Belltown Messenger

This November the amount of rain that fell was spectacular, and today, the rain was steady and heavier than usual. The city, engulfed in clouds, appeared otherworldly, a habitable Venus. The darkness of the clouds and the darkness of the sun created an eight-hour twilight, where the day never quite starts before night approaches, around three.

J'Rome left the Riley before noon. He needed an umbrella to walk the few blocks to retrieve his car, which was parked behind the Bank of America on Denny. He looped around into the Mercer Mess and headed east on 520. The traffic was backed up and the radio gave a dire report of stalls, jackknives, and crawling traffic. The windshield wipers on the old Honda beat a furious rhythm, barely clearing the pounding rain from the half-fogged windows. Traffic came to a halt in the middle of the old floating bridge. Lulled by the steady beat of the wipers, he fell into a reverie, mulling the contents of the envelope in his jacket pocket.

"Today on the show we have J'Rome, felon, who spent five long years at the notorious Walla Walla state pen for drug trafficking. He was a notorious street capo running his minions of dealers, users and prostitutes. He accepted kickbacks and blood money. He stepped on poor crack addicts and whores to get to the top of his profession." Boos and hisses erupted from the rowdy audience. "The authorities could only send him up for a fraction of his misdeeds. Now, he says he has reformed. He meditates daily. He practices yoga. He is a vegetarian." The audience sucked in their collective breath. "He says that he has made a complete turnaround from the gangster life he once led. And now, ladies and gentlemen, he is here to find out, to confront the most heinous crime of his sordid past. Let me introduce you to Celene."

Celene pushes her wheelchair onto the stage. Her mousy brown hair is in a plain bun. She is wearing a pale blue print jumper and sensible brown oxfords with white socks. She looks like an Amish housewife. She gets out of her wheelchair and, with the aid of two stick,s painfully hobbles to the stage and sits next to J'Rome, her pale face and withered body, in stark contrast to the robust dark-skinned J'Rome.

Springer deepens his voice. "Celene and J'Rome might have a daughter." A panel at the back of the stage lit up revealing the silhouette of a pony-tailed girl. "Is this child the product of this street thug and this poor miserable, one time heroin addict, this poor shell of a woman you see before who was disabled by her former pimp?"

The audience was now its feet shouting, "Tell us Jerry! Tell us Jerry!" "Yes, today in just a few seconds we are going to find out." He holds the paper in front of him, thrusting it into the air. "We are going to find out, if J'Rome & if you are the father?"

J'Rome shuddered from his dream. The traffic started to move. The rain let up as he crossed the bridge. He needed to shake off this feeling of unknown expectation. "Nothing ever turns out like you expect it," he said to himself. He calmed down, breathing deeply emptying his mind. Out in the countryside he began to feel calm, ready to accept the consequences of the envelope. By the time he arrived at the farm the rain had again thickened, pelting his umbrella as he ran from his car into the house.

---

Mimi and Nigel had stayed up late, getting ready for the road. Six months is a long time to be gone. Mimi took a bath, hating to wake Nigel. "I'll let him sleep," she said, floating in the fragrant bubbles.

Nigel lay half asleep, dreaming in the stillness of the bedroom. "Nigel, mate, are you awake? Lets get some grub, OK." Simon's voice roused him through the thin walls of the railway hotel. Simon lit a rag-draped chillum, took a big toke, and passed it through the hole in the wall next to Nigel's head.

"Thanks man," Nigel said letting out a big toke. The two, stoned, gathered themselves slowly, and shuffled down the road into the corrugated shack. "Man, those black beauties are something else. Until last night, I don't think I'd slept for a week at least." Simon said. They sat down, the young girl, without saying a word, brought out some coffee, and, a few minutes later, two plates of fried eggs and toast. After they ate, she put two banged-up aluminum cups on the table.

"Ah, the piece de least resistance," Nigel said, his bare belly tight from the food. They drank the Bhang Lassi gratefully.

