Compartmentalization (Part 12)

Part 12: Drum Solo

I’m laying in the back of the van, trying to get some sleep. The plan was that Max, Ben, and I had to make it look like we were on tour to complete our band disguise. We took a plane to an airport two hours away from Nouveau Porc and we are driving the rest of the way. I am skeptical whether or not the Smokers couldn’t make the connection between Max and Maxwell, no matter how we came in. I guess it doesn’t really matter, for if they really cared, they wouldn’t have hired them in the first place. There is a part of me that doesn’t want to go at all, that this was going to be a confrontation that I wasn’t ready for. I think about what Ben said, and how my destiny is going to ‘destroy me.’ It bothered me more than it should, but now I am just trying to concentrate on this ‘J’ person.

Maxwell mentioned J before he left, and I had been trying to sleep and try to drudge up some memories of him. I have had no luck, which is pretty odd considering that supposedly we were both business partners and good friends. There must have been a good reason I forgot him, and the more I think about it, the more it bothers me. Every time I try and think of J, it brings up a scene of me turning a key in a jet black car with me in a fancy suit. Sometimes I remember me thinking, “I won’t let you hurt her!” and other times I’m thinking, “I won’t let you get away with it!” I am unsure whether I am talking about this J guy, or I am talking about someone else, or maybe I am talking about myself. It seems so fueled by determination and fear that it just seems to be spewing everywhere.

I give up trying to sleep and instead try to listen to what Max and Ben are saying with my eyes closed,

“So, did Maxwell ever actually apologize?” Ben says pointedly.

“He did, in his own way,” Max said in a way that betrayed his normal boisterous manner.

“I thought we agreed that we wouldn’t work with him unless he apologized.”

“Well, I mean, he gave us a gig. That is a form of acceptance.

I don’t hear anything, but I can imagine Ben’s face.

“Don’t look at me like that Ben. I am driving here. I don’t do the whole ‘look and drive thing.’ Alright, look. Maxwell has issues, and he is a manipulative bastard who will say anything to get you back into your good graces. He knew that, so he didn’t say the bullshit he normally says, and he apologized with actions instead of words.”

“I don’t care about Maxwell, I care that you just let your brother walk all over you.”

“I would let a whole marching band march on me if that meant more paying gigs, Ben.”

There was a silence, and someone sighed. I couldn’t quite read the air and see how they were both doing without opening my eyes. I figured that I already faked sleeping for this long; I might as well get some shut eye until I need to get up.

“I know we are both tired Ben, but we got a show, so let’s focus on that,” Max says while trying to sound more enthusiastic than I think he was.

Another silence.

“I promise I’ll talk to him okay? Let’s get to cracking here,” Max changes his tone from honest, to the tone I am more familiar with, more excited and loud, “We agreed on doing two acoustic pieces and then we’ll go into the ‘jazz odyssey’ mode. I think we should do ‘Charitable Suicide” first.”

“This isn’t a coffee shop, Max. This is a dance club. We can’t play that song at the start,” Ben starts to sound more talkative than I ever heard him before.

“But it’s our hit! It is the only reason people know us!”

“We should start with ‘Party Song.’”

“Hmmmm, okay, okay. That could work. Man, I never thought that a song I wrote the lyrics for could start a set!”

“You wrote the chorus.”

“Yeah?”

“The chorus is ‘Party. Party. Song. Song.’”

“In the context of the song, it is pretty brilliant.”

“…Fair enough, it is the only song we have with a great hook.”

“’Charitable Suicide’ has a good one too, so does ‘The Witch I Knew’”

“I forgot about ‘Witch,’ let’s do that and then ‘Chronicles of Nirvana’”

“Wait, have we ever done ‘Party Song’ acoustic?”

“We did a couple weeks ago.”

“But that was rehearsal. How do you remember these things? Half the time I think you are barely conscious, but then you hit me with the most out of the blue things. Okay, so we’ll do ‘Party Song,’ and then ‘Witch I Knew,’ then we will jam out with Josh in the ‘Chronicles of Nirvana.’ Will that be enough?”

“’Chronicles of Nirvana’ is a 20 minute jazz piece. If anything, we will have to cut it short.”

“Hooooly crap, I know that song is the center piece of this whole plan, but you sure you don’t want to put in ‘Suicide?’ Our small fan base is not going to be pleased.”

“That song is about my mom’s suicide, I am not just going to play it to get popular.”

“Hey, you wrote it, not me. If you didn’t want to sing it, you shouldn’t have put it on the internet for 500,000 people to listen to.”

“We’ll play it if the crowd wants an encore, okay?”

“Deal. Now we gotta talk about our little jazz adventure. Josh, you awake?”

I was hoping to pretend I was asleep for the rest of the trip, but I realized that I was so completely out of my league to just try and wing it when I got there. I opened my eyes and sat up.

“I didn’t really sleep well,” I say while yawning, “But yeah, I’m awake.”

“Good,” Max says, not seeming to care about my attempts to sound exhausted, “You are going to be on stage, with the drum set, and you aren’t gonna play until the third song.”

“What do I play?”

“The third song is a concept jazz piece, and the concept is that we will play beautifully and you will sort of bang around making a lot of noise.”

“You are the ‘dragon of chaos,’ while me and Ben are the ‘Warriors of Myn,’” Ben says matter of factly.

“I thought we were going to cut out all that fantasy crap,” Max says as he turns towards him.

“If Led Zepplin can have fantasy, why can’t we?” Ben says innocently.

