Memories Of A Monster: Stage Fright

--- Booker, Past ---

His heart pounded in his chest as he stood off to the side, he hadn’t even stepped foot on it, yet his nerves continued to eat away at him as he waited.

While he had secured his work at a bookshop -an irony with his name- granting him all that he could read in between customers and a pay he could use for his tuition -something far more expensive than he’d been expecting- it didn’t leave him with much to send back to his mama.

It had taken him some work, and charming a few people when his associates dragged him out for drinks he refused to partake in so long as they’d drain the money he could send his mother, but he’d finally convinced one of the local bands to give him a chance. If only because their actual singer was running late and those present were growing bored.

Admittedly the pay wasn’t much, but it was a chance for something he could easily maintain even with him attending university and working at the bookshop. Whatsmore after so many nights listening to the band's play, his mind kept drifting back to when he’d first seen a true live musician and he’d wanted that. A childish dream maybe but one that he’d finally be fulfilling with someone other than Emilia and with an audience beyond his mama.

That thought, those memories, were enough to slowly steady his heart.

“You doing okay kid?” One of the band members asked.

He took a deep breath before nodding. “Yeah, just… nerves I suppose, I’ve never played for a crowd this large.”

“But you have played before?” The band member checked for the umpteenth time.

“Yes. A… friend taught me how to play piano and I’ve been singing for years.” He confirmed for the same number.

“Well, a crowd isn’t the same as playing for your friends and family, but at the very least no one is expecting you to be Mozart out there.” The band member assured him. “Though if you tried playing him, they’d probably start a riot since that’s not what they’re here for. You do know the kind of thing people are after, right?”

“Ragtime or that one style that’s been catching on, uh, Jazz, I believe it’s being called.” Which one the crowd was filling would probably change as the night dragged on.

“Good.” The band member nodded before taking a look around the club and letting out a sigh. “Damn. No offense kid but I was kind of hoping Richie would’ve gotten here by now.”

“I understand.” He assured the man. “I’m sure you’d rather be playing with your friend than with some stranger you just met.”

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“Yeah, but the boss likes you so we’ll give you a chance.” The band member promised. “Normally we’d all agree on a song to play, but since you’re both our singer and our pianist you’ll be taking the lead. Since it’s your first time playing, just pick whatever you can play and we’ll follow along.”

“Is that wise?” He wondered with a frown. “What if you don’t know the song I play?”

“Don’t worry kid, as long as you don’t try anything too fancy I doubt you know anything we don’t. And even if you did, the boys and I can play it by ear if we have to.” The band member explained. “Either way, as long as the boss man likes what you play you’ll get paid at the end of the night.”

“Right.” That was important, arguably more so than getting to play given his situation, (but…) His eyes drifted across the club goers, most of them looking bored at their tables as they nursed their drinks.

“Looking like we should get started then.” The band member told him with a pat on his shoulder.

“R-right…” He repeated, not sure what else he could say as his heart began to once more pound in his chest and he found his legs refusing to move.

“You coming or not kid?” The band member asked when he realized Booker wasn’t following.

(I need to do this.) He told himself before nodding and taking his first steps. “Yes.”

Once he sat at the club piano he glanced once more at the crowd watching boredly, a few of them shifting to give him at least a semblance of interest as they realized he wasn’t the usual player here.

He swallowed before turning back to the piano and placing his fingers on the keys as he decided on what song to play. Only to find his usually overactive mind going blank, every piece of music he knew slipping out of memory and leaving him with nothing to play.

“Kid?” Nearest musician whispered after a moment. “Play something.”

(But what do I play?) He wondered, his pounding heart growing desperate to escape his chest.

“I knew this was a bad idea…” One of the others grumbled, audible only because of how close they all were.

(Come on, you’ve played before for your mama and Emilia both. Why are you panicking now?!) He asked himself as he closed his eyes and tried to forget about the people watching him.

For a moment he wondered what they’d think, seeing him freeze like this at a task he’d accomplished a hundred times. (Am I really going to fail so easily?)

He thought about everything he’d fail to accomplish if he froze here. He’d fail his performance. He’d fail to take care of his mama. He’d fail to be with Emilia. He’d fail to-

(No.) He growled to himself (No, I will not fail!)

He pressed all of his fingers down on the keys, a discordant note that was more to vent his rage than to actually play, something that had all of the musicians on stage wincing. Not that he let that stop him as his fingers began to dance along the keys, not to any particular song but just to whatever sound felt good, felt alive.

Eventually the band began to follow his lead even if they very clearly had no idea what song he was playing. Somehow this chaotic sound, so very different from what others would perform, caught the interest of the audience, and he couldn’t help but smile as he reveled in the chaos and began to sing whatever words came to mind.