Chapter one; who knew?
Tuesday night at James, it's my regular gig, the stage lights in the tacky little night club are set to blue and I set my faded Les Paul on it's stand after another set. The bar has three kinds of beer on tap and two of them are Budweiser, the third is pabst blue ribbon. The crowd is a mix of working lcass kids in their twenties dressed in well worn clothing faded jeans worn with care as they don't often have the money to replace them, around them are the hipster kids. college kids who go to shops trying to nail down the look of the working class.
It is the cradle of fashion after all. Remember all those rennaisnce shirts with the poofing around the sleeves and the staggered cuts in them? Yeah it was all an accident. Some noble got his sleeve cut in a duel and tossed the shirt. Some genius took it from the throw aways and matched the cuts so they looked natural on both sides. Within a month a fashion that would last decades was born.
I had to giggle when I first saw an Italian noble wearing one. Knowing it had to cost a small mint for the custom made ripped garment.
Things go in cycles. Some of the college kids are design students, studying the working class for signs of the next best thing. I smile as I walk to the bar and the guy behind it, an overly tall guy with long graying hair reaches behind the bar and pours me a couple fingers of my usual.
It's a hard drink to find outside of Ireland, a friend of mine sends a case every year. I leave a couple of bottles with the bartender at my gig of the moment. I'm not saying it's essential to life, but a taste of home helps me to find that sense and spirit to make music something past mere notes and turn it into emotion.
I'm sipping a taste of why whiskey and honey mix, when a cute young lady wearing her white hair like an 80's euro pop star, in a white David Bowie t-shirt walks up to me with a shy smile on her face.
"Has anyone told you, you look like?"
"Tommy? Yeah I get it a lot, I keep asking my Mom if she was in London in the 70's, she just gives me a shy smile." I say with a smile and run my hand through my curly dark brown hair.
Yeah I was that guy. You have the album and heard some of it covered hear, there and everywhere. The royalites keep the rent paid and contribute to my retirement fund nicely.
"Cool, I love the way you sang 20th century boy." She says cutely. Her face dimples as she smiles and her body language has that mix of a woman's desire and a young girls natural inclination to hide those parts that feel all tingly for some reason.
"Thanks dear, what brings you to this little den of trouble?" She's easy on the eyes and all the signs of a possibly fun end to the evening are there.
Which is when it happens. The flush and tingle of another's power entering my space.
I keep half an ear open to what the girl is saying, with any luck the person who has come in is an old friend who wants to drink a few shots and tell tales of the old days. I'm in full tilt friendly seduction mode when I see her.
She's dressed in jeans a red t shirt obvious under her long tench coat. Her form is pleasing to the eye long and lean with everything a man might need. It's obvious from the way she walks that she has the reflexes of a whipcord. Clearly she's come to play. I don't recognize her but its a big world out there.
Her eyes search the length of the club and her eyes settle on me, mind you I make no effort at all to hide from the gaze. I get the feeling she's one of those younglings who is trying to establish their name early in the game.
So I'm not surprised that she makes her way to me. She's focused on the hunt uncaring as to who sees her. Part of me wants to shake my head and laugh but provoking her isn't high on my priority list right now.
She walks up and with a face full of earnest seriousness says. "We need to have a word outside."
The cute young slip of a girl I had been chatting to looks nervous. "Um."
"My apologies." I say to her, I'm afraid some of my friends servants have little knowledge of manners. If you could give me a moment." Meanwhile the new entry is seething in her red and black combat casuals.
The girl walks off and I look my new kin over. "I have no need to speak to you, I'll let you know when that moment happens, now please begone."
If she was seething before she's shaking in rage, she can't start trouble here in the bar, but she would pull a blade the moment we step outside. "My mistress finds your nature disagreeable." She's speaking in darktongue, a language made only for immortal ears. It's how we communicate in a manner that others will never understand.
"Your mistress can go piss up a rope, if she has issues with my disposition tell her to bring them to me." Her hand goes under her jacket reflexively at that, I remember the bond with my teacher well. It goes straight through your soul, right now that insult cut right through the young ladies heart so deep that she must feel like she's bleeding out emotionally.
"Out... side." Her rage has her nearly incoherent. Excellent. I love younglings.
"Certainly." I smile and get up turning my back on her and hitting the back door on the place.
The air in the back alley is cool and humid, filled with the fetid smell of old garbage, stale spilled beer and fairly recent vomit.
As I walk out I hear the door close and the sound of her jacket opening. I have a mental bet on what sort of blade she's carrying. My mental money is on a shortened Katana.
Turning I see that I'm wrong it's a Chinese officers sword. made for quick cuts and long slashes.
"Draw sword." She says with a sense of finality.
Looking over I see a 2X4 in the corner of an empty doorway.its about a foot and half long. "No thanks." I reply and walk to it casually.
"You're going to run?" She askes. Looking faintly amused.
"Please, Its been along night. I am going to end this quite quickly and send you back to your mistress with the lesson she wishes you to learn."
She assumes an en garde position. Her form looks half decent. "What lesson is that rock star?" She asks mockingly.
"That your petty annoyances often lead yo places where you will face more danger than you wish." I lift the 2 X4 and put it over my shoulder touching the back of my neck with the corner. "Now then allow me to introduce myself. My Name is Brendan Nial, once bard to high kind Brian Boru."