“Because Led Zepplinn has John Bonham. No offence Josh, you’re no John Bonham. Not by a long shot”

I didn’t take offence mostly because I didn’t know who that was. Though, I have found that ever since that car crash, any sort of enjoyment of music has been replaced by anxiety. I am not sure why, and the irony of then sneaking into this club as a band then hits me.

We finish talking about the music, and by the time Max and Ben get everything in order we reach the city. Nouveau Porc’s skyline is filled with tall white buildings. The city had every light on, and the light was almost blinding. As we got closer, the tall buildings blocked off the moon, and the lights of neon signs lit up every street corner. It looked surprisingly clean for a big city (though my memory of ‘big cities’ is also a little suspect), and the traffic all seemed to be going the same direction as we are. Before I knew it, we were approaching a smallish building (compared to the giant ones beside it) with tons of people, lights, and music. It seemed like the rest of the city was quiet because all the noise was gathered right here. I saw everything from heavily armored security looking people to people with barely any clothes on at all. Despite us being less than 300 meters from the club, it took us more than 30 minutes to get to any sort of parking situation. Eventually, we found a parking space.

“Hey, it’s not really rock and roll unless it’s late!” Max says excitedly as he exits the van, “Look at all these people! This might be the biggest crowd we ever get!”

“Dance club, multiple floors, Max,” Ben says warningly.

“Oh, you’re no fun. This is our big chance!” Max says as he opens the van and hands us equipment he thinks we can handle, “I’ll carry my guitar in, and get the guys there to help us with the rest of it, you guys carry that stuff, and try and set up as much us you can. I think Gwen managed to get in as well, so hopefully she can help us out too.”

I enter the Chamber club, and the backstage is dark. I can’t see too much, but the green lights on the ground seem to lead somewhere. I follow them and eventually end up in something that looks like a dressing room.

“Hey,” Some random big guy says to me, “You need to set up that stuff as soon as possible. We got a DJ up there now, but you guys were supposed to be up there 20 minutes ago!”

I thought of repeating Max’s line to him, but before I could, Gwen walks in with the same type uniform the big guy has on.

“Thanks, I’ll take care of this,” Gwen says, and the big guy walks away somewhat reluctantly.

“Where is the stage? We need to set up,” I say, honestly getting more excited to be in a real rock show.

“Everything is still going according to plan. The only real hiccup is some personal changes here and there. Josh, drink this water.”

“Uh, thanks,’ I say as Gwen forces the water on me. I drink it, but I can’t help but think how weird it is for Gwen to be so thoughtful so out of the blue.

“The stage is out this door and follow the lights on the right side. Or just follow the music. The DJ has one more song before his set is supposed to end.”

“Thanks again, Gwen. See you on stage!” I run out with my black box with a pedal connected to it. I wonder where the rest of the guys are, but then I reach the stage. I take a peak at the crowd and there seems to be tons of people, all decorated in the green hue of the club lights. The amount of flashing lasers and effects are memorizing me, until somebody pulls on my shirt.

“Back here!” Max whispers loud at me, “We are going to set up behind the curtain, and once the DJ finishes, the curtain will raise, and you just got to sit pretty until I signal to you, okay?”

I nod and try to help out as I see Ben and Max set up all the equipment. I can’t really do much, and I find myself just sitting on the drum stool thing, watching them figure out what things connect into what.

Suddenly, Ken rushes through the curtains and confronts Max.

“Max, we need to get Josh out of here. Now,” Ken says as he is trying to get back his breath.

“What are you talking about? We are about to perform here!” Max says in an annoyed whisper.

“Smoker knows he’s here, this whole operation is a bust. Maxwell is trying to break into his office now to distract…”

“My brothers WHAT?” Max interrupts and says breaking his loud whisper.

I suddenly get a rock of anxiety in my stomach and look at them, things seem like they are about to explode when a voice comes on the PA,

“Now, for our last song, a special request from your friend and mine, Mr. J. Smoker! This is dedicated to someone named…Josh, so all you Joshes get excited for the remix of the smash hit A_____!”

What erupted from the speakers then sounded like trash bags filled with pots and pans crashing together and ripping themselves apart. I tried covering my ears, but the sheer din that was filling my head was too much to bear. I could see the horrified expressions of everyone around me, and I wanted to run away. I run through the curtain, I knock over everything in my way, and I suddenly jump off the stage.

As I am flying through the air time begins to slow, and the noise goes from an unbearable dissonance to just a low hum. I hang in the air, and I see the people moving very slowly (though they look like they are running away) out of the way and I can see the floor. As I float towards the floor, the green hue begins to fade to black.

And I look to my left, and I see a little boy. Couldn’t have been older than five. I see the madness in his eyes, the sort of pure anger that only a child could have. He wants everything to fade away. He wants to be alone in his hate. He blames the world. He is like a demon, but powerless to do anything about it. I pity him. He thinks there

is no one in the world that loves him and that the world is after him. I can tell him it’s alright now, but before I can, two people take him away, a man and a woman.

And I look to my right, see Maxwell and I laying down on a blackness. I see the burning mass on top of us, but we seem to be perfectly fine. Maxwell looks terrified, as I look elated. I can see myself looking at him, trying to tell him that it is going to be fine, the 
long journey is finally over and I see myself reach out for his hand. I begin to realize

it’s not that I really want to reassure him, but that I want to prove to myself that this is

a reality, that this is happening, before I can, I fade away.

I look straight ahead and see that the floor is about to reach my face. Despite my slow speed, my face smashes into the floor as if I was going full speed. The pain that is hitting as I smash head first in the floor is almost too much, and I begin to lose consciousness. As the blackness engulfs me I hear a woman in the distance say, “…the pain of the mistake?”