Rhythm in Blue Page 2

  Erin was everybody’s little sister, not just Rick’s. His concern that she would not survive their father was a collective one. They all mentored her and felt pride when she became a confident and beautiful woman, despite what her father had done. Together, they would now watch her give herself to a stranger in a strange land.

  Rick caught the wadded up pack one last time and tossed it into the empty seat next to him. Seeing the game was over, Randy turned and slid back into his chair, mumbling, “I say if he is an asshole, we beat the shit out of him and dump his body in the ocean.”

  Rick smiled and looked out the window at the passing terrain. He hoped it would be that easy, but Erin was stubborn, and he knew that once she had her mind set on something, no one could talk her out of it, not even the brother she adored.

  He lit a cigarette and thought about the trip and the rest they would finally have. It was a good thing they wouldn’t be touring for a while. Falling into a cycle of too much alcohol, drugs, and too many women was so easy. Today was the first time in months there was no entourage of young groupies with them on the bus. Yeah, I definitely need a break.

  Chapter Two

  After a night in Athens, they had little trouble catching the ferry the next morning, and the seven-hour trip was its own odyssey. The boat was grimy and covered in salt. In only an hour, Rick craved a shower, but the grime made the trip more of an adventure.

  The sea was calm, and their excitement peaked when they spotted some dolphins chasing the bow of the ferry. The dolphins jumped out of the water, their momentum carrying them forward, until they dove back into the prow’s wake. Beneath the surface, they built up speed to break through the waves again.

  Rick and his friends remained outside on the deck. The benches were uncomfortable, but the view, the dolphins, and the light mist of the sea were too exciting to abandon for the drab, confining interior cabin. Even Randy was too distracted to chase after any of the European women surrounding them, all eager to party and soak in the summer sun.

  “I can’t believe I can just sit here, out in the open, and nobody gives a damn who I am,” Devon said, leaning his head back to get better exposure to the sun.

  “Yeah,” Rick said, “It’s nice. I used to think it was a bad thing, not being popular in Europe.” He looked down to find his chest turning pink, so he pulled his tee shirt back over his head.

  “I don’t know,” Randy said, “it might make it hard to get any action this way.”

  Ignoring him, Devon continued, “Now, if we acted like some of those crazy bastards that deliberately draw attention everywhere they go, it might be a different story.” He said it in an I-told-you-so manner. Devon was the one who always insisted they fly under the radar and stay low-key. Other famous bands, hungry for constant attention, paid the price by having no privacy.

  Rick looked at him out of the corner of his eye. “You might want to put your shirt back on too. You’re starting to look like a lobster.”

  Devon examined his bare, upper-body, and reached for his shirt. Nodding toward Keith, whose bench was shaded, he said, “Maybe we should go sit with that smart guy over there.” They gathered up their things and headed for shade.

  When the ship’s bell rang and a crackly voice from a loudspeaker announced that they were approaching Paros, they rushed to the railing to get a glimpse of the island. He would be seeing Erin in just a few minutes, and he tried not to show much excitement. The guys would tease him, even though he knew they felt the same way.

  As the ferry pulled into the harbor and sounded its horn, the vivid Aegean colors of the town jumped out at him. The domes of churches, shutters on windows, doors, and the sky all matched the blue of the sea. The buildings were all a brilliant white – a stark contrast to the surrounding green speckled, brown hills rising in the background. The bay was peppered with beaches and small piers filled with fishing boats.

  The main dock lay ahead, the people becoming more discernible as the ferry approached. Rick was sure he saw Erin standing in the crowd, it had to be her. Standing about a foot off the ground on a metal gate, she pulled herself up against the rails as though she were in jail.

  Devon pointed and yelled, “Look! There she is!” They waved and yelled until she spotted them. She waved back, jumping up and down. At length, Rick noticed that while the ship was docking and they were waving and yelling, the other disembarking passengers lined up, so by the time they gathered their bags, they were last in line.

  When they finally made it off the boat and through the gate, where Erin waited, she looked exasperated. She didn’t complain, she just lunged for Rick and locked him in a hug. He rocked her back and forth, kissing her cheek and smoothing her long, dark blond hair. “Oh sweetie,” he cooed, “I’ve missed you so much.” Tears ran down her face, and as she pulled away, she tried to wipe them before anyone noticed, but must have decided she didn’t care who saw.

