The Musomancer, #1 by Bing Turkby

Author:Bing Turkby
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Bing Turkby
Published: 2020-09-13T00:00:00+00:00

18

4:30PM. The Burly Porter pub, Palmerston North.

Millie parked the Impala back at the venue. Her hands were shaking and her knees were weak, as Elvis Presley had once so succinctly put it. I guess I'm in shock, she thought. Or at the very least, I'm all shook up. It all seemed so unreal now. Surely that can't have just happened? Perhaps Darya had been wrong. Maybe getting out and about had been a bad idea, and she actually needed the familiar routine of sound-checking, talking crap with the boys, and adjusting mic stands to ground her in reality. She looked at her finger. There was no itch, but there was still the burn mark, and it was now crossed by a jagged purple scar. It was starting to get hard to deny that weird stuff was following her around.

Well, that burn mark was from a pedal that belonged to Glam Dave, so she would damn well demand some answers from him.

She slammed the car door and stomped into the venue. The usual pub smells assaulted her nostrils as she entered the front bar. Stale beer, with a faint touch of oil from the deep fry vat in the kitchen. Though she didn't exactly find the odours pleasant, at least they were part of her normal, stable life. She breathed in deeply, feeling the grease begin to coat the back of her throat. Heading to the gig venue in the back room, she could hear Phil's bass pumping through his amp. Tonight the bassist from the support band The Dorking Halls was allowing Phil to use his pride and joy, an Ampeg SVT Classic driving an 8x10 speaker cab. It was way, way, way too much power for the kind of gigs that The Argonauts did. But Phil was having a hell of a lot of fun using it anyway! Millie knew that if there was any more room in the Impala, Phil would have insisted on buying an amp like that and lugging it with them. Luckily for the rest of the band, the sound engineers, and their paying customers, there was only room for a single-15 combo. At 300 watts it was still well powerful enough for the Argonauts, but Millie knew that bass players always thought bigger was better.

She pulled her custom-moulded earplugs from the pouch she always kept on her. Ever since she had decided to try to make a living from music, she had treated her hearing as a tool of trade, just like her voice. She looked after both of them as carefully as Glam Dave looked after his guitar. Now, where was Glam Dave?

Ah, there he was, lurking at the shoulder of the sound engineer, his Asian features barely distinguishable in the murky bar. But Millie would know him anywhere from his posture and attitude. When he wasn't on a stage he was always slightly bent over to hide his height, as if he was apologising for being taller than other people. But he was a raging, strutting guitar hero when performing.

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