Excerpt: The Magic Key

Chapter Four

The black van pulled up behind the club. The large three headed dog painted on the side was the only identification. Michael, Mari and Jasmine got out and started hauling equipment inside. Dean was already inside helping to set up the stage. They were the only act that night, playing for two hours with a half hour break between sets. It was their big show, with a possible agent in the house.

Dean greeted them as they took the equipment from the van to the stage. It was the tedious process of getting it just right that took so long. By eight thirty, there were about fifty people in the club and they were ready for a sound check. Sound check went quickly. The sound manager in the club was really good, and he had them ready to go by nine.

“Ready?” Mikey mouthed at her.

She sat behind her drums, ready for something. Her fingers itched to move and she nodded, looking from Mikey to Dean. Dean’s blond hair hung down the middle of his back and when he nodded it fell forward in his face. He liked playing like that. He was ready. As the club’s screen began to rise, the lights on the dance floor down, Mikey raised his fist.

That was Jasmine’s cue to call time, and with the song list at her feet, she lifted her sticks and tapped it out. With a collective jump, the men began to play, and she beat out the rhythm and time of the song as she felt it course through her entire body. She didn’t have to hold back for children this time. This time, as it called to her, she let it go. The drums weren’t simply around her, they were her. They beat with her heart, the rhythm of her entire being. Her eyes rolled back in ecstasy as she moved from one song to the next, through their first set.

When she collapsed trembling at the end of the last song, she could only breathe and gently count herself down. Mikey and Dean were used to seeing her like this, but there had been shows where the manager called an ambulance for her. She took a deep breath and sat up. The screen had come down and they were on break.

“Hey let’s get back to the green room,” Mikey said as he approached. “A friend is bringing in this guy he knows, and guess what? He’s the guy who wrote The Magic Key. I am so getting an autograph.”

Jasmine started at that. “Hey, what’s this guy’s name?”

Mikey looked at her, “Hendrix.”

Dean smiled, “Sweet name. The book’s good then?”

“Hendrix came to me earlier today for a drum lesson.”

“Great,” Mikey turned full on her then. “What’s he like? Is he nice? Was he brilliant? Did he say anything about his book? You haven’t read it though, so you wouldn’t have asked.”

She put up a hand. “Stop.”

Dean was laughing. “He’s in love.”

Jasmine shook her head. “He’s not like that. However, he is cute.” She put her finger up like she was scolding Fluffy. “You behave yourself around him, or at his next lesson, I’ll tell him to leave you alone.”

Mikey shut up. “You’d tell him that?”

She glared at him. “Yes, and if you found out his lesson schedule, I would change it.”

Mikey pouted. “Fine. But I am still getting an autograph.”

“You may do that.”

The three of them got to the green room and pounced on the snacks and drinks the club had put in there for them, collapsing into the comfy chairs and couches. Jasmine felt like she was ready for a nap, but wanted to get back out on stage. She felt so alive when she played.

They men looked at the door, and Jasmine assumed there’d been a knock. Mikey jumped up, but she put a hand on his arm. “Be nice,” she said.

He squinted at her, sticking out his tongue. “Yes, mommy.”

Opening the door, Mikey peered around the edge. Jasmine couldn’t see what he was saying, but Dean was signing for her, his back to the door.

“Jerry, hey, glad you could make it. Is this him?” There was a pause as they came into the room.

Jasmine turned so she could see them all. There he was, Hendrix, the man from this afternoon. She felt the rush of attraction and she could sense the same in Mikey. Mikey looked at her, “This is my friend Jerry. We went to school together. Jerry brought a guest.”

Jerry waved, kicking his feet. “Hi, this is Hendrix. We met when we worked here together.”

Mikey was shocked. “You worked here?” He addressed Hendrix. “But you’re a writer, man. Do you still have to work?”

Hendrix smiled at his enthusiasm, nodded slightly to Jasmine. “Well, at this time, no, but there are the down times.”

Mikey grabbed his book from the table. “Would you sign it for me? Please?”
Hendrix took the book. It was well worn. He opened it to the title page. “Do you have a pen?”

