Hard Blows and Soft Landings
Beats and Turnips
Chapter 1: Hard Blows and Soft Landings
“I’m sorry, but we don’t require a general workpony anymore. I have to let you go.”
Turnip sank towards the floor. He needed this job, badly. Canterlot was not a cheap place to live. Even with his modest apartment and frugal spending habits, he was finding it hard to make ends meet. Not having income would see him on the streets in just over a month.
Turnip tried to keep the begging tone out of his voice as he asked, “Are you sure?” The manager’s curt, emotionless nod told him all he needed to know. “Oh. Well, is there another job that I could do? You know me, Paper, I’ll work my flank off for you wherever you need me, or to do whatever you need done.”
A quick flash of regret went across Paper’s features. “I’m sorry Turnip, but I got my orders from the top. We’re close to going in the red. They thought a reduction in ‘non-essential’ personnel would be the best way to cut costs.”
Even knowing that what Paper was doing was not personal, being let go still stung Turnip. “It’s alright; I’ll just have to find something else then.”
Paper leaned over and looked out his door. After making sure that nopony was able to see or hear him, he retrieved a card from his a drawer, slid it across the desk, and whispered to Turnip, “I've got a friend that’s always looking for help. Show him this card, tell him Paper Pusher sent you, and you’ll have a good shot at getting some kind of position. It will probably be temporary, but it’s better than nothing.”
Turnip took the card and quickly tucked it under his hat. “Thanks, getting any sort of job in this town is tough.”
Paper came around from behind his desk and shook hooves with Turnip. “You’ve been one of our best workers. Don’t ever hesitate to use my name as a reference. I may not have as much pull as ponies like Fancy Pants, but I’ll do my best to make sure you get another position.”
Turnip used his free hoof to tip his hat to Paper. “I’ll be sure to do that.”
*****
Turnip looked down at the card, then back up at the building. He checked to make sure the address was right.
To his dismay, it was. The building looked like it had not been painted in years. Most of the shutters for the upper story windows were in bad need of repair or missing entirely. The thing that really struck Turnip as odd was that the club, as dilapidated as it appeared, had a well-dressed bouncer guarding the door. He was taking down posters, and getting the boards ready for new ones.
Turnip made his way across the street, and up to the bouncer. “The name’s Hayseed Turnip Truck. I’m here to see Bass Rhythm, if he’s available. I was sent by Paper Pusher.” He offered the card that Paper had given him, which the bouncer accepted.
The bouncer smiled at Turnip’s country accent. “You’re a ways from home.” He hooved the card back to Turnip, and began to unlock the door.
Turnip did not try to hide it. “Yep, all the way from Ponyville.”
“That’s something; our deejay for the next week is from there. Maybe you two know each other.” The bouncer finally got the key to work in the rusty lock, and shoved the door open.
Turnip offered his hoof to the muscular, oddly pink, stallion. “Thanks, mister…”
“Hard Times, no mister needed,” the bouncer told Turnip, while shaking the offered hoof.
“If I get hired, I’ll work on that door first thing,” Turnip promised.
Times laughed, and waved off the offer. “Nah. Ponies wouldn’t know what to think if it actually worked like it's supposed to. Head straight into the back, then take a right. Rhythm’s door is second on the right down that hall.”
“Much obliged.”
Turnip walked into the building, and was shocked to see the inside was wholly different from the outside. The club was high scale. Sculpted glass, expensive lighting fixtures, and stylish furniture decorated not only the bar but also the various lounging areas. The raised dais reserved for deejays’ performances was stunning, and had every desirable and state of the art piece of musical equipment ready for use.
The whole setup was impressive. So much so, that Turnip wondered if he was wasting his time coming to the club. He had run into bad attitudes from some of the Canterlot ponies for being from a small town, especially when they heard his hard accent.
The black and white piebald barkeep stopped in her taking stock of the bar, took one look at Turnip, and politely informed him, “Sir, we’re not open for business at the moment. The show will start this evening at nine o’clock sharp.”
“Thanks, but I’m not here for the show. I’m here for a job,” Turnip replied.
“Thank Celestia and Luna both; we need all the help we can get! The last joker that was supposed to be helping us walked off the job two days ago.” The barkeep all but ran from behind the counter and shook Turnip’s hoof. She introduced herself, “Polished Shaker, pleasure to meet you.”
“Hayseed Turnip Truck, pleasure’s all mine.”
Shaker asked, with a more than a little worry in her voice, “Do you know anything about electrical work?”
“Enough to get by at least, but I’m not certified,” he admitted, the look of relief that washed over the barkeep nearly made Turnip chuckle.
Another voice came into the conversation, stating, “I don’t care if all you can do is screw in a light bulb. If you’re willing to help, you’re hired”
Turnip turned to the fashionable vest wearing, brown-coated stallion. He immediately noted that the stallion had a bass clef as a cutie mark. “I can change light bulbs with the best of them, and I’ll help however I can,” Turnip responded, trying to sound confident in front of his possible boss.
“Good, you’re hired. I’m Bass Rhythm, by the way.”
Turnip held out Paper’s card to Rhythm, “I guess saying that Paper Pusher sent me is not all that important at this point.”
