Featherless Bipeds
Page 19
“Ohhhhhhhhhh!” the woman says.
Now I think I can hear a choir of angels singing Halleluiah in the background.
“It looks like you got a new job,” I say to Lola.
“Yeah,” she whispers, “I’m vice president of media and advertising. It’s a good gig.”
I guess apprehending the Downtown Rapist didn’t hurt Lola’s profile as a fighter of sexism and racism.
“We’ve got a proposition for you, Dak,” Lola says. “We’d like to use your song ‘Paint’ in some of the TV and radio ads promoting our cause. The song fits in well with the message we’re trying to send, and it would give the band some good publicity, too.”
“Sure, you can use the song.”
“Great!” Lola says, “I’ll have our people contact your people.”
“Okay,” I say, even though I’m not sure who ‘my people’ are at the moment, since Jimmy T is no longer our manager and we’ve been dumped by Big Plastic Records. Then I have a flash of inspiration. “Hey, Lola! Do you want to come up on stage and sing ‘Paint’? Just like the old days?”
“No, no,” Lola says. “Those days are behind me, now. I’ve got my priorities straight.”
“Come on, Lola. One song.”
Her fellow lobbyists urge her on. “Do it, Lola!” “Come on, Lola!”
“Maybe,” she says, “we’ll see.”
To change the subject, Lola points at a couple who have just entered the room.
“Hey,” she says, “is that Zoe’s mother and father?”
She’s never met them, but from a previous incident that we don’t talk about any more, she knows that Zoe’s dad is from Pakistan, and that her mom is Irish-Italian.
“Hi, Dak,” Zoe’s mom says, “is Zoe here?”
“No,” I tell her. “Not yet. Have you heard from her?”
“Her plane was supposed to land four hours ago,” Zoe’s father says. “She should be here by now.”
“You don’t suppose she changed her mind about . . . ” her mother worries.
“Shhhhhhhh!” Zoe’s father hushes his wife.
I don’t know what to say. Zoe has to be here tonight. Everything depends on it.
“Hey!” Lola says to Zoe’s dad, her eyes twinkling, “Did you know that Dak can do a perfect impression of you, Mr. Perry?”
“Oh, really,” he says.
Thankfully, somewhere near the back of the bar, people begin tapping their beer bottles rhythmically on the tabletop, chanting “Bipeds! Bipeds!” More people join in, and the chant gets louder and louder, rolling through the room like a wave.
“Duty calls!” I say, and I make a hasty retreat.
Tristan, Akim and I wander out onto the stage, and the room reverberates with cheering voices. I look at my watch again.
“I guess we’ll have to play the first set without Zoe,” I say.
Akim begins playing the chunky opening chords to “Paint”, and I announce, “Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to the closing night festivities at Harlock’s Rockpile! We’re the Featherless Bipeds, and we’ve got a special treat for you tonight. Opening tonight’s show is our first lead vocalist, Lola Young!”
Lola tosses her suit jacket on a table and takes her position at centre stage. People scream and whistle. She unleashes her wildcat blues snarl, her blouse untucked, her businesswoman haircut now flying around wildly. Lola’s still got it.
At the end of the song, I scan the room. Still no Zoe.
“Sing a few more!” Tristan begs.
Lola sings a few more. It’s as if we’re playing at the Deaf Man’s Garage again, like nothing ever changed. Before long, though, we’ve run out of original songs to which Lola knows the words.
“Thanks a lot!” Lola cries out to the enthusiastic audience. “You’re all beautiful people! The band will be back after a short break, and then the real show will begin!”
I glance around the room for the hundredth time. Still no Zoe.
We eventually have no choice but to play our second set without Zoe as well. We pick the songs from our repertoire that will be hurt the least by the lack of her voice, but, let’s face it, every one of our songs sounds better with Zoe singing the lyrics. Nevertheless, Tristan and I hold forth on vocals as best we can, and the crowd applauds each tune.
Where could she be? What if she’s been in an accident? Or what if she’s decided not to come back at all? I don’t know what I’ll do.
As I wade into the crowd at the end of our second set, a young woman with long red hair and piercing green eyes stops me.
“Hi, Dak,” she says, “you don’t remember me, do you?”
“Did we meet at one of the awards shows?”
She shakes her head. “My name’s Bernice Janes. A few years ago you helped me out when I got hurt during that skinhead riot down by the old band shell. I read in the news later that you got hurt pretty badly yourself. I never did thank you properly, but I’ve always meant to.”
She embraces me tightly.
“Hey, it was my pleasure, Bernice,” I say, when she finally lets me go.
She straightens.
“Well, here’s the funny part. That summer I graduated from high school, and I got a job as a receptionist at this underground record company called Superior Records.”
“The Superior Records?”
“I guess everyone knows our overnight success story, eh? Anyway, I meant to go away to university, but The Nerve signed with us, and of course everything took off from there. I’m the head of the Artist Relations Division now.”
“Wow.”
“Listen, I know about your troubles with Big Plastic Records, so I was wondering if you would be interested in signing on with us for your next album?”
I’m speechless.
“As Head of Artist Relations,” she says, “I promise I won’t get you stabbed again.”
The crowd is clamoring for the third set to begin.
“Okay, Bernice,” I say, “We’ll talk.”
“By the way,” she says, “I love Zoe Perry’s voice. She’s still in the band, right?”
“I think so,” is all I can say.
“Should we wait for Zoe before we start the third set?” Tristan asks.
