“You come with me,” Nick said, leaning menacingly over our table.
No one else in the crowd of dancers seemed to be paying attention, which was not surprising. We were all the way in the back. I got up, wishing I’d thought to not sit in the corner so that empty chairs stood between me and him.
“Nick, leave her alone. She does not belong to you.”
“Yes, she does.”
“I think I’ll be going now,” Ruby said.
She started to leave, but Nick pawed at her with his greedily greasy hands. I tossed my drink at his face. It had no effect. I’ll have to hand it to Ruby, she did fight back. Nick tried to overpower her, but she slapped him. The only problem was that he hit back, harder.
“You will learn to obey me!” he screamed, pulling her by the arm down a short hall.
I tried to follow. He kicked a chair at me. I stumbled over it, and by the time I recovered my balance, he’d dragged her into one of the storage rooms.
I heard things being thrown and broken in there. Something thumped the wall violently. Ruby cried out, audible even over the music, and it filled me with a strong feeling of dread. It was so unreal with her cries mingling in with the dying whispers of jazz ...
When people said that Nick had a short temper, they weren’t joking. Some told me later that Nick only did the right thing, putting his woman in her place, but I don’t think Ruby deserved his wrath.
Bursting into the storeroom, I entered a scene worse that could ever be described. I saw Nick holding a gun, and Ruby cowering in the corner. She had too many cuts, gashes and bruises to even count, and her dress was torn wide open.
I don’t even remember what I yelled; the shot covered my shout. I was already too late. Brains splattered the walls. A spray of blood landed on Nick’s face. He just laughed.
He didn’t notice me standing right there in the doorway. I had never felt so full of hatred and bitterness in my life until that moment.
Would anyone blame me for wanting to fill him with sunshine until he just bled out? Before, I just hadn’t liked him, but I’d tolerated his presence. After what he’d done, I just flat out hated him.
I picked up a bottle, and I stepped up behind him. He still hadn’t noticed me and didn’t know what hit him when I slammed the bottle on his head.
The blow didn’t knock him out, but it did shut up his laughter. He whirled and pointed the gun at me. I knocked it out of his hand.
He punched me, but I punched back. I hit him with a one two combo, and he fell down. I grabbed something sharp from a shelf and stabbed him. Even then, with the claret flowing, he had plenty of sass left in him.
His hand tightened on my wrist, but I was not going to give up. My rage and pain rose to a fever pitch. I had to finish it. I had to do it for her. Ruby’s destruction had to be avenged, and I had to do it for her. I couldn’t help it; I’d been dizzy for that dame ever since we met.
All the love in the world was enough to give me the strength to go on stabbing.
Nick’s grip gradually weakened. He barely moaned as I ripped the sharp point across his throat. Blood rained down like a storm of red confetti.
Out in the main gin-joint, the jazz-band and the dancers hadn’t missed a beat. They kept on jitterbugging as I left by way of the back door.
I skipped town without telling anyone. Changed my name and occupation. Tried to start my life over. I don’t much recall what I did in the following months, but I never bootlegged liquor or worked in a mob ever again.
The thought of Ruby never did leave me.
Sometimes I wonder what would have happened if we’d gotten out earlier.
My mind has continued to eat away at itself, and run itself into insanity. Even now, almost eighty years later, it’s never made any sense.
I still smell her perfume. I still hear her voice.
And I still hear the music … all that jazz …
REVOLVER CONCERT
Spencer Carvalho
A long line of people wait outside, hoping not to die tonight.
Lucy Cooper huddles close to her fiancé, James. She inhales cold air and exhales steam. Further up the line, above the concert hall entrance, she can see the marquee lights showing the words DAVID WILDE and below that in smaller letters REVOLVER CONCERT TONIGHT ONLY.
A reporter and cameraman are interviewing people. A man in a black security jacket, wearing a headset and holding a clipboard, is going down the line talking to people. Lucy is unable to hear him yet.
