If Only She Knew

6. The Rockstar Assault

Two years ago, Big Bucharest...

Haron Ride had just finished his shift and was responsible with closing up the chestnut café that night.

With a sort of chagrin he watched the last customer leaving, as he was packing his stuff up and wiping the counter, alternatively; the last customer was his girlfriend, Maria, whom he couldn't accompany home tonight.

This was due mainly to the fact that she had to go home early so as to be on curfew, a curfew her father strictly imposed since the series of disappearances started.

Haron was a member of a still amateur, teen boy band, together with a few school buddies.

They wrote their own rock anthems, which couldn't really be called that since only a crowdful of people, not exceeding London's limits, had heard them.

Haron was the band's guitarist.

After closing up the cafe he wouldn't even have time to go home as he had to go, by bus, to meet his buddies at the Heathrow airport, in London, which was an hour away, and then catch a plane to San Francisco in the dead of the night.

He waved his hand to his girlfriend, whom beheld him through the pane glass window of the store, with a sweet dimpled smile.

There was an apology in her eyes but, the situation was out of her control.

It wasn't her fault she couldn't go along with the guys towards this event that might be the most important thing that happened to them as a band.

They were going to San Francisco to meet a producer from a renown record label who promised to, maybe, sign a contract with them after a live audition in front of him.

They had participated in a rock fresh bands competition, which crowned a different winner, but, somehow maybe through luck or talent, they had caught people's attention and became a runner-up band.

The fault in this was that they had been told about this only six hours ago and they had a hard time booking plane tickets to SF, but how could they let go of such an opportunity?

So here he was, cleaning, and closing up the small-town cafe where he worked as a waiter, and then going down a ladder to a basement room; the cafe's owner let him use it anytime, and he really camped there a lot. Earlier that day he had left there his travel bag, put together in a rush, as well as his guitar.

This was their opportunity; they had to grapple it with their teeth, even if they had to go without sleep.

Haron nimbly descended the ladder, in the dim sodium light that came from a bulb fixture in the wall, improvised by the owner, very calm and careful in his steps.

The inside of his mind was messy and hazy.

He was still paying attention to his steps, agile and rushed as he was, being aware of the protruding darkness, from the sides, towards a radius like a gradient.

There was another switch down in the room which he had to reach in order to light up and convey the entire place clarity.

Once he had his feet on the ground floor, even though his sight wasn't the best and he needed his glasses sometimes, he felt for the switch in the dark and lighted up the room.

There was a new SMS from one of his friends who was wondering how much longer he'd have to wait for him at the bus station, and Haron texted him back, telling him that he'd be there in ten. Ten?

He closed his phone and pulled it in his back pocket as he rummaged for his travel bag and rucksack, which he found with ease, just where he had left them.