Rhythm smiled, and told Turnip, “Nope, but it means that you’re exactly the kind of pony that we need. Now, here is what I need you to do.”
*****
After half an hour of checking connections, testing equipment, and even looking the fuse box and breakers over, Turnip determined that there was only one possibility for why the speakers were not working.
They were not plugged in.
Turnip crawled his way towards the furthest corner from where the access hatch was located. Of course, the plugs happened to be concealed under the deejay’s platform, hidden from sight, and hard to access. He had figured out what happened by nearly tripping over one of the cables on the platform himself, and noticing the amount of slack in the power cord as it ran against his leg.
Turnip muttered to himself, “One pony with four left hooves trips and pulls the power plug out of socket, and they don’t even have the dog-gone decency to tell anypony.”
He wiggled a bit further, stirring up more dust, and finally reached his goal. He found the offending plug, plugged it back into the outlet, and was rewarded with the soft hum of speakers coming on directly above him.
“My hero!” a voice called from the access hatch. The light under the platform dimmed, as a figure blocked the light in the opening.
Turnip about hit his head on the low roof, as he jerked in surprise at both the voice and the fact that he recognized it. He told the figure, “Give me a minute, I’ll be right out. I don’t have much room to move under here.”
“Just hold still, I’ll get you!”
Before Turnip could respond, he felt the grip of a unicorn’s magic grab his back hooves. He was pulled from the crawlspace before he could fully prepare himself. He blinked a couple of times to try to adjust his eyes to the sudden change in light, as he got to his hooves.
Despite being covered in dust, he found himself on the receiving end of a friendly embrace. He hugged the still blurry figure back. “That’s one heck of a ‘thank you’ for just plugging in a cord.”
“Turnip, it’s me, Vinyl Scratch!” Vinyl tightened her hug on him a little more, before letting him go. “What the hay are you doing here?”
His eyes adjusted to the light again, he smiled back at the now recognizable deejay. “Land sakes, Vinyl, I could ask you the same thing. I never thought I’d run into you here. I’m here for a job.”
“Same here, well, at least for a week.” Vinyl brushed him, then herself off. “We’ve been trying to find out what was wrong with the speakers since this morning. Figures it was something so simple.”
“Usually is.” Turnip turned and closed the hatch back up. “I would have thought a place like this would have their equipment all buttoned up and ready to go.”
Vinyl pointed at the equipment proudly. “These babies are mine. Brand spanking new, state of the art, and can shake your eyeballs loose strong. That’s probably why the plug was out; somepony must have tripped over it while setting something else up for me.”
Turnip whistled, looking back over the equipment with a new appreciation. “Whoa nelly, this setup must have set you back a fair pile of bits.”
“It did, but I consider it a business investment,” Vinyl told him. “Enough shop talk, I owe you lunch for figuring out what was wrong and getting yourself dirty for me.”
Turnip ducked his head, and rubbed the back of his neck with a hoof. “You don’t have to do that. The hug made everything more than even, as far as I reckon.”
Vinyl slid her shades down her nose, gave Turnip a look, raised an eyebrow, and asked, “You’re turning down lunch over a hug?”
Turnip blushed, and fumblingly told her, “When it’s from a famous lady like you, yep. I didn’t do anything worth your time.”
“You dolt, take her up on the offer!” Shaker instructed Turnip, from behind the bar.
Vinyl gave Turnip a mock-hurt look. “You’re saying you don’t want to get a bite to eat with me?”
Turnip shook his head frantically. “It’s not that! I just have a lot to get done before tonight.” He looked down to the floor. “I would love to have lunch with you, but I need this job and it’s my first day. I can’t leave right now.”
“For Celestia’s sake, you two get over here,” Shaker instructed. She pointed to the seats on the other side of the counter. “Neither of you are going out. You’re both having lunch right here. The house rules are that employees eat free. Sit your tails down.”
Knowing by her tone they did not want to argue with her, Vinyl and Turnip did as they were told.
As Shaker worked on their lunches, Times joined them at the bar. He nodded at the two Povyvillians. “You two do know each other then.”
“Yep, we went to school together,” Turnip informed Times.
“I wasn’t expecting to see him. But there he was, crawling under the platform.” Vinyl nudged Turnip. “He’s as helpful as always.” She glanced back at the platform, as she thought of something. “I left the speakers on. I’ll be right back; I don’t want them on without music coming through them.”
Turnip watched her go, drawing a giggle from Shaker. “Just one hug is all it takes for you?” she asked, teasing him.
Turnip turned red, and informed her, “I’ve had a thing for her since we were in school. It doesn’t matter though.”
Shaker, being a good barkeep and sympathetic ear, asked, “Why not? You seem like a nice enough stallion.”
Turnip shrugged. “She’s always been too far above me.”
“Uh oh, now you’ve done it,” Times told Turnip, with a grimace.
Shaker scolded him, “I will not accept that kind of talk from anypony! You’re not lower than anypony else. You should tell her right…”
Times interrupted, postponing Shaker’s aggressive pep talk, “She’s coming back, now’s not a good time to chew his ears off.”
