Landed Wings

chapter 35: SKYVIEW



ASHLYNN

When we get to Skyview, I realize it’s nothing like I expected. It isn’t large or grand. It’s more was more like a large lounge, which isn’t very big at all.

“I thought it would be bigger than this.”

“There are only twenty VWP members coming, if Cocoa comes.”

“Only twenty?”

“Well, only twenty that matter.”

“Oh.”

At least this place has low, dim lights, a bar on the right side of the room, and more couches than chairs. I’ll be able to see everyone including Frost Galied. That’s good, I’ll make sure to sing in his direction. We walk towards the back, behind the tiny stage. There is someone fumbling around and cursing.

“Hello?”

I say it softly, I don’t want to disturb whoever is working.

Also, my stomach is in knots. I’m scared.

“What?!”

A voice, tinged with an accent, growls out of the darkness.

“Sir…it’s As…Agate. Agate Croft. I’m performing tonight.”

I look back at Mocha and smile. His last name is Croft, which was why I had chosen it. A man came out of the darkness. He is at least a hundred, and his once black wings are liberally sprinkled with gray.

“Do you pronounce that “Ah-gate?”

Can’t he hear me?

“No, it’s pronounced Uh-gay-tee.”

“Alright, alright, come here with me. Now, we have a

catalogue of all the songs ever known, and the instrumentalists with them. Oh, and my name is Slate. I manage Skyview.”

“There’s not going to be a live band?”

“Well, since we didn’t hire one…no. Have you ever worked with this type of equipment?”

“No…always with a live band.”

Slate stares at me incredulously and then waves his hand to the side, dismissing the problem.

“Well, you’ll just have to get used to it Princess.”

Mocha grins at me, but I am fuming. What is it with everyone calling me Princess?

“Come here and I’ll show you how to use it.”

In front of him is a small speaking platform, about four feet high. It is black, like melted lava that had hardened. It looks new - shiny and sleek. Slate waves his hand over the top of the platform and it turns on. The screen is white when turned on and there is a partial list of the songs that are offered. I say partial because the total song count at the bottom of the screen was greater than a billion. There is a search box in the upper right hand corner.

“Just click here in the search and say whatever song it is. Be as descriptive as possible. If not, you’re going to end up with thousands of songs that you have to sift through. Let’s give it a try.”

He presses the search bar and gestures for me to say a song. The first song that pops in my head is a song by D K Maxwell.

“The Boardwalk by D K Maxwell – Instrumental.”

Slate gave me an approving nod. The screen says “song located” and then “Add to Playlist?”

“Now for this part, you have to click yes. It will say “name of playlist” and you click new. After that, say any name you want out loud. After you’ve made it, call me. How many songs are you planning on singing?”

“Fifteen to twenty.”

“That’s a good amount. I’d go with twenty, and variety, just in case the audience doesn’t like the style you are currently in.”

“They’re going to have to like it because I’m singing what I’m singing.”

Slate laughs out loud and his slightly overweight belly jiggles with it.

“If you want to get anywhere with this Princess, you’ll have to learn it’s not about you at all. It’s about them – your audience – in that hour and a half.”

Slate walks away, shaking his head and laughing.

“Why does he keep calling me that?”

“Don’t be mad…Princess. I’m sure it’s only used as a term of endearment. Don’t yell at me. You have to preserve your voice. Anyway, you should make your playlist now so you’ll have time to practice.”

He smiles and gives me a peck.

“Good luck.”

“Wait, where are you going?”

“I need to scout out the territory. Know where all the

entrances and exits are, stuff like that.”

“You didn’t do it before today? I thought you had plans or something to study.”

“This isn’t a spy movie Princess. It doesn’t actually work like that. Plus, our organization is small, you know that.”

“I know it’s not a spy movie, but I still don’t see why you didn’t have anything to work with.”

“Look who’s talking about planning – you don’t even have a playlist. Wait – don’t get mad, that’s why we came early. You do your part and let me do mine.”

He’s right, I have to finish putting together my playlist. By the time I am done, I have about seventeen songs. Seventeen is enough. I don’t see Mocha, so I warm up my voice. I only have half an hour until show time.

“Slate?”

I look around backstage for him and find him working with the lights.

