Vacant MC

by Bella Knight

  “The idea when you make additions, is to make everything better than before.”

  4

  Joining

  “Forward progress can be exhausting. Just keep moving.”

  Gregory was so exhausted that Richland was actually moving him around like a chess piece. He could talk his way through a meet-and-greet, a contract signing, massaging egos. But, their little hidden spider, Wraith, was keeping everything moving —and him out of the field. Everyone wanted to meet the man who pulled off a movie-type of move, shooting an assassin while on a bike. The constant handshaking was making him simultaneously exhausted and nervous. He had children at home, a wife driven to wake him up in the middle of the night to mount him due to pregnancy hormones, back-to-back meetings, and teaching evasion three times a week. He was ready to fall down. So, he did the only thing he could. He punted.

  “Wraith,” he said.

  “Go,” said Wraith.

  “Send me into the field or I’m going to go insane,” said Gregory.

  “On it,” said Wraith. She hung up.

  When did she start sounding like an ops commander? Gregory wondered. He found Bannon, Richland, and Choi staring at pictures of the teen Choi had taken on, one of their clients. “And she’s in band now,” said Choi. “Decided she wanted to play the saxophone, of all things.”

  Gregory pulled up a picture of Elena, in full soccer regalia, pounding a ball. He held it up for Choi to see. “Mine plays soccer. She’s good at passing and defending, sucks at scoring.”

  Jaime Choi laughed. “Let’s get together, have dinner, with the daughters. Sort of a father-father-father-mother-daughter thing.”

  Bannon groaned. “Only if you like little ones. Their boys eat like seven, not two.”

  Their phones all buzzed. They all touched their earphones, to get an earful from Wraith. “Playtime’s over. Bannon, you’ve got Rocky Georgiano —I kid you not about the name, he owns twenty-four Italian restaurants. And Gregory, you’ve got Rennie, another one of the Nayan Music, young female artists. This girl can dance and sing, and needs a good songwriter, a choreographer, and a lot of protecting. She’s got some asswipe from high school after her, and the boy in question’s daddy taught him to shoot little cute bunny rabbits for fun.” Bannon and Gregory grunted their disdain. “Choi, you and Richland have point. Get those contracts signed, people! And, Jaime and Gregory, you have dinner next Thursday, spouses and kids, at a pizza/fun time parlor. Sorry about the noise level, but both girls like hitting baseballs and winning tickets for stuffed animals. Wolfpack will watch the twins, wives get an early ride home, gentlemen and young women will then catch a ball game. Got it?”

  “Yes, Gunny,” said Richland. Wraith had not, and had never been a gunnery sergeant, but she acted like one. “Gunny” was her High Desert Security handle. She loved it. They all squared their shoulders and went to go do some business.

  After their initial morning contract-signings, they met for lunch and a debrief. “Got the Georgiano account,” said Bannon, piling his sandwich high with turkey, provolone, and mustard. “Man wants protection for her daughter. Seems she started dating a ‘questionable’ person, and he’s checking things out. He’s also being intelligent about it.”

  “I’ve got Rennie,” said Gregory. “She’s alone; hired herself a lawyer and got herself declared an emancipated minor. Proved in court that Mommy violated the Jackie Cougan law and pilfered her daughter’s account.”

  “That’s just cold,” said Richland, going for ham and cheddar. She threw a cola at Gregory, who caught it. She took one for herself, too.

  “Talk about assholery,” said Bannon. “What’s going on now?”

  “Rennie heard about what we did with Sarah, wants us to guard herself and her assets. Set her up in a protected townhome, get two accountants to watch each other, hire a songwriter and choreographer, and be the best she can be. Dani Everson showed Rennie some awards show, found two that fizzled afterward with no contracts. Rennie sang both their songs, right then and there, and picked Trey Halloran. Boy’s got amazing talent, and he can do duets with her if they want to go that route. He lives in LA. We’re flying him up for a meet, see if he wants to do it. Choreographer was harder. Got a wonderful, talented woman named Kris, sidelined by a back injury to take a look. And she’ll go for strong, not sexual. Since Kris sports side braids, we suggested her rather strongly to Rennie, our singer.”

