piece of paper containing thirty five bucks sat waiting in Mac’s mailbox.
It had been a great gig, it really had.
He came to the corner where the kids had been playing tag. They weren’t here today, and he gave only passing thought to what he’d seen through the picture window of The Folded Corner.
I was just spooked, he thought, seeing Michael Ridenour on the side of a milk carton once more, let the distorted deputy got to me.
He needed coffee, headed that way down Main Street.
As he passed The Folded Corner, he glanced through the picture window, feeling again the warmth of the audience, the flow of the music. Jesse was nowhere to be seen and, once again, there were no customers. He guessed that she made her money from events like the previous night; which was good for all concerned.
I wish more places would take the risk, he thought.
He carried on and, a couple of blocks further along heard music. Sure enough, as he approached Tunes, the music got louder and, for the first time, he noticed all-weather speakers fixed above the door.
He couldn’t place the tune, some sort of post-rock instrumental, all clanging guitars and orchestral sweeps, discord just under the surface. Definitely not mainstream on Main.
He stepped up and through the door to find Howard arranging some vinyl.
“Morning,” Rufus said.
Howard looked up.
“Oh… Hi,” he nodded, “how’re you doing?”
Rufus stepped into the shop, and the music transitioned to better speakers inside; the bass hit his gut harder, the treble singing clearly.
“Great show last night,” Howard continued.
“You were there? I didn’t see you.”
“Hanging out at the back, down near the horror books.”
“Oh,” Rufus nodded, “I thought I saw Danni, too.”
Howard smiled, slotted a record into the rack with some relish.
“She was there, all right,” he said.
“Until I wasn’t,” Danni spoke from behind Rufus, who turned to look at her.
He smiled welcome.
“What did you think?” he asked, his ego keen for praise despite the undertone in her voice.
She didn’t speak for a long moment, allowing the powerful music to fill the gap. Despite this, Rufus clearly heard Howard whistle a you’d-better-watch-out to the ceiling.
Rufus thought fast.
“You want to grab a coffee?” he asked Danni.
She thought for a moment, then turned to Howard.
“You want anything?”
“Sure,” he said, “the usual.”
Without another word, Danni crossed to the counter and grabbed her jacket, shouldering it as she walked past Rufus and out onto the street.
Howard smiled in commiseration and then went back to sorting the vinyl.
After a few seconds, Rufus ran out of the store, to catch up with Danni.
“Wait!” he called. “Slow down!”
Of course, she didn’t.
Rufus came alongside her about halfway up the block.
“What?” he said. “What did I do?”
Danni stopped walking suddenly, reached into her pocket and retrieved a cigarette and lighter. She lit up and drew deep.
As she exhaled the smoke to the sky, it irritated her eyes and her lids closed slightly, but still she didn’t make eye contact with Rufus.
She turned and walked on, leaving him no choice but to follow.
He felt like grabbing her arm, spinning her to face him and answer the question.
What’s got into her, he thought, what the hell’s got into her?
* * *
Danni’s silence continued until they got to the coffee shop and, even then, she only spoke to order.
She didn’t ask what Rufus wanted, didn’t offer to buy for him. As soon as she was done, she stepped over to the delivery area, leaving him to order his own.
By the time he’d done so, her drink and pastry had been delivered and she’d walked over to a table, where she sat with her back to him.
Rufus took the black coffee he’d ordered and walked over to the table.
Danni didn’t look up at him and he stood for a moment.
“Mind if I sit?” he asked, forcing a smile to his face.
“It’s a free country,” she shrugged.
Rufus sat opposite her and put his coffee down.
She had a face of stone, mouth set to a hard line. Her eyes scanned the coffee shop, looking everywhere but at him, and Rufus leant forward staring at her until she had no choice but to acknowledge him.
He smiled.
She pouted.
He raised his eyebrows.
The pout eased, and the very corners of her mouth may have twitched upwards by a hair’s breadth.
“Better,” Rufus said and leant back, sipping at his coffee.
Danni went back to scanning the coffee shop, but the tension radiating off her had eased.
Rufus let the silence swell between them, knew that she would have no choice but to let loose what had forced her silence moments’ earlier.
Sure enough, less than a minute later, she spoke.
“You ignored me,” she said.
“I… What?” Rufus blurted out.
“Last night,” Danni continued, “you ignored me. Acted like I wasn’t there at all.”
Huh? he thought.
“I didn’t!” he protested. “I was… I was playing. And you were way back in the…”
“You could have said ‘hello’,” Danni sulked.
“What?” Rufus was genuinely confused. “I was playing!”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. You were playing. Good for you. Congratulations.”
“I don’t get it.”
“No,” Danni shook her head, sipped at her coffee, “you don’t, do you?”
Rufus sat back, didn’t know what to say.
“That’s the problem with musicians,” Danni continued, “you’re all ego-maniacs. All just big kids seeking attention. Narcissistic arseholes!”
“Wait!” Rufus protested.
“You’re so self-centred!” Danni warmed to her theme. “I bet you didn’t even notice me there last night!”
“I did! You were at the back of the store, flipping through a book.”
