Entry #675516, added on 11-09-09 @ 9:26 pm EST
Entry Access Restriction: None.
| 1790 today ... i'm sick :( | Entry #675516 |
Braden laughed. “After all that hard work recording and editing, why bother?”
Of course Uncle Razz had a drum kit. Actually, it was his son, Tyler’s. It was one of those things Tyler had just never pursued. Uncle Razz had always wanted Tyler to learn drums, start a band, and become a rock god. Now Tyler was a medical software developer and the drum kit joined Braden, Matt, and Josh’s as-yet unnamed band.
The want-ad didn’t mention anything about the name starting with X or being exceptionally good-looking. It’s amazing how fast an internet want-ad gets response, and by Sunday they had six appointments with potential drummers.
The first guy was called Kevin. He was way too old to be in their band, but he was trying to look younger by dressing like a skater. Kevin was also too old to be living in his mother’s basement, but that’s where he lived. He could rattle off a pretty good bam-bitty-bam-bam on the drums, but he just wasn’t right for their band.
The next guy, Michael, was more age-appropriate. He was also a damn good drummer. He’d already been in a band, but the rest of the guys in his band weren’t really serious about it and had left to either attend university or travel the world. The problem with Michael was that he was flabby, had dull, mousy-brown hair, and wore thick glasses with heavy plastic rims. He was dressed in baggy brown cords and a pink, blue, gold plaid shirt. Michael would have been fine for Weezer but not their band.
After his Bonham-like battery, Braden asked, “Would you be willing to join a gym?”
Michael didn’t answer, just looked at Braden with his mouth open.
“Great job, man,” Uncle Razz said. “We’ll give you a call and let you know.”
Michael asked, “Don’t you guys want to know what kind of music I like or anything like that?”
“We’re looking for a specific look,” Braden said.
Michael answered, “I thought you were looking for a drummer.” He stuck his drumsticks in his back pocket and left on his moped.
The next two drummers were s***e, to quote Matt. The fourth guy looked good, but he couldn’t drum to save his life. It didn’t appear as if he was quite sure which end of the drumstick to beat the drums with.
After he left, Braden said, “He might be the one.”
“Are you on glue?” Uncle Razz asked.
Braden said, “He looks the part. We do need someone who looks good, to fit the look of the band.”
Uncle Razz said, “We already have someone with absolutely no musical ability whatsoever. I think we need a drummer who can drum. So far I think that Michael guy is our best bet.”
Braden shook his head. “Ok, we need someone who can drum, but he has to look good, too.”
Matt said, “The drummer doesn’t really show. He sits in the back, behind all the drums and stuff. I mean…”
“No,” Braden said. He had a clear picture of what his band ought to look like, and it included a good-looking drummer, to round out their set. They were a boy-band, after all.
The next guy didn’t show up. They played Wii while they waited, and kept tossing around names.
“Razzberry.”
“Razzishes.”
“Razzilicious.”
The last guy, Jess, was running late.
“Another no-show,” Uncle Razz said. “We might have to go with that Wheezer guy.”
“Or audition more blokes tomorrow,” Matt said.
“No,” Braden said. “I think we need to get this drummer settled and go on to the important things, like a name. We need a kick-ass name.”
Josh said, “Maybe that last guy, if he had lessons…”
The doorbell rang. The four of them went upstairs to greet their final auditioner, Jess.
The maid had opened the door, and Jess stood there in the doorway with a small, crude wooden and skin drum in one hand. A strikingly beautiful person, Jess had thick, long black hair framing a pale face with piercing dark eyes that looked like black jewels. She was wearing a loose jacket and jeans, but you could tell that she had an amazing figure under that. The guys were all speechless.
Josh was first to speak. “You’re a chick,” he said.
Uncle Razz laughed, and Jess smirked. She held out her hand to Uncle Razz, closest to her and the obvious grown-up and therefore presumed leader of the band. “Jessica Wildcat,” she said. “You’re looking for a drummer?”
She spoke slowly, with a voice that was low and deliberate. It was very sexy.
The girl held out her hand to each of the boys, saying “Jess” each time. Josh and Matt both stammered over their names. Braden managed to keep his cool, but inside he was writhing from the several surprises.
She held up her drum. It was flat like a disc, about a foot across but only a couple of inches deep. It looked like it was hand made, out of wood and some kind of animal hide. The hide was lashed to the frame with rawhide twine, and there was a black and red design painted on the drum. She also held a weird looking drumstick with a loop at the end.
“Is that your drum?” Josh asked.
Jess nodded. She beat a slow rhythm on the drum, which the boys could feel in their heartbeats.
“Cool,” Matt said.
“It’s a traditional drum. My grandfather made it,” Jess said.
“Are you like an Indian or something?” Josh asked.
