NEW DAY - Chapter 5 (PG-13)

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Penina Spinka
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NEW DAY - Chapter 5 (PG-13)

Post by Penina Spinka »

New Day – PG 13
Penina Keen Spinka
Chapter 5

It was nearly dark when Sam opened his eyes. The last he could remember was Francis’ cool body pressed against his and soft lips touching his eyelids. The story Francis had been telling him drifted back, about the time before Mick was his friend, when he’d hurt Francis with a silver armlet. Of course, Mick hadn’t known silver was harmful to vampires. He would never hurt Francis. Wait. That was a long time ago. Today, Mick couldn’t handle silver either.

Sam swung his legs to the floor. “Francis?” he called. “Where are you?” He listened for sounds of his friend walking around the condo. Nothing. Sam stretched out his inner mind to the freezer near the bed, but it was empty. Blinds prevented much ambient light from entering the window. Sam switched on his light.

There was a note on his dresser. Hostage situation. Romanians in Mosul need U.N. intervention. I’ll be back when I can.

Damn, his visits with Francis were short enough without real life interfering. Of course, if Francis were not a special envoy from Romania to the U.N., and sent to New York City occasionally, they wouldn’t have found each other at all. Sam grimaced, but then he thought again. Maybe they would. Fate ruled. Francis said so. He hoped Francis wouldn’t have to leave yet. He’d only been in America five days and the last two had been taken up with Mick and Josef. Still, it had been good to see Mick. He felt a familiarity with Josef as well and wondered how he came into Francis’ story about their past lives.

He should shower, shave and eat. Then, maybe a long walk would help to think about connections. Come on, soul brother. Come back to me.

He opened his refrigerator. There was enough baloney, bread and peanut butter for the next few days. He’d topped off his supply of juice and fruit. Bachelor stuff. Sam could live on that, chips and cookies. He grabbed an apple, then opened the pantry door and broke into the box for a couple of oatmeal cookies. He washed his breakfast down with a few swallows of OJ from the container.

Not sure he’d be back to his building before his first set at the Vanguard, he slipped his water drum into its carrying case and buckled the straps. It looked a little like a round overnight bag, flat on the bottom. The sticks went into a pocket in front. Have drums - will travel. He hummed the theme of the old TV show to himself. Spring weather in New York being chancy, he shrugged on a lightweight jacket, slipped his wallet, cell phone and keys into his pockets, and locked the door.

Up until two years ago, Sam’s music had been enough, but as the elevator descended, he could think of nothing but Francis. Francis was actually his brother! Well, not actually but once. They had grown up together. They had died together on the same day more than 4000 years ago. Finally, he knew why Francis had walked into his life. Sam was twin brother to a …”

He turned off his thoughts like a light, as though the young woman entering the elevator on the fifth floor could hear them as well as he could. She nodded to him and he smiled in return. She looked somewhat oriental, but also familiar. He’d seen her before in the neighborhood, but they hadn’t spoken. Big brown eyes, long hair parted down the middle. She looked part Native American, but he couldn’t tell the tribe, or if he was mistaken. “Hi,” he said.

“Hi.” She lowered her eyes.

“Do you live here?” Did she not want to speak?

She looked up with a puzzled expression. “I moved in last week.”

“I’m Sam,” he said. “I’ve lived here nearly two years.”

“Guyen.” She held out her hand.

He took it. “I’m Mohawk, a drummer,” he said as a conversational gambit, and lifted his drum as if to prove it.

“Really. I’ve heard of them.” He waited, wondering if she’d say more. “I’m half Vietnamese, half Chumash, and an actress.” He looked at her, not placing the second country. “Chumash - a tribe near Los Angeles. Not as well-known Mohawks. We were too peaceable. Between the padres, the soldiers and smallpox, it’s amazing there are any of us left. Your Mohawk people had the right idea.” She looked away again. Maybe she thought she had said too much.

He probed her mind. It might not be entirely ethical, but what was the point of a gift if you never used it? Too bad the cute ones are always married or gay. So that’s what she was thinking. They walked down the street side by side until the bus stop. He followed her, not having anything to do. “Maybe I could give you a lift to wherever you’re going.”

“Don’t bother,” she said. “It’s not far. I’m one of the extras in a revival of The Apple Tree. You’ve seen it right?”

He shook his head. “Sorry. No.”

“I’m mostly part of the chorus. You can see me best in the Barbarian King’s court – the Lady or the Tiger scene. I’m the Lady.” She seemed to gather her courage. “We’re at the Tigress Theatre on 10th Avenue. Maybe, you can come see me? We’re sold out for tonight, but I can get you a ticket for tomorrow’s 8 o’clock show.” She reached into her bag and handed him her card. When their hands touched, she looked away.

“What?” he asked.

“I don’t want to seem like I’m coming on to you or anything. I understand and it’s fine. I have lots of friends like that.” He just looked at her.

He might as well admit he knew what she was thinking. It wasn’t hard to guess even without his special ability. “Do you think I’m gay?”

Her golden cheeks now had spots of red, but she stood her ground. “I saw you and your partner this morning,” she added. “He practically carried you into the elevator.”

Sam cleared his throat. “He’s not my partner. He’s my brother.” Well, he was once. “I was just really tired and he wanted to get me to bed before I passed out.” Oh – that sounded great. “I read the Lady or the Tiger. Who was it by? O. Henry?”

“Frank R. Stockton.”

“I think my brother would like to see it too. Can you reserve two tickets?”

Her bus pulled up. The engine was loud and it backfired a few times while several people descended the steps. He hurried to add, speaking loudly over the sound of the bus, “I’m a musician at the Village Vanguard. Come after the show. My first set starts at ten. Tell them you’re Sam Birchtree’s friend and they’ll let you in, uh, what was your name again?” It had gotten away from him.

