Date: 16th of October, 201M2042BC

Location: Volcaldera Bluffs, 7890 Milton St.

Conditions: Cloudy, raining

Objective: Collect drums for Josh.

 

I turn off the engine. The rain is drumming quietly on the roof of the car, dribbling down the windshield and the windows. I look over my shoulder, at Josh and Amber sitting in the back seat. 

Josh looks excited. He's wriggling in the seat, nearly stomping on the floor. Amber on the other hand looks bored: she's resting her elbow on the door, the tip of her snout pressed against the cool glass. She's looking at the house - well actually, a mansion - where Reed and Trish live. 

Finally, I look at Fang. She in turn is looking at Josh and frowning at Amber. Feeling my eyes on herself, she turns to me and gives me a small, warm smile. 

“Are you ready?” She nods at the house, pulling up her coat's collar a bit. 

Noir heroine spectacular is what comes to mind when I see her do that. She notices the smirk on my lips and tilts her head. Raptor Jesus up in the heavens, she looks absolutely fucking adorable when she does that. 

The way her hair drapes over her shoulder, how it flows down her back in a shining, silvery cascade, how her eyes gleam with confusion. It's stunning, she's stunning. Over twenty years together and she still makes me giddy like a high schooler.

Guys at work say that she's not all that pretty. Bah! Idiots. 

Fuck them. They don't know shit. 

“Hello?” She waves her hand at me. “Wake up.” 

I blink. Right, right. Focus. No, not on her, idiot. On what you're here for. Though, she does look cute when she’s annoyed… NO. We're here for the drums. Drums, drums, drums. Percussion. Brass. We're getting it from Reed. Focus!

I do wonder how we will fit that huge ass percussion set in the trunk, but that's a bridge we will cross once we get there. 

“Sorry.” I pull the keys out of the ignition. “I uh, got lost in thought.” I look over at the kids. “Come on, dear children.” 

Fang rolls her eyes, Amber cringes, Josh gives me a prolonged look of utter embarrassment and I just grin. 

Yep. That's me. I bet you're wondering how I got myself into that situation. Well, it all started last month, when Fang told me about her plan of teaching Josh how to play drums. 

I was surprised by it. Like, really surprised. I was quite skeptical, but when she told me how excited Josh was the whole time - apparently he's been waiting for this day for months - I gave my fatherly approval. Though, with him being such an avid gamer - I swear, this kid plays more video games than me in my prime - I doubt his ability to learn much of anything drumming related. But that remains to be seen.

So we called Reed, told him what's up and asked if he still had his old drum set. He immediately offered to buy Josh a brand new one, of course, but Fang was very much opposed to the idea.

“What if he breaks it?” She asked him as we had that video call. “Drums aren't exactly cheap.” 

Reed slumped back against the backrest of his large, leather armchair, his hands clasped behind his head. 

“Fang, that's pocket change to me.” he grinned at us. “I could buy twenty, fifty, a hundred sets and it wouldn't even make a dent in my bank account.” 

He was so flexing on us plebs at that moment. Or maybe he wasn't. He probably wasn't. 

“Still,” Fang opposed. “I'd like you to give him your old drums. They have a bit of history, y'know?”

“I would if I still had them.” 

It turned out that he sold his set to kickstart his carfe business. His folks weren't exactly strapped for cash, and neither of them wanted to support a fledgling drug empire. 

In the end, Fang agreed to Reed's idea. She was very reluctant though. I kind of agree with her. Something like this is one hell of an expensive gift to give to a fourteen year old. Even if it is his birthday today. 

Not to mention, Josh is a newbie, he had just started learning how to play. Such a big set of drums may be overwhelming. 

“Are we getting out or waiting for the rain to stop?” 

Amber's question snaps me out of my daydream. I shake my head and open the door. 

It's raining. Not much, but still, the rain is cool. Not to mention the wind, whipping me with the droplets. It feels as if a swarm of angry, cold needles was pricking my face. I wonder if there will be a tempest at the sea later. Should've watched the weather forecast. 

Three slams of the car door in rapid succession awaken me to my surroundings. I nod at the family. Let's go. 

We make our way up the gravel driveway. On our way we pass by a pair of full-size luxury sedans and a small sports car. A  boat, sitting on a trailer, peeks out from the large garage. Josh stops a moment by the sports car and peeks inside. He whistles, looks at me, peeks inside the car again and quickly catches up to us. 

