PUNK'd

Chapter Three: Bastards of Young

          A few days had passed since that night at the pub, and I was finally settled into my new home. My bedroom was still a bit bare, I hadn't made any attempt at trying to decorate it yet, but it was looking a bit more lived in. Mostly because I already had piles of dirty laundry littered all around the room. 

          "Do you even have any clean clothes left?" Sheila asked, observing the mess.

          "I suppose I'd better wash a load, huh?" I asked with a nervous laugh.

          "The washing machine is in the kitchen," Sheila replied before leaving my room.

          "The kitchen?" 

          I began going through the piles of dirty laundry, sorting them by color and checking the pockets for items, when I came across the black and red striped pants I had worn that night of the Leon incident. I reached into the pair of skinny jeans, and pulled out a slip of paper with a phone number on it. I stared at it for a moment before I remembered what this phone number was.

          "The wanted flyer!" I exclaimed, throwing the jeans aside and searching for my cell phone. I quickly found it, but immediately came to a grave recollection: I couldn't make calls with my phone here. 

          "Sheila!" I yelled, running down the hallway and into the living room where Sheila was watching TV. "Can I borrow your phone?"

          "You still haven't gotten a UK sim card? How have you gone this long without using your phone?" Sheila asked handing me hers. 

          I ignored her question and quickly dialed the phone number on the slip of paper. I waited impatiently as the phone rung in my right ear. Finally, someone answered the phone.

          "Yeah, whadaya want?" The voice asked grouchily. I was taken aback when I heard this voice speak. It sounded vaguely familiar. 

          "Yes, I'm responding to your wanted ad. Are you still looking for a bass player?"

          "Hold on," the voice said. I could faintly hear the voice on the other end of the phone conversing with someone else, but couldn't make out what was being said. "How soon can you come?" The voice finally answered.

          "I can come right now, if that's okay with you."

          "Let me give you the address."

           I quickly scribbled down the address, and hung up the phone.

          "What was that about?" Sheila asked as I handed her back her cell phone.

          "I have an audition! I've gotta go!"

           I hurried back into my bedroom, and grabbed a change of clothes from among the dirty piles of laundry. I swiftly got changed, grabbed my bass, ran out the front door, and flagged down a cab once I got outside. I gave the cab driver the address, and we drove off.

          When we arrived at the address, I was a bit concerned to see where exactly this place was. It was an old, rundown flat building with ugly yellow brick stained black from age and pollution. The area around the building didn't look much better either. 

          "Are you sure you want to be dropped off here? This isn't a very safe area," the cab driver asked as he saw the look of concern on my face. I swallowed the lump in my throat and nodded. I paid my fare, grabbed my bass, and made my way to the flat number I was given. 

          The inside of the flat building was just as bad as the outside. The hallways were carpeted with a nasty, badly stained red carpet that looked like it had been there for decades. Cigarettes and other random debris littered the place. I was half expecting to see people shooting up in the hallways with just how scary and dingy the place was. After an eternity of walking through this place, I finally made it to the flat I was looking for. I knocked on the door.