Jess smiled. Her eyes were like obsidian stones catching moonlight. “You could say that,” she said.
Braden asked, “Can you play, like, you know, normal drums?”
Jess nodded, and they led her to the rec room. The maid was starting to cook supper, and it the tantalizing smell was filling the house. Braden’s parents would be back soon, his father from golf and his mother from the spa.
Jess sat down at the drum kit, took off her jacket, revealing exquisite creamy shoulders and a very desirable bosom barely hidden by a ribbed tank top, and played an incredible ten-minute solo. She was about three minutes into it before the guys could stop enjoying her with their eyes enough to give their ears a listen. Her hair was like a living thing, shaking and shuddering around her as she beat the drums, using her entire body to move with the kit.
A smash on the high hat, and Josh made to start clapping, but she wasn’t finished yet. The beat intensified, the volume seemed to increase, until the sound of her drums enveloped them all, drawing them into a story about nature, spirits, gods, cities, and love. Here was a war march. Here was a butterfly. They found themselves moving closer to her and her drum kit, for it was hers now, tapping their feet and bobbing their heads. She was Neil Peart. She was John Bonham. She was Lars Freaking Ulrich.
She was winding down now, and their heartbeats and dance urges were slowing. Her hair was covering her face and shoulders now; her arms gleamed in the basement florescents, she hunched over her instruments, and finished with just the snare and cymbal. Slowing, slowing, until the silence was all that was left.
Nobody moved. Jess sat up and pushed her hair back. Her face and shoulders were wet with sweat. She exhaled.
Uncle Razz had a tear in his eye. He turned first to Braden.
“If you say one word, Brae,” he said.
He looked at each of the boys, then at Jess. “You’re in.”
Braden started to talk, but Uncle Razz stood up tall, his chubby belly pressing menacingly against the fading black of his Metallica t-shirt, and glared down at his nephew. “Compensation for your inability to sing,” he said.
Matt said, “She’s awesome.”
Josh: “And she’s beautiful.”
Braden shook his head. “We’re a boy band. B-O-Y. What boy band has a chick drummer?”
“We,” said Uncle Razz, “are progress. We are something new. We are…”
Matt said, “even better because our drummer is a chick.”
Jess said, “What kind of music do you play?”
Braden looked at her. He was not so disarmed by her shocking eyes, face, hair, and figure now; still a little off his game, but getting it back. “One-hit wonders,” he said.
Jess looked baffled. The others explained to her how they were going to cover all the one-hit wonder songs and rise to instant fame and fortune.
“So you’re not a serious band then,” she said.
“How did you learn to drum like that?” Matt asked her.
“When I was little, I lived on the reserve with my mother and my grandparents. My grandfather taught me native drumming. Then my mom and me moved to the city, with my uncle. He had this drum kit in his basement, and I just started playing on it.”
“You just started?”
“I mean, I played on it since I was, like, eleven. No, ten. Well, I had some lessons but mostly it was just, you know…”
“Wow,” said Matt. Josh whistled.
“So,” Braden said, “we have a token female. It can only increase our appeal.”
“Token female?” Josh asked.
“You know, woman’s lib and stuff. It’s cool to have a chick in the band. Feminists will like that. And guys will dig her, she’s pretty hot.”
Jess stood up and started putting on her jacket. “I’m not a token,” she said.
To protestations, she started up the stairs. Matt and Uncle Razz followed her.
“Plus,” Braden said, “she’s a minority. I mean, Matt’s dark, he could pass for a Mexican or something, but this chick’s a genuine Indian.”
Josh looked at his friend. He had never been so cruel before. “She’s a really good drummer,” Josh said.
“She’s good for the band. Token girl and token minority. It could be awesome.”
Braden had really been looking at this band as a way to showcase his many amazing qualities. He was used to being the center of attention at high school, a sought-after, desired, influential person in his society. Leaving high school meant leaving all that behind, and this band was a way to keep it going, keep riding the wave of his awesomeness. This girl was threatening to be the most amazing member of the band, not him. He was good looking, but she was too. He had charisma. He was the flamboyant front-man. But she had talent, and he was afraid that from back there, behind the drums, she would stand out more than he did up front.
The rest of the band came back down, including Jess.
“Now, a name,” Uncle Razz said. “Who votes for Razzamanaz?”
|
© Copyright 2009 katt (UN: kattbee at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
katt has granted Writing.Com, its affiliates and its syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work.
|
Log In To Leave Feedback
Static Items
Books
Forums
Groups
Interactive Stories
Audio
Campfire Creatives
Community Notes
Crossword Puzzles
Documents
Folders
Images
In & Outs
Madlibs
Photo Albums
Polls
Product Reviews
Quizzes
Survey Forms
Web Pages
Word Searches
