by Nathan Roden
“Still pretty much at ground zero,” I said. “Nate won’t get to be a part of it.”
“Uh, oh,” he said. “What happened?”
“You know how computers have taken over everything?” I said. “Drummers are now expected to perform like machines. Nate sort of flunked his audition.”
“That’s too bad,” Q said.
“That’s not the only stumbling block,” I said. “Most of Skyler’s business team are opposed to the idea. They are afraid that my scandalous past could ruin her squeaky-clean image and damage her career. Skyler’s mother came to see me before any of this came up.”
“Her mother came to see you?” Q said.
“Her mother is also her manager,” I said. “Can you believe that she actually offered to write me a check if I would tell Skyler ‘no’?”
Quentin scowled.
“That makes me sick, Wylie,” he said. “Has the whole world gone insane? What right do these people have to judge you?”
“Perception is reality, or so I keep hearing,” I said.
“That’s a load of bull, is what that is.” Q said.
“Yeah, but it’s their candy store,” I said. “I’m just the hungry kid looking through the window. I can’t believe that I’m still defending my reputation—all I want is a fair chance—”
“Hold on,” Quentin said. He turned in his seat.
“Wylie, you can tell me to mind my own business if you want to,” he said. “But you shouldn’t be dealing with these people on your own. They’ll show up with a team of savvy business people and attorneys, and if they don’t wreck the whole deal—they’ll drown you in legal jargon so deep that you could end up selling yourself for peanuts.”
“Skyler wouldn’t do that—” I said.
“Skyler won’t be writing your contract, Wylie,” Q said. “And the contract will either work for you, or against you— regardless of the young lady’s intentions.”
“That’s all true,” I said. “But this is still a once in a life—”
Q shook his head vigorously.
“You have to stop thinking like that, right now,” he said. “Of course, it’s an enormous opportunity. And I have every confidence in the world that you will make the best of it. But you must realize that you have value as well. In business, as well as most things in life, nothing is more important than bold confidence.”
I exhaled loudly.
“If confidence came in a pill, I would swallow a bottle. Right now,” I said. “Skyler has been planning this for three years. I’ve known about it for four days—it’s not like I can say ‘let me think about it while I muster up some self-confidence’.”
Quentin stared out of the windshield for a few seconds.
“I’ll come with you,” he said.
“What?” I said, looking back and forth between Q and the road. “I don’t know, Q. That might make me look like a kid showing up with his dad.”
“So, we fib a little bit,” he said. “We’ll say that I’m your manager.”
“My ma—do you know anything about the music business?” I asked.
“Not really,” he said. “But I’m sure that it has much in common with the rest of the business world. What I can say, is that I am able to look at things objectively and without the influence of the emotions of the moment. I also care a great deal about what happens to you, just like Skyler’s manager cares about her. And lastly, I don’t need a percentage of your money.”
“Ha!” I said. “There’s a lot to be said for that part.”
“Are you okay with that arrangement?” Q asked.
“Sure,” I said. “You’re on. Please don’t overdress and make me look like a complete slob, Double-O-Seven.”
“Got it,” he said.
“We’re supposed to be in St. Louis at ten in the morning,” I said.
Q looked at his watch and rubbed his eyes.
“How are we getting there?” he asked.
“I’m picking up a car at the airport after I drop you off,” I said.
Q shook his head.
“You need to get some sleep, too,” he said. “We’ll take the Aston. What time do I need to pick you up?”
“Five-thirty-ish,” I said.
Q groaned.
“You may have to drive,” he said. “Both ways.”
“You’re going to make me drive your Aston-Martin to meet with Skyler KwyK?” I said. “Your first day as my manager, and you’re already a slave-driver.”
Twenty-Seven
The Ghost Detectives
Edinburgh/Wellmore Village, Scotland
Myron Finnegan slumped against a wall.
“Spin up the video,” Ian said.
The three men stood shoulder to shoulder and watched. Bruiser, Dougie, and Delbert crowded around to watch as well.
The ghosts did not show up on video, and none of their voices were heard.
“We’ll have to work with what we have,” Ian said. He rubbed his eyes. “I need a drink.”
“Good idea,” Myron said.
Myron picked up the phone and ordered some beer.
Minutes later, the three men touched their beer bottles together.
“Does this remind you of anything?” Brian said with a smile.
“Only every other weekend of high school,” Myron said.
“More like every weekend,” Ian said, laughing.
“To the good old days,” Brian said.
“The good old days!” Ian and Myron chimed in.
“If only our objective was to slay some dragons and orcs,” Brian said.
“Yeah,” Ian said, “We need to make some sense out of a handful of words. Let’s give it a go.”
Two hours passed by. The men made little progress. Empty bottles accumulated around the table, and they only managed to become agitated and frustrated with one another. Brian stretched and yawned. Ian and Myron followed with the same.
“Maybe we should try to call Quentin,” Brian said. “He or Holly might have some idea what these ghosts were trying to tell us.”
Bruiser, Dougie, and Delbert were lying around and growing more depressed as they listened to the men fumble with the limited information.
