Hunter touched the surface with reverence. The surface smooth to the touch, he smiled as he remembered the first time he’d fallen in love with the guitar.
Fourteen years old, he thought.
Listening to a random station in the back of his mother’s house, Bon Jovi’s Have a Nice Day filled the air. Damn, he loved that song. He sang that song every day after that. Screaming it out like a maniac so all the neighbors could hear him. He sang in the shower holding the soap like a microphone, at the dinner table with his spoon for a microphone. He sang that song until his mother started calling him, ‘Have a Nice Day’.
Of course, he grew out of the phase of singing Have a Nice Day aloud when no one was happy to listen, but his love for guitars had increased.
At fifteen, Hunter cajoled his father into paying for classes at a private music school in Hurlingham. He winced at that memory. His father had used it against him for years…through high school really.
Every time he failed exams, his father would threaten to discontinue paying for the classes.
Hunter sighed.
As a result, he worked like a maniac in school. Studying hard, keeping top grades, all for the love of guitars.
Snapping the case closed, Hunter got to his feet and carried the guitar toward the entrance into the Safaricom Kasarani Stadium. His band was having three shows here, before moving on to Tanzania.
“Let me get that for you,” a young man hurried to his side, holding out a hand, eager to take the case from him.
Hunter shook his head. No way, he loved this baby too much to give it to anyone else.
“Don’t worry about it,” he said, when the young man gave him a disappointed look. “Hey, what’s your name?”
“Maina,” the young man said the smile returning.
“Look Maina, maybe you can get me a large bottle of cold water. Cold, very cold.”
Maina grinned and hurried away through the maze of corridors. Hunter hoped Maina would know where to find him.
“What took you so long?”
Hunter glanced ahead to find his bandmates watching him.
His crew, he thought taking in the trio leaning on the wall, surrounded by management staff.
Hunter remembered the day he met them too.
Nairobi University, at a poetry discussion meet, they’d all sat in the back, listening to poems about the world ending. Depressed, they skipped out of the session, instead went to hang out at a local hangout joint, and ended up starting a band.
There was Jake, the band’s drummer. Jake was an architect by profession. Then there was Troy. Troy had started out doing medicine before he ditched that major and pursued music. Troy wrote the band’s music. Then there was Kate. Kate with her long thick braids, and catty eyes that could chill a man’s blood, she was the band’s bassist.
Together, they made up the rock band, Furahi.
Hunter held up his guitar and Jake shook his head in amusement.
“No one will steal it,” Troy teased, crossing his arms, his drumsticks held in his left hand.
Troy never let anyone carry those either, Hunter thought in amusement.
“Stop teasing him, Troy,” Kate said, moving to pull Hunter into the circle. “The back-up band is on stage rehearsing. I like their guitarist; he’s almost as good as you, but he’s missing the flair.”
“No one is as good as Hunter,” Troy scoffed. “Otherwise, we wouldn’t have him in the band.”
“Well, that’s good to know,” Hunter said with a smile, there was no ending Troy teasing him.
They’d all known each other for ten years. Lived through mistakes, bad decisions, devastating outcomes, and disappointments, Hunter could remember each one with a painful pang in his heart.
Furahi was successful today, but it hadn’t always been. Their bad days haunted Hunter.
As though reading his thoughts, Jake touched his left arm.
“They say the tickets are sold out,” Jake said. “They are worried fans will riot at the entrance.”
“That’s crazy,” Kate said, her amazed expression understandable. “We’ve arrived, folks.”
Jake and Troy chuckled; Hunter just squeezed Kate’s shoulder and nodded to their manager who was beckoning them.
The next two hours were exhilarating and nerve wrecking. Prepping a concert started months before, but the last few minutes before that first song, Hunter always felt as though the world was dancing on his shoulders.
Taking in a deep breath, he adjusted the black fitted pants and the metallic belt he wore. The band’s hair stylist had his hair cut in a short Mohawk. He sometimes didn’t recognize himself in the mirror. If it was up to him, he’d have a full on Afro like Lenny Kravitz, but apparently that didn’t work for him.
