AllFreeNovel
Share Us
It would be a year since he told Carmen he was quitting Seismic before they could kick him out. He regretted the decision shortly, but he stood by his word. Seismic was his life, but there was nothing he could give to the band anymore. There was nothing to sing about or write about. Even his voice was off though Carmen told him it was because he smoked and drank too much.
The media ate up Ramiro's desertion of the band. They weren't too far off when they speculated that his erratic behavior led him to leave the group, but they were wrong in saying that he was forced to leave. Nobody forced Ramiro Brandt to do anything. Unfortunately, that was the general consensus, and he was too tired and angry with how things were to issue a statement in his defense.
He decided to leave the band, which he thought would please everyone. Instead, it brought down on him such savage wrath from everyone. His father, who never approved of his golden boy quitting school to scream onstage, declared that he had wasted the last twelve years of his life. Robin thought he was an idiot to still mourn over their bitchy sister and sacrifice his career. "The only thing in this world you loved aside from Temperance," he told Ramiro mockingly.
Lennon, Euan, Lucas, and Russell never spoke to him, but they made their displeasure known. They called Ramiro an ingrate, a self-centered asshole who made selfish decisions without consulting them. That was funny, considering they wanted to kick him out. They should be thanking him for sparing them the effort. An article was written about the feud and titled "The Clash of Beasts."
Ramiro continued drinking and getting high. Hardly a week passed when he wasn't pulled over, and the cuffs slapped on him. His lawyer Scarlet Gunn used to bail him out. Still, he got tired of her lecturing him that if he continued with this, he would spend some hard time in prison or, worse, actually end up hurting somebody. That's how people talk to him these days. They either told him he was garbage or shit.
Except for Carmen.
During a terrible night, he yelled out her name and digits when the police officer asked who to call for his bail. Ramiro had not seen her since she walked in on him in his birthday suit. He blamed it on the flashing red and blue lights of the sirens that reminded him of her eyes and her freckles. He must have passed out because when he came to, the jail cell was being opened, and he was gruffly told that Ms. Schwartz had paid for his release and was waiting for him.
That first time she came for him, she looked mighty pissed and uglier than usual with her messy, stringy hair, rumpled t-shirt, and jogging pants. She had clearly been asleep and forgotten about looking presentable. Their eyes met, and she shook her head at him.
Ramiro gave no thought to other people, but something about the resignation in her eyes got to him. He wasn't arrested for two weeks after that. Her shadowed blue eyes haunted him. When he couldn't take it anymore, he checked out his wine collection and hopped behind the wheel. His erratic driving led to his subsequent arrest.
He gave Carmen's name again.
Like before, she came.
She always came.
She always came and would only look at him, never saying a word. After assessing that Ramiro was alright, she indicated with an incline of her head that he followed, and he did. More silence followed in her car, a sensible, boring sedan. She started the car only when his seatbelt was on. She drove without another word nor even a glance at him. That was alright. Ramiro didn't want to think about her ugly face when he crashed on his bed following that, but those blue eyes started in his dreams.
Carmen Schwartz was not Seismic's first manager. The first was a sleazy, sweaty guy named Ramiro, who had already forgotten. He got the band gigs but in places where people were too drunk to realize they were there. After two years of that hell, they parted ways. The next few months saw them performing sporadically, but they managed to get regular gigs in better places. Places where people listened. Carmen went to those.
At the time, she was a shop-girl at a furniture store, going to school off and on because money for tuition and books wasn't regular. Her failure to provide a permanent address in the city prevented her from getting a scholarship. She stood out for Ramiro because she was often the tallest in the room at six-foot-three. Her hair was stringy pale blond, and the cheap makeup she used was quick to melt away and reveal her freckles. Her nose was big and crooked, broken during a mugging attempt the first time, and failed the second when an abusive boyfriend hit her. She had a full, thick-lipped mouth. An ugly freak, that's what she was.
Yet, when Ramiro would sing, he was electrified by the sight of her moving and swaying with the music. She stood near the front, ignoring the howls of disapproval because she was blocking them from their view of the band. The music and Ramiro's voice seemed all that comprised her world. When she would open her eyes at the end of a song, they were revealed to be the most transparent, striking blue he had ever seen.
"Great job," she would tell them as they were packing up then she was off. Sometimes, it was, "That was phenomenal," before disappearing again. She appeared in nearly all their gigs, wherever it was. She always knew the bartender, owner, or somebody of importance in those places.
Four months after Seismic were on their own, Ramiro broached the idea of hiring a new manager for the band. "Carmen Schwartz," he told them.
"You mean the tall broad, always high around us?" Russell said doubtfully.
"I mean the one who's always on first-name and repeat customers of the places where we perform," Ramiro said, not liking how Russell described her. He actually thought Carmen moved quite gracefully. "I can't be the only one who's noticed? She knows people."
"I heard she's got a lot of contacts," Lennon agreed. "Really into networking and stuff. Quite smart for a shop girl."
Ramiro gave him a warning look. "Hey, this person, I believe, would be committed to the band. Maybe we can give her more credit?"
"Ramiro," Lucas said, "I'm not saying the girl is an idiot, but you've seen what she looks like, right?"
"Nothing that a decent haircut and makeup won't fix," he said impatiently. "And you're the one to talk. Have you seen your receding hairline?"
"I may be getting bald, but I'm not ugly."
"I have old, muddy shoes that look better than you."
"Funny," Lucas said sarcastically. "A Brandt with old shoes?"
"So she knows people," Euan brought the subject back to Carmen. "But we need someone who's both a pit bull and a bloodhound, Ramiro. I don't know, but something about her tells me she's. . . timid."
"Let's see if she's willing and if it will work out. Anyway, we can always fire here if she fucks up."
Carmen Schwartz was not timid. She had the foulest mouth on earth, in Ramiro's opinion. Lennon was the champion of cursing, but Carmen outmatched him and sometimes made him blush. She was a bloodhound, sniffing out bullshit and opportunities to elevate the band's growing success. A pit bull, she wasn't, but a jackal - careful and more dangerous.
