souls of black | fever in, fever out

chapter 137: softer, softest

The morning sun washed over the top edge of the roof as Sam surfaced from that door. She stood there for a second and took a glimpse about the short square roof: in the direction of the rising sun stood the Twin Towers and their narrow shadows spread over the New York skyline with all their mighty power.
She couldn't bear to see Alex and Zelda down there, not after so soon after her witnessing Joey and Krista. She needed some time alone before more patrons came in. The whole thing was out of her control at that point. It wasn't that long ago she lived up in the house in Elsinore with nothing more than those books and her journal at her disposal and there she stood atop the roof of the speak easy. The roof of her life.
She pinched the bridge of her nose and she took another glimpse around the roof. The building next door followed by the series of apartment complexes rose up behind the edge of the roof. She was the lowest one on the street and therefore the one that people saw first. Scarlett knew what she was doing from the very beginning and thus she knew that she had to have taken Charlie's word for it the first time around.
She sighed through her nose and she stepped over to the edge closest to the sunrise. Her coffee in hand, she neared that high parapet and she set a hand on the top there. She peered over the edge to the street below. Only twenty feet as far as she could see, but she knew it would be quite the jump regardless of anything.
She took a sip of her coffee and she gazed up at the late September sun as it grazed over the tops of the New York skyline. Alone again, but that time she had no idea who would come for her next, whether that was Lars or Marla. For all she knew, she would be up there at the top without someone else right next to her. Even with the money she could make, there was nothing that could replace the feeling of another soul next to her. Whether it was a lover or a friend, she didn't care. Granted, she knew that she had to be alone in order to get used to herself and to pull in deep from herself for her art, but there had to be another side to the connection however.
It was as if her old friendships had just fallen away with the very passage of time itself.
But then she thought about Aurora and the promise she had made to her. Even if the new place was right down the hall from Marla and Belinda, she still had to invite that little broken family over for a round of dinner, something to ease the pain they had to have been experiencing.
She took another sip from her coffee and she turned her attention to the buildings next door to her. Easy to get lost there in New York, even in a place as well cut out like Hell's Kitchen: the apartment complexes rose up like the walls of a maze right before her eyes. Above that stood the clear blue sky of a brand new day.
A beautiful day in the neighborhood as Marla had once said.
"Samantha?"
She turned her head to the right and then she stepped back, and there was Alex in the doorway, also with a cup of coffee in hand. She rubbed her eyes to make sure that her mind wasn't playing tricks on her that time around.
"Hi," she greeted him, and he stepped over to her. He joined her on her left side, and he too leaned upon the edge. The morning sun kissed his face, which seemed even brighter given he had pinned his hair back from his brow, and made his eyes seem deeper than usual.
"What brings you here?" she asked him, taken aback.
"Just wanted to see you," he told her in a low voice. "I just—I feel like I haven't seen you in forever."
"You kinda haven't seen me in forever," she pointed out. "Did you eat those ginger snaps already?"
"Oh, no. They're nestled tight in my pocket."
"The date just kinda—snuck up on me. I didn't what to get you this year."
"It's okay," he assured her. "I don't really want much for my birthday, anyways. Never have, either. If I get something special, it's always a surprise." He took a sip of his coffee and then he turned his head to her again. She never noticed the little point in his brow until that point, either.
"Just noticed you have little bit of a widow's peak," she remarked with a gesture to his brow, "right up here."
"Oh, yeah, that! Yeah, my mom says it makes me look distinguished. But then again, she said the same thing about my gray streak." He took another sip and she did as well.
"Did you talk to Aurora at all?" he asked her in a low voice.
"I did, yeah." She hesitated for a second. "Did you know Emile left?"
"Really?" He was stunned by that, and she nodded.
"Yeah. Completely surprised me, too. Like he just picked up and walked out on her and the kids basically."
"Wow!" he said in a hushed voice.
"No clue where he went, either. She says for all she knows, he went back to New Orleans. So when I talked to her yesterday, she was—pretty remorseful for her behavior towards me in particular. She wants to get rid of you, though."
"Why?" He frowned at that.
"Something about—the winds shifting," she said. "You know, people want—something more with their music. She called it an 'alternative'."
"Okay..." His voice trailed off at that. "That just sounds odd to me, because I've always seen us—as well as the Big Four as an alternative of sorts to glam and big hair."
"I have a question," she started again.
"Go ahead—" He tipped the cup into his mouth again.
"Why isn't Testament a part of the Big Four?"