  She embraced them all in turn, and as she did, Rick eyed the man waiting with her. He didn’t look like much – kind of short and thin, with frizzy dark brown hair, a big nose, and a huge, toothy smile. The man offered his hand. “Ricky,” he said, rolling his r. “I yam Kostas!” Rick shook his hand and grinned back. He couldn’t help himself, the smile was contagious.

  Erin returned to Kostas’s side and put her arms around his waist. “This is my guy.”

  “It’s great to meet you,” Rick said, finally letting go of his grip on Kostas’s hand.

  “Erin has been so excited for you to be here,” Kostas nearly shouted, obviously eager as well. Though Rick was prepared to dislike Kostas as soon as he met him, he began to realize it might be difficult to dislike anyone with such an infectious, wild smile.

  Kostas yelled to an old man with a wooden cart waiting nearby. The man approached, pulling the large cart behind, and he and Kostas began throwing their luggage onto the rickety wagon. The man looked as though he had one foot in the grave, but he heaved the bags around like he was Hercules himself. When the bags were loaded, Kostas guided them into the white village, and the old man followed, pulling the cart behind.

  Erin took Rick’s hand as they walked. “I’m so happy you’re here.”

  He squeezed her hand, “I am too, sweetie.”

  ~

  “So, darlin’,” Devon said, slapping 50 Drachma on the bar, “this is your life’s dream, to tend bar in some rundown club, putting up with drunken idiots like us?”

  Erin handed him his beer and shook her head, “You know, we can’t all be rock stars.” She continued as she wiped the wet ring left by his bottle on the bar, “And this place is not rundown,” she said. “It may need some TLC, but look at this place – I mean the island. It’s amazing, and the people are all so nice, why wouldn’t I want to stay here?”

  She was right about the place needing some care. To Rick, it looked like Kostas hadn’t changed anything since he’d walked through the door ten years earlier. Erin explained that technically, the Islander was a discotheque. Any club with a dance floor was a discotheque and if it didn’t have one, it was just a bar. However, for this club, the label discotheque didn’t fit. The lights for the dance floor were ancient and dull, the tables bore the scars from years of unattended cigarettes, and the little stools surrounding them were all in need of new vinyl. The murals on the walls were faded and peeling. The bathrooms were little more than a hole in the floor to piss in, and smelled as though most people who used them were too drunk to find the hole.

  “Well, it does have a homey feel to it, I’ll give you that,” Rick tried to reassure her. Devon’s comment put her on the defensive, and Rick didn’t want the discussion to turn into a battle. “And I’ll take one of those beers. Put it on his tab,” he nodded toward Devon.

  Kostas rushed over, muttering, “No, no, it’s on the house.” Only, he couldn’t say house. It came out without the h sound and with more of a soft x sound- kxouse. Rick wondered if it was Kostas or all Greeks who couldn’t make the h sound, or w for that matter. He
used the same kx sound for who and house.

  Rick chuckled and raised his bottle to Kostas, “Thanks man.” He received Kostas’s toothy grin in reply. He was always grinning, it seemed to Rick. Must be because I make him nervous. Kostas did appear to be going to great lengths to make a good impression, but he also seemed to be perpetually happy.

  The place was beginning to fill up, and about ten people occupied the dance floor, all gyrating their hips to Brown Sugar. Rick noticed that no one was dancing with anyone – they were all on their own. Ten islands dancing, all doing their own thing.

  Out of the crowd and onto the dance floor burst a young girl, and she joined in the rhythmic gyrations. It seemed as though she was waiting for just this song. She moved to the center of the dance floor, becoming the center island, her enthusiasm for the song inciting the other islands to thrust and gyrate just a little harder. Rick envied her youthful energy and zeal. He felt old. When the song abruptly changed to Roxanne, the girl screamed and jumped up and down. Never mind, this must be her favorite song.