“I don't know what they see in those euro cars.” I grumble. “Can't they drive something made here?” 

“Yeah, a plasticky piece of shit that starts falling apart after a year?” Fang mutters in return. 

I frown. Wait a minute…

“You posted on some car forum, talking about our car, dweeb.” She smirks. “You should really start locking your phone.” 

I grumble to myself. I do want to say that I was just shitposting, but that's not the case here. I look over my shoulder, at our family car. I love that rust bucket, but it's been giving me hell of a trouble recently. 

“I'll have you know that AMC is a respectable brand…” 

“Oh god, dad, you're starting about the car again?” Amber groans. 

“Merkcedes is better than what dad drives.” Josh chimes in. “Uncle Reed knows what's good.” He glances over his shoulder at the larger of the two sedans.

“You two are impossible.” Lucy turns her head to our children with a frown and a look of disapproval. 

Josh shrugs, while Amber looks away. 

“I'm just saying.” he says. 

It's alright, my dear son. I will carry this wound in my heart, for you, and your sister. I'm a man. That's what men do. 

Fang shakes her head at the two miscreants. We arrive at the door. After a short ring, it is opened by a magenta colored raptor in white shirt and loose, gray sweatpants. 

He's slightly older, but shorter than Josh. His hair is short, curly and unkempt, and he has a tiny nub of a horn at the tip of his snout. The tip of the snout itself is beaky, a very tiny bit. 

“Hey, Drake.” Fang waves at him. “Is Reed home?”

There's a distant sound of drumming coming somewhere deep within the house. I wonder who that could be. 

“Hey, aunt Lucy, uncle Anon.” He nods at us with a slight smirk. ”Yeah, dad's home. He's waiting for you in the living room.” He turns towards the inside of the house. “Dad! They're here!” 

He steps aside to let us in. We find ourselves in a spacious entry hall. The floor is laden with dark wood, the walls are painted a neutral gray color. There are designer coats, shoes, everything you'd expect to find in this part of a millionaire's mansion. There's even some abstract art on the walls. 

We leave our coats here and delve deeper into the house. As we enter the ginormous living room, we are greeted by a long, complex drum solo, punctuated by a hard strike on the plates. Reed is sitting behind the set, panting slowly with a large grin on his face. 

“Yeeeep.” He nods to himself. “Still got it.” He turns his head to us. “Oooh, hey!” He jolts upright. “How are my bros doing!?” He jumps to his feet and tosses the drumsticks over his shoulder. They clatter onto the floor somewhere at the other end of the room. 

He leaps at us and pulls the both of us into a tight hug, tight enough to make my ribcage creak. I wince. Fang doesn't mind. Reed doesn't seem to notice my pained expression and keeps squeezing us together until he's got his fill. 

I step back the moment he lets go, greedily resupplying my lungs with a fresh dose of oxygen. Reed pats my back, nearly knocking me over, but I manage to mask my scowl with a loud chuckle. It's a bit too loud, which earns me a glare from Fang. I give a quick shrug in return.  

“Ayy, Josh, my dude, my bro, my nephew, what's up and happy birthday!” Reed pushes past us and rushes at Josh, who's chatting with Drake near the door. 

He takes Reed's enthusiastic welcome much better than me. Must be his mom's blood in him. He’s laughing and patting his back as they hug it out. 

“Hey, Uncle Reed!” He laughs. “How's the aunt?” 

“Busy and belligerent.” Reed pulls away from him and pats his shoulder. “You know how it is, big business needs big brains, and a big spirit!” He grins. “And she has both.” 

Trish walks in through the other door. Seeing Fang and me, she almost drops her coffee mug. The surprise on her face melts away super fast, replaced by a wide, smug smile. Speak of the devil. 

“So you finally decided to show up, eh?” She walks over to us, sipping her coffee. “Sera, would you be so kind as to take your face out of that damn phone and say hello to our guests?” 

There's a groan of anguish from the couch. I look over. Amber took a spot there, right next to a triceratops girl, who's a near carbon copy of Trish. Daughter of the trigga is now throwing her head back in a show of displeasure. 

“Fffffine…” She looks over and gives us a lazy wave. “Hey uncle, hey auntie. Hey, birthday boy.” 

“Such enthusiasm, my my!” Trish scoffs, shaking her head. Another sip of coffee. She points at the drum set with the mug. “Josh, come see your gift.” 