“Alright, what did I miss? I heard Shaker giving it to somepony,” Vinyl asked, as she sat back down.
“Nothing much, I just poked a little fun at her for the way she was making my salad. She knows I like ranch dressing, not Thousand Island, and she forgot. She was just poking back,” Times smoothly lied.
Shaker put a salad, sans Thousand Island dressing, in front of Times. “Here you go hon.”
As Shaker placed their salads in front of them, Turnip and Vinyl’s eyes went back and forth between Shaker and Times.
Vinyl could not help but ask, “Hon?”
Times grinned. “Shaker and I are married, have been for a while now to tell the truth.”
“Not that long, we’re still young.” Shakers eyes narrowed playfully, as she asked, “Or are you saying that it seems like a long time?”
In response, Times reached over, lifted Shaker off her hooves, half pulled her over the bar, and kissed her deeply. As he broke the kiss, he told her, “If anything, I would have liked to be with you longer.” He put her back down, smiling and looking into her eyes the entire time.
Shaker blushed a wonderful shade of red, and swatted Times on the shoulder. “It’s not my fault you didn’t ask me out, you big lug!”
“I know, and I wish I had sooner,” he confessed.
She smiled, and lightly berated him, “I thought we agreed, no PDAs at work.”
“It’s lunch, we’re off the clock,” he pointed out, in between bites of his salad.
“A technicality, but I’ll let it slide this once.” Shaker motioned towards Vinyl and Turnip, and tried to point out, “What if they didn’t want to see you smash lips with me?”
Vinyl waved her fork in the art, indicating everything was all right by her. “Don’t worry about us. I’m certainly not going to complain. There’s nothing like a little show with your meal, right Turnip?”
Turnip did not trust himself to speak, and merely gave a quick nod in response.
Times grinned in victory. He teased Shaker, “You’re quite the prude for a mare that dances like you do.”
Turnip asked Shaker, “You dance and keep the bar?”
Shaker gave him a wink, and teased, “If Vinyl is willing to let me on stage, you just might see me tonight.”
“Vinyl is very willing,” the deejay enthusiastically let her know.
*****
Having finished the repair, Turnip checked the sink’s u-bend one last time. The thrumming music from the dance floor could be heard and felt in the bathroom, where he was laying down among his tools.
Somepony stepped into the bathroom, despite the sign Turnip had put on the door.
Turnip informed the pony, “Sorry sir, the bathroom’s out of order at the moment. I’ll have this done, and be out of here in just a minute.”
Rhythm’s voice held a good bit of appreciation, as he told Turnip, “You’ve worked your flank off all day. I really appreciate it, now get out there and enjoy the show. Everything is just starting, and Vinyl hasn’t even gotten warmed up yet.”
“Thanks, but I’m ten kinds of dirty and nasty.” Turnip rolled his way from under the sink. “I’d hate to brush up against somepony and mess up their clothes or coat.” He started to put his tools back in their case, and told Rhythm, “I’m not much of a dancer anyway.”
“I’m not either, but I still get out there at least a couple of times a week.” Rhythm pulled out a key from his vest pocket, and gave it to Turnip. “There is a staff shower down through the door at the end of his hall, which that key opens, and to your right. Put your tools up, take a shower, and if I don’t see you out there dancing in a half hour, don’t bother coming in tomorrow.”
Turnip grinned up at his boss. “Yes, sir!”
After putting up his tools, and taking a quick shower, Turnip found himself on the edge of the dance floor. He could not make himself jump into the crowd. Shaker surprised him by patting him on the shoulder.
“You should be out there, moving your tail,” she told him, waving a hoof towards the crowd.
“I know, but I’m horrible dancer.”
She pointed out Rhythm, who was making a fool of himself trying to dance and loving every moment of it. “You can’t do as badly as he does. I’ve tried to teach him, Celestia knows, but he just can’t dance.”
“I’ve still got a couple of minutes left before I have to go out there. I think I’ll wait till then,” he told her.
She leaned in and whispered, “If you don’t get out there right now, I won’t dance during Vinyl’s next set, which would make her sad. You don’t want that to happen, do you?”
Turnip smiled, and lightly protested, “That’s a mite bit on the low side.” He stepped out onto the dance floor, needing no further encouragement.
Shaker yelled to him, over the noise, “Yeah, but it worked though!”
Turnip danced the night away, not tripping over his own hooves as badly as he had feared he would.
Shaker was as good as her word, and danced with surprising skill on the deejay’s platform during Vinyl’s next set. After her performance, business at the bar picked up and Shaker and her fellow barkeep, Cold Mug, had to race to keep up with their patron’s orders.
After the club closed up, and the cleanup, Rhythm called the club’s workers together. He announced, “We did very well tonight, thanks to the wonderful DJ Pon-3 and all your efforts. Everypony get some rest, we start again at nine o’clock tomorrow. Set up crew, you need to be here at seven. We have some theme lighting to put up. That’s all. Thank you again, and have a safe trip home.”
The small crowd of workers disbanded. Turnip bashfully offered to walk Vinyl to her hotel, and she accepted with a smile. The two ponies caught up as they walked, making the night even more enjoyable for the both of them.
