NOTE: If you haven’t been following this from the beginning, and if you want to know the full sequence of events, start with the introduction. Click on Archives on the right.
We are standing behind Liberty Trip’s rented Dodge van in her Father’s leaf littered driveway. There’s a dented old blue Ford Taurus stopped on the narrow slope of Oval Street opposite. Liberty has unloaded her amps and a few boxes, and kicks one of them towards me with her snakeskin running-shoe. “You want to buy a carton of CDs?” A redbud leaf cartwheels on to the box, yellow as her yellow jeans. “I don’t want any more stuff, thanks Liberty.” The blue car suddenly turns into the driveway animated by its flashing headlights. Her metallic silver shirt shimmers with moiré under the lights. Niels Planck opens the window to speak as she walks toward the car, still creeping up the driveway. It bumps Liberty’s carton of CDs before stopping. Liberty jumps aside.
“Run me over. Why don’t you!”
“You’re too fast. Stand still will you!” Niels backs up the car and starts up the driveway towards her again. He stops abruptly, well before hitting her, and the kids in the back seat are pitched forward losing hold of the I-pads they were using. They yell, but I can’t understand what they’re saying.
“Don’t be such a jerk! What do you want Niels?”
“I’ve come to help you unload.”
“Bullshit Niels.” The car has stopped. Niels is grinning at us from behind the wheel. “Such a friendly greeting, partner!”
“Niels, what do you want?”
“Just dropped by Lib. So, are you in court yet?” She explains to us both that the suit brought by Prestige U. against her band, Toxic Blob, is going to court. The trial is to start next April. Her father Jake assures her it will all be settled out of court in the end.
“Who’s your friend?” Liberty turns to me. “That’s Fred.”
“Peace, brother … ” His thick blond hair is tied back in a ponytail.
Ignoring the kids who have started wrestling behind him, he gets out of the car leaving the engine running and stands with an arm over the top of the door. “So you’re moving in with Mom and Dad.” Liberty shrugs, and looks up into the trees where the sun is getting low, silhouetting branches and rooflines into a single shape against the sky.
“Fred, are you new around here dude?”
“Moved in last November.”
“Cool, it’s a groovy neighborhood. You met Diddlie yet?”
Niels points up the hill toward her house next door. “Yes she was the first person I got to know after moving in.”
“Now you hanging with Lib huh?”
“Having a neighborly chat about the ‘bug’ litigation.”
“So they are going to drag your ass into court Lib.”
She seems far off still looking into the flat expanse of distant shadows. My question is intended to bring her back. “Didn’t you say your Dad has one of the best litigators around?” Liberty frowns and with a hand on the back of her neck.
“Yeah he’s hired Sherman Shroud, but you think the school doesn’t have a barracuda of their own, with all their funds?”
“Shroud will bury them, that’s his thing Lib. No sweat.”
“‘They will be persuaded after a few weeks in court’, is how Dad put it.” Gray-brown leaves falling from the white oaks in Diddlie’s yard are blown into the open back of the van in a sudden gust. As she speaks, she turns and reaches into the van to throw them out, one leaf at a time. “I don’t know how he can be so confident.”
“You’re expecting a tough contest then?”
“I just hope it doesn’t drag on for years. I am afraid Dad could go broke. We are all looking for work. The band is over. This thing has killed us, and it doesn’t look like I’ll be much help any time soon.”
“No way your old man is going broke Lib. He’s got Macadamia behind him. You’re talking deep pockets there baby.”
“I hear that settling out of court is Shroud’s specialty.”
Liberty has picked up a carton containing her plastic stage gear that gives her the insect look. “That’s right, and he is very well connected.”
She stands there, leaning back slightly, holding the box in front of her.
“I thought Toxic Blob was doing pretty well.” More yellowing redbud leaves, broad and limp, stick to the black driveway.
She notices me regarding the faint green and orange streaks in her hair pulled back and held in place by a plastic lizard shaped clip.
“How do you like the streaks?”
“They were awesome on stage baby.”
“Yeah it’s faded a little more with every shower since our last gig.”
“How did that go?”
“Not good. We didn’t release anything but soap bubbles and got booed.”
“That wasn’t even a crowd. Your publicity for that concert wasn’t worth shit.”
“Well they were probably expecting exotic insects or hornets perhaps.”
A strand of orange hair falls across her face. She blows it away from her mouth. It spreads, brilliantly catching the sunlight for an instant. Another redbud leaf falls on her shoulder in the stillness between gusts of wind.
“So what’s next Liberty?”
“Lib’s going digital dude. I’ve got it figured.” Niels gets back in the car and talks to his boys.
“Dad says I can work at Snaz, but I want to get away from that.”
“What are the others doing?”
“Nobody can find work. They’ve all gone home like me, or staying with friends.”
“I think one of your members is working at the H-bar.”
Niels gets back out of the car with one of the I-pads his sons were using. “Listen baby, pretty soon you’ll be able to download from WitheredLizzardMusic.com.” He hands me the I-pad but the site doesn’t come up.
“WitheredLizzard? I thought you were Toxic Blob.”
“The band didn’t change its name but we have a deal with WLM. That’s Niels’s thing.”
“Fred I want out of construction and into music.” She lifts a box of books down from the van. Copies of Shrink Wrap magazine are on top. The wind fans the pages open and one copy blows onto the ground. Niels picks it up, leafing through it. “This is old, Lib.
We are going to have an ad in Shrink Wrap.”
“When Niels? You’ve got to fix the site first.”
“Yeah I know. I’m going to kick some ass.”
“You need a hand with any of that?”
“No, I can handle this. My life is in here. I need to unload it myself”.
“Niels look at your sons.!”
The two boys in identical orange jackets are out of the car chasing each other up the hill towards Diddlie’s. “I’ve got some Cokes in the fridge. You boys want to come in?” Diddlie is standing in her doorway shouting towards them with her back to us. The boys veer sharply tripping through ivy vines under the fallen leaves, and disappear into her open door. Niels ignores them. “Fred, you into the music or what?”
“Don’t know, I haven’t heard much yet.”
“You are going to hear a lot more soon, buddy.”
