by S. K Munt
But Imogen winked. ‘I don’t look like the girl she met who attacked you at the disco all those years ago. I’ve been throwing a glamor since I got here yesterday. You’re seeing my true face, but she sees a redhead with grey eyes.’
‘Ah.’ Calliope was familiar with the trick, for she’d done it a thousand times herself. But it had been so long that it had slipped from her memories, which was happening a lot. She knew that her face was her face or at least, a version of it. A kind of crappy one compared to her hazy memories of her true glory, which she wouldn’t get even close to until her powers had been restored and her human body shed like snakeskin and then after she’d worked her ass off to restore herself to Callie of 1979 who’d been riding so high on The Beatles, the Peace movement, Punk and the introduction of Heavy Metal that she’d felt omnipotent.
But Imogen had stripped her of that so when she returned to her true form, she would only be as strong as the music and after twenty-four years of barely existing, the music of 2004 was nothing compared to 1979, or even the nineties when she’d first discovered it as a human and had unwittingly sent her energy out into the universe by constantly singing, dancing and playing. The 80’s had had their own charm, but that was when Raina had first really stepped up and the focus of the world had been scattered between poppy music, technology that was laughable now, and Thespia’s assault on the world in the form of television and blockbuster movies.
Now Callie had to get music back to meaning something again. The world had rolled on as it did, living off its own collective energy, but the true artists had lost their way and now people seemed incapable of liking more than one style, which was ridiculous. Nick teased her for bouncing around the room to The Beautiful People and then getting all high off Mmm Bop but she worried about people who couldn’t appreciate both for the different chords they could strike in the soul. More Metallica should have been on the mainstream radio stations, and more alternative should have flooded the charts. People shouldn’t have to be afraid to admit to liking a song because that song did not match the clothes they liked to wear. It was just one of the many issues Calliope was going to have to throw herself into when she was back to form again- if she ever got there.
‘Can’t hide your head or turn your faces, cos monsters lurk in darkened spaces…!’ Hunter and Ryan’s voices rose to a crescendo together just as Callie, Imogen and Marnie arrived at the edge of the mosh pit. To Callie’s absolute delight, the corralled bodies in front of her immediately began to bounce on their feet in time to the beat Nick was setting the pace for.
‘Oh wow!’ Marnie squeezed Callie’s hand and grinned at her. ‘First song and they’re already got the crowd into it! That’s awesome isn’t it?’
‘For an original? Hell yes!’ Callie couldn’t help but grin as she peeked up at the stage and saw Ryan and Hunter come into their own; together. Back to back, chord for chord, note for note they hit their mark and Hunter’s grin of triumph was infectious. Well for Callie anyway- Ryan still looked like he could go a fruit bat.
‘God,’ she whispered, mostly to herself. She wanted to bounce, to be supportive, but she was only just barely holding it together. ‘I’m really going to miss them.’
‘What?!’ Marnie asked as she pumped her fist in the air.
But Callie just sighed. ‘Never mind. Just… lamenting my fate.’
‘Your fate?’ Imogen repeated, spinning Callie to look up at her. ‘That’s what you’re so overcome with right now? Your sadness? Your longing?’
Callie blinked, surprised at Imogen’s shift in character again. ‘Of course!’ She threw up her hands. ‘Isn’t this what this is all about Imogen? You making me feel your pain? Well, mission accomplished! What more do you want from me?’
‘I want you to see this isn’t about you!’ Imogen’s voice dropped to a whisper as the song faded out, and then rose again when the next began to play. It was ‘Truth Or Dare’ the song Hunter had confessed to penning a year or so after she’d left, in memory of the pool party when he’d almost kissed her.
Not about me? Callie thought, dazed. It’s all about me- and it sucks!
