London Harmony: Minuette (3 page)

I closed my eyes and soaked it in.  It always had the same chilling effect on me.  I could feel the patterns, the embedded melody, the words carefully chosen.  Every single one of her creations was a work of art and love.  The tracks she created were her children, and the emotions she embedded into them were subtle and sang to your heart.

She used the piano as a device to share what she was feeling inside as she wrote each piece.  And my voice was the other tool she used to express it.  She knew my range and limits, and every idiosyncrasy of my tone like it were her own and played to its strengths.

I was her voice and I loved sharing her creations with people.  I opened my mouth and sang, swaying with the music, caught up in its spell.  Smiling internally at the secondary melody, knowing which words went with each story, just as instinctively as if I wrote them myself.  I couldn't help but channel the emotions she wove like a tapestry, being pulled along by the current, swirling away to a destination only this music could bring me to.

The music ended and I stayed there with my eyes closed a moment to collect myself.  I took a deep cleansing breath as the cheers started.  I whispered, “Minuette out.” Then I opened my eyes and blushed and smiled as I got off the stage and retreated back to Mindy.  I was in too much of a hurry and half way there, I had to turn around and go back to the stage and force myself to take normal strides to the table.  Fifteen, sixteen, seventeen steps.  Good.

I stood there and nudged my head toward the door. “Let's make good our escape.”  She nodded, with something twinkling around in her hazel eyes that she always had after I sang her music for her.  She always let me make a discrete exit after I embarrassed myself on stage.  I loved her for that.

She looped arms with me and dragged me toward the door as she said, “You were brill, Nett.”

I shrugged. “I only sing 'em like you write 'em.”

We got to the car and she surprised me by not driving us home. Instead, we wound up heading out of London toward Oxford.  We wound up at Colne Valley Park, just past Uxbridge.  She parked us near a stream that we played at as kids when we visited her Aunt Mavis.

I cocked my head toward her, wondering why we were there and she just smiled at me, closed her eyes, and leaned back in her seat.  She looked so tired suddenly as she just asked quietly, “Read to me?”

I regarded her a moment, she looked so pretty, but it was tainted by a weariness I couldn't place.  I just silently nodded and fished Vee Jacob's book out of the bags at my feet and flipped through the pages, stopping at Every Day, my second favorite poem.  And I read to her.

A half hour later she finally opened her eyes, turned her head toward me, and smiled as she sat up straighter in her chair.  “Thanks, Nett, I needed that.”

I just nodded, not knowing what to say.  But the weariness was gone from her and she looked, I don't know, content?  I was happy I could do that for her.

She smiled as she started the car. “Happy birthday lady, love you.”

I blushed and said, “Love you lots.”

We didn't talk all the way home and I sort of liked it, it wasn't awkward, it was just a certain atmosphere of sharing, of just being next to each other and us both instinctively knowing that is what we needed at that moment.  We were always so in tune with each other, and that left an ache in my heart.

Later that week after a couple days of practice each night, we recorded Mind's latest.  The song was like a playful dare to the listener, to take a chance on things and good things would happen.  The Phantom Melody was the counterpoint, a warning that things are sometimes better left unsaid.

We tossed around some ideas as to where to seed the track.  That was one of the wonderful things about London, there is no lack of happenings on the music scene, whether legit or underground.

We started going through the BackBeats darknet site online.  Sort of a back-channel, hidden website, run by some of the elites in the underground music scene.

BackBeats is sort of a calendar of upcoming events where you can find a variety of tastes to satisfy any musical palate.  If you like classical, thrash metal, pop, rock, or any other genre, they listed the concerts, gigs, raves, and other venues.  It didn't matter which side of strictly legal they were on.

A good percentage of the entries were posted by Ronnie Marx, a local rave organizer gone legit,  Bear, the man that was always posting about Minuette's Phantom Melodies.  Not to mention the Broken Note instrument repair shop, they have their finger on the pulse of the London music scene.

Mindy paused on one entry and pointed at Ronnie Marx's name.  “He's the manager at that new club that spotlights raw, up and coming talent, Walker's.  They'd have a variety of people there since they cater to all types of music before they end the nights with jazz.  Why don't you hit their car park?”