  Long and wavy, bleached blond by the sun, her hair fell midway down her back. As she danced, it seemed to float around her head, as though it too loved the song. The long, gypsy type skirt she wore floated as well, indifferent to the moves she made within. Her peasant blouse revealed long, tanned arms that waved in the air as though she conducted an orchestra in which her skirt and hair played.

  She looked out of place among the other dancers, yet she oddly seemed a perfect fit. As Rick watched the scene, he began to see that it was the other dancers who were out of place – passengers aboard a ship, unable to disembark and join the revelry, they could only stare wistfully from the deck.

  Randy motioned to Erin, and she approached him with a raised eyebrow. “Who’s the girl?” he asked, nodding toward the dance floor.

  “Oh, that’s Shelby. You have to meet her. American girl – lives here with her folks. Kostas has known her for years. Her parents are pretty cool. They’re both artists. You guys will meet them while you’re here. There’s an American art school on the island, so we get a lot of artists here from all over the world.”

  Randy was watching her dance and licking his lips. Devon, seeing his lusty gaze, said, “Good God Randy, she’s a kid!”

  “Hands off!” Erin said, “She’s only fifteen. Too young, even for you, Randy.”

  “If she’s only fifteen, what the hell is she doing in a club, whooping it up?” Rick asked.

  “Well, Kostas used to kick her out, but then she just went to other clubs where they didn’t know her, so Kostas figured if he let her in, at least he could keep an eye on her. You know, make sure she doesn’t get into any trouble. He won’t let her drink though, that’s the rule – she can come here and dance all she wants, but just Coke to drink.” Rick slowly nodded. Seems Kostas is a decent sort, he had to admit.

  Randy was still licking his lips, so Devon slapped him on the shoulder, “Man, seriously, you wouldn’t eat a piece of fruit that wasn’t ripe…gotta give ‘em time to ripen, mature.” Rick regretted Devon’s choice of words because he knew what was coming.

  “I’d eat that in a heartbeat!” Randy said, nodding his head. Rick could tell he was picturing doing just that.

  “You are one sick son of a bitch,” Devon shook his head and turned away.

  When the song changed to a slow one, the girl, obviously disappointed to have her dance party end, stepped off the dance floor and headed toward a group of Greek, teenage boys.

  “Shelby,” Erin yelled at her.

  Shelby turned to see who had called her, and spotting Erin, waved and skipped over to the bar. “Hey Erin. Are you getting so excited? The big day’s getting closer.”

  “Yes, I am, but I’m starting to feel a little overwhelmed,” Erin admitted. “But hey, right now I want you to meet my brother, Ricky. He just got here today from the States.” Rick just gave her a nod, but Shelby extended her hand. As he took it, he found himself struck by her beautiful smile.

  “Wow, it’s really great to meet you! Erin says the nicest things about you. Really makes me wish I had a big brother.”

  “Nice to meet you Shelby.” While shaking her hand, he had a sudden pitching sensation in his stomach, probably left over from the ferry ride, but quickly shook it off, turning back to the bar.

  “Ricky, I gotta go wait on those guys, you’ll have to finish the introductions,” Erin called out as she hurried down the bar to take an order.

  It seemed strange, to make such a big deal about everyone being introduced, after all, she was just some kid they let hang out, but before he could sort out the importance, Randy pushed in front of him and took Shelby’s hand, his gaze fixed on her chest.

  “You looked really sexy out there dancing. I’m Randy.” Shelby nodded as Randy introduced himself. Rick could tell she was sizing him up, and from her raised eyebrow, it appeared she had done well. He continued, “This is Devon, and this is Keith.”

  They all shook hands, and Rick thought, Yes, yes, now we’re all just great friends. As he dismissed her again and went back to his beer, he lit another cigarette. Randy was telling her, “You know, Smoke n’ Mirrors! Bring it to Me? That was our big hit last year. I wrote it, and I play lead guitar,” Randy beamed with arrogance.

  Rick looked over as Shelby shook her head, “Sorry, never heard of you.” Randy sputtered in disbelief, but Rick caught Shelby’s wink to him out of the corner of his eye. Good, Randy needs to be knocked down a notch or two.

