In the Black

On weekdays, Cliff was the classic dweeb and introvert. He crunched numbers at an accounting firm, blending into the beige and brown surroundings with easy listening music streaming its beige boredom. Sometimes he hummed along like a wannabe musician, as his alter ego strummed an invisible guitar when no one was looking.

On the surface, Cliff played by the office creed. He wore the standard khakis and short sleeve dress-shirt, but he stepped it up with an odd-ball purple tie. His pocket protector was actually a leather case disguising his iPod. He brought his lunch in a brown paper sack and ate at his desk a bachelor’s lunch of cold pizza, or smelly salami and cheese on white – mainly because he liked them.

Cliff didn’t socialize with the other accountants in after work activities. He didn’t join the company bowling league, or ride the train home like the other employees and get to know them, rarely speaking to them except with one or two word responses, instead of a full sentence. Dubbed peculiar by his co-workers until the mailroom guy, Eddie, applied for a position as a ‘roadie’ on weekends.

Eddie helped load sound equipment into a van, hopped in with the driver and unloaded at the popular amphitheater for the rock group he had yet to meet. The place was packed with an eager crowd for music. The crew set up with sound checks. The stage went dark.

Iron Man guitar riff and applause. The spotlight went on and through the fog stepped the lead guitar singer. His hair slicked back, a skull tattoo on each bicep, skin-tight black leather pants, and a Gibson guitar.

Eddie, in shock and awe, couldn’t be paid enough to shut up about shy Cliff on Monday morning. And much to his chagrin, dorky Eddie became his PR guy and the band became famous.

It was a sad day for Cliff. He loved being an accountant.