Reed grabs Josh by the shoulder and, followed closely by Drake, leads him towards the temporary centerpiece of the living room. He sits our son behind the drums and scrambles off in a search for the drum sticks.  Soon, he returns, triumphantly holding them above his head, as if they were some kind of treasure. 

“There you gooo…” he hands Josh the sticks. “Play something for us!” 

Josh blushes, cowering slightly. 

“I, uh, uncle Reed, I just started learning how to play…” he looks around the drum set. “I don't think I can…” 

“Nah, bro, you got this.” Reed pats his back. “Let me show you, it's pretty damn easy!” 

He launches into a rant about the pieces of the set. We meanwhile move over to the couch, from where we observe Reed lecturing Josh, with Drake watching from the side. 

“So, how's your business?” Fang asks Trish. 

“Booming.” She sips more of her bean juice. “We've opened three new saloons in Volcaldera last month. And two in New Kansas.” 

“Congrats!” I nod and grin. 

She smirks and takes another sip. 

“We've been debating whether we should expand our human jewelry catalog.” She glances at me. “It's a mostly untapped market.” 

“Trish, I told you many times, I will not pose for your ads.” 

She rolls her eyes. 

“You never had a lick of business sense.” She smirks smugly when I glare at her. “You could use some extra money y'know.” She glances over at Josh, nodding along to what Reed is saying. “Especially now. Music is an expensive hobby.” 

I shrug. She could afford it, with how shitty her living conditions were, we will be able to afford Josh’s and Amber's. Why is Fang looking at me like that? Shit, she's frowning. What, is she expecting me to go through with this scheme? Eh, I guess some extra mullah wouldn't hurt.

“I'll uh,” I scratch the back of my head. “I'll think about it, actually.” 

Trish's smirk grows, but she doesn't turn her head. She keeps looking at Reed and Josh. The two are speaking too quietly for me to catch anything solid. Reed keeps pointing out the drum set elements. Weird. He doesn't look so high anymore. He actually looks focused. 

Fang puts her hand on mine. I look at her. She's smiling softly. Raptor Jesus on his cross, this smile, this goddamn smile. It melts my heart every single goddamn time. Her look, warm and full of love, tops it off perfectly. 

I smile back. My heart jumps, I feel warm. Really warm. And fuzzy. 

And as giddy as a goddamn high schooler.  

“Hey bros, hey!” 

Reed's shouting snaps me out of the stupefaction brought about by those beautiful amber eyes of my beautiful wife. I slowly, unwillingly, peel my eyes away from her and turn my head towards Reed, who's waving his arms above his head. 

Seeing that he got all our attention - even Amber's and Sera's from what I can see out of the corner of my eye - he stops and steps aside, revealing Josh, holding the drumsticks with a determined expression. 

“Listen, and marvel.” Reed leans to the side and points at Josh with his arms. “Rock out, lil’ bro!” 

Josh looks at us. I give him a thumbs up, Fang a warm, encouraging smile. Amber whistles. Sera only looks at him, without much interest. 

And then, Josh starts to play. 

The rhythm starts out simple, very simple. It's clearly something he learned from Fang during those couple weeks she's been teaching him - who knew she could play percussion? - but gradually, it grows more complex. 

I notice that Reed is tapping his foot on the floor in a steady, measured rhythm. Josh is drumming along to it. 

Wait. Of course, a metronome! Josh has no tail like Fang, and I don't see any metronomes here. Reed, you crafty son of a gun. 

The foot tapping quickens. And so does Josh's drumming. His eyes glued to the drums, he's smiling widely, and blushing. The rhythm gets more complex the faster Reed taps his foot. It comes to a close suddenly, marked off by a triple strike on the brass. 

“Holy shit.” Fang mutters. “He's a natural.” 

“Like mother, like son.” I put my arm around her waist. She snorts, but smirks. 

She then jumps to her feet, me with her, Amber not far behind. We clap, clap and cheer, our show of encouragement making our boy’s blush intensify and his smile widen. He's looking around the room, beet red but proud. 

“Wow, holy shit.” I hear Sera mutter. 

I glance at her. She's looking at Josh with newfound interest, clearly impressed by his skill. Wait, she's holding her phone up now. Is she recording him?

“Play again, Josh!” She calls out. “I need a full vid of this!” 

He's more than happy to oblige. He nods at Reed. Reed gives him a double thumbs up and starts tapping his foot on the floor. Josh taps the drumsticks together a couple times and then, he goes to town on those drums. 

And it is absolutely fucking glorious.