by Dave Daren
Instead, they took a healing pilgrimage to Sedona to be near the vortexes and study under some guru. That’s how my parents met. Saffron was a hippie flower child that hung around the guru and talked about Kierkergaard and beat poets and wanted to travel the country with a backpack and bedroll like Jack Kerouac. So the guru married them in a ceremony on Cathedral Rock, and in the photos, my dad is wearing velvet corduroy pants with a giant star on the crotch. This is from whence I sprung.
My dad has mellowed out quite a bit since then, they both have, really. But he never lost his passion for music and has played with pretty much every decent musician in a fifty-mile radius. But, now this latest band has taken an unexpected turn.
“I can’t believe they’re playing the PAH,” I said.
“I know,” she said. “It’s so odd right now.”
Our rock station was holding a two-day event with pretty much all the current hot names in rock. But one of the bands backed out, and without enough time to secure another A-lister, the station had to get a local to fill in. My dad’s band, Cabbages and Kings, was on the right person’s radar and got called in for the slot. So, now he got to play at the PAH, and it had turned into a family event to see him. Only the Irvings have a family function at a rock festival.
“What time are they going on?” I asked.
“Six thirty,” she said. “We have a couple hours.
Vicki kept up with my family better than I did, and for that I was grateful. Wading through the sticky dynamics of my family politics required a bit of finesse, and she had just what it took.
We drove back to our cottage and changed. Vicki looked stunning and rock-and-roll in skinny jeans, black thigh boots, studded belt, black jacket, and fedora cap. I played it simple with all black, black jeans, black t-shirt, jacket, and combat boots.
Then we went to the Performing Arts Hall for the second time in a month. This time, we hoped to avoid a murder.
Chapter 9
Vicki and I arrived at the PAH to an entirely different crowd than we had about a week ago. We parked a block away and made our way through the sidewalks of downtown Sedona at dusk. Normally, at this time, the scene would mainly be shop workers closing up for the evening, and a handful of bars and restaurants lighting up for whatever nightlife they could offer to a town that’s in bed by midnight
Tonight was different. The festival had been underway for a couple of hours, and souped-up cars and motorcycles lined the streets with the occasional revved engine for show, and drunken revelers ambled aimlessly in boisterous groups
“Harmony just texted me,” Vicki said. “They’re on the floor level.”
It would be only mother and sister tonight. My younger brother Phoenix was currently in South America on a motorcycle vision quest. My parents had never been so proud of anyone in their lives, I don’t think.
“It’s been a long time since I’ve been to a rock show,” Vicki told me. “I haven’t done this kind of thing since college.”
“Really?” I was surprised.
“Yeah,” she smiled. “I bet you didn’t know I used to be a total punk rocker chick.”
I stopped and glanced at her sideways. “No, I seriously did not know that about you.”
“Oh, yeah,” she said. “I had pink highlights, and angled bangs, and wore fishnets, combat boots, and miniskirts.”
My eyes widened. She wore pencil skirts, button downs, and smart business suits, all with high end labels, and we typically spent our evenings in, Netflixing over wine and takeout.
“I did not expect that from you,” I said.
She laughed. “It was my freshman year, and I was away from home, and so I... sort of…”
“Please tell me you were not a groupie,” I said.
She laughed harder. “I was never that, but my friends and I did follow this band around for a whole summer.”
“But you’re so…” I couldn’t find the words.
“So what?” she demanded.
“I don’t know,” I said. “You just surprise me.”
“Surprise you, how?” she laughed. “That I’m not all prim and proper?”
“I’m sorry,” I said. “Can you repeat the question? I’m still stuck on the picture of you wearing the fishnets and miniskirts.”
She laughed and smacked my arm. A massive tattooed man bumped into me and yelled obscenities. I ignored him and put my arm around Vicki.
“Hey,” the drunkard yelled after me, “Aren’t you the fancy lawyer defending that girl that killed that queer dancer?”
I continued to ignore him, and once we were out of earshot, I rolled my eyes and sighed.
“Of all the things you could say about Beowulf,” I told Vicki, “I don’t think queer is one of them.”
“We’re getting quite a reputation in this town,” she said.
“Yeah,” I said. “I think we might need to tone down the whole pseudo celebrity thing. Lay low for a little while.”
“Oh, gosh,” she rolled her eyes. “You are not a pseudo celebrity.”
“I don’t know,” I laughed and turned up the collar on my leather jacket. “I’ve got a reputation to maintain. In fact, I don’t know if I can be seen with notorious characters like you.”
“Am I bad for your image?” she mocked. “Your zebra defending image?”
I laughed, and we reached the front entrance to the PAH. Music pounded through the building, and I didn’t know who was on stage, but I didn’t recognize any of it. Not that I would to begin with, it was all pretty average crappy rock music, stuff that I wouldn’t listen to unless I had to for a client. We showed our mobile tickets to a security officer, who sent us through a makeshift metal detector station.
“That’s new,” I muttered to Vicki after they were done practically frisking me with a wand.
“You know why,” she replied.
“I just can’t imagine them sending Iakova through one of these,” I said.