James says, “Don’t worry. We’ll be in soon.”
The man in the black security jacket finishes talking, moves to where Lucy can hear him, and starts again. “All right, the show’s going to be starting soon, so I’m going to explain a few things and then get you guys inside as soon as possible.”
The crowd cheers.
“For most of you, this is probably your first Revolver Concert. What you’re gonna do is once they let you inside is, you’re gonna proceed to the security checkpoint. There, they’re gonna check your ID to make sure you’re at least eighteen. Then you’re gonna sign the life waiver and then they’ll let you into the main hall. Any questions?”
No one says anything.
“All right. Good.” He moves forty feet further down the line and starts talking to them, same spiel.
Lucy looks to James. “Life waiver?”
“Yeah, it’s just some legal thing so no one goes to jail.”
“I’m still not sure what’s going on here.”
The guy and girl in line in front of them turn around. The guy has his arm wrapped around the girl’s shoulder.
The girl smiles at Lucy and says, “I’ve been to a Revolver Concert before. You wanna hear about it?”
“Yeah, sure.”
“Okay, my name’s Joan. My boyfriend’s Ted.”
“Hey,” says Ted.
“Hi,” says Lucy.
“Before the show starts,” Joan continues, “this guy in a black suit comes out carrying an old wooden table about two feet wide and places it by the microphone stand. Then he opens the drawer of the table and removes the revolver.” She smiles wider upon saying the word revolver. “He places the revolver on the table, closes the drawer, and walks away. Then later, David Wilde comes out. At random points during the show, he fires the gun into the audience.”
“So at every show six people die?” asks Lucy.
“It’s not always six,” Ted says. “Sometimes a bullet goes through someone and he gets more than six. Or sometimes people only get wounded.” He laughs. “And this one time, Justin Carter, the leader of the boy band Back Degrees, went to a show and David Wilde comes out, sees him and just shoots the guy six times. It was great.”
Lucy looks to James again and asks, “So, we could die tonight?”
He grins and says, “Babe, it’s like a six in ten thousand chance.”
Joan chimes in, “Hey, I look at it like fate. If it happens then it’s meant to be.”
Lucy ignores her comments. “Six in ten thousand, but there’s still a chance we could die?”
James shrugs. “Sometimes you have to take chances in life.”
Lucy looks down and is still pondering this idea in silence when the line begins moving forward.
“Finally,” James says. He cranes his neck up as they pass under the lighted marquee.
The line moves quickly as people start filling the concert hall. As soon as Lucy enters the two large double doors to the building, the heat hits her. They continue to the security checkpoint. She hands a guard her ID, which he swipes through a machine. A green light flashes and she is allowed to pass to the next station. James goes through a metal detector and she follows. Then they approach a desk. Joan and Ted sign the forms and then pass through.
Lucy and James both approach the desk. He quickly signs his form while she starts reading hers.
“Um, excuse me?” she asks one of the guards.
“Yeah?” the guard says.
“What
does this mean when it says the participant forfeits his or her life for the duration of the concert?”
“It’s just legal stuff.”
“Yeah, but what does it mean?”
James, impatient, says, “Just sign it, okay.”
She looks at him for a few seconds and then picks up a pen, and signs her name. The blood-red ink disturbs her. She puts down the pen and James grabs her hand as they move past the security barrier.
Around them are various concession stands and merchandise booths. She sees Joan and Ted looking at shirts and posters. Behind her she hears someone talking really loudly, and turns to see that the cameraman and reporter from outside are now inside interviewing people. James also turns around to watch them.
A young, smiling girl wearing a David Wilde shirt says to the camera, “He’s just so handsome! He’s really great!”
“Yes, but what about the fact that he kills people at all his shows?” asks the reporter.
“Well, it’s kind of like a spiritual experience because there’s all this like life all around you and when someone in the audience dies it’s like, like their life leaves their body and like spreads out into the other people in the crowd. It’s really amazing!”