Hunter shook his head, rubbing his clean-shaven jaw. Oh well, whatever it took to sell their albums.
Chicks dug the whole bad boy thing anyway, so…he sipped the water Maina had brought him. He’d had to give an autograph for the water.
“If I didn’t have a boyfriend, I’d kiss you,” Kate said coming to stand next to him.
She looked hot in leather.
“Dump him,” Hunter challenged, wishing she would.
Kate grinned and kissed his left cheek before she walked away.
“Tease,” he called after her.
“Time,” the show’s producer called into the dressing room setting off the butterflies in Hunter’s stomach.
He performed thousands of shows, for thousands and thousands of people. Still, that moment before a concert always got him. Hunter followed his bandmates backstage, climbing the steps with trepidation.
“We got you,” Jake said, right before they stepped out on to the open stage.
Their audience exploded: screams, shouts, and their enthusiasm blew him away.
Hunter stood still on the stage, feeling free for the first time in his music career. The audience’s enthusiasm exorcised his butterflies, fueling his energy.
Taking his guitar from its stand, Hunter walked up to the microphone, amid screams, he was afraid their audience wasn’t going to let him sing.
“We love you, Hunter!” someone screamed out and he grinned. “We love you, Furahi!”
Hunter turned to his bandmates.
“Have a nice day….” He sang and got wide grins from his bandmates in return.
They knew the story of that song and those days when he sang and no one had screamed in happiness to hear it.
Hunter turned back to the packed stadium, and strummed the first bar of their hit song Get Me Home.
Hunter started singing, and as his audience sang along, he finally understood Bon Jovi’s song.
Do what you want…no matter what…live your life how you want it.
***
The Girl with the Golden Smile – 3
Life outside the Box
Nalia.
Nicholas bit into the chocolate cupcake.
She was a temptress. How had she known he liked chocolate? The cupcakes tasted good, heavenly. She passed him a mug of coffee and he stared at the steaming liquid. She was a magician too. He hadn’t done grocery shopping yesterday.
“There’s a shop at the end of the road. I bought instant coffee there. I took money from your car.”
She grinned.
“I think it’s funny you have a jar of coins in your glove compartment.”
Nalia seemed to have gone exploring while he slept. Changed her clothes too…or her blouse. She wore a clean white t-shirt that read Wishing for the Stars, and the blue jeans she had yesterday. The jeans had watermarks. She’d tried to clean out the mud. Her braids fell around her face, hiding the bruise that had turned darker.
“I borrowed this too,” she said tugging the t-shirt. She sat on the chair across him and leaned her elbows on the table. “Found it in a closet on the second floor. Do you live here?”
Nicholas sipped the coffee, it wasn’t the best, but it w
as hot and sweet. Three healthy sips and the sleep cobwebs dissipated.
“No.” He looked around the kitchen. “This is my first time here.”
“Waa,” Nalia’s eyes went wide. “You’re one of those people, aren’t you?”
He didn’t like the tone she used, accusing…judging.
“What people?” he asked.
“You own a country house and an apartment, and a hut in the hills, and a bungalow by the beach.” Nalia counted his imaginary houses using her left hand. She shook her head. “No one lives in these houses but rats and stray cats. So, why own them?”
Nicholas chuckled.
“You have a wild imagination. Do I look rich enough to throw money away that way?”
“So, are you a penny saver then?” she asked. “Ah…but the coins in a jar should answer that question. You know I noticed you don’t have proper furniture around here. There’s only that one mug you’re using, and I had to use a rolling pin to mix the cupcakes. Do you know how hard that is?”
“No.” Nicholas sipped his coffee. “You talk a lot.”
“It’s not my fault.” Nalia sighed and sat back in her seat. “I hang out with kids all day. When I meet adults, I get excited and try to use all my words.”
