Fallen, chapter 3
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As they approached the theater, the trio realized two things. First of all, the "theater" was not actually a theater. It was an old auditorium, slightly renovated. Secondly, something was up with this play. Either there was a full house, or it was crap.
From the other side of the road, Bill monitored the parking lot and reported his findings to Frank, who was driving. Initially, the parking lot was full. Very full. People were fighting over spaces. A dog was almost run over!
Frank, Bill, and Adie were all pretty annoyed. As they went closer, it seemed that some of the cars had been removed. Perhaps the traffic police interfered and tried to clear things up. Frank cursed when he realized he might have to park his baby in some dinky garage.
As they got closer, they realized that nobody was interfering; people were just leaving. Frank and his friends looked at one another in confusion. Were they late? Was the show over? Nah, it couldn't be. The flyer specifically said seven-thirty. Was the show just a huge crap fest? Is that why people were leaving? But they couldn't be; if the show were crap, they wouldn't have all the hype and great reviews. Frank shrugged it off and parked in one of the many empty spaces.
As they neared the entrance, Frank saw two or three people coming out, looking disappointed. He and his friends went in anyway. At the entrance was a girl. This girl, nay, woman caused Frank's heart start to pound a little faster and his mind to stop working. She was talking to a group of people and taking down names.
"Alright," she said, "here is your money back, please deposit it at the entrance next week." For a moment, she was all Frank saw, heard, or cared about.
"Hey, Romeo," Adrienne tapped him on the shoulder, "stop gaping and look for someone else who can tell us what's going on." Frank came back to reality. He and Bill looked around for a few minutes before Bill spotted a stout Asian man who was running around trying to get things in order.
"Excuse me," Bill said to the man, "could you tell us what's happening? Is the show cancelled?" The man looked at him for a few moments, as though he recognized them and was wondering where from. Frank on the other hand, took the man into a giant bear hug.
"Tommy!!" he all but shouted. "Tommy Wang!" He couldn't be happier. He was right! This troupe did have something to do with Twang. Billie looked at his friend, surprised.
"Frank, are you out of your mind?" he hissed.
Frank looked at Bill for a moment before hugging him too. "Billie! Billie it's Twang!"
Both Bill and the Asian man looked surprised. "Twang! Twangin' Wang! My first customer and my long-lost partner in crime!" Realization dawned on the two confused men as Adielooked on in amusement.
The Asian man took both Frank and Bill in his arms. "Tre Cool!" he boomed. "Tre Cool and Billie Armstrong! Its good to see you again." The reunion lasted for a few minutes as Tom Wang, or "Twang" as he was known, explained everything and they caught up on old times. It turned out that the troupe had the name of Tom's old band because he was the director and founder. They caught up on each other's lives for a bit before Tom realized he still had work to do, cleaning up and taking the scenery and costumes back to the truck.
"Listen," he said, "the play's been rescheduled to next week. Talk to Isis over there," he pointed at the woman that captured Frank's breath, "She'll write your names down and give you a refund if you'd like"
Frank hastily said goodbye to Tom and dragged Bill over to Isis. The name fit. Clearly, the girl was a goddess disguised as a human. She had the most amazing deep mahogany red hair with uneven black streaks running down its lengths. Imagine what it would feel like to touch it. Frank smiled to no one in particular. Her skin looked just as soft; it was peachy, but with an underlying olive.
"Can I help you?"
"Wha...ah!" Frank yelped, thrown off guard and snapped out of his imaginings. He straightened himself out and tried to speak, "We, um, ah... help need rescheduling next play week names our down write please?" He mumbled something else and trailed off into silence. He could have slapped himself.
Bill jumped in to fix the damage, "What my friend is trying to say is that we would like to come back next week for the rescheduled play. If you could just write down our names on that clipboard of yours, we'd appreciate it and then be on our way."
"Yes..." Frank said, looking at his shoes, "exactly." Adie consoled him, trying desperately not to laugh, and led him back to the car, leaving Bill to speak to Isis and collect their money.
Isis stared at the strange man as he left with a woman patting him on the back and telling him it was okay. What an odd person. She smiled to herself as she wrote down his and his friends' names. The man she was talking to was Billie Joe Armstrong. Not Bill, not William Joseph. Billie Joe. So, Adrienne Armstrong must be his wife. And what about that jumbled man? Isis looked down at the list. Frank Wright. The Frank Wright? Frank Wright of La Musicale, the best and most exclusive music store in California, probably the entire world? La Musicale, where she'd just bought a guitar for her friend's birthday after saving for years? Wow, when Mike got his guitar, he'd have to hear this story. And he'd better thank her.
Wow. She still couldn't get over it. Frank Wright rambled incoherently to her. Isis blushed and toyed with the silver cross hanging from her neck whilst looking towards the ceiling.
