Track Four: The Calming of Emotions of the Female Species Isn’t Exactly My Strong Point

Zane Tunney

I still can’t believe I asked Alyssa on a date. I mean, I love the fact that she loves me. I just don’t know about the entire situation. I ask her because I “want” to know what my fans want. Gregory, my idiot of a manager, told me it would be a great idea. I have a terrible feeling about the date, but I ignore it and go into a Starbucks the morning of the date. I’m, of course, incognito. With my two bodyguards trailing not too far behind, trying not to look too suspicious, I slip into the warmth of the small café. A wave of heat washes over me. I hate winter. I approach the counter. Now’s my chance to get that damn tall white chocolate mocha with a splash of vanilla.

“Umm…tall white chocolate mocha?” I ask unsurely from behind sunglasses.

“Two sixty-four,” the wiry boy tells me, looking at my glasses funny. “Why are you wearing sunglasses in the middle of winter?”

“The sun can be brighter in the winter, Aldrich,” a girl with horrible acne (loser) at the register says to my defence.

“Exactly,” I agree, logging that fact away for never. “And I have extremely sensitive eyes to light.”

“Right. Two sixty-four,” the boy repeats.

I fish through my pockets and reveal a Starbucks gift card. Thank you, Hector. The boy swipes it through and hands it back to me. This is where I’m lost beyond reason. But you can’t blame me! I’ve never gotten my own Starbucks! The boy notices my confusion and points to the other side of the counter where a few people are making drinks like that all they know how do.

“Tall white chocolate mocha!” a young woman says as she places my drink on the counter.

I take it, confused again at what to do to get vanilla in it. I feel stupid beyond reason, but I’m determined to not look like an idiot today. I notice a table to the side with stirrers and sugar. I bring my drink over there. It is powdered vanilla? I never knew that! Shrugging, I take the container and add a tap of it into my mocha. I stir it and take a quick sip. A little more. Perfect. More than ever, I’m wishing that I hadn’t left my hotel. I hate doing things myself. It’s so…demeaning.

Even though it’s warmer, I’m still freezing my ass off. So I begin to search for a table next to a fireplace. I look around. In the centre of the room, there is a tall, double-sided stone fireplace. Oh, how beautiful it looked, that stupid fire! On one side, the chairs are all taken and there is a little kid. I hate little kids… One the other side, however, there is only a chick on an emerald green computer. Odd choice for a computer colour. Well, she won’t mind. And if she does, well, I’ll just tell her who I am.

She’s wearing jeans and a pink t-shirt. Next to her chair, there’s a thick brown coat and a white scarf with buttons randomly sewn on it. Odd character.

I slide onto the armchair, brown and fluffy, and take a sip of my mocha and BAM! Cue choking.

“Hedwig!” I sputter.

She has her iPod on and is typing furiously. She jolts as if I just hit her with a car yet manages to hold onto her computer. She takes off her headphones and pauses something on her computer. She looks at me with big, confused eyes. Sunglasses.

“It’s me,” I whisper. “Zane.”

Ouch. She remembers… Her face hardens like a rock, she shuts her laptop, and starts to get up.

“No, no, Hedwig,” I say quickly. “Look, I’m sorry about the bookstore.”

“Ha, somehow, I find it surprising that you’d be serious about being sorry,” she says coldly.

Really, I just wanted her to sit down for at little bit. I have never seen anyone anything like her. Usually, I could care less, but this girl is probably the only in the US and the UK combined (no kidding) who doesn’t like me in the slightest. Must find a plan to keep her here! I notice that she doesn’t have drink.

“Can I buy you a drink?”

Like I want to.

“No.”

“Can you tell Alyssa I say, ‘Hey’?”

Pssh, why her?

“No.”

Think quicking, Zane, ol’ boy!

“Can you tell me how to fix my music?”

Wait…what? That couldn’t have come out right at all. I was just sort of shouting things out! But it seems to have gotten her attention for a few seconds.

“I’d love to, but I actually have my own piece to work on,” she tells me frostily. “I desperately need a singer for it by tomorrow, so I’m heading back down to the university.”

“A piece?” I ask.

This seems odd at first, but then again, it doesn’t surprise me that she’d be someone to be totally into music. You can see it in her face. And her little speech yesterday helps, too. But hell! I could care less about her problems. I have my own! But she needs to stay.

“Yes,” she says slowly.

“Can I hear it?”

“I don’t know if you’ll appreciate it. Not exactly your style. Certainly wasn’t Alyssa’s,” she tells me.

“That just makes me want to hear it more.”

Yeah right. She looks at me funny.

“Okay.”

What? Totally wasn’t expecting that! She sits back down and takes her laptop out again. Opening it, she starts clicking around.

“While you’re opening that,” I say. “Can I buy you a drink?”

“Oh no, that won’t be necessary,” she assures me, still icy.

“It’s cold out,” I tell her. “Even your cold heart needs some warmth.”

Whoa, again! That wasn’t supposed to come out. Thought are supposed to stay in my head! I’m thinking, Well, there she goes! But then she smiles weakly (if that’s humanly possible for her). Her teeth: perfectly straight and super white. Not the artificial kind, but like when you brush thirty times a day. She finds that comment humorous.

“Okay,” she says. “Peppermint mocha.”

“Grande, tall, or vendi?”

“Tall.”

“I’ll be right back.”

I slip to the counter.

“Back again, Mr. Mysterious Sunglasses?” the boy asks, the annoying ass.

“Yes, a tall peppermint mocha.”