  “Oh ho,” said Bannon. “A Valkyrie, so she can protect our girl even when pushing her to dance her heart out.”

  “Two for the price of one,” agreed Gregory.

  “I opened the door to let Kris in,” said Richland. “They sized each other up like bantam roosters, then Kris jutted out her jaw. Rennie nodded once, and that was that. Kris has a four-bedroom that overlooks the city, believe it or not. She showed a video of her place to Rennie. Kris built a double-suite thing to accommodate dancers she’s working with. Rennie loved it, and that was that.”

  “I love it when a plan comes together,” said Wraith, in their ears. “Your second half of your day is Choi holding out with the Ronden team for more money. They want upgrades, they’ve got to pay for them. None of this ‘But we’re so special!’ crap. Then Bannon, you swoop in and act all military, and they’ll definitely sign. Maybe with less upgrades, but they’ll sign. Get rid of some of that backlog while you wait.”

  “Email or paperwork?” asked Bannon.

  “I’ve got you at ninety-four percent no paper, except for signed documents,” said Wraith, snorting.

  “And me?” asked Gregory, reheating a chicken, bacon and cheddar sandwich in the microwave.

  “Violet Amato. Smart, funny, and fifteen years old,” said Wraith.

  “She was the runner-up in that show,” said Choi, slathering guacamole on his veggie burger.

  “She was,” said Wraith. “And she can sing the blues like no other. Think Norah Jones with some kick.”

  “I know just where to book her,” said Gregory. “But that’s not my job. I’ll get her signed. Mama?”

  “Raita. Was raised on the blues herself, knows the business, already predisposed to going indie since her label dropped her for getting pregnant with Violet,” said Wraith, a disapproval for the music company clear in her voice.

  “That’s just… nasty,” said Richland. “Let’s get a mama-daughter singing team going on.” She snagged another bag of chips.

  “Good idea,” said Gregory. “Let’s eat and do this. Bye, Gunny.”

  “Buh-bye,” she said, and hung up.

  “Great name for her,” said Bannon.

  “You have no idea,” said Gregory.

  Thandie escorted Raita and Violet to dinner with Gregory, and then there was Kris the choreographer, Rennie, and the entertainment lawyer and front for Nayan Music, Dani Everson. Sayan was the driver for the limo, and he kept an eye on the street. The girls were immediately in sync with each other, having seen each other’s shows.

  “So, they had the makeup person poking at my eyes six minutes before going on,” said Rennie. She was a tiny young woman, with long brown hair, a wide nose, and sharp little teeth. She looked like a cute ferret. “Never happy with my look.”

  “They kept changing mine,” said Violet. “First strong colors, then muted, then black. Couldn’t make up their minds.” Violet’s mother was Raita was from Bangalore, and it showed from the tilt of her eyes to the cinnamon of her skin, being exactly like her mother’s. Both mother and daughter carried themselves with a grace and a quiet courage that was beautiful to behold.

  Kris smiled at the byplay. “Saw lots of that when I was onstage,” she said.

  Raita was confused. “You’re not security?”

  Kris nodded. “Good guess, and sort of. No, I’m a choreographer. Rennie there can really move. Your daughter’s more of a torch singer who needs to own a stage. She does, mostly, just needs a bit more oomph.”

  Raita nodded. “A ding to the self-confidence, not coming in first. She was
a wreck for days.”

  “Chew you up, spit you out,” said Kris. “Then the follow up shows for a year that lead to… nothing.”

  “They led us here,” said Raita.

  “Yes,” said Gregory. “They did.” He smiled. “Profits are guppy-sized at first, then we go after bigger fish. Social marketing is key. We’ve got a great studio for both recording video and audio. It’s going to suck at first, hearing crickets, even with all the work. It’s quantity, it’s quality, it’s having fun. It’s being real, while still having a direction.”

  “We’re not dictators,” said Dani. “We’re enablers. Going to have to pick a style and a direction. But, the ladies over there will make the choices, and as long as they’re consistent and part of a natural evolution of style and maturity, it will be beautiful.”