Everything went well, until Vinyl tried to get into her room at the hotel.
“What do you mean you’ve lost my reservation?! I set this up months ago so this wouldn’t happen,” Vinyl fumed at the pony behind the hotel’s check-in counter.
“I’m sorry mam, but it appears there was a mistake and the room was double-booked. I’m afraid we don’t have another room available, as there is a big fashion show in town and every room has been reserved.”
“Fat lot of good reserving a room did me,” Vinyl said, her tone icy.
Turnip asked, “Who got the room instead of Vinyl?”
The greeter looked at Turnip down his nose. “And you are?”
Vinyl barely kept herself under control, as she told the greeter, “My buddy, Turnip, and answer the question or I’ll make sure to mention how well treated I was at this place during my next show.”
“No need for that. It’s Blue Blood,” the greeter quickly revealed.
“Figures,” Vinyl all but spit. “Do you have any suggestions as to where I can go?” Vinyl asked.
“Our sister hotels are booked solid. I’m sure the Wind Soar and the Merry Trot are completely booked too, so I don’t know what to tell you.”
Turnip tentatively offered, “You could stay at my place, if you can’t find anything.”
The greeter sneered at Turnip, and told Vinyl, “Mam, I assure you I can find something better than his abode. Even the Red Tiled Barn would be…”
Vinyl slammed her hoof down on the counter, drawing every eye in the commons. She made sure to use a stage voice, as she tore into the greeter, “My roomed got double booked, I can live with that. Mistakes happen. Nopony, especially a want-to-be jerk like you, insults my friends. I will be giving this place a negative shout out during my next show, and you can take my reservation and shove it up so far up your tail that a proctologist couldn’t get it back out!”
Vinyl stomped out of the hotel, followed by Turnip and some scattered applause. After she cooled off a little, she apologized to Turnip, “Sorry the guy was such a jerk. I’ll never do business with them again.”
“It’s alright, I’m used it.”
“You shouldn’t be. You’re a nice stallion, and nopony should treat you otherwise.” Vinyl made a show of dramatically looking up and down the street. “Alright, which way do we need to go to get to your place?”
Turnip swallowed. “You sure you want to crash at my place? There might be someplace with a room.”
“I don’t care; I’ve had enough with the hotels in this town.” She poked him, and teased, “What, you leave your place a wreck or what?” After he shook his head to answer, Vinyl continued, “I don’t care if you have trash all over the place or not, it’s almost sunrise, I’m beat, and I won’t turn down such a kind offer.”
“Alright, since you insist, this way.”
He led her to his apartment. They got there just as the sun was coming up. He let her in first, and then shut the door behind him, as he followed her. “Heck of day, yesterday.”
“You got that right. Thanks for letting me crash your place, now where’s the couch?”
“You’re not sleeping on the couch. You can have my bed.”
“Not happening.”
“Vinyl, I can’t have you sleeping on the couch. That would just be wrong.” He paused as she made her way back towards the door. “What are you doing?”
Vinyl had put her hoof on the door handle, and had been in the process of turning it when Turnip asked his question. “I’m going to find a hotel; I’m not taking your bed. Chivalry is nice, but it’s dead.”
Turnip relented. “Alright, the couch is in here.” He got her a blanket, his best pillow, and made sure she was comfortable.
As she took off her shades, she thanked him again, “You’re too sweet, I appreciate it Turnip.” She half sat-up after not getting a response. “You alright there bud? Equestria to Turnip, tune in, please.”
“I forgot how pretty your eyes are.” He blushed, realizing what he had just said.
She smiled at the genuine compliment. “You’re a flirt, when your sleep deprived. Go to bed Turnip, we’ve got another long night ahead of us.”
He followed Vinyl's suggestion, and tucked himself in his bed. His last thought, before sinking into sleep, his last thought was, What a horrible, wonderful, and wild day. To top everything off, Vinyl Scratch herself is staying in my apartment. Luna, please don’t let this be a dream, and don’t let me make a fool of myself any more than I already have.
Bits, Plans, and Helping Hooves
Bits, Plans, and Helping Hooves
Chapter 2: Bits, Plans, and Helping Hooves
“The club’s routine takes some getting used to. I see you’re not quite in sync with it yet.” Shaker poked Turnip with a hoof. “Hey, no drooling on the bar, I just polished it,” she half-joked.
Turnip raised his head from the cool, smooth, and strangely comfortable surface. “Sorry. I still haven’t quite turned into a bat pony yet. I’m working on it.”
Shaker put a strong cup of coffee in front of Turnip. “Here, this will help.” Shaker leaned in close. She waggled her eyebrows, as she asked him, “All the nighttime activities proving to be a bit much?”
Still sleep addled, Turnip did not catch the hidden meaning to Shaker’s words. “What do you mean? I go home and go straight to bed.”
“You and Vinyl have left and come in together every day, so don’t give me that.”
Finally catching on to what Shaker was hinting at, Turnip waved his hooves wildly in denial, nearly knocking over his coffee. “It’s not like that! She had some trouble with her hotel reservation, and couldn’t get another room in town. She’s just using my place as a spot to crash.”
