#asdfasdfa

Andrew gets up from the table and before Kevin can reach out to stop him, Andrew speaks up, “I’m getting us drinks. There’s no way in hell I am going to listen to a know nothing kid without alcohol in my system.” Andrew holds out his palm towards Kevin, and Kevin reaches into his pockets to pull out several bills to hand over to Andrew. All the while muttering mix of cursed in both French and English. He turns his attention to the kid who is awkwardly standing at the center of the stage with a guitar in his hand. “Hurry the fuck back,” Kevin snaps without so much at glancing back at Andrew. A few minutes later Andrew returns with a tray full of drinks, and proceeds to arrange them in an order to his liking. Andrew glances at the stage and eyes the kid on stage up and down. He seemed abysmally boring with his black hair and dull brown eyes and shitty ragged clothes but despite it all the kid he had to admit—he was cute. Allison would be able to clean up the kid passably. Even with that black hair and those dull brown eyes, his face proved to be well—well something that he wouldn’t mind looking at for a while—at least if the kid proved to be a shitty singer his face might make it tolerable. Maybe. The lights dimmed on stage and the host came out on stage. He heard Kevin’s sigh and mutter of, “Fucking finally.” “Hey everyone, thanks for coming out to Millport. Tonight, we have Neil Josten. It’s his last night here, let’s give him a round of applause.” There was a small applause, more out of politeness than anything. Andrew was sure no one came to Millport to hear Josten play, except Kevin (and Andrew because he had no choice really.) “Thank you, Hernandez,” Neil muttered into his microphone. Andrew noticed how Neil avoided looking at the audience and instead how his gaze kept  turning to all the exits in the club. Looking at him one might think stage fright, nothing but a poor scared kid on the stage.  But Neil’s gaze was too focused, an evaluating one that was figuring out the best method of escape if anything went wrong. Well, wasn’t that interesting. Andrew downed a shot and towards the stage. The strumming of Neil’s guitar broke through the stillness of the club.  It sounded too soft in contrast to his raw and desperate voice as he stared singing. Fire and smoke Nothing but bones I watched you disappear into the sand beneath the ocean waves The world keeps turning even though your gone like everything is the same except its not and nothing is fair in this lifetime

Next to Andrew, Kevin taps a soft beat. Andrew rolls his eyes, already knowing how this night is going to end. He also knows better than to think Kevin was genuinely enjoying this kid’s performance, no. He was thinking what he could do to add to it to improve it—to make the song a hit. Truly, that’s what Kevin was listening to right now.

Andrew can’t even begin to imagine what Kevin is seeing right now. He’s boring. With mediocre, if not below mediocre guitar playing skills. His voice has potential but it needs work. people whisper all around me that the world is cruel but I know better it’s not the world that’s cruel but the people living in it

Andrew hears the echoes of brokenness in his voice and pushes the thought away. Fuck this kid. And can you help me from beyond the grave and save me till the last of days because I can’t do this without you Andrew takes another shot. He glances at Kevin, who’s nodding in approval, and there’s a certain flicker of light in his eyes. No doubt thinking how far the kid could possibly make it. Sometimes Andrew wonders if Kevin is on drugs. And I can only run so far without you at my back telling me not to stop so can you help me from beyond the grave and save me till the last of days it won’t be long now