Nicholas laughed then.
She smiled.
“Finally,” she said. “I was a bit worried you’re those people who frown all the time. I feel better now. I wanted to thank you when you’re smiling.”
“Thank me?” Nicholas asked, reaching for another cupcake.
“For being my life saver last night,” she said, her tone changing. “You took a risk taking in a strange woman in the night.”
“You jumped out of nowhere,” Nicholas accused. “You could have been killed, what were you thinking?”
“I don’t think I was.” Nalia rubbed her arms with a sigh. “I wasn’t in the best of places last night. You must have been shocked.”
Nicholas studied her face. She had one of those slender faces. Clear dark brown eyes, and a ready smile. She was pretty, in a plain innocent way. The bruise on her left cheek bothered him.
“Did you get that bruise running in the woods?”
She reached up and touched it, her fingers trembling as they touched the tender skin.
“I got it from a bad habit.” She got up. “I’m sorry to have bothered you. I’ll leave now.”
“Wait,” Nicholas said, surprising himself.
She paused, giving him a frown.
“I made you coffee and chocolate cupcakes. I don’t have money to pay you—
“That’s not why I’m asking you to wait.” Nicholas waved her worry away. “Please, sit down for a minute. If you stay a bit, I’ll drive you home.”
“No.” Nalia shook her head, the cheerful smile disappearing. “I—
“Fine, I won’t drive you home,” he said, wanting that ready smile back. “I’ll take you to the bus stop.”
“I don’t have money.”
“I’ll lend you bus fare.”
“How will I pay it back?”
“You can pay me with Mpesa.”
“I’m—
“Hey, it’s a Saturday.” Nicholas sat back in his seat and folded his arms against his chest. “Everyone takes a break on Saturday morning.”
“Yeah, not me,” Nalia clutched the back of her seat, looking out the window at the rising sun. “I need to get going. I did something last night.”
“Something bad?” he asked, curious as to what would make a woman go running in the woods so late.
“Something outside the box,” she said with a sigh. Her hands were shaking. She let go of the chair, and crossed her arms against her chest. “I know I look like I’m smiling right now, but…I’m a bit insane.”
“Should I be worried?” Nicholas asked.
Nalia stared at him and when he lifted a brow in question, she burst out laughing.
“You can’t possibly be afraid of me, can you?” she asked.
“You said you’re insane,” Nicholas countered.
Nalia studied him for a moment, and then nodded.
“Yes, you’re right. I’m insane. I’ve gone crazy. You are the first poor soul I ran into after my descent into this state, so you’ve taken a risk I tell you. Who knows what I’ll do next.”
“My friend is coming over,” Nicholas said reaching for another cupcake.
“What does that have to with this situation?”
Nicholas bit into the delicious chocolate cupcake.
“I’m just letting you know someone will worry about me if I go missing.”
Nalia laughed again, and she pulled out the chair she’d vacated and sat down.
“I thought you were leaving?”
Nalia reached for his mug of coffee and made a show of taking a sip. She took one of the cupcakes and made a show of eating it too.
He frowned.
“I’m eating too, in case you think I’ve poisoned them. This way, you’re sure your friend will find two bodies.” Nalia swallowed quickly, and sipped his coffee again. “Mmm…these are really good.”
Nicholas chuckled and wondered what fate had decided. It seemed his risk taking last night had awarded him with a crazy woman who loved chocolate cupcakes.
What was he going to do with her?
***
The Girl with the Golden Smile – 4
“You haven’t told me your name,” Nalia said.
She trailed behind Nicholas, watching him survey the house. She supposed he was assessing his purchase. She tugged peeling paint from the wall in the corridor, and winced when white dust fell on the floor.
“Nicholas.” He flashed a grin at her. “Nicholas Muchemi.”
She nodded.
“Nice to meet you,” she said.
“So, Nalia,” Nicholas said, walking down to the next room on the second floor. “What were you running from last night?”
“Do you have to know?”