“You offered her your bed, how sweet! How comfortable is your couch?”
“She’s on the couch.”
“What?”
Turnip flinched at Shaker’s incredulous and almost furious tone. “I offered my bed, but she won’t take it! She threated to leave if I didn’t stop pestering her about it, I swear! Ask her yourself!”
Shaker patted one of his hooves. “I believe you. You’ve been nothing but a gentlecolt to her, me, and every other mare I’ve see you talk to.” Her hoof lingered on his, in a comforting, confidential way. “You’d like there to be something there though, wouldn’t you?”
He could not muster the courage to voice his desire, so he nodded.
“Then why haven’t you asked her?” Shaker pressed.
“Now may be the time to finish that chewing you started the other day,” Times suggested, as he took his seat at the bar. “Vinyl and Rhythm are in some kind of meeting, they sounded like they’ll be in there for a while, so now’s the time.”
Shaker’s attention fell fully on Turnip. “You still think you’re not good enough for her?” Her question came out more of a statement than a query, but it still demanded an answer.
“I’m not,” Turnip replied, knowing she would not like his response.
“Why not?”
“She’s the famous DJ Pon-3, and I’m just a general work pony.” He sighed and closed his eyes in frustration at himself. “She can do so much better than me.”
“Horse apples,” Shaker said, with more than a little heat. “You’re the one that’s jumped in for her the most. You’ve helped her figure out the quirks in her equipment, you’ve done more than asked when it comes to prepping for her shows, you've run errands for her, and Celestia only knows what else, and that’s just at work.”
“Hon, take a breath. You can’t brow beat him if you pass out,” Times said, barely managing to keep the note of humor out of his voice.
Shaker ignored Times, and continued, “You’ve given her a place to stay, I bet she hasn’t paid for a meal since she got here, and you’ve refused any offer that she’s made to pay for said meals or for letting her stay with you.”
When Turnip did not say anything contrary, she forcibly asked, “Am I right?”
He confirmed her intuition with a monosyllabic, “Yes.”
“Sounds like you’re the kind of stallion she really needs right now. She’s going through a hard time. Tonight, ask her about how things are going. You might be surprised that the life of a famous deejay is not all it’s cracked up to be. ”
Not getting much of a response, she ordered, “Turnip, look at me.”
Reluctantly, Turnip brought his eyes up from the bar.
She gave him a warm, kind smile. “The stallion sitting beside you didn’t think he was good enough for me, not too long ago. He was always there at my darkest moments, protected me when I got a little too much attention from patrons, and gave me a safe haven when I needed to get away from life. I dropped hint after hint that I wanted him to make the first move, but he still thought he was somehow beneath me.”
“It took her all but pinning me to the wall before I asked her out,” Times told Turnip. “As you can tell, she can be persuasive. She pulled the reasons why I didn’t ask her out sooner using some unethical means, after we got together, and she hasn’t let me live it down ever since.”
“I didn’t hear you complaining at the time, dear,” she playfully shot back.
Shaker turned her focus back to Turnip. “Times thought he was ‘just a bouncer,’ and I was ‘too high for him,’ which was ridiculous.”
Times tried to defend himself, by pointing out, “You were the club’s star dancer, you were, and still are, a stunning, graceful, and highly desirable mare. I was the door pony. The possibility of me having something with you seemed like something out of a romance story. I thought it would never work in reality.” He chuckled, and added, “That, and the no fraternization policy the club had kind of made it difficult too.”
“We dealt with that easily enough, and look at where we are now. We’re happy, in better jobs, and together.” Shaker leaned over the bar, and kissed his nose.
“What was that about PDAs?” Times asked, clearly enjoying the affection.
“Hush. As you pointed out, we’re on a lunch break.”
Looking back at Turnip, she pointed to Times, and said, “What I’m trying to get through is don’t be like this goof, and give it a shot. You’re a better stallion than you give yourself credit for. If she can’t see that, it’s her loss.”
Feeling a little better about his prospects, Turnip promised, “I will.”
*****
Turnip pulled the club’s door shut and smiled. “See? No squeaking, it swings easy, and the lock is working smoothly again. It just needed a little adjustment and some lubricant.”
“Thanks. I’ll have to remember that it’s fixed, or the next time I try to shove it open I’ll fall flat on my face.” Times tried the door, and nodded in appreciation at Turnip’s work. “Just like new.”
“It’s alright, you’ll think of something,” Shaker said, trying to comfort her friend.
“It’s not alright, I needed that gig! What is it with this town? My reservation gets jacked by a misogynistic royal jerk, and now Neon Light’s equipment fries the wiring at The Fillymore,” Vinyl lamented.
Times and Turnip both turned toward the mares’ voices.
“Sounds like the horse apples have hit the fan.” Times asked, “Everything alright?”
Vinyl shook her head, as she and Shaker made their way towards them. “It’s a disaster. I was scheduled to play at The Fillymore next week, and now I can’t since the repairs to the electrical system are going to take longer than that.”
Times shrugged. “Use the time as a mini vacation, make the best out of it.”
