“What do you mean, you won’t take the money?”

Vinyl frowned, trying to force the bills into Frederic’s hands. The man smiled and, with a shake of his head, took a step back. “I’ve had enough fun as it is. I don’t need payment.” He turned round, walking into Octavia’s kitchen - which, for the past two weeks, had also become Vinyl’s kitchen, now that the two lovers lived together.

“It’s been two weeks since you’ve been working with us, Freddie,” Vinyl said, using the moniker only Frederic’s friends used. But he was a friend now, right? Throughout the recording sessions and the discussion with friendly banter; throughout the visits to Neon, together; throughout the talks the three (or four, with Neon) of them had had in the long evenings which were so unproductive, now that autumn has reigned over the late summer heat and rains gave way to the sunny days. “You deserve payment. We’ve fully recorded the piano parts and almost recorded the intro.” She still wasn’t sure on the outro, whether a piano would fit there; but, one way or another, the pianist deserved payment, for sure.

“I think it should be the cello,” Octavia remarked, looking over the sheet music. She placed it on the sofa, getting up and stretching her limbs. “And that’s not because I’m a cellist. I just feel that the cello should do a refrain of what Freddie’s right hand plays in the intro. In complete silence.” Octavia chewed on her bottom lip. “Oh, and Freddie? Take the money. I know you have a bank account now and all, but cash remains cash. Take it.”

“I’m not sure about complete silence,” Vinyl called out from the kitchen, where she poured herself and Frederic some orange juice. “But I get your idea. A solo cello… Accompanied by a sub-bass.” The DJ grinned widely. “Yes, that, I can get behind.” She turned towards her new friend. “Freddie, take the damn money already.”

“Vinyl, you don’t get this.” Frederic shook his head, and it seemed that he was trying to be polite even though their relationship had grown warmer. This was something Vinyl could not understand or get used to: she spoke out her mind while Frederic always sweetened the pill. But maybe, this was from a lifetime of helping other people that he had grown wary of offending his friends unintentionally. One way or another, this was one of his quirks, and, since he was her friend now, she had to get used to his quirks. “You’ve given me something more valuable than money. You, and Octavia, and Neon.”

“Friendship?” Vinyl placed the money on the table, yawning loudly, without caring to cover her mouth. “Friendship is magic, Freddie, but money is money.” She closed her eyes and relaxed, feeling the back of the chair pleasantly against her T-shirted body.

“You’ve given me more than friendship.” Frederic walked around the kitchen in circles. “You’ve given me back my passion for the piano.” He smiled broadly and took his orange juice, downing it in one go. “You’ve made me remember that it is the piano, not managerial work, that is my passion in life.” He placed the glass in the sink and turned on the water. “Wouldn’t it be cool if we had some kind of marks that signified our special talents?”

“I think it would be stupid,” Vinyl said honestly as she watched Frederic wash the glass. “What if we have more than one special talent? Or what if our special talent changes?”

“I think you would look sweet with a mark on your butt,” Octavia chimed in, jingling with good-natured laughter. “I mean, it could be a note or something connected to music. A clef?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Vinyl rolled her eyes, her ears catching the last drops of water dripping into the sink once Frederic turned off the tap. “Keep dreaming.” She turned towards the pianist and glared sternly. “Freddie, take the money already! Friendship, passion, piano, we get it, but take some money. It’s not like you have a job or anything.”

For a moment, Vinyl froze, considering whether she had just been a little too honest; but Frederic laughed, dissuading her fears: “Who said I don’t have a job? A few days ago I was asked to accompany a pop singer in a pub, and yesterday, I did just that.” He took out several bills from his pocket. “And I made some money!”

“That’s great news, Freddie,” Octavia chimed in, pouring some tea for herself, for she was in no mood for juice of any kind. “But please, do take the money. You’ll make it easier for all of us. Especially considering that, soon, you’ll have to pay out money to the quintet.” Octavia smiled knowingly.

“Quartet,” Frederic corrected automatically. “Quintet means-”

“Five.” Vinyl got up and walked up to her girlfriend. “Quintet means five. Remember when you said Harpo and Bea would agree to continue ‘this whole thing’ if there is something new to the music?” The spinner puffed her chest out proudly, a gesture that would be unusual a month ago. But too much had changed for the old shyness to subsist in full force. Life had changed her too much. Octavia had changed her too much. “Well, I am new. With a DJ by your side, with a full disposal of different sounds and various loops, your music can be as extravagant as a prog band.” Then, she blushed minutely. “I, um, I love prog.”

“That…” Frederic brightened up, grinning his white teeth at the women. “That might work!” He walked out of the kitchen hectically. “All right! That’s… that’s fantastic news!”

“But not as fantastic as that settle-” Octavia began, but was interrupted with two identical glares and two identical roars:

“No. You. Don’t!”

Octavia shrugged and waved her hands in the air. Wow wow, watch out, Devil Octavia said sarcastically, repeating the motion. Not just one, but two badasses out there. “So. When are we going to pick up Neon from the hospital?”

“Oh. We agreed on-” Vinyl glanced at the clock, when her face darkened and her eye twitched. Twice. “Five minutes ago.” She shut her eyes and took a deep breath. “To the caaaaaaar!” she yelled on top of her lungs.

Frederic and Octavia blinked at her dumbly. Angel Octavia crawled out to check Vinyl’s forehead in case of a fever. Devil Octavia prepared pink fluffy handcuffs. So that she won’t escape, she explained to the dumbfounded angel. In case of, uh, a fever.

Vinyl smiled sheepishly. “Sorry. Always wanted to try that.”