“You said I was your lifesaver. Of course I have to know.”
Nicholas leaned on the doorjamb to what appeared to be a library. There were old books left on the shelf. Nalia entered the room, the books calling to her.
“Lifesaver or not, I don’t know you well enough to tell you,” Nalia said, stopping by the bookshelves.
She read the titles on the shelves with interest.
“Do you like books?” Nicholas asked.
“Some,” Nalia said, touching the old spines. “The owner of these ones didn’t take care of them. Are you going to sell them?”
“Maybe,” Nicholas said coming to stand beside her. “I might have them restored and keep them as part of the house.”
“How often do you do this sort of thing?” she asked, pulling out a geography encyclopedia from the shelf.
“This is my third house.”
Pride colored Nicholas’s words. Of course, he would take pride in his achievement. She couldn’t imagine how much money it took to restore a house like this. She’d probably never see that kind of cash in her life. Returning the encyclopedia, she sighed and walked to the windows.
“It must be nice,” she said, staring out at the overgrown flower gardens behind the house.
“It’s a challenge. I like challenges,” Nicholas answered behind her. “You’re changing the subject, Nalia.”
“I don’t want to talk about last night. Why are you making me wait for your friend?”
“He’s a doctor.”
Nalia turned to look at Nicholas. He walked along the bookshelf, reading the book titles like a connoisseur. He was tall, taller than Malik. Nicholas was lean where Malik was bulky. Nicholas moved with grace, a warm refined air clung to him. Nalia imagined it came from years of living in a world he mastered.
She couldn’t imagine Malik browsing a bookshelf. Her husband preferred watching the news, and reading newspapers as though they held the secrets of the world. He thought novel
s were a waste of time, and he only wrote when he absolutely had to.
“Nalia,” Nicholas broke into her thoughts.
She blinked and stared at him.
“What are you thinking about? You looked so far away. My friend just text me, he’s two minutes away. We should head downstairs.”
Nalia frowned. “You said he was a doctor?”
Nicholas chuckled.
“Don’t worry, Eli is a real doctor. I saw him graduate and get his certification.”
Nalia stared at him and then she laughed.
The saga of a quack doctor had taken over the local news. A man who’d pretended to be a doctor and used his position to abuse women instead. She imagined doctors were having a hard time lately, having to prove they were real doctors.
Nicholas had a sense of humor.
She liked that.
“I like your laugh,” Nicholas said studying her.
His compliment shouldn’t have excited her, but it did. Warmth burst inside her, so vibrant, she forgot all the reasons why liking him was wrong. Heat suffused her cheeks and she dropped her gaze to the floor.
“We should go,” he said then.
She nodded and followed him out of the library.
She imagined the folks living here before must have been grand to have a whole room designated as a library. All her books were stacked in a carton in her closet. She often had to fight with her clothes to get those books to sit well.
Downstairs, anxiety hit when she heard the sound of another car. She slowed down, while Nicholas seemed to increase his pace, hurrying to the front door. She watched him open the door with a flourish.
She stopped in the middle of the living room.
Fear returned, and she realized how free she’d felt before, when it had just been her and Nicholas. This house had somehow given her solace from her life in the last twelve hours. Sitting at the kitchen table with Nicholas, prowling the house with him, laughing…she couldn’t remember the last time she felt so carefree.
The sound of excited male voices outside reached her and she closed her eyes. She was scared again. Nicholas returned followed by a short brown-skinned man who carried a medical bag.
“Eli, this is Nalia,” Nicholas said, leaving the front door open. “Nalia, this is my best friend, Eli. He’s a private doctor.”
Nalia could only nod, her voice lost. She tried for a smile, but even that seemed gone.
“Nalia,” Eli said with a warm smile. “I hope Nicholas has been good to you?”
She glanced at Nicholas and her traitorous heart skipped a beat. Guilt set in. She was married. Yet here she was…tempted.
EA Friday Feature Anthology - September 2015 Page 6