Musical Labyrinth

A Cadillac parked in between a Chevrolet and a Lamborghini. The driver knocked on the door of the house. Wes can see that it’s his new manager outside. His first manager was sacked for control over the band. He opened the door with a dull look on his face. He had a terrible night. Dark circles were almost visible under his eyes. He didn’t shave for nearly fourteen days. He can still smell the gin on his clothes.

“Wes Argovich, I’m Padraig McMullen.” He shook Wes’ hand. He had experience with seeing rock stars at every age.

“About time. Our manager treated us like animals.” He reached for his keys, almost tripping over the mat.

He hurried upstairs to get his instruments. He took a Fender Jaguar, a keytar and a drum machine. He was about to leave when his new manager forced him to halt. Wes remembered to visit the theatre for a rehearsal with his band mates. Padraig wanted to know more about their sacked manager. “Could you tell me about him?”

“That power-hungry fiend?” Wes couldn’t wait to tell. Padraig seemed like a nice person to talk.

“What you said.” He can see what made Wes into what he is today.

They walked to the Cadillac. Wes crammed all the instruments inside the trunk. Wes already owned a car, it’s being repaired after the radiator leaked.

Padraig drove to the theatre where Wes and the band were supposed to meet. He stared at Wes he can see he’s having problems. Unlike any of his clients whose issue mostly relationships and drugs, Wes was having a dispute with the former manager. “When we released our first album, he knew it will be successful. Then he took full control of the concert tours, promotion and our musical styles."

"Whereabouts are you practising?"

"At the Fellon Theatre."

They drove around the deserted area of the city. This is where Wes’ band practised. Not a single person called the cops, complaining of the loud noise. Everywhere looked abandoned and rustic. From factories to apartments, it was like a graveyard. Broken glass, smashed bricks, piles of trash filled the ground.

They stopped at the theatre. Wes grabbed his instruments following Padraig inside. They walked past the lobby, entering the main auditorium. They found four band mates preparing for their new manager. Wes joined them on stage.

The other band members were Harry Renlin the bassist, Rene Tate the drummer, Steve Cunningham the lead guitarist and James Garris the vocalist. Wes was their rhythm guitarist, he played other instruments as well. Whenever they want a slight change in their music, they come to him.

“Is he our new manager?” Harry checked to be sure. He can see that Padraig was younger than their first manager.

“That’s him,” Wes confirmed.

All the band mates prepared themselves. The guitarists plugged their guitars in the amplifiers, cranking each of them up to the maximum volume. Rene hit his drum sticks four times. They began playing their rendition of At The Drive-in’s “One Armed Scissor”.

Padraig wasn’t like any manager who would interrupt and say like “you’re just too loud” or “can you play something else?” He was the person who listens to the entire thing before making a decision. He had experience with amateur and professional bands. They turned him down from either from his suggestions or they thought he’s not experienced enough.

After the song ended Padraig stood up. “I’m impressed. Can you do any other types of rock music?”

“Yes we can.” James pointed to Wes. He knew that Wes is the person who can find the right style of music for an album or tune. “Wes can play other instruments besides the guitar.”

The band mates agreed. They know this band would never be recognised if he didn’t join them. Padraig pulled a contact from his briefcase, along with some pens. “Sign this and I’ll be your manager.”

Each member scribbled their names at the bottom. Padraig signed his signature next to theirs. The band high-fived, they knew that this is man who will respect their musical abilities and never abuse it for his selfish needs. They left the building watching Padraig drive away. They brought their instruments to a minivan. They drove around town finding a place to dine. It’s around noon, they stopped at a food court in a shopping mall.

Each of them ordered food at different stalls. They sat at the same table. They discussed on what they should do for their next album.

“Any ideas for our next album?” Harry asked.

“We just released our last album five months ago. We should find a suitable gig.” Rene didn’t want to rush in, fearing that it will exhaust them.

“We manage to gain recognition from the public. That’s why Harry wanted to work on new material,” said James.

“I like to see how he will react if we were nominated for a Grammy,” wondered Steve.

Harry almost burst out in excitement. He controlled himself before he spoke. He didn’t want anybody to hear it and create unnecessary attention. “I’ll scream like a mad man.”

They ate more so they can forget the pain their old manager made. They were going to leave when a stranger blocked their exit. It wasn’t a fan or a member of a rival band. It was an armed man, he pointed his pistol at them. Rene grabbed a chair, tossing it at the man’s head. They ran outside after the gun fired in the air. Four more men chased after them after the security guards arrested the shooter.

Rene ran for the minivan and started the engine, he saw his mates run in different directions. He didn’t have time to think he just slammed on the pedal. Three of the men fired, they were arrested by security.

One of the men chased Wes. They ran in every alley. Wes climbed over every fence, the man struggled to climb them. He turned a corner and before he run for the police car in front, he somehow fell into a magical portal the size of a manhole. The chaser didn’t see him fall in he went straight and shoved two policemen. He was stopped by another police car. The driver took his cuffs, restraining the chaser inside the vehicle.

“You should of thought twice before shooting up a public place,” the police officer exclaimed.