He took a big hearty gulp of that coffee and then he cradled the cup right before him in both hands.
"Well, I thought about it—" he started and then he stopped again. "And I feel it comes down to seniority. You know, we started a few years later in the game. Metallica had a few albums out by the time we changed our name to Testament. Megadeth did, too, so did Anthrax and Slayer. I forget who it was who said it—someone somewhere called us, Exodus, Death Angel, and Overkill the 'little four', like we're on that second wave."
"I think it was Marla who said it," Sam recalled. "I think anyways. It was either Marla or Belinda, one of them who coined that."
Alex hesitated with his deep eyes fixed on the roof's edge before them, and then he tilted his head to the side a bit.
"Yeah, it was," he said with a little lopsided grin. "I think it was Marla who called us that."
"They're just—rocking and rolling right now up the road in Scarsdale," she told him.
"Marla and Belinda?"
"Mm-hm. That glass studio that they're working in. Wouldn't that just be the coolest?"
"Playing around with glass?" he said with a little smirk.
"Mm-hm—Belinda still owes me a lesson in that, too. I want to try it out some day."
"Well, Samantha—you're a true artist. A great artist. Great artists don't limit themselves."
"You're a great artist," she remarked, to which he shrugged.
"Eh—I just wanna play," he said, and she giggled at that. He took another drink of his coffee and he held it before him again. Sam thought of that drawing in the journal and she wondered when she would show it to him, that is if she could find the chance to show him. His deep eyes gazed out to the street before them: off in the distance, the Twin Towers loomed with the golden morning light, two vast columns as they stood strong and high as a couple of monoliths at the helm of the world.
The other end of the world.
"Have you talked to Joey lately?" he asked her in a low voice, and she shook he head.
"I haven't," she replied. "I really want to, though. I want to—just let him know how I feel about him. How I still feel about him, even after he did what he did after I called off the wedding."
"Well," he started again, "when they get home—and that's next month, I think? I'll have to check. Charlie gave me the whole list of dates literally right before they left so I'll have to look them over. Anyways, when they get home from this stint of it, go over to the airport in Syracuse and let him have it." He shifted his weight and peered up at the antenna next to her. "How'd you feel before Cliff was killed?"
"I was angry with him," she said, and then she paused. "I don't even remember what for now. But I was upset with him and—I think we reconciled before Metallica left for Europe. But—you know."
"Oh, yeah." He paused again, and then his face lit up. "You know they were actually here. In New York."
"When?"
"Uh—not—was it yesterday? Or the day before. You didn't hear about it?"
"No!"
"Shit. Yeah, definitely talk to him, especially when they don't even tell you that they were here!" He propped up the side of his head against the back of his hand and he gazed out to the skyline.
"You know, I think about moving here from time to time," he said. "Remember when you and I talked about that once?"
"Yeah, we were driving up from my mom's house up to Carson—when it was you and me. And you should—it is tough, though. I'm just gonna throw that out there right now."
"Oh, yeah, definitely. I've met a few people who have moved across country—my parents for example! And it's always brutal. But there's something about New York. Something—homey, I would say. I feel like I should be here." He turned to her without lifting his head. "You ever get that feeling? Like you should be somewhere and you're willing to do anything to get it?"
"Absolutely," she replied and they took another sip of coffee in unison.
"You know, I joined a new band recently," he told her as he straightened himself upright.
"Did you now?" she teased him.
"It's called The Urge," he said.
"The Urge? I feel like it's one of those names that can go either way. It can be sexy or it can be dangerous."
"If you ask me, it's both," he replied with a straight face. "It's a—get ready for this—jazz fusion outfit."
"Ohhhhh, boy," she declared and she couldn't resist the grin on her face.
"I also did another on the side thing a while back, too. Called Exhibit A—I didn't really tell anyone about it because it was just kind of a one off thing. We opened for Vio-lence but that's as far as it went, though."
"Was that jazz or something else?" she asked him.
"It was like... jazz rock, if you will. But this is something really special, though. The kind of thing I've been taking interest to lately. The kind of thing I can take my parents to go and see. Zelda's not too sure about it, but I wonder about my parents and if they can stomach anything I make." He flashed a glimpse over at her: a shadow spread over the right side of his face where the sunlight kissed the left side. His eyes seemed deeper than normal and then she had more questions for him at that point.
"Have they come to Testament shows at all?" she asked him.
"Not yet," he replied with a shake of his head and with a low tone to his voice, "I hope they will at some point, though. It would be—everything if they did. It would mean the world if my parents came to a show."