"Dear God," she muttered to the ceiling, "Thank you for giving me a moment like that, because for me, they don't come often. Amen."
"Isis!" Mr. Wang said from behind her. She turned around. "Isis, come on. Everything's done. We don't have to be here until next week. Do you want a ride home?"
"No thanks, Mr. Wang. I'm going next door to the coffee shop. My friend Mike is going to give me a ride."
"Alright then. But I trust I will be seeing you at rehearsal day after tomorrow?"
"Yes sir." She waved goodbye to her director and proceeded to walk to the nearby coffee shop. She heard the familiar chime of the bell and breathed in the smell of fresh coffee as she opened the door to The Stimulant.
She giggled. She couldn't help it; only Mike Pritchard would choose a name like that. Isis wandered inside to see that the place was bustling with business as usual. She spotted Mike behind the counter, arguing with someone, also as usual. Rolling her eyes, she popped in front of her friend with a rueful smile on her face.
"I need a ride," Isis whined. Now Mike rolled his eyes.
"When do you not need a ride Ice?" he grinned playfully, using the theater actress's college nickname.
"I don't know when I don't need a ride, but I need one tonight." She grinned back, tousling his ginger blonde hair. "Please?"
"Fine." He picked up a stack of mugs and saucers to take to the back.
"Oh, and can I have some coffee too?" Isis asked, trying to be sweet and convincing. Mike ignored her and continued to the back to deposit the dirty dishes. He returned a couple of minutes later with some coffee for Isis.
"You know you're going to have to pay for that right?" he handed her a receipt.
"Oh come on Michael! We're friends. Friends don't charge each other for coffee."
"In other words, you're broke or you just don't feel like paying, because, for the record, friends do pay sometimes. Especially when one friend keeps showing up at the other friend's café and trying to weasel free coffee."
"Okay, yeah," Isis admitted, "I'm broke. But, for a good reason."
"It'd better be a damn good reason, Isis Farrell because I swear to God—sorry," Mike caught himself automatically. Isis was raised in a very Christian family and followed most of the rules that she was taught. And that one rule about using the Lord's name in vain... well, she threw a bit of a hissy fit about it during their college days after he'd done it a few times too many."But I swear, I will break into your house and steal all the money you owe me."
Isis giggled again. "At least you're not threatening me like you were that other guy a few minutes ago."
"Geez, Icy. He was asking for it. You would not believe how many times the same
person would try and steal a muffin. Why are you broke anyway?"
"You'll find out. Soon enough." Isis smiled at a very suspicious Mike.
From the other side of the road, Bill monitored the parking lot and reported his findings to Frank, who was driving. Initially, the parking lot was full. Very full. People were fighting over spaces. A dog was almost run over!
Frank, Bill, and Adie were all pretty annoyed. As they went closer, it seemed that some of the cars had been removed. Perhaps the traffic police interfered and tried to clear things up. Frank cursed when he realized he might have to park his baby in some dinky garage.
As they got closer, they realized that nobody was interfering; people were just leaving. Frank and his friends looked at one another in confusion. Were they late? Was the show over? Nah, it couldn't be. The flyer specifically said seven-thirty. Was the show just a huge crap fest? Is that why people were leaving? But they couldn't be; if the show were crap, they wouldn't have all the hype and great reviews. Frank shrugged it off and parked in one of the many empty spaces.
As they neared the entrance, Frank saw two or three people coming out, looking disappointed. He and his friends went in anyway. At the entrance was a girl. This girl, nay, woman caused Frank's heart start to pound a little faster and his mind to stop working. She was talking to a group of people and taking down names.
"Alright," she said, "here is your money back, please deposit it at the entrance next week." For a moment, she was all Frank saw, heard, or cared about.
"Hey, Romeo," Adrienne tapped him on the shoulder, "stop gaping and look for someone else who can tell us what's going on." Frank came back to reality. He and Bill looked around for a few minutes before Bill spotted a stout Asian man who was running around trying to get things in order.
"Excuse me," Bill said to the man, "could you tell us what's happening? Is the show cancelled?" The man looked at him for a few moments, as though he recognized them and was wondering where from. Frank on the other hand, took the man into a giant bear hug.
"Tommy!!" he all but shouted. "Tommy Wang!" He couldn't be happier. He was right! This troupe did have something to do with Twang. Billie looked at his friend, surprised.
"Frank, are you out of your mind?" he hissed.
Frank looked at Bill for a moment before hugging him too. "Billie! Billie it's Twang!"
Both Bill and the Asian man looked surprised. "Twang! Twangin' Wang! My first customer and my long-lost partner in crime!" Realization dawned on the two confused men as Adielooked on in amusement.