There’s a few moments of silence before there’s a breakout of applause from the crowd. A louder one then from his initial introduction. Neither Kevin nor Andrew clap. They both however reach over to down a shot from the tray. Neil smiles and he finally looks to scan the crowd, scanning from table to table until his gaze settles on Kevin’s and Andrews table. Andrew leans in hoping to catch the kid’s gaze but his gaze turns to Kevin and quickly away to another table and then to the exits. The kid’s face smooths out to a blank mask, Andrew knows all about that trick too well. Neil sets the guitar down and walks over to Hernandez to whisper something. He nearly sprints backstage somewhere after. Oh. Andrew gets up quickly rushing toward a door on the bar floor that he hopes leads backstage. As he does, he hears muffled voices and Kevin calling him to come back and the host announcing that unfortunately Neil is feeling unwell and has to leave. Andrew ignores them all in favor of running down the corridor, past several musical instruments and doesn’t think twice about grabbing a guitar. There’s a hall connecting to the corridor he’s running through and out of pure instinct swings the guitar in the direction of the hall. It hits the wall first, shattering it to pieces but it also makes contact with someone, who’s now lying on the floor. Also lying on the floor seems to be a large guitar case and a duffel bag that the kid had been carrying. He looks down at the kid whose staring at him with blatant disbelief and anger. Lots and lots of anger. Andrew grins and raises two fingers to his forehead in mock salute, “Better luck next time.” “Andrew Joseph Minyard, this is why we can’t have nice things, ” an angry voice is heard down the hall from where Neil came from.  Andrew doesn’t bother looking up and instead turns his attention towards his hands, as if he might have gotten a scratch on them.  He looks back at Neil whose still lying on the floor, holding his arms around his stomach.  Andrew arches an eyebrow in disbelief that he actually hit him that hard. The wall took most of the hit. The kid scowls at him in return as if reading his mind. “I’ll buy them a new guitar, that one was shit anyways,” he replies as he finally looks up at an approaching Wymack with Hernandez trailing close behind. “I meant the kid, Andrew.” “That barely connected with him, if he can’t take a hit then he really shouldn’t be in this business.” “Jesus Christ, Andrew. This is the music industry not a damn mafia.” Andrew shrugs, turning away from Wymack and Hernandez and comes face to face with an angry Kevin. Hernandez kneels and offers a  hand to Neil, “Are you okay, kid?” Neil sits up but doesn’t take his hand. Instead he reaches for his guitar case. He inspects the outside for any damage but doesn’t open it.  He looks up to glare at all the people surrounding him. Andrew can’t help think of a cornered animal, ready to lash out any given moment. He’s all too familiar with the look. “I’m David Wymack, owner of the Foxhole Records. And I’d like to sign you to our label.” Fear flashes in Neil’s eyes as he looks at Wymack while he speaks but it’s masked by blankness soon enough. He laughs, it’s a dark and ugly thing. He struggles to his feet, wrapping an arm around his stomach. He leans back against the wall, trying to steady himself. He leans the guitar case against the wall as well. “Not interested. Here’s a tip though: You really might want  to consider how you go about recruiting people. Someone might think you’re trying to kill them not sign them,” he laughs again. Andrew thinks the kid might be unhinged. “You’ll be working with me. I’m signing you,” Kevin said at last, pushing his way past Andrew and in front of Neil. Neil tensed for a moment, and seemed to flatten himself up against the wall at his approach. “No. No, I’m not good enough to play on the same stage as you.” Neil glances off to the side and straightens himself. He hugs his duffel bag to his stomach when Andrew leans up against the wall next to him. Neil flinches at his approach. “No, quite frankly you play like shit. But you have enough potential and we need to sign someone as soon as possible.” Neil rolls his eyes, “Sounds more like your problem not mine. I’m not interested, okay? Not interested playing for a third rate label and under a has been at that. So, if you excuse me I really need to  be going.” Andrew wants to laugh in less than two minutes he had gone from praising to downright scorn. Interesting. Kevin scowls, “What the fuck did you call me?” “Oh, what a change in tune. Look at that Kevin, someone’s not a fan,” Andrew chimes in. Kevin turns his scowl towards Andrew. Neil makes to move past Andrew, but Andrew is quicker and shoves him up against the wall. “Andrew!” both Kevin and Wymack yell out. They step towards Andrew to get him off Neil but before they can even reach him, Neil breaks Andrew’s hold when he grips his armbands and shoves Andrew off him with a kick to the stomach, knocking him into Kevin. And before Andrew can even think to reach him, Neil has reached for his guitar case and disappears around the corner of the hall. “I am not running after him,” Andrew huffs out. He gives Kevin a quick once over, making sure he is unharmed. He’s clutches one of his arm bands and turns to stare down the direction Neil ran off. “It’s your fault that he ran,” Kevin accuses, moving into Andrew’s  space. It’s only then that Kevin, notices blood dripping down Andrew’s hand. “Andrew, what the fuck? Is that your blood? Are you okay?” Kevin reaches for Andrew’s hand but gets a warning in the form of a glare and a low growl. “He was running away the minute he got off that stage. It’s because of me that you even got to talk to him. Don’t blame me for your shitty persuasion skills, Day.” Andrew steps several feet away from Kevin and Wymack, leaning up against the wall. He ignores his bloody hand in favor of taking out a smoke. “Christ, Andrew, this is not the time for your damn nicotine fix. Take care of that hand. Then we’re going back to the hotel.” Wymack takes a step towards Andrew but is careful to keep his distance. “Oh, but I think it’s the perfect time,” Andrew drawls. “There’s a bathroom down the a few doors down,” Hernandez speaks up, looking  and sounding horrified at the whole situation. Andrew turns to look at him as Hernandez points the way to the bathroom. Andrew brushes past all of them and hears someone follow at his heels. “Andrew, we need him. We need him now. If not then Riko—Riko…he’s going to—he’s—Andrew—“ Andrew spins around to face Kevin, “Quiet Day,” he leans into Kevin and places his non-bloodied hand on to his shoulder, “You trust me don’t you?” Kevin nods, “You’re making it real fucking hard right now.” “He’ll be ready to sign before the morning if he’s not a threat,” Andrew continues down the hall to the bathroom.

Kevin widens his eyes in disbelief, “Threat? He’s just a homeless kid!” Andrew  makes a shooing motion. “Go find out as much information you can about him from Hernandez. He might know where he’s staying at,” Andrew stops outside the bathroom. “Let me help you, Andrew.” Andrew puts out his cigarette against the door, “Leave me the fuck alone, Kevin. Make yourself useful and get us some information, will you?”