Strange Affair

by: Darrin Lee Hutton

© 12/2002

Chapter 1

"Here's a table in the back, mate," Mark pulled a chair out and Russell sat down across from him.

"Fucking weather," Russell spat out.  He was in a darker mood than usual and Mark knew to let him ride it out.  Their flight to New York had been delayed as a storm had hit the coast of Florida where they had spent a few days at a charity auction Russell had helped host.  They had found themselves at the airport bar having been told that it shouldn't be more than an hour or so before they could take off and Russell was in no mood to go to the hotel only to turn around and come back to the airport if the wait turned out to be a short one.  This wasn't a huge metropolis, so Russell and Mark agreed that a wait in the bar wouldn't cause too much ruckus.

They ordered a couple of beers, Russell sparing little in the way of good humour to the waitress, and sat back to wait.

There were a lot of people in the bar for so late an hour and Russell's curiosity was piqued.  He looked around surreptitiously.

"What do you suppose is up here, then?" he asked.

"Maybe it's the peanuts," Mark replied, gathering up a handful from the bowl on the table and tossed a couple at Russell.

Russell chuckled softly.  It was the first laugh they had shared since first hearing of the delay and Mark hoped this meant his boss was moving into a better frame of mind.

Suddenly Russell found his attention wrenched to the table next to them.

There were six of them.  Two girls and four guys.  It was one of the girls who had caught his attention.  She was laughing rather loudly and punched one of the guys on his arm.

"No, way, dude," she exclaimed.  "You will never make that happen."  They all laughed again and then fell to talking amongst themselves, loud enough to be heard, but low enough so that Russell couldn't make out what they were saying.

He looked about the bar, feeling a bit better with a beer in him, resigned to the wait.  He noticed a small stage at the back of the room, drums, keyboard, guitar, bass, four mikes and speakers set up extremely efficiently for such a small area.  He grinned to himself, remembering a few of the grottier places he and his mates from the old Roman Antix days had played.  He checked his watch, almost nine o'clock .  If a band was playing tonight, they'd be heading towards the stage right about now and the room would get a little restless in anticipation.  Just as this room was now, he noted.

And the six next to him got up, almost on cue, scraping back their chairs loudly.  They gleefully slapped high-fives, "Let's do this!", maneuvering themselves through the crowd and onto the stage.  The girl he had noticed, she who had laughed so loudly, and whose long, black hair caught Russell's eye, accidentally bumped his chair as she got up, causing him to spill his beer a bit.

"Oh my God, I'm so sorry.  You okay?"

Russell laughed at what appeared to be genuine concern for his well-being, but, as always, a bit cautious in case the attention wasn't concern so much as an excuse to talk to him.

"Yeah, I'm fine, no worries, luv," Russell replied, trying to be polite but distant at the same time, a trick many celebrities had to learn, unfortunately.

"Oh, well then, cheers, mate!" she squeezed his shoulder casually and moved on up to the stage.

Russell blinked.  He wasn't sure whether he should be more surprised at her reaction or how she had gotten the accent just right.  He glanced over at Mark who was laughing at the look on his face.

"She got you, mate."

"Too right," Russell said in his gravelly voice, laughing along with his assistant.

"Who woulda guessed you'd get bumped into by a sheila who has no idea who you are?”

"Refreshing to say the least."  They clinked their bottle necks together and then Mark moved his chair to see the stage better.

The guitar player was running through some riffs and the drummer was spinning his sticks deftly.  The keyboardist was making sure his board was set, the bassist had his instrument at the ready and the other girl had taken up a watchful position at the bar.  Probably a manager, Russell thought.  The raven-haired beauty, as Russell suddenly thought of her, grabbed her mike and, grinning broadly, began to sing.

It was an Incubus song.  That much Russell knew.  But the sound of her voice was what he was appreciating more than the lyrics.

"Bat your eyes, girl / Be otherworldly / Count your blessings / Seduce a stranger..."

Russell almost choked into his beer as she grinned lop-sidedly at him and winked.

"What's so wrong with / Bein' happy? / Kudos to those who / See through sickness, yeah..."

Her voice seemed to reverberate right through him.  He settled in to concentrate on her, since she was having such an effect on him.

"Over and over and over and over and o-o-over...She woke in the morning / She knew that her life had passed her by / And she called out a warning / 'Don't ever let Life pass you by...'"

She moved so sensuously to the music, Russell whispered a soft, "Fuck me," which Mark heard and just rolled his eyes at.  Thank God they should be gone before the band's first break.

"I suggest we / Learn to love our / selves before it's / Made illegal..."

This time a broad smile in his direction.  Russell shifted slightly in his chair.  Mark would have dropped his head in his hands if he had noticed, but his back was to Russell at this point.

"When will we learn / When will we change / Just in time to / See it all come down..."

She had this way of bouncing to the music that he found at once endearing and sexual.  Like if she had the ability, the music would come from her hips.

"Those left standing will make millions writing books on the way it should happen…”

And now she was getting into the song, almost as if the audience and band were not there.  She stretched out the hand not holding the mike, fingers splayed, eyes closed, hitting the high note just so.

“She woke in the morning / She knew that her life had passed her by / And she called out a warning, warning / ‘Don’t ever let Life pass you by.’”

She looked his way again, and Russell found himself grinning back at her, loving the lop-sided grin she bestowed on him.

"Floating in this / Cosmic Jacuzzi / We are like / Frogs oblivious / Soon the water / Starting to boil / Now unflinchin' / We all float face down..."

This almost bass note coming out from her beautiful alto raced through him, tremoring into his belly.  This time he shifted around enough for Mark to notice.  He turned to look at Russell who just waggled his eyebrows, with an expression on his face that said, "What?"  Mark just shook his head.