“I can’t. I just bought all this new equipment, and I won’t make the payment if I don’t get some bits coming in.” Vinyl rubbed her forehead, as if she were getting a headache. “Rhythm’s been wonderful, and has tried to get me booked somewhere else, but nothing has opened up. I would stay and play here, but Sapphire Shores is booked for next week.”
Times flinched. “I forgot about her coming. She’s always such a diva; it’s a pain to be around her, and she makes work miserable.”
“She is a diva,” Shaker pointed out.
“Something will come up, you’ll see,” Turnip told her, trying to help her stay positive.
Nothing came up through the day, or during the performance that night.
Vinyl was uncharacteristically down after the night’s show. Her energy level stayed low, even after they made it back to Turnip’s place.
“I could go with a good cup of decaf. Would you like some?” Vinyl asked, an oddly dead tone in her voice.
Seeing an opportunity to follow Shaker’s advice, he quickly said yes, and followed her into the kitchen.
As she started to fix the coffee, he asked, “Vinyl, how have things really been with you?”
She paused for a moment, but then put the percolator on to boil. “I’m alright. Life’s just a little bumpy at the moment.”
“Horse apples,” Turnip swore.
Stunned at his use of such language, Vinyl froze, and then laughed. “What’s gotten into you? You never swear.”
“I’m worried about you,” his concern for her was evident in his tone. “You’re always full of energy, the literal life of the party. Tonight you were a little flat.” He shook his head, when she began to show concern about having put on a bad stage presence. “Don’t worry. Ponies that don’t know you well couldn’t tell. You just didn’t have your usual spark.”
She leaned back against the counter, as she asked him, “You really want to know?”
“Please tell me, I don’t like seeing you like this.”
She let out a slow, hissing breath, took off her shades, put them down on the counter, and rubbed her eyes with both hooves. “Alright, here’s the pity parade. I haven’t had a good break in over a year. I have one coming, but it’s not getting here soon enough. Lately, with all the publicity appearances, the constant changes in venues, and having to handle wild stuff like losing the gig at the Fillymore, the schedule has just been getting to me a little. My buying new equipment and making bits tight hasn’t helped either. Right now I have to choose between dipping into my already small savings and missing the first payment, which will increase how much I get charged overall for my stuff.”
“I hate to hear your job’s giving that much trouble,” Turnip sympathized.
She poured the coffee, and carefully slid his mug to him.
They brought their mugs to the kitchen table, and sat down.
As she put sugar and crème in her coffee, she explained, “It’s not that I don’t enjoy what I do. I love playing. I really do. It’s just rough at times, constantly going at full speed all the time and bouncing from place to place.”
“I wish I could help.”
She reached a hoof across the table, and took one of his with it. “You’ve helped me more than you know already. This week would have been impossible without you doing all that you’ve done for me.”
“I was just…”
“Doing your job?” she smirked, as she interrupted, knowing that is what he was going to say. “What about the food, giving me a place to stay, and trying to make sure I’m alright as a pony? I doubt that’s part of the job too.”
He hoped he would stop overstep his bounds, as he told her, “But I want to do more for you.”
Vinyl’s expression flashed something he could not read, and then it was gone just as quickly.
“You’ve done all anypony can, Turnip. I can’t thank you enough.”
His determination seeped into his voice, as he told her, “Vinyl, I’m going to help you. Just give me a couple of days. I’ll find something for you.”
Vinyl slowly, almost reluctantly let go of his hoof. “Don’t worry about it. I have to tackle my own problems. You won’t be around to white knight for me all the time.” She got up, gave him a pat on the shoulder, and then walked towards the den. “I’m sorry, but I’ve got to crash. I’ll see you in the morning, well, afternoon really.”
After she left, he put his and her mugs in the sink. He looked over to where she had left her shades on the counter, and picked them up.
He thought about her problems, and tried to come up with a way help. Just as he began to feel that the situation was hopeless, watching the mornings light dance across the tinted lenses of the shades inspired him. At times, it seemed as though the light turned the lenses pink.
He grinned, as the solution came to him. “I don’t have to find a venue; I just need to ask for one.”
*****
Turnip knocked on Rhythm’s office door. He had snuck to the back of the club as soon as he was able. For his plan to work, he had to ask a favor and quick. He prayed to the Sisters that everything would go smoothly.
“Come in,” Rhythm invited. Upon seeing Turnip enter, Rhythm smiled. “Just the pony I wanted to go see. First, tell me what brings you to my office.”
Hat in hoof, Turnip told him, “I need a favor. I think I have a way to help Vinyl, but I’ll need an hour so I can get things lined up. May I have the time off?”
Rhythm suppressed the smile that was coming across his face. “Ah, you’re taking time off is exactly the issue that I was going to see you about.”
Turnip was shocked. “Sir, I haven’t taken any time off.”
“I know, that’s the problem,” Rhythm said, as he pulled out the sign in book. He opened them to a page marked with circles. “You haven’t taken a break yet, and by law you have to. I was going to tell you to get out of here for an hour and a half to make things even, but since you need the time I don’t have to make it a command.”
Rhythm let the smile show.
Turnip put his hat back on his head. “Thank you, sir.”
