“You guys, c’mere! You gotta listen to this!”
Ranko vaulted over the back of the plush red couch in the hotel lobby, landing on her hip on the cushion next to Crash with a bright laugh. “So, hi.”
Crash laughed as well, shaking his head at his friend as both turned their attention to Shinji. He chewed on the bagel he’d obtained from the hotel breakfast buffet. Hitomi and Emi hadn’t come down yet, and as the occupant of the hotel room next door to theirs, Ranko was quite confident she knew why. They’d had a late night. As the traveling entourage had returned to Brisbane for their show there later that evening, Jacob had opted to spend the night before with Zoe and left Ken with sole possession of their shared hotel room.
Shinji snapped the tabloid-format newspaper in his hands outward to get it to stand up straight, holding it in his lap on the loveseat opposite Jake and Ranko’s couch as he began to read aloud over the din of continental breakfast dishes being banged about.
“When my editor asked me to cover a Japanese pop concert fronted by a twenty-year old girl for the West Australian, my reaction was… let’s just say, not one of excitement. I envisioned five girls in matching outfits, dancing as identical clones and singing high-pitched songs about bubble gum and candy that I didn’t understand a word of.
“Within the first three songs, Ranko and the Dapper Dragons had shown me just how wrong I was. The costuming, dancing and stagecraft was easily on par with any Western headliner you might name, delivering a spectacle of incredible proportion from the moment the lead singer was carried onto the stage by some sort of demon soldiers, all the way through to the innovative encore. The legion of Firebirds, as the band’s fans have become known, shook the Perth Oval with their voices from the first song to the last, and lead singer Ranko Tendo seemed to connect with them in a way only the best stage performers of the West can match.
“The songs - all of which were sung entirely in English - tackle subjects of substance, from homelessness and reinventing oneself to a strained relationship with both of the lead singer’s parents. These were interspersed with charming love ballads, infectious dance bops, and an absolutely blushworthy song I find myself unable to describe in a way that is suitable for our young readers. All are delivered with a passion and a precision remarkable in a group this new, and in a singer so young.
“By the time the performance was over, Ranko Tendo and her friends had done exactly what their debut hit had promised - I rose ignited from my seat. As I write this, the one regret I have about my editor sending me to see the Wildfire Tour is that she didn’t do so sooner, when there might still have been time to get tickets to the three remaining Australian shows for my family and friends.”
“Holy crap,” Crash said, turning with wide eyes to Ranko. “You’re a hit!”
Ranko blushed, shaking her head. “Not just me! All of us. I don’t do any of this alone, Crash.”
Shinji grinned, closing the newspaper with a deep laugh. “Yeah, dipshit. After all, I’m the first voice they hear at the show.” He held up the newspaper, offering it to Ranko. “I grabbed a bunch of these at the airport, so we’ve got extras.”
The redhead grinned as she took possession of the paper. “Thanks, Shin! Mom says she wants to take some of the reviews and pictures and stuff and make a nice frame display at the Phoenix.”
Crash chuckled. “Of course she does. Hana will tell you it’s all being done to promote the band that made her bar famous, but come on. She’s such a fuckin’ mom.”
“Yeah, she is,” Ranko said with a grin. “She’s the mom of the millennium, and I’ll fight anybody who says different. I miss them so fucking much. All of them.” Especially Akane. Gods, I wish she’d just talk to me. Just long to say I love you. Something. Anything.
“Four more days, Ran-chan. You just gotta hold out ‘til Tuesday night.” Crash reached out, squeezing his best friend around the shoulders.
“I’m trying, man. Hey, where the hell’s Ken? Did he go over with Lance and the guys to the venue already?” Ranko craned her neck to see if her drummer was at the breakfast buffet, to no avail.
Shinji stood, stretching his back with a yawn. “Want me to go bang on his door? Dude’s gotta be up. He crashed as soon as we got in from Perth.”
“I’ll do it,” Jacob’s voice called, and the trio turned to face him as he walked into the lobby arm-in-arm with Zoe. “I’ve got a key.”
“Want me to come with,” Zoe asked, giving Jake a loving smirk. “Try out the bed a bit?”
Jacob swung his arm forward, smacking Zoe on the seat of their blue jeans loudly enough to turn several heads in the hotel lobby. “I think I can manage, babe.”
“You cheeky little fucker,” Zoe exclaimed, reaching for their boyfriend with a grin, but he was already out of arm’s length and stepping into the elevator.
