No More Heroes by unknow

Author:unknow
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Horror, Science Fiction, Fantasy
Publisher: PS Publishing
Published: 2022-07-21T00:00:00+00:00

The Sound of Smoke

Neil Williamson

In memory of Jon Lord (1941–2012)

DAVE’S FINGERS SWEEP the beast’s upper manual in a fireball glissando that ends on a pure-and-dirty high C. He allows it to burn for a beat, enjoying the swirling churn of the rotating horn in the speaker cabinet before dancing back down in an achromatic tumble and sweeping off again.

Fucking lovely.

Bringing both hands to the keys now, he chops out the staccato growl of an all-time favourite riff. Glories in the noise that fills the room.

The unmistakeable sound of smoke.

At least...almost. The tone’s not quite right. It’s never quite right.

“You all right, love?” Debs poked her head round the door. “Brought you a coffee.”

“Thanks, love...No, careful!” She’d been about to pass it right over the top of his beloved Hammond. “Fuck’s sake, how many times? Go around.”

“Sorry.” She squeezes along the wall of their suburban semi’s back room, reaching between the instrument itself and one of the Leslie 147s to pass it through.

“Thanks.” The coffee, a new blend she’s started buying, has a bitter over-roasted aroma. They’re on the cheaper stuff because money has been tight recently. At least it’s in his favourite mug, the one that says: Pull Out All The Stops under an image of the C3’s iconic ivory and black drawbars. Dave takes a long sip and thinks about the organ sound again. What’s missing?

“Oh, by the way,” Debs says as she extricates herself. “I just had a call back from Carlito’s. They had a cancellation and can fit us in for tomorrow after all.”

“Tomorrow?”

“Your birthday?” She flashes him that smile. The one that dazzled him, back in the day. Way back now but it’s still a killer.

He strokes the coffee-steam out of his moustache, thinking maybe it’s that Leslie after all. He never was convinced it had all original parts like the seller claimed. He’ll switch to the other one. Or pair them again. Or maybe go back to the Marshall for a bit. “Oh. Yeah, cool.”

“Dave.”

“What?”

“You haven’t forgotten. You’re not rehearsing with the Cheaps or anything?”

Dave looks up. “No, course not. Carlito’s. Looking forward to it.” He offers her his best I’m on it, babe grin in return. He’s definitely not rehearsing, but she doesn’t need to know that’s only because Brian WhatsApped last night to cancel. Family reasons again. Honestly, if that fella didn’t have a supernatural vocal range, there’d be questions about his commitment.

“Good, me too.” Debs lingers at the door. Nervously finger-combing her flame-dyed hair, she looks around the room and her smile slips.

Dave knows what’s coming.

“So...the shed’s finished, yeah?”

“Studio, mate.”

“The studio, yeah. It’s finished? It’s just...Jenny and Ken...I mean, you know they’re fans, but the noi—”

“The music.”

“Yeah, the music. We promised the neighbours, didn’t we, that we’d move it all out into the studio? Once it was finished.”

“Yeah, no, absolutely,” Dave says, trying to keep the annoyance out of his voice. “There’s only the last of the soundproofing to go,” he white-fibs. “I’ll get onto it over the weekend.”

“Well, not tomorrow. Not on your birthday.

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