“What do you say to the people that say that David Wilde is only doing this because he can? That he’s using his celebrity status to legally kill people?”
“Well, they don’t understand him the way I do. He wouldn’t do that.”
A guy wearing another David Wilde shirt walking by stops and yells at the camera, “David Wilde rules!”
The reporter quickly moves from the girl to the new guy. “Excuse me, but why are you a fan?”
“Because he rocks!”
“Are you worried about getting shot tonight?”
“No way. My friend, who’s like really good at math told me that, like, David Wilde usually shoots people towards the front, so like, if you’re in the back then you’re fine and there’s a less than one percent chance of being shot and I’m in the very last row.”
Lucy tugs on James’s arm and says, nervously, “We have seats up front.”
“Of course. I’m not going to a David Wilde show to sit in the back. Besides, the seats up front are cheaper.”
“James, I’m not so sure about this.”
“Babe, we’ve been through this already. If we’re going to spend the rest of our lives together we need to share our interests. You’ll see. You’ll love the concert.” He goes back to watching all the different people moving around the crowd.
Lucy looks at the reporter, who is talking to another person now.
“What is your name and what is your favorite David Wilde song?”
“My name is Gene, and I love the song Try It.”
“And why is that?”
“Uh, well, ‘cause I’ve got my own band called Violent Thunder and I’m the guitarist so I like Try It because it’s the ultimate guitar song.”
The reporter faces the camera and says, “For those viewers at home who don’t know, Try It is an entirely instrumental song. It’s supposed to be the hardest electric guitar song in the world. In fact, David Wilde has said that the first person to be able to play it properly will get a million dollars.” The reporter glances from the camera to Gene. “And how are you at the song?”
“Well, I can play it but it takes me too long. The song is three minutes, so, to get the money you have to play the song in three minutes or less. I’m down to twenty-seven minutes. But I’m getting there.”
The reporter turns to the camera again. “A testament to how fast David Wilde truly is.”
An announcement blares over the loud speakers: “You may enter into the main hall now. The show will be beginning shortly.”
“I’ll take that as my cue,” says the reporter. “From KIS news, this is Bonnie Benatar reporting, live, at the David Wilde Revolver Concert.”
“And we are out,” says the cameraman.
Lucy gives James a worried look.
“Come on!” he says as he pulls her with him into the main hall.
They get to their seats, which are very close to the stage. She feels her pulse pick up frantically as all the other seats get filled.
A man in a black suit appears on stage carrying an old wooden table. Upon sight of him, the crowd begins cheering. The man is wearing white gloves that match his white hair. He places the table by the microphone stand. He opens the drawer and removes an object, which he places on the table. The crowd cheers again. Lucy is unable to see it but knows that it is the revolver. He then closes the drawer and walks off stage.
The stage lights dim and out comes David Wilde. The audience screams with joy. His long hair partially obscures his face. He has an electric guitar with a strap around his neck and holds an acoustic guitar in his right hand. He leans the acoustic guitar against the old wooden table and adjusts the strap of his electric guitar. The crowd continues their cheering.
David Wilde carefully looks out at them. His gaze scans over the different people ready for his music. His eyes lock briefly with Lucy’s, and he smiles.
He then leans toward the microphone and says, “Let’s start this show with a bang!”
Picking up the revolver, he fires once out into the crowd. If anyone screams with pain or horror, it’s drowned out by the cheers.
“Now who’s ready for some music?” The crowd cheers even louder.
David Wilde gives the greatest musical performance Lucy Cooper has ever seen.
The sad songs make people openly weep. The uplifting songs make Lucy feel as if she’s riding a roller coaster. He switches from electric to acoustic guitar depending on the song. One, called Different Ways, is first played electrically and then acoustically. Lucy loves it each time and has trouble deciding which one is better.