The band played the short interlude to the chorus as the raven-haired singer bounced her hips in time to the melody.  She smiled at a few of the patrons, obvious regulars, and then came back to the mike for the finish.

"Oooh, and she woke in the morning / She knew that her life had passed her by / And she called out a warning, warning / 'Don't EVER let Life pass you by...Pass you by...Oh...'"

As she sang out the last of the song, Russell smiled to himself.  She could sing and obviously enjoyed herself on stage.  As the song ended and everyone began clapping she laughed to her band mates, high-fiving the guitarist.  They went right into another Incubus song, and she spoke over the intro.

"Hey, gang!  How's everyone feeling tonight?"  Loud cheers.  "We're glad you could join us."  She leaned down and shared a small joke with someone in the front then came back up to the mike to begin.

"It's so much better / When everyone is in / Are you in?..."

Russell sat back and enjoyed the lilting repetition of the song.  It was one he hadn't heard before, but her voice captivated him.  She could have recited a recipe for squid pie, he would have listened just as intently.  At one point in the song she hit a note so low, it rumbled through him viscerally.  She repeated the phrase over and over, and he could have sworn she was staring at him with this knowing little smile on her face as if she knew exactly what she was doing to him.

"Uh, uh, no way, mate."  Mark whispered, cutting into his reverie.

"What?  I'm enjoyin' the music."

"I've seen that look before."

"She's a good lookin' sheila.  I'm appreciating that and her voice.  Nothin' more."

Mark looked at him pointedly and then turned back to the band just as the guitarist played off the last few notes.  She was grinning at him running those final riffs, then turned back to the audience.  After the applause died down, she went into the introduction of the band spiel.

"For any newbies out there, on bass we have the amazing Steve Turner," Steve jammed off a quick riff, "our illustrious drummer, Mike Ornstein," Mike gave a crash of his cymbals, "over on the guitar, the spectacular Dave Goren," Dave played a swift string of jazzy notes, "and our fabulous keyboardist, Kevin Franks," Kevin ran down a quick scale.  "I'm Debra Gales and together we are Proof of Life."  Loud applause from the audience.

Russell was laughing out loud.

"As the newbies have no doubt surmised, we're a cover band, duh," small titters of laughter from the audience, "but we like to do obscure as well as popular songs.  I guarantee that no one in this room has heard this next song.  Not even our regulars.  We just got it worked up, so forgive us, 'kay?"  More chuckles from the audience.

As the band started playing the intro, Debra said, "This is from Roland Orzabal."

Just then, Russell noticed a uniformed man tap Mark on the shoulder.  They whispered for a few minutes, then the man left and Mark told Russell their flight was boarding.

"All right, but let's not leave right as they're starting a new song, few minutes, okay, mate?"

Mark nodded, always resigned to Russell's spontaneous nature.  Not a half hour ago, he had been chomping at the bit to leave.

Debra had been right, Russell had never heard the song before.  It was hauntingly melodic and her voice made it that much more enjoyable.

The writing on the wall / Changes everyday / Movin' the lights about

We live by stealth alone / By simple truth that's our philosophy / Oh what a perfect day

Stretch it out forever

With flowers for your grave / A snowdrop for your soul / Down on your knees and pray

May lightning strike your bones / The devil makes his own pornography / Oh what a cross to bear

Freaking out completely

You locked yourself away now you're dead inside / You dug yourself a grave now you're dead inside / The promises you made were all dead inside

The calm before the storm / The bitter taste of mediocrity / Turning you inside out

I've waited in the wings / No news of joy just more hypocrity / Oh, what a strange affair

We belong together

You locked yourself away now you're dead inside / You dug yourself a grave now you're dead inside / The promises you made were all dead inside / You made your bed now lie in it dead inside

As Debra began repeating the chorus, Russell felt Mark gather their carry-ons together, preparing to leave.  He sighed inwardly.  The song was so beautiful and her low alto delivered it right into the pit of his stomach.  But he knew it was time to go.  They had a schedule to keep and this time was ill-spent towards that.  But he heard the lines "Oh what a strange affair" and "We belong together" repeat themselves in his head many times during the flight to New York .  But not as often as "You locked yourself away, now you're dead inside".

~*~

A year went by.  During the filming, post-production work and finally the promotional tour for his latest movie, Russell found himself remembering the raven-haired beauty from the airport bar at odd moments.  Usually whenever he heard the Incubus songs she had sung.  He had even managed to pick up the Roland Orzabal album she had sung a song from after hunting through several record stores.  It was fairly obscure, an import, and he had finally found it on a trip back home to his farm.  The kid behind the counter in Coff's Harbor's only alternative record store knew immediately what he was talking about, much to Russell's relief.  Russell hadn't realized what a quest he had undertaken.

"Here ya are, mate.  'Tomcats Screaming Outside' by Roland Orzabal.  Never woulda pegged ya for a post-Tears For Fears fan."

"Tears for Who, mate?"

The kid just laughed.  "Never mind.  Obscure Eighties Reference, no worries."

Russell laughed and paid for the CD.

He had listened to the whole album.  It was very far removed from what he normally listened to.  Certainly it was at a different end of the spectrum from TOFOG's music.  But he found he enjoyed all the tracks, especially the one she had sung.  He liked this bloke's voice.  It was rich and full and the production quality was excellent.  But he found listening to the album made him miss her throaty alto all the more.

However, these were mere moments in the otherwise tumultuous life he led.  He barely had time to enjoy his farm before it was back to the States to make the rounds of the studios, attending development meetings for his next projects.  The odd moments of remembering his raven-haired alto became fewer and farther between.  Then something happened to bring her well into his focus.  And all because someone had made him travel to that distant land: Orange County, Southern California .