She locked eyes with him and she made sight of the tears that brimmed them.
"I am kind of the black sheep, you know," he pointed out, and he gazed back out to the skyline once more.
"It's—gotta hurt you a bit," she noted in a low voice.
"It hurts a lot." His expression was blank. "It's—pretty lonely, actually. You know, you're the only one in your family taking the road less travelled and everyone's wondering where your parents went wrong. You can always laugh about it—make fun of my dad's sentiments about my being meshuggah—but behind every good joke is a painful story. There are times I—I feel like I'm disappointing my parents. I feel like no matter what I do I'm letting them down all because I wanted to follow my own heart and go my own way."
Sam set a hand on his shoulder.
"You know if it's any comfort, I often feel like I'm the odd one out," she told him. "You know, I was the new girl. The first day I moved here I was at a total loss for words. I didn't think I would meet anyone at first because of the whole perception that New Yorkers and people from the West Coast don't get on very well and New Yorkers are rude. And then it was like—it all just fell into my lap. I met Frankie and Joey, and then I met Aurora, a fellow California girl. But I still feel it, though. That I'm letting people down and that I'm always going to be alone. You know, you came up here I was really thinking that. Like—I can have all the money in the world but—there will never be anything more precious to me than someone who gets you. Whether that person is a friend or a boyfriend or whomever."
Alex kept his gaze locked onto her, and he never changed his expression for a second.
"I was also the only artist in my family—for years when I was growing up," she added.
"Really?"
"Well, actually—people in my family have that streak to them—for lack of a better word." She glanced up at the right side of his brow and he cracked her a smile.
"It's okay—I dyed my hair like twice before I came here," he assured her.
"Anyways, people in my family have that but—never to the point they make a career out of it."
"Like it should always be a hobby," he said, and he knitted his eyebrows at that.
"Exactly! Like there's no way in hell on Earth I can do this sort of thing for a living. But here I am—having met Scarlett through Charlie and with my own gallery and I feel like I'm going to be looking at a big pay day here soon enough. Patrons pay to get in and whoever wants something from me, Scarlett takes a commission for herself because she has to make something. A small part of the pay to get in plus the price of the art goes to rent and then the rest goes to me. With all the people coming in lately, I'm sure it's going to be big coming up here the first time around."
"What exactly does Scarlett do?" Alex asked her as he ran his fingers through his hair. "Every time I see her I always expect her to put on Robocop glasses and start waving her arms at me while she's singing loudly to the theme song from Phantom of the Opera."
She burst out laughing at that and he grinned at her.
"She's my manager," Sam replied as she tossed her blonde highlights back from her neck, "she's also my consultant."
"I see." He sipped on his coffee again, and then he nodded his head and started humming.
"What'cha hummin'?" she asked him.
"Think of me, think of me fondly," he sang in a gentle deep voice, "when we've said goodbye, remember me, once in a while. Please promise me you'll try. When you find that once again you long, to take your heart back and be free. If you ever find a moment, spare a thought for me."
Sam clasped a hand to her chest in awe.
"I didn't know you could sing," she remarked.
"I'm not very good, though," he answered with a shrug of his slender shoulders.
"Alex, you have a nice voice! It's deep and throaty but husky, though. I can see you singing like the blues some day."
He bowed his head and showed her a little smile.
"I do play with a vein of blues," he said. "Ever since I first heard rock n roll when I was a kid. It's always stuck with me, especially with my status as a black sheep."
"Really, Alex, you have a very nice voice," she insisted. "You can sing—you just have to hone it in and work it, like you would with your guitar playing as well." He sighed through his nose and returned to the cup cradled in his hands. That singing voice was a new nuance to him, and one that she wished to feel out more for him.
"Let's make this our quiet place," she told him, and he nodded at her.
"Yeah. I was hoping we'd do something like that. Our own place to come to and just hang out with nobody else. Just you and me here when things go awry."
"So you guys are going on tour again, right?" she asked him with a little nod to her head.
"Yeah, but only for like—a couple of weeks and then we go back into the studio. Since you're our friend, and there's no one else here with us, I'll tell you the name of the new album."
"What is it?"
"The Ritual."
"The Ritual."
"Think—all your Jewish ceremonies, and Native American lore like rain dances, and Day of the Dead. Real traditional type stuff going into it to hone in all of our roots. Add to this, Eric wants us to kinda do what Metallica did with their latest and push for more—I'd say a hard rock sound? And I hope Aurora will have changed her mind by then, too."