She and Imogen were the only two people in that part of the crowd talking, the only two facing one another and not the stage. ‘This is about The Harmony. Look at them Callie! Do you know what I would give to have just one of my writer’s bask in the triumph of their success? Authors don’t get stadiums, Calliope, and they don’t get lights! They don’t have band members pulling them through the darkest hours, and they sure as hell don’t get film clips and flashy award ceremonies where every single sort of writer is eligible for something, even if it’s best new artist, or best alien-invasion!’ She looked heavenward. ‘The best they can hope for, it to be renowned and they can’t just write the paragraphs they like the most and then bow out of the part that’s too difficult, like Ryan there totally chilling while Hunter carries the load for a minute. Writer’s are always alone! Every word, every full stop, every paragraph has to be perfect! Hunter can scribble Oh baby baby twenty four times into a song but a writer says it more than twice and look out!’ She tugged on her ponytails in frustration. ‘A writer can’t pull up a stand at a shopping center and start reading aloud from another writer’s book and expect a round of applause and a cash contribution! And as their Muse, I can’t walk down the street with a boom box blasting their words until they get stuck in someone’s head!’ She clasped Callie’s face in her hands, tears streaking from her pristine blue eyes. ‘A writer can be perfect Callie, but what’s a book if it isn’t opened? Nothing, that’s what! Except to the author, who might have invested their soul into it! Any performer, any singer or dancer can find a way to earn some of that spotlight or just a smile of appreciation! There’s always going to be an open mic or an audition or something and that’s where your job gets easy, Callie and where mine sucks, okay? It can suck! You’re feeling emotionally connected to your guy? Well guess what? If I don’t make that connection every time, the writer is pretty much on their own!’ She closed her eyes. ‘But Harley would have known glory, Callie. He would have been one of the ones whose name lasted on lips forever. But because of you, he died thinking he was worthless.’ Her eyes opened. ‘Not only to his art, but to the woman he thought he’d fallen in love with. His name would have been on everyone’s lips for decades if not longer but because of you- I am the only one who remembers him.’ She frowned. ‘The best books can go ignored but the worst singers are praised higher than our gods! And so music has an ego now- your ego! It doesn’t think it needs love; it can survive on anger, sex, passion, intensity and melancholy because its Muse is too selfish to offer more because she doesn’t need to anymore!’
Callie tore her eyes away from her sister and back up to the stage where Hunter had faded back into the background and Ryan was front and center once more. The last song had been rock but this was more of an energetic ballad, the kind of song people would shout along to, sway too, fall in love to. She looked at Ryan and realized that his face had kept her more anchored to the world than any song ever had- not his talent. She could have broken Hunter’s heart without involving Ryan because he was the dream she was never going to have and she hadn’t wanted to leave this life without feeling truly alive first- and that was how she had felt in Ryan’s arms the other night- alive. In silence.
If Imogen had felt that for Harley and was still hurting twenty-five years later because she’d never gotten to give her heart to the only man she’d ever loved, how on earth could Callie think that returning to her powerful natural state or failing that, Ardos’s convenient arms, was going to make anything better again when she’d fallen as a human but was destined to live, and grieve forever? And what would happen to Ryan, the one musician in the world who wanted love more than fame?
Callie turned back to Hunter and stared at him, looking around again to see the way people were reacting to the band. Hunter was an incredible person, but that shiny new soul of his was always going to get him into trouble a
s much as it charmed the heck out of anyone he ever met. He was going to lose a bunch of money gambling, have three wives, six kids, ten albums and three reunion tours before he exhausted himself. He was going to get Chlamydia, blow off a concert because there wasn’t a diner nearby, make a scene at an awards ceremony because he was too drunk and become absolutely legendary. He was going to fight with whatever band he ended up fronting, then go it alone and probably die alone with a smile on his face and a supermodel in his arms.
And he was going to do all of that. She could see it then and there in his gait, that he’d taken hold of just his sliver of spotlight and he was never going to release it. In another life, like Ardos, Hunter might have been perfect for her. His lightness would have taken the weight out of her intensity, just as his speedy fingers whipped frenetic energy over Ryan’s harder, deeper chords. His grin would have eased her tears, her strength would have helped him avoid the pitfalls his weaknesses were going to drag him towards, and maybe after all was said and done, he’d emerge stronger than any of them; an old soul at last and perfect for her.