  “They’re kids. Let them be that way for a while,” said Raita.

  Violet glanced over at her mother. “Neither one of us are kids, Mom,” she said. “We’re young women. But, we want to be fun. Happy.”

  “Joy,” said Rennie. “Without the lemon yellow.” The women laughed.

  Thandie and Sayan finished off their shift once they dropped off their charges; swing and grave shifts had the next part. They went to the Doghouse to meet the Soldier Pack for dinner. They had six tables pushed together, and they had so many appetizers down that the tables looked ready to collapse. Thandie and Sayan stole a table that was dirty, and a server ran over to pick up the tip and clean it off. Pomp grabbed a plate, put two tiny fish tacos on a plate, some taquitos drowned in cheese, sour cream, and salsa, wings in three different flavors, fries loaded with cheese, bacon, and sour cream, chicken bacon potato bites, jalapeno cheese poppers, and tiny strips of chicken. They got their plates, ordered two Cokes, and chilled out.

  Mike was gesturing with a fry. “Triesta and Robert’s suggestion for a Route 66 trip is in play. Anyone have an objection?”

  “Not from us,” said Thandie. “Love the concept.” She stuffed three fries in her mouth.

  “When?” asked Pomp. “Kind of hard for us all to take off at once.”

  “We can do it in segments,” said Tori. “Each group gets one.”

  “Since it’s a straight line, don’t see how that can work,” said Sayan. He ate two chicken pieces simultaneously.

  “There’s an LA part, can go to Huntington Beach. Can go from Vegas through Arizona into Missouri, all the way to Chicago and back down,” said Tori.

  “Hit up Branson, Missouri, see some shows,” said Pomp.

  “That wouldn’t take that long,” said Sayan. “Couple of days and back, with a stop in St. Louis, see the arch, go back down through Texas on the way back.”

  “We’ll have to talk to Wraith,” said Thandie. Everyone looked at her. “What? She’s not opposed to bike trips.”

  “We can’t all get off at once,” said Sayan. Thandie snorted, took a pic of everyone at the table, and texted the request to Wraith.

  They received a reply nearly immediately. “She sent three, ten-day time frames,” said Thandie, stunned. “Seems that she was expecting this. And we all can go.” A cheer went up from everyone, and they clinked glasses.

  Mike stood up. “I may suck at making bikes, but I love riding them. To us!”

  “Ooh-rah!” they clinked again.

  Triesta said, “Are we just bringing us, or are we bringing the boys?”

  “Nantan and Chayton’s boys?” asked Mike. “Good question. They’re great kids, no question. But…”

  “Just us,” said Sayan. “We’ve found new lives. Want to celebrate them. Don’t want to guard my speech.”

  “If I have a nightmare, don’t want to scare the fuck out of them,” said Mike. They all looked at him. “What? I live in the main house. Ryder likes me, doesn’t seem scared of me.” He grinned. “But then, she wakes up screaming, too.”

  “Let’s do a special trip with them,” said Robert. “One closer by.”

  “With hiking. They like hiking,” said Mike.

  “What about Damia?” asked Sayan.

  “She’s autistic, and doesn’t like being away from the ranch,” said Robert.

  “She’s very high functioning, then,” said Sayan. “I’ve heard her laugh, and she dotes on you, Robert.”

  “No kidding,” said Triesta. “That yellow wolf knows where he is at all times.”

  Robert looked sheepish. “We fell asleep. She only knocked on one door… hers. Where we were.” There was some whistling and back-slapping.

  Triesta laughed. “We told her we were dating. She said, ‘I know. Like Mom and Mama, and Henry and David, and Vu and Jake.’”

  “What?” said Mike. “I live in the same house, and I didn’t know. Vu and Jake? Really?”

  “What do you think? Old people quit having those… feelings?” said Triesta. “And, I knew. He looks at her out of the corner of his eyes, brings her jasmine tea, makes sure her chair is positioned correctly so the glare doesn’t harm her eyes while she’s looking at her tablet. He’s careful with her, thinks things through.”