“That’s where I was, was it?”
“Yeah. I saw you.”
“There? At the back of the store?”
“Yeah. While I was singing.”
Danni sat and stared at him over the rim of her coffee cup, said nothing.
“What?” Rufus asked, exasperated.
Danni put down her coffee cup.
“I came to the front. Stood right in front of you. For most of a song.”
“Oh.”
“Yes. Oh.”
“But I really didn’t see you!”
Danni frowned.
“Which just goes to prove my point.”
Rufus could feel anger rising.
“Well, you don’t know what it’s like, performing live,” he protested, beginning to sound like a whining brat even to his own ears, “there’s a lot of pressure and I have to…”
“Stay self-centered.”
“No!”
She raised her eyebrows at him.
“Well,” he countered, “yes. But not in the way you mean.”
“Self-centered is as self-centered does,” she smiled.
And, all of a sudden, he was seeing Michael Ridenour’s eyes again. Seeing himself walking away from the boy, holding the hollow commitment to find a police officer. He was playing at The Folded Corner, watching out the window as the kid from the game of chase was… As the police officer was… As the old guy was…
“There was a kid last night,” Rufus blurted out, “on the street corner.”
“And?” Danni looked confused, momentarily unsure of herself.
“The distorted deputy… He was…”
“The what?”
“Never mind,” Rufus grew frustrated, “there was a police officer talking to him, and then this old guy…”
He trailed off.
What are you trying to say?
He focused on his coffee, taking a long moment to regain his composure; drinking deep, despite the coffee scalding its way down inside him.
It’s just delayed guilt over the Ridenour kid, he thought, that’s all it is.
“Penny for ‘em,” Danni smiled.
Rufus went on the offensive.
“I have to stay focused, on myself, on my music,” he said, “it’s the only way I’ll live up to my potential.”
“Potential?” Danni asked, smiling wider.
“Yes,” Rufus was adamant, “music changes the world, didn’t you know that? Every time we sing, strike a chord, share a lyric, we change the world a little for the better.”
She actually barked out a laugh at this.
“Don’t laugh!” Rufus fired back. “It’s true!”
“Oh, sure it is,” Danni scoffed, “peace, love and understanding, right? You, Bob Dylan, Kurt Cobain, Lady GaGa, you’ve all just changed the world so, so much!”
“What’s wrong with singing about peace?” Rufus was shocked.
“What’s wrong?” Danni asked.
“Yeah,” he nodded, “of course! Surely you can’t…”
“I’ll tell you what’s wrong with it,” Danni’s mouth set into a hard, determined line, “your country has led the world into a series of pointless wars, aimed at controlling the world’s oil supply and denying alternative view-points from their own rightful democratic process. Your government has funded murderers across the globe. Your government has held people prisoner for no reason other than the fact that they do not support your government’s point of view…”
“Danni!” Rufus tried to interrupt, well aware that her voice was rising.
“Tens of thousands of innocent people, kids included, have died innocent, needless deaths because of your country’s war-mongering and arrogance. And all of this has happened while so, so many singers have been singing about peace. The old farts who run government now, were the same people who were at Woodstock and Glastonbury. It’s the freakin’ hippies who are so content to take us to war right now. So don’t tell me singing for peace makes a blind bit of difference.”
“It does!” Rufus countered. “It does.”
“Nope. I grew up with hippies, and I’ll tell you until I’m dead and buried, that their actions don’t match their words. Freakin’ peace and love!”
Danni stared at him.
“But we can change the world,” Rufus said eventually, “it’s not out of our control. We can.”
Danni nodded.
“Maybe,” she said, “but I’ll tell you something. Until you change yourself, you ain’t changing anything. Some day, someone is going to need you, Rufus. And if you’re not there for them, then all your songs, and tunes, and words, and well-meaning, hippy-dippy-ness won’t matter at all.”
“This is a real world, Rufus, like it or not. You can’t just close your eyes and ignore it. You can’t turn a blind eye.”
Danni stood up, grabbed the coffee and pastries and headed for the door.
Rufus sat and watched her; thoughts of the kid the previous night, and Michael Ridenour rushing through his head.
I didn’t, he thought.
At the door, Danni turned around.
“Well,” she called, “are you coming or not?”
“Yeah,” he replied, “I guess.”
He stood. As he did so, he noticed an older woman at another table, who’d obviously been watching the whole thing. He looked towards her, thinking that she might turn away, embarrassed. But she didn’t, instead staring at him with very little expression on her face. In the bright sunshine flooding through the windows, her face was over-bright; perfectly applied make-up bleaching out, crimson lips washed pink and lifeless. One eye was higher in her face than the other by a small amount, but it was enough to make Rufus want to look away.
She stared at him all the while he gathered his coffee and pastry and walked to join Danni at the door.
He couldn’t bring himself to look at her again.
As they stepped outside, Rufus felt that he’d never appreciated fresh air more than at that moment.
RUFUS – A NOVEL is a novel-in-progress by Vincent Tuckwood, a Brit author living and working in Waterford, Connecticut, USA. Read more by Vincent Tuckwood.