“Guyen. Okay, Sam. Later.” She turned away and stepped aboard.

Sam wandered the streets for hours, going into New Age stores to look at books on reincarnation, listening to music here and there. The Village was the right place. He finally stopped in a coffee shop he knew. “Hey, Sam,” said the owner in greeting. “What do you want?”

“Grilled cheese on rye, and Espresso.” He had to clear his head. He picked out a pastry for dessert and wondered what Francis was doing. He found himself drawing chariots in the air and picturing Nineveh. Wasn’t that where the whale swallowed Jonah? Or maybe it was a big fish. Jonah went to warn the city of its doom unless they changed their ways. What did Francis learn from the designer in Nineveh? Did the designer know what silver could do to vampires? Were there other vampires and was the designer hoping Miceas would find them?

Sam’s band was near the end of their first set when he saw Francis sitting with Guyen. Given that Francis and Guyen were leaning their heads together, Sam couldn’t decide if he didn’t want Francis hitting on a girl he was interested in, or having Guyen interested in Francis. What did that make him? It didn’t matter. Nothing about Francis and what they were to each other could be wrong. Sam spoke softly to his band-mates and picked up the mike for a slow song to end the set. It wasn’t what they planned, but it would be good. “This isn’t exactly jazz,” he said by way of introduction. “But I think you’ll know it. If you don’t, you should. It’s a classic.”

When he began to sing, everyone listened. Waiters stood still, busboys stopped clearing tables, and lovers looked into each other’s eyes. The music played low behind him.

You ask how much I need you - must I explain
I need you oh my darling like roses need rain
You ask how long I'll love you, I'll tell you true
Until the 12th of Never, I'll still be loving you
Hold me close - never let me go; hold me close - melt my heart like April snow
I'll love you till the bluebells forget to bloom
I'll love you till the clover has lost its perfume
I'll love you till the poets run out of rhyme
Until the 12th of Never and that's a long, long time
Until the 12th of Never and that's a long, long time.
[Jerry Livingston and Paul Francis Webster, wrote the lyrics made popular by Johnnie Mathis]

The applause continued for some time until Sam came off the platform and joined them. Francis covered his hand, thanking him for the song. She likes you, Francis sent. But you’re here, Sam sent back. Their silent communication was possible when some of Sam’s blood was in Francis. It was helpful at times like this. Sam turned to Guyen. “So? What do you think of my band?”

“They’re great. You’re great. I’ve been meaning to try this place. Do you write the music your band plays?”

“Not all of it, obviously, but some. Music appears in my head and I play it. The others improvise around the beat. When we find an arrangement we all like, we commit it to paper. You can buy the CD if you’d like - Sam Birchtree - Native American Rhythms. Copies are for sale in the front - pre-autographed.”

“All right,” Guyen said, “I’ll buy one as long as you come to my play.” They arranged to have two tickets waiting at the You Call.

“We’ll, I have to get home,” Guyen said. “I hope you don’t mind, but I have an early day tomorrow. Not all of us live on musician’s hours.” She picked up her purse.

Francis spoke. “Have a good evening. We’ll see you tomorrow evening at the theater.” Francis took her hand. Sam just smiled.

“Tomorrow then,” Guyen agreed.

They walked into the cool night air. “So - we at least have tomorrow,” Sam said. “Do you have to leave soon?”

“Not for a few more days. This is the best place I can be until the crisis is over and our people are safe. I was sorry not to be there when you awoke.” The closer they became, the emptier Sam envisioned a future without Francis in it. Francis picked up on his thought. “You know that’s not how it is with you and me. You’re strong enough to live your life without me.”

“Yeah. I know,” Sam agreed reluctantly. “But my life feels so much better when you’re in it.” Francis put his arm around Sam and pulled him closer. Sam leaned into him for a moment before they linked arms and continued down the street. “Tell me more of the story.”
Read Sam stories by Penina My index: http://www.moonlightaholics.com/viewforum.php?f=560
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AggieVamp
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Re: NEW DAY - Chapter 5 (PG-13)

Post by AggieVamp »

Penina -

I have been away from The story for awhile. But I have caught up now. I like the interchange between the distant past & the current time. I also like the possibility of Sam getting a girlfriend.

Looking forward to reading more.

Karen
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Penina Spinka
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Joined: Sat Jan 24, 2009 10:10 pm
Location: Sun City Arizona, USA

Re: NEW DAY - Chapter 5 (PG-13)

Post by Penina Spinka »

thank you for writing. I will send more soon.
Read Sam stories by Penina My index: http://www.moonlightaholics.com/viewforum.php?f=560
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LadyAilith
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Re: NEW DAY - Chapter 5 (PG-13)

Post by LadyAilith »

I love Sam! I don't always comment, but I *always* read your stories. :hearts:

LadyAilith :rose:
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Penina Spinka
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Re: NEW DAY - Chapter 5 (PG-13)

Post by Penina Spinka »

Dear Lady A.
Thank you for reading and commenting. If you didn't, I wouldn't know if you liked my story. As long as you do, I will go on posting it. Expect Chapter 6 soon.
I am writing another Sam and Francis story without Moonlight characters. Last night, I sent the synopsis, first 50 pages and query to a Hollywood agent with NY contacts. It tells the brothers' story of their lives, 4000 + years ago. I'm in chapter 23, and the boys are nearly 16. Francis who was only Radu back then, just visited ancient Hungary with his sire and mentor, returned home, and got married. If you like New Day, I'll put BECOMING in here too.
Penina
Read Sam stories by Penina My index: http://www.moonlightaholics.com/viewforum.php?f=560
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