Octavia just stared at her girlfriend, blinking more often than usual. Is it contagious? Devil Octavia wondered, running around hectically. Can I catch the stupid through sex? “All right.” Octavia finally smiled. “Let’s go get your brother to freedom.”

***

“Well, it’s been… something.”

Neon extended his hand amicably, and the doctor shook it with pleasure. The picture with the happy chicken was gone - which was for the better. There was a new clock, though: one that didn’t tick. Neon stood up, feeling no different than before. “I feel… weird. You’re letting me go, but I don’t feel free.”

“Well, you’ll be coming here every week for your therapy still…” The shrink stood up as well and rounded the desk, standing next to Neon. “And I’ll make sure that your sister and your friends give you the medicine twice a day…” He sighed and took off his spectacles. “But, other than that, you’re free as a mountain bird. Or how did the song go?”

“Thank you, doc,” Neon said earnestly, lifting his hand but lowering it again almost immediately. “You’ve done so much for me.”

“Again,” the shrink replied with a smile, “it isn’t the last time we’re seeing each other. Don’t try to make a scene out of it. It’s bad for your nerves.”

The two men just stood there looking at each other. Then, the black man took a step forth and gave the white man a firm, strong hug. Neon, confused, returned the gesture somewhat, patting the doctor’s back in what seemed to him a manly manner.

“Thank you,” the therapist said, breaking the embrace. “Sometimes I get so invested in my patients’ lives that I forget my own. Thank you for listening to me.”

“That’s all right, doc.” Neon directed his feet towards the exit, waving his hand at the man. “See you next Sunday.” With that, he left the office and walked out to the corridor. The same corridor he’d walked all these days… Three weeks, had it been? About three weeks. The corridor was the same, empty and lonely, but, the next time he returned, he would return to this corridor as a free man doing so at his own volition.

Neon walked to his ward, which had become his room. Now, he didn’t miss his flat that much; but it was still his. This room had been his, but, as soon as Vinyl and Co came to pick him up, it wouldn’t be his anymore.

With a sigh, the manager took off the tracksuit and took out his normal everyday clothes. The dust had almost never settled on them. He put on the trousers and the jacket. Putting on his clothes left a surge of memory. He was the Manager. He was the Agent. The label was Vinyl’s now, and he didn’t mind it in the slightest. His job was to sell records, and find session musicians, and book venues.

A wide grin appeared on the man’s face. Venues, huh… Pondering, he looked through the contact list on his phone. Thank God this hospital allows cell phones. Some don’t in fear it’ll mess with the medical apparati. Finding what he was looking for, he pressed the button, without dropping the grin. “Hello, Mark?” he said upon hearing the familiar voice in the phone. “How are you doing? How are the kids?”

Listening to the reply, Neon dropped the grin, but the tiny smile subsisted in the corners of his mouth. “Me? I’m fine. Remember when you told me you would love booking Vinyl for a performance?”

Neon nodded in the air. “Well, I have an even better idea…”

***

“Good to be home.”

Neon exhaled in delight, sipping on the warm tea, wrapped up in a long rectangular plaid. “Even though it isn’t my home,” he remarked, looking over Octavia’s flat. “But it’s still good.” Now, if I could have some ice cold beer… Suddenly, he felt that the craving was gone, just as gone as the hot, stuffy summer itself. And even the weariest river…

“Nini, I’m so glad you’re back!” Vinyl chirped, virtually dancing around the man, a widest smile on her face. “Now everything will be as great as it was,” she pontificated, kissing her brother on both cheeks. “Everything will be as it was. We’ll do label stuff, and Tavi will play in her quintet - did I mention it’s a quintet now? I’m playing there too!”

Neon smiled and nodded primly. “Yes, sis. You did mention that. A couple times.” He stretched on the sofa and yawned. “But things won’t be as they were. Nothing will be the same as it was.” Vinyl froze, past fears evident on her face. But Neon just shrugged. “Everything will be way, way better.”

“I’m glad we all got our happy ending,” Octavia purred from the kitchen, working her way around Frederic, who was chopping vegetables for the soup. She took a sniff. “Frederic, the celery has gone bad.” Angel Octavia blinked: Can celery even go bad?

“Oh, it’s far from ending, Octavia,” Neon laughed from his place on the sofa. “In fact, I have a nice continuation for you two.” At Vinyl’s questioning glance (and Octavia’s, which he couldn’t see, what with the cellist still being in the kitchen), he explained, “As your manager-back-at-work, I have booked you two for a show tomorrow at Archie’s. It’s an old jazz club, but now they play prog and what-not. Hell, even acoustic punk!” He laughed. “Will be an opportunity for you two to perform your tune.”

Vinyl looked around helplessly, seeing neither Frederic not Octavia to support her. “Maybe we should do this show as a quintet?” Devil Vinyl frowned and shook her head: Coward. Angel Vinyl emerged with a stick. Devil Vinyl whipped her tail and retreated to her hellish bedroom.

“I doubt that,” Frederic called out from the kitchen. “We haven’t rehearsed as a quintet yet, so it wouldn’t be good if we played together tomorrow. We still need practice. You two, though; you’ve played many classical tunes as a trance-cello mix, and your tune is pretty much done. Besides,” he called out, “I believe this is something you two should do together, just the two of you.”

“Yes…” Vinyl gulped and closed her eyes. In the drawer, hidden under her underwear, the ring waited. She smiled and nodded resolutely. “Just the two of us.”

Next Chapter: 11. The Performance Estimated time remaining: 12 Minutes