"Yeah man, another day in paradise." Simon said. His head tilted back to get the last drops of the sour liquid. "Let's go down to the beach. I saw some new young German chicks yesterday." They stumbled out into the heat and walked slowly down the dusty road. Nigel felt his legs getting heavier. Simon's head looked like a large pink melon, ready to explode. He dropped down on the side of the road and waited for the hash oil rush to subside. He leaned back against a tree and looked up at the fronds pulsating in the intense sunlight. The edges of his vision darkened. He couldn't feel his body.

"Nigel, Nigel, wake up. You must be dreaming, you were moaning something like the light, the light. "Mimi stood over him naked after her bath, her skin still glistening and moist.

"Oh baby, I was dreaming I was back in Kerala all fucked up and shit. Remember how you found me all drooling by the side of the road?" Nigel sat up and held out his arms to her. She crawled under the covers.

"Well, I'm here now. You don't have to worry baby, I won't let you lose yourself again."

"But that's what worries me. I don't know if I can stand all the pressure when we get to LA. I know its new territory for you guys but the music business sucks. I don't want all of us to turn into what kind of a creep I was. That's why I tried to escape all the bullshit."

"Mimi kissed him square on the lips. "Well, we've got to give it a chance. You'll be the best one to let us know if we get too cocky. I don't want to be the next Courtney Love, all slutty and sick. We have Bene and Smiley to protect us; and don't forget J'Rome's running the show. He'll keep us grounded or our little puppet show will go right back in its box. Look, it's almost two. We have to hustle or Smiley will be up here kicking down the door."

---

The dark outside accentuated the glow from Bene's computer as she sat checking the details of the upcoming road trip. "It will be good getting out of Belltown for a while," she thought. "This gloomy weather can get a bit depressing. We'll be in LA when it is darkest here." She thought about sunshine and an easier life, of wearing shorts and sandals. Life without the layers.

The screen's glow dropped her into a daydream. "Hello, Bene, hi how are you? Nic Harcourt here. I want to congratulate you on the Grammy nomination. You really have done a magnificent job. You have taken Superflutay to the Top of the Pops, my girl. I do hope when you win you won't forget to mention my name &"

"Of course Nic, we couldn't have done it without you. You gave us our first break. You're the one who got us that gig on The O.C."

"I Want to Live On Mount Olympus really struck the right cord at the right time." He laughed at his pun. "How is the band? Have they heard the news?" "Oh course. I hope all of this hype won't spoil the harmony. There is too much temptation here. Life is too easy. The girls are shopping at the most expensive boutiques, hanging out with all the wrong people, if you ask me."

"Oh, don't be such an old cow. Everything will be just fine. Oh, I wanted you to be the first to know, there's talk about a big movie in pre-production. It will be a blockbuster starring Scarlet, Ben, Johnny Depp, maybe even Jack and Merle. Even Leo wants in. They want Superflutay to do the music and get this, maybe act in the movie. It'll be big bucks and even bigger fame. Bene, we're talking millions. There's even talk that Sir Paul &."

Bene's cell vibrated. "Hey Smiley. Wow, I was dreaming I guess. Is everything OK?"

"Fine fine, I was calling to see when you'd be ready."

"Smiley, I wonder if we are doing the right thing, I mean, this trip and all." Bene closed the laptop and ran her fingers through her short dark hair. "It's too late to start worrying now, Bene, the ball is rolling." Smiley paced the Argentine. "You've done so much to get the band this far. Now that a bit of success is looming; don't tell me you're getting cold feet. What set this off?" He opened the back door and peered into the rain soaked alley. "Come on Bene; the gang will be alright. We'll help them avoid the Hollywood scumbags, you and me, won't we," he said softly.

"It must be all of this rain. It will be good to get away from this doom and gloom. I'll be ready in one hour. Call me when you leave the studio, OK?" (To be continued)

(To be continued)

You can read the 10th installment of Superfluities on line here.