  “Oh my God, you have to know Heartbreak on the Bayou! Holy hell, Louisiana was gonna make it their state song!” Actually, Louisiana had no such intention, but Randy was just sure they would, eventually.

  Shelby began to slowly nod her head. “Oh yeah,” she said, as though trying to remember something from long ago. “I think my parents used to listen to you guys.” With that, she turned and ran back out to dance some more, as the lights came back up and the lovers left the floor. The Dire Straits Sultans of Swing began, and her enthusiasm returned. He had to hand it to her, Randy was a charmer, and hard to fool when he was on the make, and now, he was pissed.

  “Jesus Christ, she makes it sound like we’re ancient history! Did you hear her?” Randy was right in his face.

  “Yeah, I heard her, but you know Randy, you can’t be everyone’s favorite. Kids are listening to different music than you and I do. They go for that disco shit. I’m sorry, but she’s right, our audience is usually older.” The thought of catering to an older audience at twenty-four didn’t do much for Rick’s ego, either, but they’d been on the road and cutting records for so many years, it was hard not to feel old.

  “Well that settles it, we need to update our sound,” Randy said.

  Devon patted him on the back. “Don’t you worry, we’re fine, just as we are. What you need to do is look for women closer to your own age.” Rick and Keith each gave Randy a thumbs up.

  “Fine,” Randy said, looking around. He spotted a couple of blonds up the bar and headed their direction. As he walked away, Rick wondered again how Randy butted his way into coming with them on this trip. Man, he can really be a pain in the ass!

  “What we need to do is find him a shorter leash,” Devon said, as he slid onto the bar stool next to Rick.

  Randy didn’t like obscurity. Honestly, he just didn’t like to have to chase tail. He was lazy, and he liked it when tail presented itself and bluntly said, “Let’s fuck.” Rick, on the other hand, relished the anonymity the bar and island afforded. He liked being able to down some beers without being hounded for his autograph, without some girl putting her arms around him and asking to have her picture taken with him.

  When the song ended, Shelby left the dance floor and became the center of attention with the group of young Greeks. She apparently had the same effect on them as she did on Randy – they all seemed to be vying for her attention. One of the boys pulled on her arm and pointed to the dance floor. She looked at her watch and then to the door. Rick cou
ldn’t understand what they were saying, but Shelby didn’t seem confused. He looked away as she started toward him.

  She pulled on his sleeve, “Hey, will you tell Erin I said ‘bye’ in case I don’t make it back?”

  “Yeah, are you heading out?” Her hair fell across her face, and he fought the urge to reach out and tuck it behind her ear.

  “Yeah, I have to go home and go to bed,” she said, rolling her eyes. “I should be back in a bit though. Nice meeting you,” she said, as she headed toward the door.

  “Yeah, you too,” Rick called after her, leaning back against the bar.

  He heard a bottle hit the counter behind him. “Shelby leaving?” Erin asked, pushing a beer towards him.

  “I guess…said she might be back later though.”

  Erin laughed, “I think she has to be home at eleven or something, but then she waits and sneaks out, and presto, she’s back.”

  Rick nodded. That was what he figured. He was glad he didn’t have to chase after a teenage daughter. You think Randy needs a shorter leash, he thought, wondering who would be worse to try to control.

  The group of Greek boys dispersed in different directions, all pursuing various women throughout the club. One thing was certain –there were plenty of tourists women, everywhere! And no shortage of Greek men and boys to badger them, although the women didn’t seem to be bothered at all. They ate up the attention. Erin read his thoughts.

  “It’s called Kamaki.” Rick looked at her in confusion. “Kamaki, it literally means fishing with a spear gun, but it’s also what the Greek men do, picking-up the tourists. It’s an art form,” she said, rolling her eyes. Rick shook his head and wondered at the unexpected bonus of the tourist industry the island relied on.

  As the night wore on, the crowd thinned a bit and Rick considered doing the same, but trying to find his way through the maze of streets to their hotel sounded like a lot of work. The jet lag was kicking his ass, and the strong, European beer wasn’t helping. Devon had since joined Randy in pursuit of the blonds down the bar, and Keith sat with his back to the club, lost in his own world, oblivious to the Kamaki going on all around him, but that was normal for Keith.