“When will I be miked? Also, is there water anywhere?”

“Yeah, the water’s in the back. After you get it, you’ll be miked.”

I get the water and came back. Slate is handling bunches of wires that I assume I am supposed to put on. He gives me the face mike first. Microphones nowadays are free standing, so I only have the little part that is actually put on my dress. He leans in to “check” the mike and make sure it was in place, but when he does he says, without a trace of his former accent.

“Now, I have to mike the rest of you so you can

perform…well tonight. There will be a mike on your hand. Try not to put it up to your mouth because these

microphones are sensitive. We need to be able to hear your conversation with Frost.”

During this whole speech, I am standing as still as possible while he fiddles with the microphone on my face, and secretly places others on. I am very surprised. Aging Slate is one of us.

“That should be good now.”

His accent is back and he winks at me. Slate walks away, whistling. I look around for Mocha again. I want to see if he knows about this. What am I thinking, of course he does. Mocha knows everything. It’s fifteen minutes till show time and people are starting to come in. I peek behind the curtain. There were a few that I recognize, but that’s it. There are about ten so far and they are all dressed glamorously. They all sit on the couch and waiters brought them drinks. I stop looking into the audience just as the door open to admit two new people. I would take no pleasure in performing tonight.

OBSIDIAN



When we arrive, I show my nametag to the doorman and he lets Ivory and I in. There are about ten people already there, but no sign of Raven. I hadn’t really expected to see her at the lounge, but still, I hoped. I see a flash behind the curtains on the stage. It looks like a flash of red. Disappointment comes over me again. It couldn’t have been Raven. The other members of the VWP were lounging on couches, drinking. I look at Ivory. We look so out of place here. We are definitely the only teenagers.

“We should sit down.”

Now that we were actually here, the nervousness and the doubts came back. We sit down on the farthest couch from the others and said nothing for a few moments. No one is paying attention to us, which is surprising since we look so different.

“Did you bring the other stuff? The handcuffs and the

blindfold?”

“No. I decided I wouldn’t need them. I don’t need them. I know Ash, and I know she’ll do anything if I tell her Raven is hurt.”

“Do you really know Ash? Do you really know if she’ll come?”

“Of course Ash will come, how can you even ask that Ivory? She’s completely loyal to us - it’s one of the reasons I fell for her. Because she reminds me of a warrior queen, one who would sacrifice herself for what’s right. I know it sounds stupid, but that’s how I see her.”

Ivory is silent for a moment, then she speaks.

“A warrior princess…lucky Ash. Next thing you’ll start telling me Ash is the one whose helped you be strong enough to be here. Or that only she can help you find your sister. How pathetic. I hope she doesn’t disappoint you. If she has to choose between herself and Raven…well, self-preservation is a strong feeling.”

“What do you have against her, Ivory? I thought you two were best friends.”

“Just because we’re best friends doesn’t mean I have to

pretend she’s perfect, or that our relationship is perfect. What you don’t understand is that in every best friend relationship each person plays a role – that of the shadowed or that of the shadower. Ash can’t help being the tall, pretty one with black wings. She can’t help her restless nature that so many find attractive. She can’t help the way she looks when she walks, or speaks with profound thoughts in her head. She can’t help her beautiful voice. The only blemish on Ash’s life is probably her mother. Now me, I am the shadowed -there only to bask in Ash’s sunlight. I am the afterthought. Our lunch conversations revolve around Ash. Did you ever notice that? We all knew about her family, and her life, but we don’t know about each others. No one asked how anyone was; only Ash got asked. I hardly know about your life, Obsidian, but I know a ton about Ash’s. Being shadowed is not fun. Ash doesn’t mean to do it; I understand, and I don’t blame her. But I’m not going to sit here with you while you try to keep me in her shadow. Since Ash has been gone, I realize I’m done with that. I’m ready to be my own person now.”

It was like I was meeting Ivory for the first time. She’s right, I don’t know anything about her. I never thought about how anyone else felt around Ash. Ash was the sun and we all revolved around her. It seemed normal and no one minded. Or, no one but Ivory. It’s time to change that.

“So, Miss Ivory, what are your parents like?”

I am rewarded with the most beautiful smile, I can’t believe it took me this long to notice.