Rhythm waved him off. “You can thank me by helping her. She brings business in, and is a charming lady to work with. Unlike that mare that’s coming in a couple of days. I swear to Celestia, if she didn’t draw such a crowd I would never invite her back to this place.”
Turnip told him, as he walked out of the office, “I won’t disappoint either of you.”
*****
Vinyl knew something was up.
At one point, she could have sworn Shaker had gasped, after Turnip had whispered about something to her. After talking with her, Turnip disappeared for over an hour. He came back with lunches for their little group and Rhythm, which broke the typical pattern in a couple of ways.
She figured Times must have been in on whatever was going on too. Not long before opening time, Times tried to sneak some kind of delivered message without her noticing, to the back offices, while she was tuning an amp. After a couple of minutes, he carried a return message to the door, gave it to the delivery pony, and acted far too casual about the whole transaction to not make the whole thing seem a little odd.
Vinyl went to the on pony she knew would give her a straight answer, Shaker. She sat down at the bar, and simply ordered the barkeep, “Spill it.”
“Not happening.” Shaker continued to put the new bottles on the shelves, and did not even give Vinyl a glance.
“The guys are up to something, and I know you know what it is.”
“You’re right on both accounts, but I’m sworn to secrecy. All will be revealed tomorrow, just be patient. If you don’t ask me about it again, I’ll dance for two sets tonight.”
“You just want to shake your tail,” Vinyl ragged her.
Shaker looked over her shoulder and grinned. “That’s part of it. Times gets more amorous on nights when I dance. I think he gets jealous of all the eyes on me, and a little possessive. I can’t complain about the results though.”
“Way too much information, thank you, alright I won’t ask. You better dance your hooves off tonight though.” Vinyl slid from the raised chair, intending to go warm up her equipment.
“Vinyl, wait.”
Vinyl paused, somewhat concerned about Shaker’s tone. “Everything alright, Shakes?”
“Yes and no. I can’t say much, and I really shouldn't say this much, but I want you to do something for me. Tomorrow, if you have a compulsion to hug or tackle a pony, don’t let go of them till they talk to you.”
Reading between the lines, Vinyl knew who was at the center of what was going on. After reflecting on the previous night for a moment, she knew why too.
She told Shaker, “I’ll Pinkie Promise, to make it binding.” Vinyl said her oath, and completed the full motions to seal the Pinkie Promise.
Shaker looked at her, as if the deejay had lost her mind. “What the hay was that?”
“I’ll tell you later, it’s a bit of a long story.”
*****
The next morning, after finishing up at the club and rambling back to Turnip’s apartment with him, Vinyl finally had Turnip alone.
She stopped him before he headed to bed. “Turnip, what’s wrong, you haven’t said a dozen words to me all day.”
“I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to be rude. I’ve just have a lot on my mind right now, and had to make a couple of tight deadlines this afternoon,” he said, trying not to reveal anything.
She felt conflicted. She wanted him to tell her about what he had planned so they could really talk, but she didn’t want to waste all the effort he had gone through to set her up for the surprise.
Instead of pushing for more information, she hugged him. “I want you to know that this has been the best stay in Canterlot that I have had in a long time, and it’s all thanks to you. When things even out for me, I’ll come back, and we’ll have a blast.”
After getting over the shock of her hugging him, he returned the gesture, and told her, “I’d really like that.”
After getting some sleep, and getting something to eat, they made their way back to the club. Vinyl met with Rhythm, in his office, to finish their business transaction and to set up when she would be back. Turnip began the process of breaking down the equipment. The equipment, for the most part, was tough, but he still took great care with everything he did.
“You’re treating that stuff like it’s priceless. You don’t have to be so delicate. That kind of equipment is made to take the lumps and bumps of traveling,” Shaker pointed out, having stepped out from behind the bar for a moment.
“It’s brand new; I don’t want anything to happen to it.”
“That it belongs to the one and only Vinyl Scratch does not make one bit of difference, right?” she teased.
“That does have something to do with it.” He smiled as he told her, “I won’t be so nice to the cords under the platform, I promise.”
A messenger pegasus stepped into the club. She asked, “Excuse me, where can I find Vinyl Scratch?”
Times pointed over his shoulder, and answered her, as he stepped into the room, “Go through this door, take a right and she’s in the second office on the left.”
“Thanks.” The messenger flicked her wings, and put a little extra in her step. “You’re quite something, big guy. Are you the muscle, part of the entertainment, or maybe a bit of both?”
“That’s my husband, you feather duster!” Shaker roared.
The mare streaked out of the room, making sure not to touch Times as she raced past him.
Times grinned over at Shaker, and stated, with only a slight laugh, “I thought I was supposed to be the jealous one.”
“I can’t believe that floozy pulled that right in front of me,” Shaker growled.
“Bet you five bits, she leaves out the back,” Turnip offered.
“No takers here. You would have a sure bet. I know I wouldn’t come back this way, if I was her,” Times said, gracefully declining the bet.
Shaker did her best to calm down, and finally managed to smile at the whole situation. “I did go a little overboard, didn’t I?”