Ian Finnegan looked at his watch.
“They won’t be on the ground for hours yet,” he said. “We’ll call him first thing in the morning, but I expect he will be calling us as soon as he’s able.”
Ian closed his eyes and rubbed his temples.
“We should get some sleep,” he said. “We’re getting nowhere, other than on each other’s nerves.”
“No!” Bruiser shouted, to no avail.
“I can’t believe they went back to Branson,” Delbert said, “Without us.”
“They’re going to the other side,” Dougie said. “Who can blame ‘em for leavin’? For all they knew, we might not be back for days.”
Bruiser wanted to object, but he didn’t know what to say.
“Now we know more about what’s goin’ on than anybody,” Delbert said. “And we can’t do a dang thing about it.”
Bruiser stared silently across the room, deep in concentration. Delbert and Dougie watched him—and waited.
“We have the gun,” Bruiser said.
“Yeah,” Delbert said. “We have a gun. You and me can’t even touch it, and Dougie might blow somebody’s toe off with it.”
“I know somebody that can use it,” Bruiser said.
“Who?” Delbert asked.
“Oliver McFadden,” Bruiser said.
Dougie and Delbert looked at each other.
“You lost me,” Delbert said.
“Me, too,” Dougie said.
Bruiser pointed across the room.
“Those three will be asleep in a few minutes,” he said. “When that happens, we take the box with Holly’s stuff in it.”
“What for?” Dougie asked.
“We’re gonna put the gun in it and take it to Oliver McFadden.”
Delbert groaned.
“I knew you were gonna say that,” he said.
Bruiser, Dougie, and Delbert peeked out from the woods that surrounded Castle Wellmore.
“I don’t like this,” Delbert said.
“Of course, you don’t,” Bruiser said. “But you have the easiest part—stand next to me and don’t do anything stupid. Just keep telling yourself, ‘they can’t kill me, I’m already dead’. ”
Delbert snorted.
“Yeah,” he said. “Just tell that to those sick puppies inside of that dungeon,” Delbert said. “The ones that torture each other over and over—just for fun.”
“For all we know, they just act like that when they have an audience,” Bruiser said. “I bet they just like to show off.”
“Yeah,” Delbert said. “But for all we know, they might be tryin’ to recruit members into their Giant Demon club. You ever think about that?”
“Go over the plan one more time,” Delbert said.
Bruiser sighed.
“You and me will go through the dungeon door,” he said. “I’ll get the big ugly red guy’s attention. That probably won’t take much. I expect he’ll be all over us.”
“You don’t have to say it like that,” Delbert said.
“I’ll try to get him talkin’ about Wellmore,” Bruiser said. “I’ll ask him what his plans are—and why he talks about him like he’s some kind of god. Maybe that will stroke his ego enough to keep him busy. At the same time, Dougie will take the box through that little window around back—the one with the busted board. Remember Dougie, if we’re not keepin’ their attention away from you, we’ll start screamin’ and makin’ a fuss. If that happens—try to hide, the best you can. If they see that gun, we’re done for. You got it?”
“Got it, Boss,” Dougie said.
Dougie adjusted his unsure grip on the box and floated around the corner of the castle.
“Listen up, Delbert,” Bruiser said. “Stay behind me as much as you can, but try not to look like you’re about to pee your pants.”
“We don’t pee,” Delbert said. “You didn’t have to say that.”
“What I’m sayin’, is that the more you draw attention to yourself, the more that big ugly monster is gonna pay attention to you. Is that what you want?”
“No,” Delbert said, hanging his head.
“And under no circumstance—,” Bruiser said.
“Look at me, Delbert.”
Delbert looked up.
“Under no circumstances are you to draw attention to Dougie,” Bruiser said. “If you see him movin’ around out the corner of your eye, don’t look at him! This might be our only chance to do somethin’ good. You hear me?”
“I hear you,” Delbert said.
Bruiser passed through the dungeon door, with Delbert close behind.
The four emaciated ghosts were on them immediately, buzzing around them like giant mosquitoes.
Bruiser and Delbert swatted at the swarming spirits as if they were—giant mosquitoes.
“Get outta my face you bunch of pencil-necks!” Bruiser yelled. “I’m here to see your Boss!”
They did not have to wait for long.
“Who dares to invade my sanctuary with such a brazen request?”
The voice boomed in the darkness before the red beast came into view.
“Whoa! Speak of the devil!” Bruiser said.
The beast laughed and leaned down into Bruiser’s face.
“You don’t know how right you are, little man!” the beast said. “I trust that you have returned to join me!” The beast straightened up and spread his arms. “To join me in all of my power—”
“Hey, hey. Slow down a minute there, Cousin,” Bruiser said. “I’ve got a boatload of questions before we do a pinky-swear and a spit-shake.”
“You insolent fool!” the beast roared. “I am the Prince of—”
“You’re not Prince of nothin’ except maybe this dank old basement,” Bruiser said. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Dougie squeeze through the boarded-up window. Dougie was trying to pull the cardboard box through the space in the boards.
“You will know of my power soon enough—!” the beast cried out.