“And it’s ridiculous anyway,” she began, “because the murderer, whomever they were, likely had full security clearance.”
When we entered the auditorium, and I could physically feel the vibrations of the music resonating through the dark room. My eyes adjusted to the dark, and I noticed much of the crowd was standing against the walls. There was no way we would find my family in this mess, so Vicki and I joined the bystanders, and I figured we’d wait until a break to find our seats.
I leaned against the wall with Vicki and listened to some band play music I had only heard in passing. I wasn’t impressed with any of it in recorded form, and the live form did little to change my mind.
When I was younger, I could definitely be construed as the prototypical millennial music snob. But I just don’t have time to keep up with the scene anymore, I don’t care that much anyway, especially since it’s no longer part of my job to have to care. So, the casual observer would think I don’t listen to music, but that’s not true. I actually love music, but only really, really good stuff. I guess I’m my father’s son that way.
Every other way, though, I’m not like my family at all. When I was in school, I was an actor, and it was something I enjoyed, and I was good at it. At the insistence of my drama teachers, I applied to Julliard, and got accepted. My family was over the moon. Art, creativity, and making a statement were what fueled my family’s values, and getting into the most prestigious performing arts school, was the mothership of all of those things.
But, the idea of Julliard, and whatever else came after that, never sat well with me. The stage was never where my passion was, or at least what I wanted to do for a living anyway. I had a passion for justice, and I enjoyed a good debate. Not to mention, looking at the probable earning potential between the two professions, well, I’m a logical kind of guy.
So, in the end, I turned down Julliard to go to UCLA and eventually law school. But judging from my family’s reaction, it would have seemed I had announced that I want to join a band of pirates and pillage ships for booty. My pare
nts spent the last half of my senior year sighing, “Well, you’re eighteen now. It’s your life.” It wasn’t until Harmony’s case that the ice started to melt. I guess my family finally realized it might actually be useful to have a lawyer in the family. Things have gotten a lot better with them recently, Vicki has had a lot to do with that.
She’s amazing really. She’s the type that can chat up anyone and make herself at home anywhere. After all, she basically started our whole law firm because she randomly showed up at my parents’ doorstep. She had just whatever “it” factor it took to help bridge the gap between my parents and me.
The band finished their set, and the house lights came up for an intermission.
“I think I see them over there,” Vicki pointed.
About ten rows up, Harmony stood on a chair trying to get our attention. Harmony was an artist and now worked as an art teacher. She was tall, and slender, with long willowy brown hair, usually pulled into the messy bun look. Now, she had it styled into curls descending down her back. She wore jeans and an organic cotton t-shirt, and I was surprised to see her in full make-up. She was usually a low maintenance dresser. My mother was with her, and today she wore a short cream colored macrame dress, and cowboy boots. She had her long brown hair worn down, with white floral clips on the side.
Harmony ran the last ten feet as we approached and squealed and enveloped Vicki in a hug that I thought would knock her over.
“It’s so good to see you,” she gushed. “I’m so glad you could come.”
“I know,” Vicki said. “I feel like it’s been forever. We have to catch up.”
“Totally,” Harmony said. “We have got to have drinks.”
Harmony punched my arm and gave me a side hug.
“Hey, Harmony, good to see you,” I said.
“Why don’t you ever come by my gallery?” she said.
Harmony had so much of her work on display at a small gallery downtown, most people thought it was hers. Although lately she had been teaching art at a progressive school where they didn’t believe in having classes. How that worked was beyond me.
“I didn’t think you had anything new,” I said.
“Well, I do, and I’m doing a show next week,” she said. “You guys should come.”
“We’d love to,” Vicki answered for the both of us.
“Hey, guys,” my mom greeted us and hugged me. “Glad you could come out.”
“Good to see you, too,” I said.
“I hear you’re friends with Marvin Iakova, now?” she asked me.
“Friend is a strong word,” I sighed. “I know him.”
“Really?” Harmony’s eyes were huge. “You actually met Marvin Iakova?”
A young man approached us, and he dug his hands into his jeans.
“Guys,” Harmony said. “This is Jack.”
She looked us over, and her tone implied Jack’s importance. Jack reminded me a lot of her last boyfriend, who had seemed to have come and gone. This one wore chains off his jeans, a biker t-shirt, and a leather jacket. But, the most noticeable thing about him was that he had a blue mohawk that must have stuck at least six inches off the top of his head.
“Hey, Jack,” I said and offered my hand. “How do you get your hair to stay up like that?”
“Elmer’s glue,” he responded as he shook my hand.
“Glue?” I said. “Really? I thought you were going to say gel.”
“Gel does it alright,” he said. “But, if I want it to really stay, and I don’t want to bother with it for a few days, I’ll use glue.”
“It doesn’t tear up your hair?” I asked.
“Yeah,” he said. “It’s horrible for it.”
“I would imagine so,” I said.
“This is my brother, Henry,” Harmony told Jack. “You can ignore him. And this is Vicki.”
“Hi, Jack,” Vicki shook his hand, and he smiled and greeted her back.
“You guys are the lawyers, right?” Jack asked.
“Are we?” I asked Vicki.
