Power Ride Page 7

  Danny posed in the doorway. He glared at his fellow musicians, snorted under his breath, turned and strutted out to the workshop. The others eyed each other with amusement. Kit breathed.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Mike Kiesanowski was first to his feet.

  “Come on, you guys. We may as well get this rehearsal under way. Can't say I'm looking forward to it much, though. Oh, by the way,” he lowered his voice conspiratorially, “I asked Sarah if she could ‘accidentally’ call in at lunch time. She's going to try and get Danny aside and have a quiet word with him.”

  “Good idea,” agreed Avi, also hauling himself to his feet. “Sarah, Mike's wife, is a psychologist,” he explained to Kelly and Jo who were looking puzzled at the reference. “She's a seriously useful person to talk to if you ever have any problems you can't work out by yourself.”

  He grinned meaningfully at Kit and offered a hand to help Kit up. Kit took the offer and smiled back.

  “Yeah, she is, but so are you.” He turned to the others. “Avi's just being modest. He's got a fancy degree in psychology as well, he just doesn't tell people about it.”

  Avi shrugged. “It's not relevant to what I'm doing at the moment. Yeah, Sarah and I did our degrees together. She chose to use hers, I didn't. My other degree in music is more important to me.”

  “It must have been interesting, though?” queried Kelly.

  “Oh yeah, granted. And granted it can be very useful at times. I just don't see myself as a professional in the field, like Sarah. That wasn't why I did it.”

  “Why did you do it?”

  “Personal reasons.” Avi grinned again at Kit.

  “Fair enough.”

  “Come on!” Mike stirred them up again. “Let's get on with it.”

  Jo and Kelly pushed aside the pile of photographs and stood up, Jo swinging an upraised arm forwards in the motion used by cavalry officers in western movies to denote the command for “Charge!”

  “Yo!” she said with false enthusiasm. “Forward Ho! Into the fray!”

  Avi placed his hand on the small of Kit's back.

  “Come on,” he said gently. “Let's get this over and done with.”

  Kit returned the gesture by placing his own arm over Avi's narrow shoulders.

  “Yeah, I guess so.”

  Mike, Kelly and Jo misunderstood the exchange completely.

  Out in the workshop, Danny was already plugging the labyrinth of cable leads into assorted amplifiers. Kelly and Mike unpacked their guitars and grabbed a lead each, both running off a few quick riffs to check the sound levels. Jo grabbed a microphone from a stand and chattered nonsense into it to make sure it, too, was live. It wasn't but Danny soon remedied the situation, finding the relevant piece of cable and slotting it into its correct input socket. Avi was quickly head down over his keyboard, checking all its assorted buttons and keys. Kit slid in behind his drums, adjusted the tension of the black-shelled maple snare, grabbed a set of sticks from the bag behind him on the floor and ran a series of smooth rolls quickly over the toms. Danny paused in his work, impressed.

  “Welcome back, Mr Simmons. You're on the ball again today.”

  Kit decided to be polite.

  “Yeah, sorry about the last couple of days. I had a bit of a problem but it's under control now.”

  “It had better be.” Danny's snarled reply showed he wasn't giving that much quarter. “Can we get under way?”

  “Actually, no.” Avi looked up from his keyboard. “Kit and I have something to tell you all before we start rehearsing.”

  “Oh, for God's sake!” The tenuous hold Danny had over his hot temper dissipated. “Livingstone, I don't want to hear if you and Simmons are finally announcing your engagement! I don't even care if Simmons is pregnant! Your earth-shattering revelations can wait until after this goddamned rehearsal!”

  Avi smiled thinly. “No, they can't, actually. It happens to be pretty important and you'd better listen, Danny, because it probably effects the whole band and might just effect the tour.”

  Avi paused for effect. Nobody spoke, not even Danny. Avi continued, explaining about the crank calls.

  “...and if Kit isn't crazy, and things are going missing inside his house, we have to assume... well, I'm damned if I know what to assume,” he finished.

  “Maybe that's just lack of sleep.” Danny was interested now.

  “I don't follow,” said Kit.