“Yeah, we seen your power last time,” Bruiser said. “That’s a really nice program you’ve put together. I guess you guys get a lot of practice while you’re waiting around for an audience to show up.”
“I am the POWERFUL—”
“Nope,” Bruiser said. “You are a big, evil, red…..something.”
“TROLL!” Delbert yelled.
Delbert had spotted Dougie also. Desperate not to focus on Dougie, Delbert yelled out the first thing that crossed his mind.
Bruiser looked at Delbert, astonished. And then he smiled.
“Troll,” Bruiser said. “That’s perfect, Delbert.” Bruiser turned to the beast.
“You’re a Big, Evil, Red, Troll,” he said. “So let’s see. That would make your initials B-E-R-T. Bert. I’m just gonna call you Bert from now on. Now, I have some questions for you, Bert.”
”Blasphemer!” the beast roared. A snicker escaped from one of the beast’s group of minions.
“So, tell me about this Wellmore feller,” Bruiser said. Dougie had worked the box inside. He was hidden by the cage where the McFaddens slept. Bruiser relaxed a little.
“I’ll tell you nothing, Blasphemer,” the beast whispered. “Until you bend the knee and accept your destiny—your destiny at my side. Soon we shall be free of the bonds of these many years—watching and waiting within these cold walls. You will join me—or you will perish.”
“We’re sorta perished already, Bert,” Bruiser said. “And if you were able to keep us here—you could have done that the last time.”
“Are you even listening to me?” the beast asked. “We have yet to merge with the Human! The Evil One! The Lord of Destiny!”
“Oh, now you’re talkin’ about Wellmore, I guess,” Bruiser said nodding his head. “You should try to be more clear when you’re talkin’ to people; especially if you’re going to be giving a lot of speeches. And it’s my guess that you give lots of speeches.”
The noise woke Gwendoline McFadden. She tried to pinpoint where it came from. After six months she had adapted to seeing in the dark. She heard the noise again—a soft, scraping sound.
Gwendoline crept from her cot. She put her lips close to Oliver’s ear and whispered his name.
“What is it?” he whispered.
“I hear a noise,” she whispered.
The noise came again. Oliver slipped from his cot. Gwendoline put her hand close to Oliver’s face and pointed in the direction of the sound. They looked toward the dungeon door before they made a move. That door, and what lay beyond it, had lorded over them for six months. It had owned their minds and their fears. The man came and went through that door.
Gwendoline and Oliver crouched and huddled together behind the cots—listening. The noise came again. The next time they heard it, they saw its source. A cardboard box moved across the stone—from outside of their prison.
Oliver clamped his hand over Gwendoline’s mouth just before she would have screamed.
“Bert, I need to know more about this Evil Human,” Bruiser said.
“In due time—” the beast said. He sensed—or heard something behind him, and he started to turn—
“No, no,” Bruiser said. “Let’s talk about this Wellmore feller now. It seems like you got some big plans that have something to do with that man. If you want us to join your team, we need to hear the game plan, Bert. Pay attention, now. We call this logical thinking.”
The beast inhaled deeply.
“This castle was once a palace of the purest Evil,” he said. “The first Baron Wellmore was a remarkable visionary—this was a man who knew his destiny and delighted in his fate! Glorious, glorious pain and suffering filled this room, until the day that he was taken away by an angry mob and murdered.”
“Ouch!” Bruiser said. “You knew this guy,
Bert?”
“Knew him?” the beast roared. “He summoned me from the depths! He gave me a greater purpose! The humans stole him from me, leaving us in bondage within these walls—captive for a thousand years!”
“So, you were like his imaginary friend or something?” Bruiser said.
“Silence!” the beast roared. “I grow tired of your insolent attitude!”
“You used that word ‘insolent’ already,” Bruiser said. “You probably just learned it. Folks do that a lot—right after they learn a new word, they use it all the time. No offense, Bert. I’m just sayin’—”
“Silence!” the beast repeated. He swept his hand toward the walls—where shackles and chains had been in place for hundreds of years.
“Baron Wellmore rejected the laws of the land—where the weak and spineless allowed their lives and their lands to be taken from them!” the beast said. “If one desired to see true justice—if one needed to rip a secret from deep within his enemy’s soul—this dungeon was where that took place! For six glorious years, the Baron and I executed the justice of an ungrateful land, on the Holy Ground on which we stand!”
“But after six years—” Bruiser said.
“The townspeople came with their pitchforks and torches,” the beast said. “They dragged Baron Wellmore into the town square, hanged him by his own chains and shackles, and burned him alive.”
“Man!” Bruiser and Delbert said as they squirmed.
“You people have no idea what PG-13 is, do you?” Bruiser asked.
“What?” the beast said.
“So what does all that have to do with the guy upstairs, Bert?” Bruiser asked. “The Wellmore boy.”
The beast raised his arms and lifted his head.
“The only surviving heir of the Great One! Heir of the magnificent Baron Alistair Wellmore! The One we have waited for—to free us from our prison! Soon, very soon, we will be joined as one, and I will be free of these walls!” he said.
