Chapter Twelve

Sometimes I can remember every detail of a moment, even if the moment is completely insignificant. I often recall these moments in reverse, from the instant the important thing happened, back through time to the surroundings and the settings and the people who were there and the colors and the noises. I trace it in my mind until I cannot trace it any further back, and that is the memory, wide screen, surround sound and all. The important thing I'm remembering now is the sound of Joey Anthony Francesco's voice calling out,

"Can anybody sign this?"

I was in the back of the store, over by the glass case which housed the trumpets, the flutes and the one tenor sax we had at the time. Marshall and I were inspecting the lock, which looked like someone had been trying to tamper with. Marshall was showing me some scratch marks he was certain hadn't been there in the morning. I was thinking back to everyone who'd been in the store, who I'd seen wander back that way, and all I could come up with for a suspect was a little old lady who'd been interested in Chopin. This wasn't much help.

At the sound of Joey Anthony's voice, both Marshall and I looked up and noticed right away that standing next to him, of course, was Carrie. As usual, the UPS guy was ignoring her presence and she was walking away with her back toward him, making a little "he's crazy!" gesture with her right hand index finger circling her ear. Marshall shrugged as if to say "we'd better go", which is how I interpreted it anyway. He probably meant to shrug "I'd better go", but for some reason I tagged along. It only took one of us to sign the darn UPS ledger.

My dad also felt the summons and was on his way to the front, so all three of us, and Roy Everson, who was like a mosquito buzzing around my dad's head, was also right there beside him. Roy was still talking about his plan.

"So your son can play the bass, is that right? I know he's been in some bands, but do you think he can scrape up a drummer? That's really all we would need."

"I'm a drummer", Joey Anthony announced, startling everyone into silence. It seemed so unexpected.

"Yeah", he went on, "I've been playing for years."

"Have I seen you somewhere?" Roy asked. He was eager, but suspicious. He thought he knew everyone in town who had ever even looked at a musical instrument. I saw the same look in my dad's face as well. I don't know why. The look on their faces, it makes me laugh now, it was like they were members of an all-boy's club and a girl was trying to climb into their treehouse.

"Probably not", Joey Anthony admitted. "I haven't played out very much. Mostly I do it for exercise. Keeps my brain sharp, you know what I mean? And it's a physical workout too."

"You must keep in pretty good shape with your job", was Marshall's suggestion, and it was true that Francesco looked fit, and never seemed weary or slow.

"Yeah, I do", Joey Anthony smiled. "It's why I like doing this. I'm a pretty active guy, if you know what I mean", and he winked as if telling a joke. It struck me then, and still strikes me now, that we'd been seeing this guy every day in our store for many years yet we still didn't know much about him. It was always the same old routine. An odd joke and a smile, that whole thing about Carrie, in like the wind and out like the wind. It wasn't surprising to me there were things we did not know about him.

"Cool", Roy Everson said. "If you're game then I'll set it up."

"Woah woah woah", Joey Anthony replied, "Game for what?"

"Oh right", Roy said, "I'm getting ahead of myself. It's just that I'm, what am I saying?', he chuckled.

"You've heard of the Flaming Pigs, am I right?"

"Of course", Joey Anthony told him, "who hasn't?"

"We're forming a band with Mario Flambeau", Roy continued, "the guitarist from ..."

"Yeah, I know", Joey Anthony interrupted. "THE Mario Flambeau? I thought he was dead."

"No, that's Johnny Bricks", Marshall suggested.

"And Kerry Smash", Roy Everson added.

"Billy Ray's still around", Joey Anthony said. "You could get him to play bass."

"We thought about that", Roy Everson told him. "I even got in touch with his agent, but they've got their plate full right now. Anyway, we've got Pablo right here to play bass, isn't that right?"

He was looking at me. It was the moment I first heard that idea. I looked at my dad. He looked down at the floor. I could tell he was already sorry. I looked back at Roy Everson who was saying,

"I can set it all up. I''ll book time in a place that I know. You just bring yourself. We'll have stuff. Oh Pablo you can bring your own rig if you want but if you don't it's okay we'll have stuff like I said. I'm sorry, did I get your name?"

This last bit he said to Joey Anthony Francesco, who exchanged introductions with Roy. Roy got Joey Anthony's number and gave him his card, said that he'd be in touch. Then both of them, just like that, were out of the door and gone. I wanted to laugh. I signed to my dad.

"He can't be serious. You saw that guy. He's a wreck."

"I know", my dad said, "but maybe Roy's got a point. You see, he's thinking it would help the guy out if he played with some talented people, not like we saw at the church."

I shook my head. Musical therapy is one thing. Miracles are quite something else.