#Dont blame ya for nerves Penn

[ratcatcher0325]

Nobody’s Fool (Chapter #30)

Chapter #30. Who are these strange visitors that crash the band’s rehearsal??

Previous: Chapter #29

Next: Chapter #31

CW: Adult language, dehumanization

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NOBODY’S FOOL

Chapter #30: Table’s all Set 

Word Count: 1271 Read Time: Approx. 10 mins

[Penn’s POV]

We ran through sound check. The venue was stunning, the acoustics perfect. It was incredible to me how much had changed in such a short amount of time. I had learned so much about the gear, how to get the settings just right, all from Travis. I’d said it before and it bore repeating: Thank god for Travis. He had been such an incredible support to me these last few weeks. He felt like a brother to me. It was amazing that after a few months of this life, I could say that wholeheartedly about a bear of a human being. I loved that someone so muscular, imposing, and intimidating in stature could be so sensitive and gentle with someone like me.

We played and while the music rang in all our ears, I didn’t have to push myself to crack a smile. I loved making music. I shuddered to think what I would do without it. As the final strum of one of my new songs buzzed in the air, we heard applause. It sounded like three or four people from a distance away in the audience. We all exchanged glances with each other wondering if any of us had an idea of who they were. Our collective stares of confusion confirmed that all four of us were blindsided.

Travis shaded his eyes from the bright lights of the stage, “Uh, how can we help you?” I peered through the hazy light threatening to blind me. They were hard to make out but I could see three figures. Two sporting white hair, one tall and gangly, the other rotund. They flanked a third… familiar… Sam. Fuck me.

Sam was smiling, having just finished applauding. “Very good work gentlemen… and lady! Penn-“ I gritted my teeth hearing my name come out of his mouth, “I know we didn’t get off to the best start… so I thought I’d make it up to you.” What the fuck was he talking about? I deprived him of the satisfaction of a response. He cleared his throat. He was doing that performance thing I had seen him do with Eveline. It was sappy, sweet and wholly disingenuous, “Everyone, I’d like to introduce you to my friends here: This is Mr. Michael Castro—“ the tall one, “and this, is Mr. Jonathan Finley.” The portly one. “They are close clients of mine and just so happen to be in the music industry. I don’t want to speak for them, but they are possibly interested in partnering with you. Not to flatter these fine gentlemen too much, but let’s just say their record label is internationally renowned.” Our ears admittedly pricked at this, despite the messenger. “Anyway, they got us reservations downtown and thought we could all get to know one another, before the show.” Honey sweet smile, “Oh! And don’t worry, Penn. I called ahead… they’ll have a little table for you too…” the men chuckled at this. My face burned as my fists clenched.

I saw clearly what Sam’s motivation was. If he could secure a deal for us that would put us at a different level, there would be no need for Eveline to tag along and help. She’d be free and clear to come back home with him, while he pushed us further apart. He would hasten our success if it meant he didn’t have to share her with us. Plus, if we signed a deal, signed contracts, it would be much more difficult for Eveline to just decide she wanted to join the group.

We exchanged glances with each other. What was the harm in hearing them out? If they could help us achieve greater success, we could at least entertain their offer and negotiate the kinks involving Eveline later. If she even wanted that.

So, I soon found myself perched in Travis’ jacket pocket as we clamored into a slick, all-black, hired car. I wondered where Eveline was and if she’d be joining the meeting. Would she be seated next to him? Would they kiss? Hold hands? All right in front me as though I was nothing more than a table decoration with a heartbeat? I clenched my jaw, I supposed to some people I probably was just that.

As we were shown to our table, the vast, suave room filled with humans seated, drinking, eating, laughing politely, around crisp, white tablecloths, heads of tropical African beasts adorning the walls, seemed to fade away from view, replaced by the exclusivity of our private dining room. The walls were dark, with the copper glow of Edison light bulbs igniting the white landscape of the impeccable table in a warm, hazy glow. The table was adorned with glittering silver utensils, bright white porcelain dishes, flickering candles encased in glass and, as promised, a table of my own.

It’s miniature size looking quite laughable compared to the original furniture it was made to copy. It was a precise replica, with the same white tablecloth, silverware, and dishes, no candles though. Adrenaline rushed through my spine as my head felt unbearably hot. This was a highly precarious situation and I was the one under the microscope. These wealthy men who were courting us with this meal were clearly testing me to see what a pet could manage in the world of high society humanity. The idea of signing a record deal with someone who, traditionally, existed as only property himself had never been done.

Would this be a wise investment? Would this new fad of a five inch tall musician usher in a brand new era of entertainment or would he fade from the headlines as some funny little experiment? I may not have had much experience in the music industry or understand the inner workings of business, but I knew humans. I knew all too well how their minds worked when it came to pets. Would they be giving a little nothing too much power? Or would I be the perfect, unexpected, marketing tool?

That’s what this outing was for. I had to proceed with extreme caution. The last thing I wanted was to ruin an incredible opportunity for my friends who had worked extremely hard for this their whole lives. They deserved this. But I was the strange new unkown. The burden rested squarely on my, admittedly, tiny shoulders. What could the little pet take? Was he big enough to be the face of a well-funded music group? I shuddered. I didn’t know. I was scared. Please don’t let me embarrass any of them.

I was placed on the sprawling table, before the two business men. Eveline had appeared along with Sam, his arm resting lightly about her waist. She looked tense. Even in spite of everything, regardless of my anger, in the face of this dangerous new entity, these executives, I wanted nothing more than to crawl and hide amidst the protective cage of her soft, warm fingers. I swallowed. No time to be a coward now. I had to impress them if I ever wanted to be seen as more than what they saw before them.

The tall man, Mr. Castro, sat at the head of the table, Mr. Finley to his right. Sam to his left. My patronizing little set up was no further than an easy reach past the salt and pepper shakers for him. He could pound his fist on the table and clatter the miniature porcelain and silver with ease. I was truly caged in. My heart pounded a mile a minute. This was the last place in the world I wanted to be.