  “Well, you know, maybe you were so tired you weren't thinking straight and just couldn't remember where you put things. A bit like being drunk, you think you know exactly what you're doing when you do it, it just doesn't make sense later when you sober up.”

  “Probably,” Kit conceded. “You could be right.”

  “So,” Danny took control. “Are you reporting this to the police? If so, have you done so already or do we leave it until after the tour and just keep our tour security extra tight?”

  “That's why we wanted to talk to you guys,” said Avi. “I'm all for telling the police today. After all, it's going to be a bit difficult, not to mention stressful, coping with all the hassles of a tour on top of the knowledge that there's some kind of loony trailing around after us... well, after Kit, to be more precise.” He looked up at Kit who was leaning forward on his drums. “Sorry, Kit, I don't mean to embarrass you in public but, let's face it, out of all of us, you are the worst one that could have been targeted. Kit was freaking out in a big way yesterday. If this carries on right through the tour, he's never going to handle it, are you, Kit?”

  “Well...” Kit didn't sound convinced.

  “Not to mention,” Avi continued, “Kit's going to be leaving his house unattended. I think the police should be told now so they can keep an eye on it.”

  “I think you're right,” Mike agreed. “I vote we rehearse now and call the police during the lunch break.”

  “Good idea.” Danny clapped his hands to stimulate them into action. “Let's try ‘Toleration’ from the top, in A."

  Jo leaned forwards and whispered in Mike's ear.

  “I'd like to see ‘Toleration’ in D, for Danny.”

  Mike laughed.

  For the next couple of hours the rehearsal flowed smoothly. Kit was relaxed after a decent night's sleep and his drumming showed the return of his usual touch of genius. Danny turned his aggression into his music and churned through song after song with a hard metal edge that left Mike and Avi grinning and nodding with pleasure. By the time he signalled a lunch break, even Danny was smiling.

  “Ace!” He offered high praise. “That, you guys, was ace! Hey,” he turned to Avi but gestured towards Kit, “Give your funny mate there a cigarette, he's earned one for a change.”

  Avi pulled the ever-present packet of Rothmans from his pocket and gestured it invitingly towards Kit who nodded his interest as he stepped away from his drums, stretching his body to remove the kinks in his muscles. Avi produced a cigarette lighter.

  “Not in here, you don't!” Jo admonished him sharply.

  Avi shrugged. Jo had placed a no-smoking ban inside the workshop on her first day with the group. In spite of it being Kit's property, the two smokers had been quickly out-voted. Danny and Kelly, both health food and fitness fanatics, agreed with Jo's arguments about smoke versus singing ability and about their right not to have to smoke second-hand and Mike staunchly refused to take sides. Avi had attempted to maintain their previous status quo but Kit had turned out to be something of a turn-coat, siding with the non-smokers on the grounds that their arguments made sense, he couldn't drum and smoke at the same time and that he didn't mind an excuse to go outside anyway. He did firmly maintain, however, that the ban applied only to the workshop and that inside his own house he would do exactly as he liked. That statement had surprised Avi; Kit wasn't normally so assertive.

  “All right! All right!” Avi sniped back at Jo. “Give us a chance! Hmm! You get more like your mother every day, and, trust me, that isn't a compliment!”

  Avi s
talked determinedly out of the workshop straight into the path of Sarah Kiesanowski who was coming in, carrying a large tapestry-covered handbag, a baby and a packed lunch.

  “Avi, darling!” she said effusively as he stepped back to let her enter. “Here, take Rosie for me.” Without giving him time to think, Sarah thrust the baby into his arms. The chubby-faced, frilly-clad creature stared up at Avi and gurgled meaninglessly.

  Sarah Kiesanowski was a small, bird-like woman who filled a room more by her personality than by her size. She overflowed with boundless energy, of which she always seemed to have plenty to spare, even after juggling a full professional life with three girls under the age of five. In her full calf-length skirt and matching blouse in vibrant yellow, her entrance exploded an air of summer into the otherwise sombre-hued workshop.