Mikey already had one in his hand and gave it to him. “You are so brilliant.”

Jasmine rolled her eyes. Hendrix just smiled and wrote in the book, signing it and giving it back. “It’s always nice to meet a fan.”

Mikey opened the book and read the inscription. “To Michael, Always remember your key. Hendrix” He closed the book and hugged it. “Yes, thank you.” He pulled on a chain attached to his belt. “I have it with me now.”

Hendrix laughed. “So you do. So you do. Hey that was a great set you played out there,” he was looking at Jasmine as he said it. “Really good dance beats.” He moved through the room to her. “I want to play like that,” he whispered.

She flushed. She was looking at Hendrix, but she could see Mike and Dean exchanging glances behind him. She backed up. “If you keep up your lessons, someday you will.”

He shrugged, breaking the tension. “I doubt it. But I like watching you. You guys make a good team. Your chemistry is visible when you play.” He looked around the room at all of them. “I can’t wait to hear the next set.”

With that, they made their good-byes and left the band alone for the last few minutes of their break. Mikey slapped himself on the forehead. “I was such an idiot,” he said. “Look at my key,” he repeated, flopping around with loose joints. “I’m your biggest fan, Mister Hendrix, see?”

Dean laughed, and Jasmine shook her head. It could have gone a lot worse. The men looked up and she looked at Mike. “We have five minutes to the next set,” he said to her. “I’m gonna use the can. See you on stage.”

Dean finished the beer he had taken from the cooler. “I’m gonna head out there now. With the screen down, they won’t know I’m there, but I need to check my bass. Something didn’t feel right for the first set.”

Jasmine nodded. “I’m going to sit her for a few more minutes. I need the relaxation between these sets, and so far this break hasn’t been that relaxing.”
Dean nodded and headed out.

She sat alone on a couch, chewing on a handful of pretzels. The clock on the wall slowly ticked through one minute. She took a swig of her beer and lay back, closing her eyes. If she was late, one of them would come get her. Wondering if three minutes of sleep constituted a power nap, she willed herself to try it.

Something in her mind told her to open her eyes. There was one minute left of their break. Deciding she should probably head out, she slowly stood, stretched, fluffed her hair, and picked up her drum sticks. As she opened the door to leave, Hendrix was coming in.

“Oh, sorry,” he said to her. “I thought you were all out there already.”

“Well, I’m on my way. Why are you coming in here?” She was curious, not alarmed. There was nothing in the room worth taking, unless he wanted Mike’s copy of his book. Just in case, she picked it up.

He seemed to think before answering. “There’s something here,” he finally said.

She was unconvinced. “What? You don’t want this?” She held up the battered copy of Mikey’s book.

Hendrix seemed to relax a bit, and laughed. Then he got very serious. “No. Something sinister.” He looked beyond her and pointed. “There.”

She turned and looked all she saw was the closet in the corner. “I don’t see anything.”

He shook his head, “You need to get out there. Your set is starting.”

Torn, Jasmine looked out the door to the hallway and back at the closet. “I know, but this is weird, you being here when we’re not.”

Hendrix stepped forward, but then stopped. “You’re right. I’ll wait until you guys are done for the night before I investigate.” He turned and went out into the hallway.

She followed him and closed the door behind her. She still had Mike’s book and she tucked it into her sock. He turned to her with a questioning look on his face. “What?” she frowned at him.

He opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again. “Didn’t you hear me?” he finally asked.

“No,” she said shortly. “Look at me when you speak to me, remember?”

“That applies to outside of lessons too?”

“It applies everywhere,” she said, getting defensive. “Because I can’t hear you. Period.” She walked around him. He said he would wait until they were done. That would have to be good enough. Leaving him standing in the middle of the hallway, she walked briskly toward the stage.

***

Hendrix watched her go, contemplating going through the door anyway. He had felt the strong presence in the room when Jerry had taken him back, but the implications of it were still unknown. It might just be paranoia. How long had he been here now? “Ten years,” he whispered, shaking his head. Maybe he should leave it and just go somewhere else.