“So, I’ve got this band...” he started out.
I sighed and was grateful when my mom’s phone went off, and she cheered.
“It’s Phoenix,” she said. “He’s said he’s going to FaceTime in and see part of the show.”
“How’s he doing?” Vicki asked.
My mom and Harmony eyed each other, and my mom stepped away to answer the call.
“He’s in Columbia, right?” Harmony said.
“Right,” I said. “Is everything okay?”
“He’s joined some Buddhist monks,” she said.
“Buddhists?” I repeated. “I thought he was going to do a documentary on poverty and find himself or something.”
“Yeah,” she said. “He found a Buddhist temple and decided to live with them for a while.”
“Well,” I turned to Vicki, “We can’t say we didn’t see it coming.”
“We should do that,” Vicki said. “We should become Buddhists or Hindus or something.”
I laughed. “I don’t think the Buddhists could handle me. Hindus, maybe, they’ve got the Kama Sutra and all.”
“Oh, gosh,” Vicki blushed. “That’s some real deep religious contemplation, right there.”
Jack laughed and high fived me.
“Kama Sutra’s insane, though,” he said. “You ever tried those positions? I threw out my back once.”
“Well,” Harmony said. “You have to be into yoga.”
“I used to do yoga,” Vicki said.
“Really?” Harmony answered. “You should get back into it. I go every week to a studio. You should come with.”
“That would be fun,” Vicki turned to me. “You could join us.”
“Me?” I said. “Yoga? No.”
“Come on,” Vicki said. “We could all do it together.”
“Yoga, not happening,” I said firmly.
“I’m with you, man,” Jack said. “Yoga’s for chicks.”
“That’s not true,” Harmony said. “There are plenty of men that do yoga.”
“Uhhh,” I groaned. “I’m not that enlightened.”
My mother was on her way back over to us with Phoenix apparently on her FaceTime screen and the conversation turned to Phoenix’s quest.
“It’s all so cool what he’s doing,” Harmony gushed. “I wish I would have done this. Jack and I talked about going on a cross country road trip.”
“Yeah,” Jack said. “We’ve got to get the RV fixed up first. Then we’ll go.”
“You’ve got an RV, huh?” I said. “What kind?”
Harmony and Jack looked at each other, and then she shrugged. “It’s an old piece of junk, but we’re going to paint it.”
“It’s not an old piece of junk,” Jack said. “Most of it’s cosmetic. It’s got good bones, good engine and all. That’s all you really need.”
“I’m going to do murals on the side,” Harmony said. “And then we’re going to go to all the national parks. Jack does photography, so he’s going to do a photo book, like Ansel Adams.”
“I’m not Ansel Adams,” he said. “Stop telling people that.”
“But you’re really good,” she said.
“That’s not what I’m trying to do,” he said. “I want to make a statement about---”
My mom had caught up to us now and was yelling into the FaceTime connection.
“We’ve got Henry and Vicki and Harmony, and her friend Jack all here,” she shouted.
“Well, this ought to be interesting,” I muttered.
“Say hi, everyone,” she said and switched the screen around to our gathered group.
“Hey, Phoenix,” we all waved and smiled in unison.
In the fractured connection, I made out my nineteen-year-old brother that had shaved his head and was wearing red Buddhist robes.
“Hi, guys,” his voice came in and out.
“I guess they don’t have good signal in a Columbian Buddhist temple,” I said
“Huh?” he replied. It was clear he couldn’t hear me.
“I’m having a great time,” he said. “I’m meditating three hours a day and concentrating on learning the eightfold path.”
“What about your friends?” Harmony asked. “Are they at the temple with you?”
The picture froze for a couple of seconds, and then Phoenix answered, “No, they went on to Venezuela. I’m in a remote mountain village called Minca. But I couldn’t do the documentary without achieving enlightenment.”
“Why not?” I asked.
He had originally gone to South America with the intent of finding a documentary subject, somewhere along the lines of poverty and injustice.
“Why not, is that what you asked?” he said. “Sorry, you’re breaking up. Buddhism is all about ending suffering, and you can’t end suffering until you reach nirvana. So, I had to concentrate on the eightfold path, and the four noble truths before any of what I came here to do will make any sense.”
I nodded and turned to Vicki who shrugged. I knew very little about Buddhism.
“Well,” my mom jumped in. “Your dad is playing the PAH tonight. Do you still want to see the--”
The screen froze, and then the call dropped.
“I guess Phoenix won’t be joining us tonight,” she said as the lights dimmed.
“I’m so proud of him,” my mom said. “I wanted to do that when I was his age. Ugh. It was such a dream of mine.”
“You should, mom,” Harmony said as we headed back to our seats.
“And leave all of this behind?” she said. “Are you kidding me? When you’re young, you look for yourself. But, once you get to be my age, you realize you don’t find yourself anymore because you’ve created yourself. I’ve got a crown of wealth around me, with my children, and my friends. And I look around, and I see that that’s a beautiful thing.”
She looked in my direction, and I saw the most genuine smile I had ever seen her have. With the Hallmark moment subsiding, we all found our seats, and Jack started to tell me about his band.
