The Past Recedes

Chapter 15

"Tomorrow we go to the Getty Museum, but today I'm going to Bob's place to help him with Bicycle Thief. He sent me this tape of a song they're working on and it sounds amazing", said John as they waited for Josh to pick them up".

"Okay, is it going to be noisy?", asked Nika.

"Yeah, but I can give you headphones. Bob wants to meet you, his son is a little older than you. He helped me regain my health, I owe my life to that man. He was as messed up as I was and for a longer period of time. But we made it", said John with a proud little smile.

Nika clutched tightly onto her book and resolved to thank Bob for his help. She gasped in horror when she saw the battered old truck approach, so rusted and battered it looked as though it escaped from a junkyard. "Josh is going to boy a new car when he makes more money", he explained.

The ancient pickup stopped by the house as John helped Nika get inside. "You cleaned it, it's no longer a hazmat zone", he teased.

"Hah, because I know your daughter was coming. And I even took it to the car wash, I paid for in quarters and loose change", said Josh with a laugh.

Nika immediately felt guilty for thinking the truck was ugly. "How old is your truck?", she asked.

"I had it for two years, but it's from 1985. I got it from an ad in the newspaper. When I get a bigger royalty check, I'm getting a new car. I really want a Volvo", said Josh.

"They're Swedish, do you like Swedish stuff?", she asked.

"Sort of, I think Volvo's are cool cars. I want something that not everyone else has", he replied.

Josh drove westwards on I-10 towards the suburbs of Orange County as the truck's air conditioner wheezed and gave off a thin blast of cool air. "At least the air conditioner doesn't smell, it does that sometimes", said Josh.

Josh parked in the lot of an old warehouse that held a recording studio out in the Valley, in an industrial park in Orange County. "Trust me, it's a rehearsal studio", said John reassuringly when he saw the look on her face.

Nika held tightly onto her father's hand as she looked around warily. A thin middle-aged man with dyed cherry-red hair and a brown hat stood by the doorway smoking a cigarette. He looked up when he saw them and a grin broke out on his face dominated by round tortoise-shell rimmed glasses. "Hey, glad you made it. John, is this your daughter?", he asked kindly.

"Yeah, Bob. Nika, this is my friend Bob Forrest. Bob, this is my daughter Nika", he said.

"Glad to meet you, Nika. I was surprised to find out Fru had a daughter, I had no idea he ever had a child. I felt the same way when I found out about my son", said Bob.

Nika dropped down into a curtsy. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Forrest. Thank you for helping my father", she replied solemnly.

"Wow, you're welcome. Fru, she has excellent manners. And she looks just like you, she has your curls", said Bob.

"I know, that's how I knew she was my daughter", said John proudly.

Bob finished his cigarette and led them inside. A short corridor led into a cavernous room that was gray and concrete, windows high above on the second level letting a thin stream of light. Leaning against a stack of milk crates was an amplifier and behind that was a drum kit and a keyboard, the only other décor some old folding chairs. The whole room resembled something out of an action thriller were the bad guys held hostages as Nika clung to her father.

"Relax, it's perfectly safe. It's just the cheapest place we could find", Bob explained.

Nika sat down on one of the folding chairs and began to read. She watched out of the corner of her eyes as Bob and her father took out their guitars and tuned them while Josh took out a pair of drumsticks from his guitar case and sat behind the kit. She read a few pages before she was distracted by a drumbeat and guitar chords as she set the book aside to watch. She had never seen music performed live before and watched as John played a brown Fender guitar and Bob played an acoustic guitar while Josh hit a steady drumbeat.