Times walked over and pulled her into a hug. “You're the only mare that I look at, you know that,” he said, as he kissed the top of her head. “Especially when you dance, I’ve really enjoyed you getting on stage more this last week.”
“Hayseed Turnip Truck, where are you?!”
Times jumped at Vinyl’s shout, almost lifting Shaker from the floor as he did. “She might have just beaten you, dear,” he kidded. He looked to Turnip with sympathy. “She used your full name, you’re really about to catch it.”
“Should I run?” Turnip asked, his tail already beginning to tuck between his legs.
They both shook their heads.
“You knew this might happen, just stand and take it,” Shaker advised.
Vinyl surged into the room, quickly made her way around the still embraced couple, without giving them a second look, and headed straight to Turnip.
“What is this?!” Vinyl asked, pointing at the message that she had just received. “There was nothing planned in Ponyville for weeks. I would know, I checked twice.”
“I just sent a message to Pinkie, and called in a favor. It didn't take much coaxing; you know how she is about parties. I just asked her to set one up,” he explained.
“She’s got the whole town involved with your little party! It’s officially the, “Ponyville Belated After Coronation Extravaganza.” She pointed a little lower on the flier, and read, “Special guest performer, and Ponyville native, DJ Pon-3!” She waved the flier in the air so fast it seemed to blur. “It’s going to last for two days! It’s not a party; it’s a full blown festival, and I’m scheduled to play for most of it!”
“I know I didn’t ask you first, but I though…”
He never had the chance to finish, as Vinyl hugging him stopped his attempt to explain.
“I told you, you didn’t have to do anything, why did you go through all this trouble?”
He tried to form a response, but thanks to her hug making him nervous he kept stumbling on his words.
“Alright, we’ll do this the hard way.” Vinyl took Turnip to floor, and sat on his chest. “You’re not going anywhere till I get an answer.”
“On that note, we’re leaving,” Times let it be known, and started to drag Shaker out of the room. “There are some things that just should not have an audience.”
“Wait, it’s just getting good!” Shaker protested.
“I’ll still waiting for an answer,” Vinyl prompted, poking Turnip in his chest with a hoof. “If you tell me, ‘I just wanted to help,’ I’ll have Shaker shave your tail while I hold you down.”
He mustered his courage, and told her, “You were so miserable the other night, I had to do something.”
She leaned in, almost putting her nose on his. “You’re really, really close to that tail shaving. One. More. Shot.”
“I love you.”
She leaned just a bit more, and kissed him. Slowly she broke the kiss, and asked, “Was that so hard to say?”
“It took you sitting on me. How long have you known?”
“I knew you had a crush on me in school. You were kind of obvious about it.” He blushed and tried to say something, but she kept on, “I realized that it was deeper than that the other night, when we talked over coffee. Let me guess. The old, ‘she’s too high for me’ horse apples kept you from saying it before?”
“You’re a famous musician; I’m a general work pony. That doesn't go together real well.”
“You doof, without help every step of the way, I would never have gotten to be where I am.” She leaned in and lightly kissed him again. “Look at what you just did for me. I would have been in a tight spot, had you not done this for me. I’m nothing special.”
“You are to me.”
Vinyl got off him, helped him up, and hugged him. “I love you too.”
“Woohoo!” Shaker cheered from the doorway. Her tone suddenly changed to false sorrow, as she bemoaned, “But now I don’t get to shave his tail.”
“Hon, leave them alone.”
Vinyl sighed, and Turnip blushed furiously.
"I have to know, what was the favor about?" Shaker asked, unable to contain her curiosity.
"I Pinkie Promisied never to tell what I did to help. I can say this much, I don't know what she was doing in her room with all that jam and flour, but judging by the aftermath she had a very good time doing whatever it was."
"Alright, one of you explain what a Pinkie Promise is right now," she demanded.
*****
Vinyl had been gone for nearly three weeks. To Turnip, it felt like months. Sapphire Shores was as much as a diva as he had been warned. Her presence made the club a much less pleasant place to work for a week and a half. The next act was Neon Lights himself. Despite his wanting to dislike Neon for being Vinyl’s chief rival, and for messing up her gig, Turnip found that he liked the stallion.
“That’s the last of them. Now to unpack,” Times told Turnip, already opening a case.
“Who did Rhythm get to fill in for the jerk that pulled out on us?” When Turnip opened the case at hoof, he had his answer. “I thought these were hers, but I thought I was wishful thinking too.”
“Nope, they’re the real thing,” Vinyl said, stepping into the room. “I’m booked here for a week, and then I get that vacation.”
She took off her shades and grinned at Turnip. “I need a place to stay though.”
“I’ve got a guest bed in the back room now. If you would like to stay with me, I'd be more than happy to have you,” he offered.
She hugged him, and gave him a quick, tender kiss. “That sounds like exactly what I wanted.” She whispered in his ear, “And you're the pony that I needed.”
Author's Note
Thank you for reading my story. If you were kind enough to add it to your favorites, please consider giving it a positive vote as well.
Remember, comments are like authors' food, they give us the fuel to keep writing. Constructive criticism is always welcome. It's what allows me to improve my writing skills.