  Mike put down his guitar and rushed to embrace his wife before relieving Avi of his unbidden burden. Avi heaved a sigh of relief. It wasn't that he didn't like, or wasn't used to, holding Sarah and Mike's offspring, he just never felt quite at ease doing so, unlike Kit who thought the three little girls were simply wonderful and would happily baby-sit them whenever he was asked. Sarah put down her bag and her lunch and turned back to have another look at Avi. She ran the back of her fingers over the still-unshaven stubble on his face.

  “What's this, Avi? You're not growing a beard, surely?”

  Avi sniggered. “No. I just didn't shave last night.”

  “Don't let it become a habit. It doesn't become you.”

  “No, ma'am.”

  She kissed him lightly on the cheek.

  “It's good to see you, even if you do look awful. You haven't been to visit me for ages.”

  “Sorry, I've been flat out trying to get some grade four and five pupils through their piano exams before I take off on tour.”

  “Well you have to come to dinner before you leave.” She walked over to Kit who was making gooing noises at the baby. “And you,” she ordered, kissing him as well, “Chelsea will be furious if you go on tour without saying goodbye. She keeps asking when ‘Uncle Kethter ith going to wead her another thtowy’.” She imitated the voice of a small child.

  Kit laughed, blushing slightly.

  “Yeah, all right. But I'm just about out of stories. I think Chelsea can read better than I can now.”

  Sarah laughed back, putting out a hand to move Kit's unruly hair from in front of his face. She put her head on one side and studied him for a moment. Kit dropped his gaze and blushed again.

  “You look relaxed today. That's good,” she said.

  “Yeah, I'm okay,” Kit agreed. He didn't want to rehash the previous day again.

  “Good,” Sarah repeated. She wanted to know more but wasn't going to ask. Mike had told her about the tensions that had overflowed into violence and, from past experience, she had expected to find Kit in a state of stress. She correctly assumed the reason he wasn't was due to Avi. Still exuding cheerful good humour, Sarah turned her attention to Danny.

  “Daniel,” she said, putting a hand on each of his tightly muscle-bound upper arms and holding him back at arm's length, “my, don't you look good. You must be putting in hours at the gym.”

  She let him go with a sweet smile, knowing full well that if there was one thing Danny Gordon couldn't resist, it was a woman stroking his super-macho ego. As she had expected he drew himself up to his full five foot four inches of height and, almost subconsciously, flexed his chest and arms. Knowing she was being naughty and knowing, too, that Mike would tease her about it afterwards, Sarah batted her eyelashes and continued the fulsome praise.

  “It was your name I saw in the paper the other day, wasn't it?” she asked. “In the article on the power lifting competition? What was it again, second in your class?”

  “In two of my events, yeah,” Danny replied, pride swelling his chest even further. “I've got another competition coming up in twelve week's time. That means I'm going to have to watch myself when we're touring and work really hard when we get back, but I'm pretty confident I can win this time. The chap who beat me last time is good, sure, but I reckon I'm better than him and I intend to prove it.”

  Sarah looked suitably impressed.

  “You must work very hard on your body to be that strong. How many hours do you spend in the gym each day?”

  “At least four.” Danny was always willing to talk about body building. Making music was a great way to get fame and adulation but it was always full of setbacks and frustrations. Body building was beautiful. It was his passion. Sure there was pain but the gain was visible, you could see it in the mirror, you could feel it when you moved. It got you respect. Nobody hassled Danny Gordon about being short, not more than once anyway. Yeah, granted Kiesanowski had knocked him to the ground yesterday but, fair's fair, he had taken him by surprise and Kiesanowski was no wimp. “It varies,” he continued, “depending on whether there's a competition coming up and what we're doing with the band, but four's a good average.”

  “Average!” Sarah laughed, a rippling, birdlike trill. “That would be an average yearly workout for me, not a daily one.”

  “That's all right.” Danny wasn't intentionally condescending, his attitude was an unfortunate natural tendency. “I wouldn't expect you'd be able to lift any of the weights anyway. After all, you're only a woman.”

  Danny was not aware of the supreme effort Sarah put into maintaining her smile and not kicking her delicate, feminine toes firmly into his masculinity. However, while Danny was unaware of Sarah's indelicate thoughts, Mike knew his wife only too well. He correctly discerned it to be a good time to steer the conversation in another direction. Quickly.