The sound of music started up again and he listened back stage for a moment before turning to go back to the dance floor. Jerry was at the bar talking to a friend and Hendrix joined them. “Hey, how late did you say the show went?” he shouted over the volume.

Jerry turned to him and thought a moment. “I think they play three sets, so there’s a while left yet. Why? Getting tired?” He laughed.

Hendrix smiled, “No, just wondering.”

“You like that drummer, yea,” Jerry leaned in to be heard.

“Well,” he felt the heat rise in his collar. He did like her, but that wasn’t why he wanted this night to be over. “Actually, I think there might be something malevolent in their dressing room and I want to investigate it.”

Jerry sat back and looked at the bartender. “What?”

Hendrix laughed to cover his unease. “Just kidding. I’m just, I don’t know.”

“Dude you need to relax.” Jerry slapped his back and handed him a bottle of beer. “You’re agent bugging you for the next one?”

“That’s it,” he shrugged, taking the way out. Sipping the beer, he looked toward the stage. Jasmine was enthralling to watch. She threw herself completely into her drums, and when she was the only one playing, even her band mates watched.

A thought came to his mind and he frowned. It couldn’t be that bad, he thought. But I’ve been here ten years, he though back. He shrugged and finished the beer too quickly. Putting the glass on the bar he turned to Jerry again. “I think I need to dance, shake it off,” he was already beginning to feel the effects of the beer.

Jerry nodded handing him another beer. “Let’s go, my friend, the dance floor awaits.” He grabbed a bottle for himself and tugged at Hendrix’s sleeve.

Together, they wandered to the middle of the thick group. People were bouncing, nodding, waving arms, knocking into each other. Jerry found a group of three women and started dancing with them, beckoning to Hendrix. He took a swig of his beer and shrugged, joining the group.

The dancing was exhilarating, and the effects of the second beer were flowing through his body. He felt very liquid and remembered why he didn’t usually drink. When he worked at the bar, the other bartenders used to rib him about not drinking when he wasn’t working. They even teased him about not drinking a little while he was working.

Hendrix smiled at the woman who had made her way through the three to him. She shimmied around him, ran her hands over his sides, turned her head this way and that. It was very sensual, and he felt drawn to her, but when she looked up at him, all he saw was Jasmine. He looked up at the stage. She was still in ecstasy behind her drums. The woman in front of him bit her lip and tossed her hair. He backed up a bit, finished his beer, and tried not to dance so close.

At the end of the set, Jerry had his arms around one of the women and was leading her to the bar. The woman who had danced with Hendrix tried to coax him to the bar, but he shook his head. He really didn’t need any more alcohol in his system, and he wanted to see Jasmine again, before their last set.

He made his way to the door leading backstage. The bouncer there was an acquaintance friend and he smiled as Hendrix walked through. He was surprised at how many of the employees here were here when he worked for the place. That was five years ago. It was like they were making it a career. He was suddenly glad he had quit when he had.

A sudden sense of foreboding came over him as he entered the turn by the green room. The key around his neck began to throb in time with his heart beat. “What is going on,” he whispered to himself.

The door to the green room opened and Jasmine came out. She wasn’t looking down the hallway. Instead she was still laughing at something from inside the room, and she bumped into him as she turned.

“Oh,” she said, startled into sobriety. “The show isn’t over yet, if that’s what you’re back here for.”

He shook his head. The foreboding was becoming near tangible, but he took a deep breath and reached for her. Covering his fear, he leaned close and kissed her. At first, she pulled back, unease tense in her muscles, but as he held her, she relaxed, leaned into him, and kissed him back.

That was almost a shock. He had seen her reaction to him at his lesson, but he hadn’t realized how much those feelings were real. She ran her fingers up his back and lingered a bit longer than he had intended. It was nice. He pulled back slowly as she ran her fingers through his hair. She was smiling, eyes closed as he looked at her.

“You’re so beautiful,” he said.

There was no response other than her eyes slowly opening. He put his hand to her face, touching her soft skin. It was slightly sticky from sweat, but knowing why she’d been sweating made it enticing rather than repulsive.

“I’m sorry,” she said, “I need to use the bathroom.”