“Ken? You in here, bud?” Jacob slipped the room key back into his pocket as he peered around, finding Ken curled up in the far bed from the door in the fetal position under the gray-striped covers. The darkened room smelled something awful, and when Jacob spied the bathroom trash can sitting on the oak nightstand next to Ken’s bed, the keyboardist guessed why.
Jacob sat on the still-made second bed with a sigh, waiting to see if Ken stirred at his presence. He did, rolling over to face the door. The band’s drummer looked positively green, and spoke quietly with a strained, gravelly voice.
“Hey, Jake.”
Jacob sighed, speaking softly in deference to the wincing in Ken’s eyes at the sound of a neighboring room’s door slamming loudly in the hallway. “Hey, dude. You don’t look so good. What’s going on, bro?”
Ken coughed quietly, bracing his ribs against a pillow as he buried his face in it. His hair was matted to his face with sweat, and he wore no shirt under the blanket. “Been up sick all night. Don’t get too close, man.”
“Again?” Jake sighed heavily, looking his friend over with concern. “We gotta get you some vitamins, or a mask, or something, dude. Can I get you anything? Need a drink, or some medicine or anything? I can try to find you a walk-in doctor around here somewhere if you want. C’mon, we gotta get you right for tonight.”
The drummer hacked again, sitting up quickly in his silver boxers and grabbing the trash can. He hugged it against himself, fortunately not needing to avail himself of it. “If you want me on stage tonight, Jake, fuck the doctor. You’d better call a damn priest.”
Jacob’s eyes widened with worry. “Ken, bro, I know you feel like shit, but I’m not sure bailing on the show’s an option. We’re playing for eleven thousand people in less than twelve hours, dude. C’mon, let’s get some fluids in you, and you’ll be good to g…”
His encouragement was interrupted by loud heaving as Ken’s face disappeared into the gray plastic trash can.
“Yeesh. Alright, man. Let me go talk to the guys. I’m not sure what we’re gonna be able to do, but just… feel better, yeah?”
The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.
Ken nodded once before thrusting his face back into the plastic liner of the trash receptacle.
----------------------------------------
“This is Jenna Thompkins with ABQ News, out at the Eagle Farm Airport with our Friday Funnies segment. We’re here with Skylar Mackensie, who had herself quite an interesting day at work this Thursday past. Miss Mackensie tells us a pair of unidentified travelers stopped by her kiosk here at the international terminal and requested - you’ll never believe this, folks - to rent a kangaroo! Skylar, wanna tell us how it happened?”
Ignoring the television behind the reception desk, Jacob made for the bank of sofas and loveseats near the breakfast area, rejoining his partner and friends. “Uh, guys? We’ve got a problem. Ken’s…” Jacob scanned the lobby, making sure no one from the breakfast buffet was eating within earshot. “He’s pukin’ his guts out up there. Says he can’t play tonight.”
“What?! He has to play!” Shinji rocketed off of the couch, gesturing wildly with his hands. “Take your ass back up there and tell him to put his big boy pants on and suck it up. This ain’t some gig at the Phoenix where we can slap in an audio track if the drummer doesn’t show. We’re talking thousands of people that paid money for this shit, Jake!”
The keyboardist nodded. “I know, Shin, but… I mean, do we really want him chundering in his snare drum on stage? We gotta figure something else out, guys. What about one of those talent agencies, like the one you guys all met at?”
Ranko and Hitomi both cringed at the memory of their time at Takao Tashima’s house of horrors, but Crash answered before either girl had the opportunity to. “Even if we knew where to find one of those down here, it would take somebody way too long to get up to speed. The show’s in…” He checked his watch. “Nine hours. You’re never gonna find somebody who knows all our songs in that kind of time. Hell, three of the songs on the set list haven’t even been on our albums yet!”
“Are we gonna have to cancel the show,” Ranko asked nervously, fidgeting with the skirt of her mint green dress. “How would we even do that?”
Crash sighed heavily, his shoulders drooping. “And of all the shows, it had to be this one, where all Jake’s family and everybody are. Dude, I’m so sorry.”
Taking his seat again, Shinji growled under his breath. “I swear, we need to just plastic-wrap that fucking guy.”
Crash groaned, burying his face in his hands with his elbows on his knees. “Man, this fucking sucks. I think we might not have a choice. I mean, we couldn’t even fly someone here from home in time.”
Ranko stood glumly from the couch, smoothing out her dress. “Alright. I… guess I’ll call Nabiki. She’ll know what to do.”
Hitomi whined in disappointment, despite Emi’s side hug of support. “Yeah, good call. I guess there’s no way we could find someone around here who plays drums and knows our music, let alone someone who could be ready to go in less than half a day. Fuck!”
