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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2279136-Game-Of-Music-January-1st-1980
Rated: E · Chapter · Family · #2279136
The first chapter in my newest story :)
Snow fell outside in soft waves, but the purple curtains covering fifteen-year-old Autumn’s window made it near impossible for her to see. Not that she was paying attention anyway. She busied herself getting ready to go to a local café to perform with her twin brother, Bruce.

For about five years, Autumn and Bruce had been performing at local cafes and in the streets. Their duo name was “Double Trouble” and over the years, they’d become a very popular duo. They’d gotten some calls from big time music people about becoming official, but they held off. For now.

“Autumn?”

The loud knock on her door startled the teenager out of her thoughts and she hurried to open it.

“I’m almost ready, Bruce,” she explained as she turned away from the door and walked back to her mirror.

Bruce leaned against the door and watched carefully as Autumn did a once-over in the mirror. Sometime, he wanted to try wearing makeup. Not the full effect but maybe just some eye-shadow.

He didn’t dare say those thoughts out-loud, but Autumn was mostly likely reading his mind right now and trying not to laugh.

“Alright, you ready, Bruce,” Autumn asked, lightly tugging on his earlobe with a smirk.

Bruce managed an eye roll and placed a hand on her shoulder as she walked past him.

Today, Autumn wore her jean jacket with her name on the back of it, an ankle-length dress with all kinds of colorful patterns swirling up and down the sides, and her favorite pair of winter boots. She wore her hair down in two pigtail braids and around her eyes she wore light pink eyeshadow.

“You’ll be a hit with the boys,” Bruce mumbled, a smirk playing at his lips as he grabbed his guitar case. Tonight, Autumn decided not to play her guitar. Although she loved her guitar, she didn’t want to play every time they had a show. Not that Bruce minded, of course.

It was Autumn’s turn to roll her eyes at her twin brother as the two of them made their way down the stairs.

“Looks like you’ll be a hit with the ladies then,” she retorted, gesturing towards the red flannel tucked in the jeans look he was sporting.

Bruce laughed and handed Autumn her long red winter coat before grabbing his own blue one.

“Yeah yeah, well, we’re at that age, ya know!”

Autumn ignored him and started humming a song as she readjusted the coat over her shoulders. It took Bruce a minute to realize she was singing “Hotel California” by the Eagles.

That had been Autumn’s go-to warm up song for the last few years. Each twin warmed up individually but they also warmed up together. They liked going over their music plan in the car. They usually planned the set-list a week before they did their gigs, but sometimes they’d change things at the last second. Not that this really surprised anyone—they were known for doing that kind of thing with almost everything they did together.

“Well, we have to start with some classics—The Beatles for sure,” Bruce whispered as they climbed into the backseat of their dad’s Dodge Challenger.

Autumn hummed in agreement and eyed the red guitar case in which Bruce held his precious guitar. Their dad’s 1963 Fender. Scratches and dents littered the guitar body but everyone agreed that jams could still be played it. Bruce had sworn once he got a job, one that didn’t involve playing a guitar (he had to split tips with Autumn), he’d buy his own guitar.

“Some Elton John could be nice too,” Autumn admitted.

Bruce smiled. It was no secret to anyone that Elton John had been Autumn’s favorite for several years. “Your Song” especially hit a chord with the teenager. None of this was exactly surprising—Autumn had always been sort of a romantic.

“I’m guessing you’re going to want to sing ‘Your Song’ again,” he asked, causing a burst of laughter from the driver’s seat.

“Leave your sister alone, Bruce.”

The twin’s father, Steven, a man with some gray in his beard and a twinkling eye, locked eyes with the twins in the rearview mirror.

“Is it true though, Autumn? You’ll be wanting to sing ‘Your Song’?”

Autumn’s cheeks turned a bright red and she looked out the window, but no one missed the way her lips struggled to hold back her smile.

“Daddy! Of course we’ll be singing that tonight.”

Steven shrugged and pulled into the parking lot of the café. There had to be at least two inches of snow on the ground already and more still tumbling down from the sky. Luckily, there wasn’t ice, so Bruce wouldn’t slip walking his guitar in.

“Alright, you two get out and I’ll park the car. Bruce, be careful walking! I do not want that guitar broken.”

Bruce nodded, acknowledging his dad’s words. Steven knew he’d be careful with the guitar, but like most teenagers, Bruce needed a reminder.

“I’ll be careful, Pops! Don’t you worry, this baby isn’t going to be broken.”

He joined Autumn in the cold and the two of them hurried to the doors. Snow flew around them in small flurries and the air bit at their cheeks. It had to be only 20 degrees at this point.

“I always forget how much I hate the cold,” Autumn mumbled as she unwrapped the scarf from around her face.

Bruce shivered and glanced over at the counter. He checked his watch and noticed they were a few minutes early.

“I think a nice cup of tea or coffee would do good for our vocal cords,” he said as he took Autumn’s coat and hung it on the rack next to his.

Autumn nodded in agreement. They’d learned from their parents long ago to drink something warm before singing.

“You remember what dad told us, right? About why we have to drink something warm?”

Bruce shifted the guitar case further up onto his shoulders and smiled.

“Of course I do. Warm drinks increase your vocal flexibility and allow your muscles to stay relaxed.”

“And, the more relaxed your muscles are, the better vocal control you have of your voice and it’s easier to hit higher notes,” Autumn finished, wrapping her hands around the plastic cup Bruce handed to her.

Autumn followed Bruce to the red couch that sat against the wall of the café but remained standing. She sipped at her drink, steam rising in swirls from the lid. Her eyes occasionally closed as she hummed along to the song playing over the café radio, which at the moment was “Sultans Of Swing” by Dire Straits.

She was so lost in the music that not until Bruce gave her arm an extra hard poke did she jerk from her trace.

“Pops is waving us up to the stage, sis. What happened there?”

Autumn’s cheeks brightened with red as she tossed her cup into a nearby garbage can.

“Sometimes I get lost in the music. You know how I am,” she whispered, her eyes taking notice of the crowd gathered in the café. Most of the people were around her parents age, but she spotted a few her age and one or two of the older generation.

“I’m a little surprised there isn’t more kids our age here, Bruce,” she mumbled out of the corner of her mouth.

Bruce plucked each string of his guitar and shrugged.

“It is New Year’s Day, Autumn. They’re probably at home with their families.”
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