I shake my head.
“I don’t think she’s coming.”
“Are we still going to do the final set the way you planned it?” Akim asks.
“Might as well,” I shrug.
Tristan and Akim take their places on the stage, and I step up to the mike at centre stage.
“This is the first original song we ever played in front of an audience, and we played it right here at Harlock’s,” I say. The crowd erupts as Akim and Tristan start playing the introduction to “Invitation”.
When the cheering fades, I continue.
“I wrote this back in high school for a girl I knew . . . ”
Just then, the door to the parking lot swings open, and Zoe runs into the bar, looking rather frazzled.
“ . . . and the girl’s name was Zoe Perry,” I say, a smile breaking across my face. I extend my hand in her direction, and everybody in Harlock’s screams, whistles, and cheers, the noise swallowing the music that flows from the speakers. She looks dazed for a moment, then she smiles that tight-lipped smile of hers and takes a little bow. The crowd parts as she moves toward the stage. Akim and Tristan continue playing the song’s opening riff as I meet her at stage right. The roar of the crowd swirls around us, then subsides to almost silence as we kiss.
“Sorry I’m late,” she says to me. “I missed my flight. I had to go back for something at the hotel.”
She reaches into her coat pocket, removes a silver ring. On the ring, two hands hold a crowned heart.
“It’s a Claddagh,” she says, “an Irish engagement ring. You wear it with the heart facing out if you’re available, and facing in if your heart belongs to someone.”
She looks me in the eyes and places the ring in the palm of my hand.
“It matc
hes mine,” she says, holding up her left hand to show me. The heart on her Claddagh faces in.
I slip the ring onto my finger. It fits perfectly.
I reach into my front pocket and open the small box my mother brought for me.
“This is for you,” I say. “It’s my grandmother’s engagement ring. She wanted me to save it until I found the right woman. It’s been yours for a long time.”
Zoe slides the ring on to her slender finger, and we kiss. Then, like a bubble around us has just burst, I hear the crowd cheering now, and Akim and Tristan are still playing. I had forgotten about everyone else for a moment.
“Want to sing a song with me?” I ask her.
“I do,” she says.
I take my place behind the drums. Zoe removes the microphone from its stand, and stands beside me. Our voices harmonize like one as we sing:
You tell me
You grew up in a town
Where smiles disguised intentions
You tell me
You were brought up in a house
Where dreams were never mentioned
You imply
you can’t distinguish
Truth from invention
It seems that we grew up together
It seems that we’re from different places
Same town, same house, same run-around
Same problems, different cases
What we hear is more than just our own voices echoing back at us. Nearly everyone in the audience is singing along with us. My parents, who are standing next to Zoe’s parents, are singing. Veronica, Sung Li, Tristan’s dad, Bernice, Lola and her entourage, the Faireville contingent, Ray and Jay, the Bull Man and the Velvet Woman, the Flexers, the Enigmas and the Barstool Critics — all of them know the words. Everyone in Harlock’s sways to the rhythm and sings along.
This is an open invitation
to come as you are
no need to dress up or down
no need to make a reservation
to dance without light
to drink all the night
from the shadows
We can tango through
this rainy syncopation
with heartbeats as strong and steady
as ritual drums
We stop playing our instruments, and Akim, Tristan, Zoe and I walk to the foot of the stage to absorb the sweet sound of a hundred voices singing our own song to us.
This is your invitation
To come
This is your invitation
To come
I take Zoe’s hand, and we both squeeze tightly.
This is your invitation
To come
The Official Featherless Bipeds Discography (So far . . . )
Socrates Kicks Ass!
Lyrics by Dak Sifter, Music by Tristan Low, Akim Ganges, Dak Sifter
Recorded at Meharg Studios, Toronto Ontario, Canada
Produced by Billy VandenHammer — Released by Big Plastic
Records
Songs:
Invitation
Smog and Wire
Summertime Law
Paint
Gallery
Stunt Man
Yearbook
Great Unanswered Questions of History
Axl Rock (Instrumental)
Be Alive
Deaf Man’s Garage
Lyrics by Dak Sifter, Music by Tristan Low, Akim Ganges, Dak Sifter
Recorded at Dinaut Studios, Toronto Ontario, Canada
Produced by Billy VandenHammer — Released by Big Plastic Records
Songs:
Smog and Wire
Wander
Dancing in a Room of Millions
Tempting
Nothing is Everything
Even the Waitress
Glass Half Empty
Your Embrace
Blues for Baz (Instrumental)
Little Spaces
Harmony
Lyrics by Dak Sifter and Zoe Perry,
Music by Tristan Low, Akim Ganges, Dak Sifter
Recorded at Behro Studios, Toronto, Ontario, Canada
Produced by The Featherless Bipeds with Bernice Janes
Released by Superior Records
Songs:
Overdrive
The Rock ‘n’ Roll Moment
Skin
The Crossroads
What’s Inside
Lost and Found
Anyone Can Write a Rock Song
Glass Half Empty
Hello, Theodore!
The Craw (Instrumental)
The Big Break
Rule Number One
Beautiful Lies
Harmony
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Richard Scarsbrook is a Toronto writer, teacher, and drummer. His fiction and poetry have been published in literary magazines, anthologies, and journals. His first book in the Dak Sifter series, Cheeseburger Subversive was nominated for the Canadian Library Association’s 2004 Young Adult Book of the Year and the Ontario Library Association’s 2005 White Pine.