Never Play For The Audience

Chapter 1

Los Angeles, California
September 25, 1978

Keith

- ''I'm proud of you Keith, you've made huge progress.''

I was so happy to have nailed the final passage of Queen's "We Will Rock You" that I fell back onto the back of my chair.

- ''Thanks Mark,'' I said smiling at my teacher.

- ''I really feel like you have the power of Queen in your blood'', he added while I was putting my guitar back in its case, ''if you continue like this in life you will be incredible.''

- ''It makes me happy to hear it'', I said with slight tears in my eyes, ''but I will never achieve what I would like to.''

Mark stood up from his chair and put his hands on my shoulders as a sign of comfort.

- ''You are an incredible young man Keith. Remember these words, you will be everything you want to be.''

- ''Don't tell me that'', I said, laughing and removing his hands from my shoulders, ''you'll make me cry otherwise.''

- ''You can do it if you want, I won't judge you.''

After greeting Mark, it took some time to return home feeling the warmth of the sun of the first fall days on my face. I didn't want to go home so I took my time.

*

About twenty minutes later, I arrived. Then my mother called me to follow her to the living room. I told her I was going to put my guitar in my room and I felt her roll her eyes behind my back. After coming downstairs, I saw my father who was sitting on the couch with my mother keeping one arm around her hips. I also sat down in the chair opposite them and asked:

- ''What's up?''

- ''Keith,'' my mother began, ''in six months and four days you will be eighteen.''

I grimaced after hearing my mother's incredibly specific statement about my birthday.

- ''What do you mean by that?''

- ''We think that at eighteen is the best time to learn everything about our work. We want you to take the reins of our banks and inherit our money.''

- ''What?!'' I said, widening my eyes and feeling a shiver run down my spine.

- ''Remember your last name Keith,'' my father replied, ''you are a Sergeant and you know what? I find you ungrateful. We're giving you everything we have and you're throwing it all away?''

- ''How many times do I have to tell you that I want to make music my future?''

My mother buried her face in her hands and my father stood up, shouting at me.

- ''Keith, I've had enough. It's hard enough to agree to pay for these damn guitar lessons, but don't you want to make us happy?''

- ''I can make you happy by becoming a musician if only you-''

- ''I can't take it anymore Keith!'' Shouted my mother, ''where do you think you're going with the music, huh? Answer me !''

- ''I don't want to listen to you anymore,'' I said standing up suddenly.

I slammed the living room door and ran. That damn sentence: "You're a Sergeant, Keith." has been eating away at my soul for years, even when I was little. I ran into my room looking for my beige Fender Stratocaster, a gift from Mark, and my pack of cigarettes that I had managed to obtain thanks to some guys in high school. Honestly, I didn't know exactly what I was smoking, but they said tobacco. I heard my father shouting my name but I didn't care. I just wanted to get away from everything and everyone. When I opened the gate of my house, I walked towards the park as close as possible to my house and the sea. The cool of the first autumn days bit the sweaty skin of my face but fortunately, my real leather black jacket kept me warm around the chest. When I saw a free bench, I sat down on it, lit a cigarette and began to caress the neck, strings and tuners of my guitar. It was the best way for me to chill out. I observed, while the smoke from my cigarette blurred my vision, the setting Californian sun reflected on the ocean. A few minutes later, I saw the silhouette of a young man with a familiar face, about my age, walking towards me, smiling curiously.