"I hope so, too," she said in a soft voice. She turned her head back to him again.
"How is Eric, by the way?" she asked him. "You know he owes me a date, right?"
"Oh, yeah?" he chuckled.
"Yeah, a while back—and I mean, a while back, when you guys were recording Souls of Black—he told me we should hang out together, if you know what I mean." And Alex snickered at that.
"Oh, man, I gotta run that by him. Well, if you ought to know, he's doing fantastic! In fact, you know what? It's funny—he actually asked about you the other day. He was like 'god damn it, I miss Sam!' and I'm like, 'dude, call her. She's living with Marla and Belinda, you know their number.'" And she giggled at that. "It's gonna be a couple of weeks before we leave, you know?" And he started laughing along with her. "He wants to take you out on a date."
"Yeah. It's just—you know, finding the right time."
Alex turned to her with a pensive look on his face.
"I can actually see the two of you together, if I'm being perfectly honest," he confessed. "Like I can envision it. I can see you both in some sort of thing."
"You wouldn't be angry about it?" she wondered aloud.
"Why would I be angry about it?" he asked her, taken aback. "You're amazing, and he deserves something amazing for all that he does for me, for Chuck, and for Greg and Louie. You should totally do it, Samantha."
"Alex?" Zelda's voice floated out there from the floor below. He downed the rest of the coffee and then he stepped away from the edge.
"I gotta check out what's going on," he told her.
"Alex?" Sam called after him.
"Hm?" He turned back towards her with his eyebrows raised up: that always softened his face, even more so at that point.
"Thank you."
And he shook his head.
"Just doing what I can," he told her.
"You always do," she said with a wink.
"And when you see Joey, tell him I sent you. Just—trust me on that."
"Good plan." Sam downed the rest of her coffee and she followed him back downstairs.
It would in fact be a full month before Anthrax returned home from their final stop for the time being in Vancouver; Lars still hadn't come back to New York then either, and thus she had to take Alex's word for it from that point onward. He sent her to see Joey as he took the next flight home to upstate New York.
Given it was late October and the week before Halloween, she had missed his thirty-first birthday, but she knew she could make it up to him in the next week. Krista may have won his body for the time being but Sam knew where to touch him in the heart.
A round of lunch in that coffee shop followed by a round on the ice at that hockey rink. It would be a day all for him and she had made enough money for herself at that point to do it without worry.
That four hour drive up the spine of New York was without question the longest before up to that point. Every mile crawled by her, every tree, every farm house nestled back in those trees, marked her meeting with fate. She had to convince him somehow, so he could come back to her. Anthrax were on their way up as far as she could tell. She had to have Joey back with her.
Soon the Syracuse skyline rose up from the horizon and she wound her way around the southern edge of the city towards the airport. The next flight in from Canada was about to land as she took the next spot in the parking lot.
She slung her purse over her shoulder and hurried to the next terminal. She recognized his black curls as he emerged from the gate. Black curls under that Injun cap and with a feather stuck in his lanyard: his dark skin never looked so clear and smooth before. Sam waved back at him.
"Joey—Joey!" she called out. She waved at him but he never changed expression to her even as he stopped right in his tracks. Then she realized he had peered right past her, as if she wasn't even there. She turned around and she spotted the sign behind her.
Krista hurried out from behind the sign and darted towards him with her arms wide open for him. Sam tried to run over to them, but she stopped once he gripped onto her shoulders.
Her face was alight with the look of love. If only she could read lips, especially from clear across the room like that. He said something to her and she nodded. She said something that made him smile.
He then said something else, to where he nodded his head about to add more feeling to it.
Sam wanted to hear him.
But she could see him say her name.
She held still, and Sam did, too.  Joey reached into his inner pocket for something and he took out a little blue suede box. He lowered himself to one knee and he showed her the ring. Right there in the airport. Right there in front of everyone, including Sam, who shook her head and backed away while several people stopped around them. She could hardly breathe or think straight.
"Oh," she choked out. "Oh, hell no."
Krista clasped her hands to her face. They held still for a few seconds and then she held out her hands. Even from a distance she could see her say "yes" to him. Joey stood to his feet and stuck the ring on her finger. Sam's heart sank as they embraced in a passionate kiss. She ducked away from there and back to her car: at that point, the tears began to fall.
No way she could tell him that Alex sent her now, but then again she knew that was the least of her problems.

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lyrics to "think of me" from phantom of the opera 💜