“You sure like coffee,” he tells me as I hand him the gift card.

“Oh, this isn’t for me.”

“Whatev’.”

I take the gift card back and retrieve the drink. I hurry back to Hedwig and give her the drink.

“Thank you,” she tells me, turning the laptop in my direction and handing me headphones. “The assignment was to write a full orchestra piece with a rock/pop vocals in French and a rock/pop background that is at least three minutes long.”

“When did you get the assignment?”

“Wednesday.”

“And it’s due tomorrow?” I ask incredulously as she hands me a sheet of paper titled Je Reviendrai.

“Yes. You’d probably know the intensity of college assignments if you actually applied for college. The loud simple piano that you’ll hear is going to be voice,” she tells me clicking the play button.

I force her rude comment out of my head as I begin to listen to her music. There is a build up of a mournful tune with the strings and woodwinds when suddenly the brass and electric guitar roar in unison with a fantastic bass guitar part. The drums are extremely strong: a drum set, mallets, timpani, everything. The loud piano she spoke of rising over everything, playing out a very catchy tune. I follow the lyrics, beautifully written and very emotional, with the piano. The French, I can’t follow, so the English side helped. I can pronounce anything in French, but I don’t know what it means. I’ve had to record a few French songs. I guess chicks dig it. But I never had to learn the language at all.

The chorus, the orchestra almost sounded like it cries! The bridge, a sudden change in emotion, anger falling in, but slides back into sadness. Smooth and seamless. The song fades out. I look at her in utter surprise.

“What?” she asks.

“That was…”

“Oh, just say it!” she sighs. “Crap, utter crap! Oh, I knew I shouldn’t have taken this class! I’m going to fail and what employer wants to see that I failed a class!”

Her face falls into her hands. Damn, I’m no good with this stuff. The calming of emotions of the female species isn’t exactly my strong point. Especially with someone as…I don’t know, strange as Hedwig.

“You’re an idiot,” I say instead.

What the hell is up with me? I keep saying things that I don’t mean to say. She looks up, though.

“Huh?”

“That was…amazing because I can’t think of a better word,” I admit.

Truthfully, I really didn’t want to admit it because I know that she’ll pull in something about my music and then I’ll feel pretty crappy about it. And bingo! I win.

“Maybe you should try this style,” she offers. “I might actually enjoy talking to you and listening to your music.”

“You don’t like talking to me?” I ask, actually hurt.

There’s something about this girl. I have no idea what, though! She makes me feel like an idiot! Okay, so I never went to college, but that means nothing.

“Truthfully,” she sighs. “No. You aren’t anything like who I normally talk to or hang out with.”

“What are they like?”

Like I care?

“People with IQs over fifteen.”

OUCH! No, she didn’t… I’m smarter than that. I start to pray that’s the end of what she has to say, but nope. Life hates me.

“Also, the people I talk to know good music from bad, have thorough knowledge of various subjects, and know a little more than how to look pretty,” she begins. “They also are the ones that people like you and your followers push aside, ignoring what we have to say and ignoring the fact that one day, you’ll be working for us. They are the ones who have to put up with –”

Holy hell, does she ever shut up? Time to interrupt.

“Look, I was just about to ask if I could help, but forget it,” I sigh, standing.

“Help?” she asks frostily. “With putting in contacts?”

Wow. One thing anyone should know: do not insult the eyes. They’re my signature color in my look. I-M-P-O-R-T-A-N-T! And no one knows that they’re contacts! How does she know?

“No, with your piece,” I growl. “But seeing that you’re just going to insult me.”

She snaps her computer shut and rises.

“I insult you for good reason!” she says heatedly. “Because everyone’s stupid and under your curse and I’m the only one who can see past all of your crap! And I don’t need any help!”

Enter my sudden plan! If I want to prove to her that no one wants me to change, then I’ll follow her to the recording studio, get a copy of the song, and release. She’ll never know because she hates me and hates my music. She’ll never find out. Then I can come to her ten years later and tell her. How I’ll avoid lawsuit, I have no idea, but like I care at the moment!

So I start. I snap back as she insults me all the way to Cullingham University.

A/N: I know: FINALLY! I hope everyone enjoys this chapter!

NICE FRESH, SUMMERY PINK LEMONADE WITH GINGER SNAPS FOR GrannyP, Lily Llynn, Sophia, AND Ella Way!

Comments to comments:

GrannyP: Thanks for your awesome compliments. I'm glad to see my attempts to improve my writing didn't go unnoticed! And isn't Hedwig awesome? :D

Lily Llynn: I'm so sorry this took so long! :( When I was writing this, I kept thinking, "Gosh, Kay, THINK! Fast!" And then your review would pop into my mind! I'll see if I can create nice enough lyrics. Poetry isn't really my strong point... Heehee! AND GOOD FOR YOU LEARNING FRENCH! Isn't it the most perfect language ever? I'm actually reading the fourth Harry Potter book in French right now! :D

Sophia: Brava? I thought it was "Bravo"! :D Here's the next chapter, nice and fresh and READY FOR YOU TO READ AND SATISFY THAT URGE TO ANSWER THAT CLIFFHANGER!

Ella Way: Thanks! I'm glad you like it so much! I have a special soft spot for my Zane Tunney! :D His personality is shallow and fun! And he's so stupid, which is nice because I'm stupid too and I just have think, "Now, what would I do in this situation? Ah! BINGO!"

THANKS AGAIN GUYS! (BTW: "The Mistress's Marionettes" needs some love! :D Please? Thank you in advance! Heehee!)

-Kay