The Asian man took both Frank and Bill in his arms. "Tre Cool!" he boomed. "Tre Cool and Billie Armstrong! Its good to see you again." The reunion lasted for a few minutes as Tom Wang, or "Twang" as he was known, explained everything and they caught up on old times. It turned out that the troupe had the name of Tom's old band because he was the director and founder. They caught up on each other's lives for a bit before Tom realized he still had work to do, cleaning up and taking the scenery and costumes back to the truck.
"Listen," he said, "the play's been rescheduled to next week. Talk to Isis over there," he pointed at the woman that captured Frank's breath, "She'll write your names down and give you a refund if you'd like"
Frank hastily said goodbye to Tom and dragged Bill over to Isis. The name fit. Clearly, the girl was a goddess disguised as a human. She had the most amazing deep mahogany red hair with uneven black streaks running down its lengths. Imagine what it would feel like to touch it. Frank smiled to no one in particular. Her skin looked just as soft; it was peachy, but with an underlying olive.
"Can I help you?"
"Wha...ah!" Frank yelped, thrown off guard and snapped out of his imaginings. He straightened himself out and tried to speak, "We, um, ah... help need rescheduling next play week names our down write please?" He mumbled something else and trailed off into silence. He could have slapped himself.
Bill jumped in to fix the damage, "What my friend is trying to say is that we would like to come back next week for the rescheduled play. If you could just write down our names on that clipboard of yours, we'd appreciate it and then be on our way."
"Yes..." Frank said, looking at his shoes, "exactly." Adie consoled him, trying desperately not to laugh, and led him back to the car, leaving Bill to speak to Isis and collect their money.
Isis stared at the strange man as he left with a woman patting him on the back and telling him it was okay. What an odd person. She smiled to herself as she wrote down his and his friends' names. The man she was talking to was Billie Joe Armstrong. Not Bill, not William Joseph. Billie Joe. So, Adrienne Armstrong must be his wife. And what about that jumbled man? Isis looked down at the list. Frank Wright. The Frank Wright? Frank Wright of La Musicale, the best and most exclusive music store in California, probably the entire world? La Musicale, where she'd just bought a guitar for her friend's birthday after saving for years? Wow, when Mike got his guitar, he'd have to hear this story. And he'd better thank her.
Wow. She still couldn't get over it. Frank Wright rambled incoherently to her. Isis blushed and toyed with the silver cross hanging from her neck whilst looking towards the ceiling.
"Dear God," she muttered to the ceiling, "Thank you for giving me a moment like that, because for me, they don't come often. Amen."
"Isis!" Mr. Wang said from behind her. She turned around. "Isis, come on. Everything's done. We don't have to be here until next week. Do you want a ride home?"
"No thanks, Mr. Wang. I'm going next door to the coffee shop. My friend Mike is going to give me a ride."
"Alright then. But I trust I will be seeing you at rehearsal day after tomorrow?"
"Yes sir." She waved goodbye to her director and proceeded to walk to the nearby coffee shop. She heard the familiar chime of the bell and breathed in the smell of fresh coffee as she opened the door to The Stimulant.
She giggled. She couldn't help it; only Mike Pritchard would choose a name like that. Isis wandered inside to see that the place was bustling with business as usual. She spotted Mike behind the counter, arguing with someone, also as usual. Rolling her eyes, she popped in front of her friend with a rueful smile on her face.
"I need a ride," Isis whined. Now Mike rolled his eyes.
"When do you not need a ride Ice?" he grinned playfully, using the theater actress's college nickname.
"I don't know when I don't need a ride, but I need one tonight." She grinned back, tousling his ginger blonde hair. "Please?"
"Fine." He picked up a stack of mugs and saucers to take to the back.
"Oh, and can I have some coffee too?" Isis asked, trying to be sweet and convincing. Mike ignored her and continued to the back to deposit the dirty dishes. He returned a couple of minutes later with some coffee for Isis.
"You know you're going to have to pay for that right?" he handed her a receipt.
"Oh come on Michael! We're friends. Friends don't charge each other for coffee."
"In other words, you're broke or you just don't feel like paying, because, for the record, friends do pay sometimes. Especially when one friend keeps showing up at the other friend's café and trying to weasel free coffee."
"Okay, yeah," Isis admitted, "I'm broke. But, for a good reason."
"It'd better be a damn good reason, Isis Farrell because I swear to God—sorry," Mike caught himself automatically. Isis was raised in a very Christian family and followed most of the rules that she was taught. And that one rule about using the Lord's name in vain... well, she threw a bit of a hissy fit about it during their college days after he'd done it a few times too many."But I swear, I will break into your house and steal all the money you owe me."
Isis giggled again. "At least you're not threatening me like you were that other guy a few minutes ago."
"Geez, Icy. He was asking for it. You would not believe how many times the same
person would try and steal a muffin. Why are you broke anyway?"
"You'll find out. Soon enough." Isis smiled at a very suspicious Mike.