  “Sarah, love,” he moved forwards and held out the baby. “I think Rosie wants you.”

  Sarah's attention turned instinctively to her daughter and the tension eased noticeably.

  “Shall we eat lunch?” Mike's smile at the sight of his wife and youngest child was unaffected. Sarah had picked him up unashamedly six years before when the band, then young and still trashy, had played a lunch-time gig at the University of Canterbury's amphitheatre. Mike was then in his second year of a Masters addition to his degree in engineering. He had been both surprised and flattered when Avi had approached him in a break between sets to inform him that a friend of his from his psychology class ‘wanted his body, no questions asked’. He was even more surprised when he realised that the girl who had sent Avi on the mission was absolutely gorgeous. Mike had gone willingly and had been her besotted and devoted slave ever since. He wasn't sure what she saw in him but he wasn't complaining.

  “Of course, darling,” Sarah turned her dazzling smile on her husband. “I grabbed a little something as I passed the french bakery. It's in the bag.” She gestured vaguely towards the tapestry handbag which now lay propped up against an amplifier.

  “Great! I'm starving.” Mike headed for the bag. “Danny's been working us like dogs.”

  “No worse than you can expect on tour.” Danny's tone was grudging. He couldn't prove it, but he felt there was an underlying tone in Mike's remark which was meant as a personal slight. Danny was an expert in taking offence.

  “Hey!” Kit favoured Avi with his best pathetic under-dog look. “If you're not going to give me that cigarette, can you at least get out of the bloody doorway so I can go and get my own?”

  Avi again held out the cigarettes invitingly but jumped nimbly out the door as Kit reached for the packet. Laughing, Kit followed him out and quickly made use of his vastly superior height and arm length to overpower his friend and wrestle the offending article from him. Avi succumbed with little prompting and voluntarily handed over the necessary lighter. Kit lit a cigarette and handed both packet and lighter back to Avi with a gracious “thank you”. Avi, still panting slightly from the exertion, lit one for himself.

  “What are we doing for food?” he asked.

  Kit shrugged.

  “The usual?” Avi suggested. “Hot bread shop?”

  Kit
threw Avi a look that suggested it might be a good idea but hadn't Avi forgotten that Kit had no money. Avi responded by giving Kit a hearty slap on the back.

  “Mellow out, Kester! It's my suggestion, I'll pay.”

  “I can't keep doing this. I can't owe you this much. I can't pay you back.” Kit's voice was beginning to sound strained.

  “Then just accept it. I told you yesterday, I don't want it paid back. Look, you demolished lunch yesterday in five seconds flat. You were obviously starving. And you made pretty short work of dinner. You had nothing at all in your kitchen, and I mean nothing, not even a slice of bread. How many days had you gone without any food? How many?”

  “Um... that was the second.” Kit ducked his head and shrugged his shoulders in combined move of gawky embarrassment.

  “Oh!” Avi sighed his frustration. “I wish you'd come to me with your problems. Look, forget the money for now. We eat lunch, I pay, no problems, no questions. Later on, this evening, after we've sorted this other mess out with the police and we've finished rehearsing, we'll sit down together and take a look at your finances. Okay? I'm sure we can sort something out.”

  “But Mum and Gabriel do all that. I wouldn't know where to start.”

  “Oh, come on, Kit! You're not that stupid! It's simple maths, you were better than me at maths at school. Come on, let's get lunch.”

  Kit let himself be led away, unresisting.

  “Wait up, you two!” Jo's voice shouted. Kit and Avi turned to see Jo and Kelly sprinting after them. “Wait up!”

  “Hot bread shop?” inquired Avi needlessly of Jo.

  “You betcha!”

  “And you, Kelly? Peace, love and mung beans as usual?”

  “Of course. I would do else?” Kelly replied, tossing his spiky-cropped head haughtily in mock offence.

  “What about the others?”

  “Nah!” Jo answered. “Sarah's brought this obscene-looking french loaf for her and Mike and Danny's got his own with him, some horrid looking instant-muscles-in-a-sachet-just-add-water junk. Yuk!”