I nodded, that made a lot of sense.  We tried to never hit the same place twice if we could help it.  The only exception is some of the raves that rotate venues, it is varied enough that we only overlapped every six months or so.  So this would be our one-shot at Walker's.

I started packing my shoulder bag.  “That's brill.”  She was already loading the address onto my mobile.  The map showed me that Walker's was right on a bus line and had a tube station just a block over.  That was handy for us of the transportation-impaired lot.

I looked at Mind.  “We really need to start tucking cash away for a vehicle.  Just look at how much we spend on filling our oyster cards each month.  Between the both of us that's a car payment in itself.”

She nodded thoughtfully then smirked a little.  “Public transportation grinding you down?”

I gave her a mock-snitty look. “Bloody hell woman.  You never come out with me to see the types of people who ride the tube late at night.”

She chuckled at me and countered as she moved over to the piano bench, “You are the one who insists on getting our music out there for people to experience.”

I sighed.  “Your music Mind.  People need to hear it.”

She tilted her head and said carefully, “Minuette's music.”  Then she furrowed her brow a little.  “But you are right, we should start squirreling away some nuts for an automobile of our own.”  I grinned a little realizing that we were doing it again.  It was always we or us when we started making plans, never I or me.  I really liked that.

She grinned and made a show of wiggling her fingers in a dismissive motion.  “Now shoo woman.  Need to create some music while you're out.”  She shot me a cute little wink and turned to her piano and raised the fallboard and started playing “Mary Had a Little Lamb” with one finger.

Lord help me if I didn't giggle and almost lose count of my steps toward the door.  Damn was that six or seven.  I growled in mock frustration at her grin, she meant to distract me on purpose.  I paced back to the table and then started counting my steps to the door again.

I said, “See you soon, you evil woman.”

She just smiled from ear to ear and rocked her head in a silly manner, back and forth with the one fingered music she was playing.  I shut the door behind me and leaned against it.  Bloody hell that was cute.  I swear she knows what it does to me somehow, and does it on purpose.  I closed my eyes and just imagined wiping that smug smile off her face with a kiss.

I swallowed and opened my eyes, alrighty then, that was not a good plan, now I was heating up.  Time to concentrate on getting her music to the masses.  A moment later I was pacing off my steps to the tube.

Now, I have never been to Walker's before, so I didn't know what to expect.  It opened its doors to London just last year and has become a hotbed for up and coming talent in all areas of the musical spectrum, even though it was primarily a Jazz Club run by London Harmony.  I didn't have any preconceptions about it, but the sheer size of the place was astounding.

It was in an old brick warehouse building that was restored to its original glory.  There was a small portion of it on the east end of the building that was the overflow studio for London Harmony, but the bulk of the monster building was dedicated to the club.  Usually this late in the evening, everyone would be inside and I could work in peace.  But at eleven at night, the line of people waiting to get in still stretched the length of the building.

I swallowed and just kept my head down as I moved to the back of the car park to give myself as big a buffer as I could and counted my thumb drives.  Twenty.  I placed one under the wiper of a large truck, then counted my thumb drives again.  Nineteen.

This continued until I was down to five.  Place a drive and recount.  Then a nice looking SUV started driving slowly down the aisle toward me.  I stuffed my hands in my jacket pocket and started walking away, swiftly counting my steps and measuring my stride.  I wasn't doing anything wrong.  I don't know why I felt like I had been.

The car sped up and blocked my way at the walk.  A grinning woman rolled down the window as I paused and looked up.  I blinked.  It was the same woman that caught me a few weeks back.  What was her name?  June?

I exhaled and then said before she could speak, “I wasn't doing anything wrong.”

Her smile bloomed, making me feel at ease as she asked in her American accent, “Annette, was it?”  I nodded carefully, and she prompted, “Are those Minuette tracks again?”

I looked around for an escape but had to remind myself again that I hadn't done anything wrong so I couldn't get into any trouble.  She tilted her head and looked worried for a moment, had she just read me?  She put out a hand. “May I have one?”

I looked at her and then sighed.  It couldn't hurt.  I nodded and pulled them out of my bag and counted them again.  Five.  I handed her one and then counted them again.  Four.

