Pretty Bird

CHAPTER 2

When you stepped in, you could immediately make out the silhouette of Murdoc. He looked like a scrawny street cat the way he was hunched over his desk, shifting his weight slightly against his heels as lightning flashed across the sky. With each bright bolt the room lit up, highlighting the man's gnarled features in a wan burst of light.

You squinted through the darkness, trying in vain to discern the man's facial features. His face was mostly obscured by shadow, though the scarlet flecking his eyes was brighter than you'd ever seen. That exact moment, his head snapped to face you.

"Augh!" he shouted, wiping his nose in a somewhat dis-coordinated swoop of the arm. He began scooching back into the wall in surprise, and in doing so knocked an ashtray off from the nightstand and directly onto his mop of black hair. You watched as he sputtered out the gray ash from his mouth, blinking rapidly and shaking off the residue.

"Ah, it's you," he coughed, "Didn't expect a girl like you to stalk around this late."

You couldn't help but chuckle at the man; covered head to toe in ash, heaving for air against the wall, yet still playing his confidence well.

"What's that supposed to mean, are you saying I'm some specialty?" you quipped, smiling cockily.

Murdoc paused, obviously considering his response to your flirtatious comment. With a wicked grin, he spoke.

"Well, it's not everyday that a wildly fit knockout like yourself sneaks into my room without wantin' something."

You felt your face grow hot, and in a moment your pounding heart began rising to your throat. The darkness masked your flustered expression well, and you were grateful for that.

Locking eyes with him, you saw the familiar playful glint from before, from the airport.

He had so quickly knocked you off your feet you found yourself still reeling.

"What, cat's got your tongue?" Murdoc sneered.

"No," you sighed, "A 'cat' like you wouldn't be able to, I'm afraid."

"Awh, stop being such a tease, love! The night is still young, and I've still got a few tricks

up my sleeve. Denial doesn't look good on a pretty bird like you."

His tongue flicked out of his mouth, licking his lips. It was common knowledge that the bassist would bring roadies back to his room quite often; whether it be on tour or on local gigs, but you were not going to be charmed so easily as those bimbos. If you were going to fall in love with a skeezy bassist, it wasn't going to be for his questionable sexual endeavors.

"Fine," you snorted, plopping onto his bare mattress, "What 'tricks' do you have?"

"Aweh-aweh... I knew you'd be curious," Murdoc laughed, "Most are."

You expected a lewd remark or for him to make a move, but you got quite the opposite. Murdoc smiled, rising from his feet and walking a few feet to the foot of the bed. He roughly grabbed the neck of his bass, hoisting the strap over his shoulder. He proceeded to plop down beside you and prop the guitar on his thigh, motioning for you to hand him the cable. He plugged the cable into the bass and flicked on the amplifier, setting his thumb atop the pickup with two fingers hanging loosely above the thick metal strings.

"Mmm, what's your favorite song?" Murdoc asked in a mumble, eyes darting up to meet yours.

You considered for a moment, a bit unsure of how to answer. Then, you recalled the tune played just an hour ago: Superfast Jellyfish. The simple groove had been one to stay in your head for a while.

"Erm...what about...Superfast Jellyfish?" You said, intentionally drawing out your words in mock indecisiveness.

Murdoc seemed shocked by your response. He met your eyes and shock soon melted into awe.

"Oh... so you heard my little solo, yeah? I didn't know you were so obsessed." Murdoc chuckled, quickly masking his admiration with a self-assuring grunt.

"Well, who could resist the tunes of Murdoc Niccals." he said, puffing out his chest a bit. He cracked a confident smile, and rested his left hand on the neck, navigating the fretboard in anticipation for the song.

"Are you ready to be serenaded by the best bassist in London?"

You couldn't help but giggle a bit at his pride, especially with his absolutely ridiculous appearance. There were still stray flecks of ash on his head and caught between his jet black eyelashes, making him look like a green skinned rat fallen from a dusty air vent.

"Yes, I think I'm well prepared to listen to a bit of music," You said, batting your eyelashes friskilly.

It was silent for a moment, but your ears were soon pleased with the deep, funky grumble you recognized from a while ago. You watched as the man's fingers masterfully moved across the fretboard, each note clear and pronounced in their depth. Murdoc began rocking to the beat of the song, eyebrows knitted in concentration as he alternated plucking fingers with trained preciseness you'd never seen before. You had worked with many bassists in your musical career, yet their talents didn't come close to Murdoc's playing style even when he was playing such a simple song.

"Are you high or something?"

Murdoc's comment snapped you from your trance. You jumped a bit at the sudden interruption, and was immediately embarrassed by your musical enchantment.

"E-Erm, no...," You stuttered, "I just got a bit carried away, that's all."

Murdoc's eyebrow shot up in mock surprise.

"I see I didn't lose any of my charm," he sneered, "there are still some tricks in this pony, yes?"

You found yourself smiling despite your embarrassment, entertained by the bassist's sense of pride.

"You called me a bird, now all of a sudden you're a pony," you laughed, "I didn't know that wildly fit Brits had such strange metaphors."