Crescendo

Chapter 1 - Here's to the Start

*** Quick Author's Note:

Hi Everyone!

I just wanted to mention that since this story is about a rock band going on a musical journey, I've decided to intersperse accompanying music and lyric videos throughout the chapters to help set the scenes as we read through the characters' adventures.

So without further ado, as the Dante's Inferno boys hold a raging party, here's a rhythmic snippet to personify the chaos. Stay for a minute and watch or listen as you read along!

Thanks! ***

DAY ONE

DANTE'S INFERNO

The lavish mansion revels in the midst of a vast debacle. Loud music blasts from the speakers. Girls are everywhere. Beer bottles are strewn across the floor, with tequila and tons of liquor flowing. In more secluded corners, people are smoking weed, snorting coke, doing X, exalting in a drug user's nirvana. 

In the center of the room, Christian Richards stands on a large, glass table. With the added height, he towers over everyone in the crowded room. Without his vertical advantage, he would still be attention-worthy. His exotic looks garner admiration or curiosity as his mocha skin contrasts with his blonde cropped hair and bright blue eyes. Christian claps his hands and waves his arms.

"Hey! Turn the music down!" he yells, slurring his words. After shouting a few more times, someone finally consents to his request. There are a few complaints until Christian takes on a more dominant tone.

"Calm the hell down. I got something to say! Then you can crank it back up as loud as you want."

A few people in the audience make some exclamations of encouragement.

"As you all know, we'll be going on our new HELLFIRE tour soon. I can't imagine going through this with any other guys," Christian says, proud of his status as Dante's Inferno's drummer.

Christian squints, searching throughout the crowd. "Sky, Turner! Alex! Get up here."

"Here they are," someone cries out. The crowd pushes two guys towards Christian. He holds out his hand, urging them to join him.

"Come on."

Turner Clarke sweeps his light green eyes to look at his own lanky figure, then over to the slightly shorter Sky, who's standing next to him.

"I don't think that's a good idea, Christian. This table doesn't look sturdy enough to hold all of us."

Christian rolls his eyes dramatically. "Fuck the table. Get up here."

Sky St. James pushes Turner's shoulder.  

"Just do it," he says. "He'll bitch about it all night if you don't."

"Hey!" Christian begins to protest but gives in as Sky hops up agilely onto the table.

"Come on, Turn," Sky eggs on his fellow bandmate.

Turner runs his hands through his hair. "Fine. Whatever."

He lets Christian help him onto the table-although he keeps fearfully glancing down at the tabletop. Christian throws his arms around both of them. He starts to speak again but pauses.

"Wait. Where's Alex?"

"I haven't seen him. Not here yet, I guess." Sky shrugs but Christian frowns, clearly annoyed.