  “Women notice these things,” said Robert. “I guessed, but I didn’t know.”

  Pomp smiled. “It gives me hope for my old age. Jake helps with the businesses, right?”

  “He helps run the Owl Pack website. Helps sell the stuff they make online —David’s beading, and now mine, Vu’s books, the sweaters, caps, hooked and woven rugs, all of it.” Robert smiled. “Man used to run a candy shop, years ago. Says art is a little harder, but the same principles apply. Great product, great price, easily accessible.”

  “Kind of like us,” said Pomp. They all laughed.

  Robert and Triesta went home, high on cola, appetizers, and friends who were doing really, really well. They stopped off at the paddock, where Damia was standing with Inola, and leaned on the fence. Grace came over, and they all looked out.

  “What we looking at?” asked Grace.

  “The light,” said Inola. “It is a hard white during the day, but then it softens to yellow, then the sky at the edges turns purple.”

  “Then the purple goes to indigo, which is a nearly black purple,” said Damia. All the adults fought not to do a double take.

  “Then the moon shines down, and a million stars come out,” said Robert.

  “That happens every night,” said Grace.

  “It does,” said Inola. “Do you ever stop and listen to the night? The wind skittering the sand, the voice of the owl in the treetop?” They listened. A faint “hoo-oo” could be heard.

  “His name is Einstein,” said Damia. “He’s small but smart.”

  “He’s gonna get bigger,” said Inola. “He’s a baby Great Horned Owl.” The “hoo-oo” came from the far right, from the other side of the fence. “There,” said Inola. She pointed. They could barely see the outline in the tree, and the pointed ears.

  “Wow,” said Grace. They watched, and eventually the owl took off into the darkening sky.

  “Mom and Mama want to see if you want to play cards with us,” said Grace. “We have popcorn and those little peanut butter candies you like. We know you can only stay for a game or two.”

  Damia turned toward her sister. “Babies are sleeping?”

  “Yes, the babies are sleeping,” said Grace.

  “Good,” she said. “After, we’ll see Orion. In the sky.”

  “Good,” said Grace. “Need astronomy for school anyway.”

  “Bring Hu?” asked Damia, striding off, making her sister keep up.

  “I’ll text her,” said Grace.

  “Good,” said Damia. The two girls went to the house. Inola nodded at the couple, then shadowed them to be sure the girls got home over the little hill safely.

  “That went well,” said Robert, breathing out.

  “Why is Grace so hesitant around our yellow wolf?” asked Triesta.

  “Ah,” said Robert. “You missed those bombs. I missed a lot of them too. Situation was building for a long time. Grace has ADD, and can
’t focus, and is really loud. She is smart, but she didn’t listen to what anyone was telling her about her behavior toward her sister. First, Damia moved out here, to the barn, breaking her mothers’ hearts. Then, gentle Hu moved out. She was tired of Grace being so controlling, dominating, and rude to everyone. Grace finally got the news that pushing people away can get really permanent, even within a family. And that her parents weren’t trying to control her, but actually trying to help her. She’s trying to make it back.”

  “Hmm,” said Triesta. “Gives me hope that my mother can change. Maybe she won’t, but maybe she will get it together. Maybe she will see how closed off she is.”

  “Do you talk to her?” asked Robert.

  “After her last listing about her angel boy’s wonder and beauty, no. I told her that she has two children, and praising one and running down the other is not a good life strategy. That it would help her to have some idea of who her children actually were, and that loving parents don’t judge their children, one way or the other. That went over like a lead balloon, but it is possible she actually listened. Or not.” She smiled up at Robert. “Then I got on a bike and chased you down. Shipped my stuff here without even knowing if you’d want me here.”

  “I want you,” he said. “I wanted you when you were running on the track team, hair flying behind you, jumping hurdles. I wanted you when you stood up to the tribal council and demanded more input from young ones. I wanted you when you got your aunt to speak at your graduation. You only had two friends, but you were loyal to them, protected them. You were so far above me, smart and strong. I was running around like a chicken, trying to get jobs to get to college. When Tarcher stole what little I had, I had to do the army thing.”