But this wasn’t that time. As a human girl, only one man on that stage completed Callie, could make her take risks, embrace life with two hands and eager lips and a rapidly pounding heart. Maybe Hunter hadn’t reached his full potential yet. But she’d reached her limits of how much she could hurt him, and had to go on blind faith that next time, he’d swing from a stronger branch and land on his feet with his hat of supremacy still firmly in place. Her work here was done, and it was time to leave Hunter, before she could give her heart to Ryan.
The song faded and this time, a new sound launched the next, the sound of fingers on keys. Of softened drums, more prominent bass and a thicker, headier energy; Melody.
Callie felt herself pixelate, like she was in danger of become dust. The people in the crowd were already swaying to the brilliant, classic beat, which reminded her of the greats like Bush and Live and Bon Jovi. She looked up at Hunter, who now bowed his head to pick out the simple guitar line, his shoulders sagging as though he were coming down from some great height and Callie’s chest ached for him. Poor Hunter. He’d produced something truly incredible and was going to be singing back-up when his vocal chords would have made love to the lyrics as passionately as he’d taken her, loved her.
‘What’s happening?’ Callie looked at Marnie, who had turned to her with a frown. ‘Is Ryan sick or something?’
‘What? No- why?’ Callie looked over at the centre of the stage and felt her stomach clench when she saw how Ryan had stepped back from the microphone and was now pressing one hand to his forehead, his brow creased in dismay. Just as the intro faded, prompting Ryan to begin the first verse, he bowed his head a little lower as though in pain and shook himself.
‘Is he supposed to be singing?’ Imogen asked sharply, equal measures pissed and curious.
‘He is.’ Calliope took another step forward elbowing a few people out of the way. Now that she’d realized that Hunter was going to find his destiny, she no longer wished for Ryan’s failure. In fact, she dreaded it. The band was repeating the intro, and it was drawing to an end again but instead of gripping the microphone, Ryan lifted his face to the lights above and dragged his fingers down his features, raking tear tracks down his face. There was a buzz forming in the crowd; maybe no one knew how long the intro was supposed to be, but it was plain that the lead singer was coming undone.
‘Oh no!’ She whispered before plunging forward into the crowd as the intro began a third time. The band members were looking at each other, and it seemed as though Nick was actually hissing something at Ryan over the top of his black Premiers, but Ryan’s eyes remained unfocused and mournful, brilliantly blue even from ten meters away. If he didn’t get his act together, he was going to get them laughed off the stage!
Callie launched herself at the protective barrier at the edge of the stage, turned to Hunter and yelled: ‘Hunter! Sing it!’ Hunter’s head swiveled from Ryan to her, and he seemed to freeze. ‘Sing it for him Hunter!’ Callie choked out, still moving along the barrier, shoving people out of the way. ‘Sing it for me!’
Hunter blinked, glanced at Ryan then back at Callie and smiled with trembling lips. As the intro began to fade for the third time, he stepped up to his own microphone and parted his lips on her alias:
‘Melody… Come to me… I live and breathe… Our chemistry…’
The crowd seemed to sigh with relief but Callie’s step faltered. She’d never heard Hunter sing his own stuff at such volume, not with such incredibly rich tone that his voice dripped down the back of her spine, making her shiver.
‘Melody…You never dream…’ Hunter’s eyes locked on hers and he winked. ‘You spend your sleeping hours, haunting me…’
Calliope had never felt quite so much like a groupie before in her life. Even being done up against the musty corridor at the back of the Blue Moose hadn’t made her feel so enslaved to someone as she did in that perfect moment of cadence. She felt those tears stinging the back of her eyes, not sad or happy tears but maudlin ones, the drops of music syphoned through her soul. Right then she knew that she could live for this. She could survive them both. She could go on to triple her influence on the world, to hunt down the greats who might replace Michael and Whitney, and Elvis and Barry Manilow… a new Elton. A new Diana Ross. In fact, Hunter was probably destined to replace two of them alone.
But she didn’t want to. The Muse of music realized then and there, that music would never know its own full glory again, if its Muse never experienced love worth dying for- if one more artist had to suffer for her, glory, when loving them was all the glory she’d ever need.
