Phantom Blood
- Act 4 -
Everlong
Klinghoffer walked out of the bathroom and turned his attention directly to the stage where a performance was currently being held, it was the very performance that is prior to the one Warward was supposed to play, which was now his responsibility. Which meant that he was supposed to be backstage already,
“Crap…. How did I get myself into such a blunder? Gosh darn my sense of responsibility!” The now stressed out musician made his way through the crowd with haste and through a door that leads to the backstage area, in there was a group of well-dressed gentleman, one holding a bass guitar, another holding some drumsticks and the other was warming up his vocal chords. Klinghoffer’s eyes wandered over to where Wayward would have stood but instead, there was a lone hollow-bodied electric guitar, he immediately ran up to it and analysed its beauty,
“Gold pickups, maple body, maple neck with an ebony fretboard and a tremolo bridge…. This guitar has to be a Gretsch, just like the one Wayward has!” However, his admiration for the beautiful instrument was rudely interrupted by one of the men,
“Uhh excuse me, that is Wayward’s guitar who do you think you are and where is he anyway?” the bassist said, standing up from his seat and death staring Klinghoffer. The man was definitely not in the same year as Klinghoffer, he stood almost half a foot taller than him and stared directly into his eyes, this didn’t scare him however if being one of the youngest in his family taught him anything it was to stand his ground.
“Well my good sir it seems some chap broke my good friend Wayward’s precious finger so he sent me here instead, I would introduce myself but it seems like we are out of time. Let’s play well together yeah?” Klinghoffer said sternly as the crowd clapped loudly for the previous act.
“Wait what? What’s going on? Who said you could play with The Falcons?” The bassist said as the previous band walks into backstage then out into the public.The musician ripped the setlist from the wall then took a good look to find the song that Wayward was supposed to play, not knowing which one it was he scrunched the piece of paper containing the set list up and threw it over his shoulder, grabbing Wayward’s guitar and walking onto the stage. As he did he was followed by the rest of the band, they all took their places, plugging into their respective amplifiers and setting up their instruments.
The vocalist walked up to the microphone and went to introduce the band,
“H-Hello everyone we-” he couldn’t even get through his first sentence before Klinghoffer nudged him out of the way and took center stage.
“Good evening everyone! My name is Klinghoffer and we are The Falcons, this song goes out to a special lady named Layla.” The musician says with a sly wink,
“Anyways, this song is called Everlong, I hope you enjoy. Let’s kick it boys!” Klinghoffer stepped away from the mic and began to play a smooth sombre jazz song, all of the band members joined in, the drummer playing a double-time swing and the bassist with a slow thumping beat. The crowd was pleased by the performance, he kept the guitar simple as he was not that fluent in jazz on the guitar, halfway through the performance Klinghoffer decided on a slight change of pace.He slid his fingers down the fretboard until he reached the end then began to play like there was no tomorrow, at this point in time he wasn’t the best at the guitar but he sure could play a mean rock rhythm. All of the band stopped and the crowd gasped in fright, out of nowhere there was a fast beat coming from behind him, the first to join him was the drummer, who played a heavy beat to go with it. The vocalist began to sing the same lyrics as before but at a faster pace with a meatier and grungy tone, the last one who refused to play was the bassist who walked off stage in anger. The whole audience was appalled at the change but there was one beaming face that stood out from the crowd, Layla Livingstone, in that very moment Klinghoffer only had eyes for her, as if nobody else existed in the whole room.
“Goodnight everyone! We are The Falcons!” The vocalist said as Klinghoffer struck the final chord on the guitar, leaving an electric vibe going through the crowd.
As he walked out into the crowd, the musician searched the crowd for the young lady that he just played for, as he set his eyes upon her so did Layla as she walked out of the ballroom into the open garden that was outside. Klinghoffer walked through the crowd once more, Wayward’s guitar still strapped to his body, making his way out into the moonlit night. Standing in front of him was Layla Livingston under a gazebo covered in flowers and vines, he entered under the gazebo and approached her,
“That was quite the performance, you’re quite an unusual fellow Klinghoffer… I like that about you.” Klinghoffer was not sure how to take that, instead, he replied by using the flattery that he had learned as a son of the Yamamoto family,
“I am as unusual as you are beautiful, all of these flowers pale in comparison to your loveliness. Never have I seen another like you Miss Layla.” She giggled in a cute way that made the musician blush, her very existence made his whole being smile with glee, Layla found it funny that he didn’t actually know who she was but that just proved that he liked her for who she was not where she came from. The two instantly talked the whole night away and it wouldn’t have gone as
smooth as it did without his dear friend Wayward, Klinghoffer would often look back on this night and think about how he was the luckiest man in the whole wide world.
- Act 4 -
End