Despite her enjoyment, she is distracted by trying to keep track of the number of times David Wilde shoots out into the audience during the show. When he plays Try It she sees his hands move faster than she thought was possible. The song finishes and she cheers as excitedly as anyone.
He looks across the audience again. His eyes linger on Lucy as he says, “One more song.”
The crowd collectively says, “Awww.”
Wilde plays the song Farewell. When he finishes, they give him a roaring standing ovation. Lucy stands and roars with the crowd. He removes his guitar and places it by the old wooden table.
“That was amazing!” says James, clapping like crazy.
As the applause continues David Wilde locks eyes with Lucy. He maintains the gaze until the applause dies down. She is mesmerized by him. The applause eventually stops completely, with David Wilde still standing by the old wooden table.
The crowd just stares at him, as if expecting something more to happen. Encore? But he just stands there quietly staring at Lucy.
Lucy hears a guy behind her say, “Weird. I only counted five shots.”
David Wilde picks up the revolver, points it in her direction, and fires.
James’s entire chest seems to explode as the bullet hits him. The crowd starts cheering again. Now the show is truly over.
Lucy hovers over James’s bleeding body. The concert hall starts emptying. She yells for help as the people leave. Most of them ignore her. Some take pictures with their cell phones. No one helps her. The concert hall empties except for Lucy and James.
“James, I’ll go get someone, okay? Okay? James!”
His eyes are lifeless. A strange smile is permanently left on his face.
From behind her, a soft voice says, “Miss?”
She turns around and sees the man in the black suit with white gloves.
He calmly hands her a red rose.
“David Wilde was wondering if you would like to accompany him for dinner tonight.”
THICK
Melanie-Jo Lee
During the three hour drive to Fossil Lake, Lana and Marcella did nothing but argue. At points heartfelt and loving, at others hurtful and bitte
r, both women refused to back down.
“I want to be married in my parents’ back yard, Marce. You know this, you’ve always known this!” From their first date, Lana had been describing her dream wedding. It should not have been a surprise.
“I’d rather it just be us and James and Daniel at the JP’s office, but when it comes down to it, that isn’t the problem, Lana, and you know it.” Marcella’s hands gripped the wheel so tightly, the blood all but drained from her fingertips.
Lana did, but she tried anyway. “Your father seems to like me –”
“Like to watch you and Alexa go at it, probably in green Jell-O.”
“She’s your brother’s wife!”
“She’s that two-bit hooker my brother married, and ever since their wedding, my pig of a father’s been undressing her with his mind.”
Lana gagged. Sure, Alexa had worn a dress so short guests could see her underwear as she walked up the aisle, and so tight her generous chest all but spilled out. Hell, in one of the pictures, Marcella and Lana actually had spied nipple.
But would Marce’s dad actually be thinking…?
She had to admit, shuddering and swearing never to eat green Jell-O again, he probably was.
“I don’t want my family involved,” Marcella said. “They’re vicious, manipulative and toxic. My mother calls you all sorts of horrible things, but she’s fine with Grant and Alexa. Why? Because they’re straight, that’s why.”
Lana remained silent.
“I know what you want, Lala,” Marcella continued, using her pet name. “It’s not that I don’t, or that I don’t care. We can have at it in your parent’s back yard, with the barbeque and all your family if you want. I just do not want my family involved. They won’t accept us, they won’t accept you, and they certainly won’t accept any marriage of mine unless it’s done in front of Father Anthony at St. Michael’s … and to a man.”
* * *
In silence, they unpacked the car, shouldered their backpacks, grabbed a cooler each, and headed down the trail to their campsite.
Marcella’s mind and emotions were in overdrive. She knew how Lana felt; Lana knew how she felt. She’d told Lana all about her parents, about how Father Anthony condemned her to hell when, at fifteen, she’d announced her interest in witchcraft … and again at eighteen when she stepped out of the closet in jeans, hiking boots and a flannel jacket.
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