31.
‘You've never known your hold on me! You're the beat of drums, the stroke of chords, the pitch in Harmony…’
Calliope shivered, trying to shake off the distracting timbre of Hunter’s rapidly scaling voice as she rounded the corner of the stage and stepped onto the top concrete step.
‘Miss this is off limits.’ A security guard stepped in front of her, a burly black man but Callie looked around him, to Ryan, feeling herself begin to panic at his distraught expression.
‘That’s my friend! The lead singer, please…’ she motioned beyond him. ‘He needs help.’
Out of the corner of her eye, Calliope saw that she was now being shown on the screen to the right, begging the security guard to let her by. It was slightly mortifying, but she didn’t care; all that mattered was that Ry, her Ry, was on his knees, grasping the base of the microphone stand and breaking down in front of thousands of people, and that she was probably the only one who could make it better.
‘A guitar without strings, Is an angel without wings…’ Hunter’s gaze flitted to her, ‘and without you I will always be…’ he smiled sadly, ‘a sad unfinished love song…With no Melody.’
‘Rules are rules miss! Or I’d be flinging hundreds of kids off like Lemmings!’
‘Ask him-’ she pointed to Hunter, only a few feet in front of her as he played the short respite instrumental between the chorus and verse, and he followed her eyes to Ryan, cringed and then nodded slightly, beckoning her onstage, winking at the security guard.
There was a shout of approval from the audience as the security guard stepped out of Calliope’s way. Hunter watched her approach, his anxiety evident. She went behind him, not wanting to block his glory for even a moment, whipped his hat off his head, pulled it back down over her own hair and paused only long enough to whisper into his ear:
‘You are the most talented musician on the planet, Hunter Marks. In about five minutes you’re going to be covered in panties and in another life, one of those pairs are going to be mine.’
Hunter looked at her, startled, and then grinned a ridiculously stunning grin through shining, watery eyes and strummed again, raising his voice to be heard over the cheers of approval as Callie sashayed off in his hat towards Ryan.
‘Melody… come to me…’
C
alliope’s heart was pounding as she crossed the stage, squinting in the lights, still trying to ignore the reproduction of herself on the screens beyond-bright red shirt, jet-black hair, faded pink hat and of course, her Docs, which she’d worn for old time’s sake.
‘If you choose him, I will… cease to breathe…’
‘Calliope!’ Imogen’s voice made Callie’s step falter. She whipped around to see Imogen at the front of the mosh pit, looking far too glamorous, like a Malibu Barbie dropped into a toy box full of Bratz dolls. Half of the audience was watching Callie, half were glancing from Hunter and Ryan. ‘What are you doing? Get out of the spotlight before you steal Hunter’s thunder!’
Calliope saw Ryan stiffen at Imogen’s cry, and begin to draw his hands away from his face. Calliope skittered towards the front of the stage and knelt before her sister.
‘Music doesn’t need a spotlight to exist Imogen. Or a band.’ She tapped her palm against her chest and smiled tearfully. ‘Or even a beat. And if the memory of music exists because of me, then hopefully, I’ll exist again because of it.’
Imogen’s face grew ashen. ‘Wait… what? Calliope no!’
‘It’s Callie, actually,’ Calliope winked at her and tipped her hat. ‘The twenty-first century re-mix of my former self… who just happens to be ridiculously in love, so thank you sister, for showing me how.’ Before Imogen could say another world, Calliope whirled away from the people, the screens, the echo of Hunter’s voice, and rested her eyes on Ryan. And when his watery blue eyes rose to meet hers, her heart skipped a beat. And then another. And then another. And with every step she took towards him, the rest of the world began to fade away into oblivion.
*
‘Melody… let me be…’ Hunter could not take his eyes off Callie as she walked away from him, stooped to whisper something to a hot blonde in the front row and then turned to face Ryan. He could see what was coming, knew that despite Callie’s touching praise, her promise that their time would come, she was about to break his fucking heart during the most incredible moment of his life in front of thousands of witnesses by choosing his best friend.