Jacob turned his head to his left and slightly downward, nearly burying his nose in a shock of gel-stiffened fuschia hair. “Yeah… absolutely no chance at all of that,” he intoned pointedly in English. Ranko stopped, having only made it a few steps from her seat on the couch, turning back with a curious expression on her face. What is he on about?
It took a moment before Zoe realized what was being suggested.
“Are you… ya gotta be out’a yer fuckin’ bloody ‘ead, Trimble!” Zoe stammered loudly, backing away from their boyfriend and waving him off with their fingers. Ranko wondered how Zoe even moved their hands at all, with all the costume metal rings molded into the shapes of skulls and such they wore on their fingers. “I ain’t played in public since fuckin’ high school!”
“Please, Zoe? I know you know the songs. I wouldn’t ask if we weren’t desperate.” Jacob reached down for their hand, but Zoe pulled away, looking up at him incredulously.
Ranko stepped closer, eyeing Zoe as if Jacob’s partner had somehow just transformed into a unicorn. “You… you play drums? Really?!”
Zoe glowered at their boyfriend through their rose-colored fashion glasses. “I did. In school, fuckin’ ages ago. Ain’t even practiced in months.” Zoe turned to Ranko, but gestured up to Jacob with their thumb over their shoulder. “And now, this twat wants me to play for… what, two thousand people?”
“Eleven thousand, three hundred and twelve,” Shinji offered blithely, laying on his back on the red loveseat in the lobby and tossing a red and orange hacky sack up into the air. “Give or take.”
“Eleven thou…” Zoe stammered, shaking their head emphatically. “No bleedin’ way! I can’t! I couldn’t fucking… never! I couldn’t dream of keepin’ up with Ken, anyhow. He’s too good.”
Jacob reached down for Zoe’s hand, giving it a hopeful squeeze. “Nobody’s asking you to. Just stick to the basics. Keep the beat. We’re just looking to limp through this one show while Ken’s sick. Please, baby. I’ll do anything you want. You said you wanted a new telly, right?”
Zoe pursed their lips, stomping their foot in their steel-toed combat boots. “You…” They growled loudly. “For this?! I’d want a bleedin’ pony!”
Ranko smiled reassuringly, resting her hand on Zoe’s shoulder reassuringly. “Sorry, Zo. Best I can do is a kangaroo.”
Whirling back toward Jacob, Zoe grabbed him by the front of his Hawaiian button-down shirt. “If I say I’ll do this - and that is a bleedin’ whoppin’ if - I’m not doing the shiny dress-up and shit like Princess Sparkle-tits and Friends over there, ya got me?!”
“Wait, Ems,” Hitomi said, giggling. “I thought you were Princess Sparkle-tits.”
Emi tittered loudly, squeezing her girlfriend around her shoulders, left bare by her new white Dreamworld tank top. “Naw, dummy. Ranko’s Princess Sparkle-tits. I’m Lady Glitterbug. Get it right!”
“Ugh. Give me strength. Ya see what I mean, Jakey? That shit ain’t me.” Zoe shook their head, removing their pink glasses and rubbing the bridge of their nose with their index finger and thumb.
Ranko blushed. Yeah, Zo, I know a little something about pushing back on stage outfits. “Hey. You can wear whatever you want. You’ll be in the back, in the dark, behind a drum set, but even if you weren’t, we don’t costume the band, just the dancers and me. Besides, like Jake said, we’re desperate. And I mean, hell, look at Shin! He’s allergic to color, and we still keep him around. Look, I’ll show you.” She reached up, pulling the mint-green bow barrette clip out of her ponytail and tossing it over the back of the loveseat.
“Aaaaaaa-choooo!” Shin laughed loudly as the bow landed on his chest, before picking it up with two fingers as if it were a dead rat and flinging it back at Ranko.
Ranko bowed deeply to her new pink-haired friend, unsure though she was about the impact it would have on an Australian. “Zoe, if you can do this, you’d really be saving us. We can’t do the show without a drummer. You’re our only chance. Please.”
As Zoe watched in horror, Crash, Hitomi, Emi and Shinji all rose from their seats, turning and bowing low to her as well.
Zoe sighed heavily, their shoulders slumping in resignation. They turned, poking Jacob firmly in the sternum with an outstretched finger. “You fuckin’ owe me big for this one, yeeaauuu…”
Jacob reached out, hooking his fingers under the light pink leather collar Zoe wore and yanking it forward hard enough to almost pull them off their feet as he leaned down to kiss them. Zoe’s yelp of shock gave way to a purr of contentment.
“Everything I got’s already yours, Zo-zo.”