She kept one eye on me and handed the drive to that haunted woman she was with before.  The woman deftly plugged it into their radio and I relaxed as I heard the beautiful cascade of piano music wafting out on the night breeze.  The other woman just nodded once at June and pulled the drive out of the radio and pocketed it.

June cocked an expectant eyebrow at me and asked, “May I ask where you got these this time?”

I shrugged. “A woman at Hyde Park paid me twenty quid to distribute them here.”

She narrowed her eyes. “That's twice in a month.  Quite a coincidence.  Did you get a good look at her this time?”

I shook my head and she assured me, “You aren't in trouble here Annette, I just want to find this Minuette.”  Then she flat out asked, “Do you know who she is and where I can contact her?”

I froze.  Bloody hell  Annette, just advertise it.  I exhaled and played it off.  “I don't know who she is, but I see her around from time to time.  Why are you looking for her?”

She considered me for a moment and explained, “Well, I am always on the lookout for fresh musical talents and I really like what I hear on these drives.”  She tapped her chin thoughtfully as she spoke, then made an offhand gesture into the nether.  “You do this to pick up twenty quid a pop?”

I nodded and she grinned. “Can I hire you to work with my people to find Minuette?  Twenty quid an hour.  That's a lot better than twenty for a night's work.”

My eyes snapped wide. Bloody Hell!  I only made ten an hour through the agency, and it wasn't always steady employment.  If only I could take a job like that, the excess could help fund Mindy and my car.  But I'd never betray Mindy and give her up.

I shook my head.  “Sorry, no. As tempting as it is.  I work for a temp agency in the core.  They already have me assigned for the next week.”

The corner of her mouth quirked up and I swear one eye twitched before she grinned. “Which agency?  I applaud your work ethic.”

I mumbled, “Lethridge.”  I didn't know why I was telling her, I just wanted to get rid of her and run off home and bury myself in my bed and scream or something.

She just smiled a smile like she had just won a prize and she said, “Thank you, Annette.  You have a great night now.  And get inside, you look positively chilled.”

I nodded as she drove off.  I followed their car with my eyes until they disappeared out into traffic.  I shivered then ran to the Tube, having to backtrack five times before I got the proper two hundred and fifty-three steps.  I had to calm down.  It might have been that I still had four drives in my bag.  I hadn't finished.

I sighed heavily remembering how I had dwelled on it the last time June made me go home early with leftover thumb drives.  I didn't feel right until I had seeded them with the others the next time I went out.  I really hate myself sometimes.  Why can't I just be normal for once?  I headed back to Walker's to finish my job.

I chuckled to myself on my way back to the tube.  Mind was going to tease me for weeks about that.

Queue self-fulfilling prophecy just forty minutes later.

“You are the oddest duck in the pond and I love that about you lady,” my evil best mate said.

I countered, “I'm just thorough and professional.”

She coughed out, “OCD.”

I smiled at her crinkled nose and repeated, “And OCD.  Leave me alone bint.”

This made her break into giggles.  And she took my hand and put it on the keys of the piano and she started playing Chopsticks.  I grinned back at her, it was the only music I could sort of play.  She asked as I butchered the piece a five-year-old could play, “Maybe you should stop?  That's twice in a month.  Our music doesn't need to be out there if it causes problems for you.”

I sighed.  “Your music, and yes it does.  It needs to be out there for people that matter to experience.  It is such a gift and it would be a crime if nobody hears it.”

She stopped playing and said with a touch of anger, “Somebody does hear it.  The only one who matters.”  Then she stood.  I moved my hands back as she closed the fallboard and started to our bedroom.

“I'm tired.  I'm going to bed.”

I just watched her go.  What did I say to make her mad?  I wrung my hands as I stood then followed her to our bedroom.  I looked over to her bed as I got into a nightshirt and slipped into my own bed.  She had her back to me.  I whispered, “I'm sorry.”  Then added, “Good night Mind.”

She sighed and turned around to look at me.  Even in the dim light of the nightlight by the loo, her eyes twinkled.  She whispered back, “It's alright Nett.  I'm just in a mood.  Good night.  Love ya.”

I nodded once and we just laid there staring across the room at each other until we faded off to sleep.