The moment was ruined. He almost laughed, but holding it in, he stepped aside and let her pass. Maybe he’d been wrong; perhaps she didn’t feel the way he thought she did. He watched her sway down the hall to her inner rhythm. “I love you,” he called after her. It was only to see what she’d say.

“No dice,” said a voice behind him.

“What?” he turned, and the sense of foreboding returned as though he had been hit by a brick.

Dean was standing in the doorway. “She can’t hear you, dude.” He did something with his hands. “Awesome drummer, but no ears, isn’t that the coolest?”

It was obvious Dean was drunk. He still played well, like he could find that zone between inebriation and sobriety where music lived and stay there. Hendrix had no idea what he meant. He nodded in agreement, not sure what he was supposed to say.

As he stood in the hall, Mike and Dean both made their way out of the room toward the stage, paying him no more attention. He quietly slipped into the dressing room. The far corner looked darker than the rest of the room and Hendrix slowly approached it. “What’s hiding back there?” he mused.

The door of the room opened again and he jumped as it closed. When he turned, Jasmine was standing there, arms folded. “Weren’t we here once already?” she asked. There was no hint of humor in her voice.

“Don’t you feel it?” he glanced behind him.

She walked to him so fast it startled him. Taking his face in her hands, she made deliberate eye contact. “Look at me when you talk to me,” she said slowly. “Do I need to spell it out?”

“I think so,” he said confused. Suddenly his mind put it together, “Wait, you’re deaf.”

She reddened. “Yes. Unless you know sign, I need to see your lips to read them. Got it?”

He felt embarrassed. “I’m sorry,” he sighed. “I should have got it sooner.”

“You are one of the more dense heads I’ve spoken too,” she looked back at the corner. “Aren’t you going to look?”

“Isn’t your break over?”

She shook her head. “The guys wanted to go outside for some fresh air,” she rolled her eyes, miming smoking. “There’s still a few minutes. Look if you want to. I’m sure it’s just the closet.”

He looked back again. The darkness was looming, goading him forward, daring him to check. With trepidation, he stepped to closet and tried the knob. It was locked. He jumped at a touch on his shoulder.

“What is it?” Jasmine stood behind him.

He turned to her. “It’s locked.”

“What? It shouldn’t be.” She reached around him and tried the door. “Our stuff is in there and we didn’t get a key.” She shrugged and turned away. “Maybe Ken came in and locked it for us. I’ll get the key.”

This time, he reached out to her. “Wait,” he said when she turned. He pulled out his key.

“You have the key?”

“No,” he shook his head. “This is a special key. The inspiration for my book.”

She frowned. “Okay, I didn’t read your book, but last I checked, fiction mirrored reality, not the other way around.”

He put the key in the lock and turned. “Well, if you stick around me, you’ll find I’m a little different.” The door opened.

A sudden whoosh of air breezed through the room and Hendrix closed his eyes. What did I just let out, he wondered. The closet was too dark to see into and he stepped back.

Jasmine must not have felt the breeze. She reached around him to feel the wall of the closet for a switch. “No switch,” she declared after a moment. “Pull string? I don’t remember now.” She started to enter the closet.

Hendrix put a hand on her shoulder, but she kept going and he followed her. There was no pull string hanging in front of them, no clothes or boxes around them. He squinted, trying to see what was there.

“Where are we,” there was a hint of panic in her voice.

Knowing she wouldn’t be able to see him anyway, he only squeezed her shoulder to let her know he was still there. He reached around her, trying to feel for the back of the closet. It wasn’t there, but a light suddenly appeared ahead of them and he turned her toward it.

“I’m going to be late for my last set,” she said, the panic more evident in her voice now.

The light was not the door they had come through. Instead, it was a large room, white light making the walls gleam. There was a large glass door at the other end of the room, but he turned back to the darkness, hoping to see where they had come from.
She shook her head, looking all around the room. “I have to get back,” she turned back to the darkness, hesitated a moment, and rushed back into it. “I’m going to be late,” she said as she ran. “I have to get back.”

He started to call after her, realized it wouldn’t do any good, and ran to catch up.