Values & Virtues
Black smoke bites my lungs. I gasp to get a breath. As I turn away from the police car, there's a whooshing sound and flames spill from the broken windows. People scramble back from the heat. It feels like my jersey is on fire, but it's not. The torched car, the cheering crowd; it's awful and scary and weirdly fun, like we're in a virtual world. But the smoke is real—very real—and all rules are off.
"Huh? You mean...I'm in?"
"Yeah. You're not the best, but you're the only one who answered the ad."
"So, do we have a deal?" Mr. Evans asked.
"Unbelievable," I muttered under my breath.
"I don't understand," Mr. Evans said.
"The whole thing is unbelievable. First you try to threaten me. Then you try to bribe me. And now you do the two together, trying to bribe me and threatening me if I don't take the bribe."
"I don't like to think of it in those terms," he said.
We played for ten minutes and drove home every last note. Al sang a barely audible lead and Drek and I tried to do backup vocals, but I don't think our mikes were even on. Toward the end, though, I had a long, crazy riff to play on my guitar. And you know what? It sounded good. It sounded better than I had ever played.
It was like my guitar and my fingers were doing all the work. I just stood there and watched. My fingers danced like fireworks. The lights sent mirror blasts of magic to the four corners of the room. And when I cranked the heat up to the absolute boiling point, we cut the song. Right on cue. Just like in practice.
Suddenly I'm angry. Really angry. I bounce off the door frame and grab him again. He throws my hands off. With a solid crunch, he slams his shoulder into my chest and sends me flying.
Down the stairs.