Her eyes go wide and I snap forward. the edge of the 2x4 catching the edge of her biced as I pass.
"Now then please, do your best, exercise is so rare these days."
It is the cradle of fashion after all. Remember all those rennaisnce shirts with the poofing around the sleeves and the staggered cuts in them? Yeah it was all an accident. Some noble got his sleeve cut in a duel and tossed the shirt. Some genius took it from the throw aways and matched the cuts so they looked natural on both sides. Within a month a fashion that would last decades was born.
I had to giggle when I first saw an Italian noble wearing one. Knowing it had to cost a small mint for the custom made ripped garment.
Things go in cycles. Some of the college kids are design students, studying the working class for signs of the next best thing. I smile as I walk to the bar and the guy behind it, an overly tall guy with long graying hair reaches behind the bar and pours me a couple fingers of my usual.
It's a hard drink to find outside of Ireland, a friend of mine sends a case every year. I leave a couple of bottles with the bartender at my gig of the moment. I'm not saying it's essential to life, but a taste of home helps me to find that sense and spirit to make music something past mere notes and turn it into emotion.
I'm sipping a taste of why whiskey and honey mix, when a cute young lady wearing her white hair like an 80's euro pop star, in a white David Bowie t-shirt walks up to me with a shy smile on her face.
"Has anyone told you, you look like?"
"Tommy? Yeah I get it a lot, I keep asking my Mom if she was in London in the 70's, she just gives me a shy smile." I say with a smile and run my hand through my curly dark brown hair.
Yeah I was that guy. You have the album and heard some of it covered hear, there and everywhere. The royalites keep the rent paid and contribute to my retirement fund nicely.
"Cool, I love the way you sang 20th century boy." She says cutely. Her face dimples as she smiles and her body language has that mix of a woman's desire and a young girls natural inclination to hide those parts that feel all tingly for some reason.
"Thanks dear, what brings you to this little den of trouble?" She's easy on the eyes and all the signs of a possibly fun end to the evening are there.
Which is when it happens. The flush and tingle of another's power entering my space.
I keep half an ear open to what the girl is saying, with any luck the person who has come in is an old friend who wants to drink a few shots and tell tales of the old days. I'm in full tilt friendly seduction mode when I see her.
She's dressed in jeans a red t shirt obvious under her long tench coat. Her form is pleasing to the eye long and lean with everything a man might need. It's obvious from the way she walks that she has the reflexes of a whipcord. Clearly she's come to play. I don't recognize her but its a big world out there.
Her eyes search the length of the club and her eyes settle on me, mind you I make no effort at all to hide from the gaze. I get the feeling she's one of those younglings who is trying to establish their name early in the game.
So I'm not surprised that she makes her way to me. She's focused on the hunt uncaring as to who sees her. Part of me wants to shake my head and laugh but provoking her isn't high on my priority list right now.
She walks up and with a face full of earnest seriousness says. "We need to have a word outside."
The cute young slip of a girl I had been chatting to looks nervous. "Um."
"My apologies." I say to her, I'm afraid some of my friends servants have little knowledge of manners. If you could give me a moment." Meanwhile the new entry is seething in her red and black combat casuals.
The girl walks off and I look my new kin over. "I have no need to speak to you, I'll let you know when that moment happens, now please begone."
If she was seething before she's shaking in rage, she can't start trouble here in the bar, but she would pull a blade the moment we step outside. "My mistress finds your nature disagreeable." She's speaking in darktongue, a language made only for immortal ears. It's how we communicate in a manner that others will never understand.
"Your mistress can go piss up a rope, if she has issues with my disposition tell her to bring them to me." Her hand goes under her jacket reflexively at that, I remember the bond with my teacher well. It goes straight through your soul, right now that insult cut right through the young ladies heart so deep that she must feel like she's bleeding out emotionally.
"Out... side." Her rage has her nearly incoherent. Excellent. I love younglings.
"Certainly." I smile and get up turning my back on her and hitting the back door on the place.
The air in the back alley is cool and humid, filled with the fetid smell of old garbage, stale spilled beer and fairly recent vomit.
As I walk out I hear the door close and the sound of her jacket opening. I have a mental bet on what sort of blade she's carrying. My mental money is on a shortened Katana.
Turning I see that I'm wrong it's a Chinese officers sword. made for quick cuts and long slashes.
"Draw sword." She says with a sense of finality.
Looking over I see a 2X4 in the corner of an empty doorway.its about a foot and half long. "No thanks." I reply and walk to it casually.
"You're going to run?" She askes. Looking faintly amused.
"Please, Its been along night. I am going to end this quite quickly and send you back to your mistress with the lesson she wishes you to learn."
She assumes an en garde position. Her form looks half decent. "What lesson is that rock star?" She asks mockingly.
"That your petty annoyances often lead yo places where you will face more danger than you wish." I lift the 2 X4 and put it over my shoulder touching the back of my neck with the corner. "Now then allow me to introduce myself. My Name is Brendan Nial, once bard to high kind Brian Boru."
Her eyes go wide and I snap forward. the edge of the 2x4 catching the edge of her biced as I pass.
"Now then please, do your best, exercise is so rare these days."
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