Just Off the Key of Reason

Chapter Three - Let's Play This Game

           

Saturday, 10th of March, 2007 - Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

After the night at the bar, Pete finally started warming up to the fact that they were stuck with someone else on the bus. He was still trying to find loopholes as to how he could do all the things he wanted to, but currently he would get by with the "you can have fun, but don't break anything" rule. They left New York feeling like maybe the next few months wouldn't be as tortuous as anticipated. As Pete watching the skyline fade into countryside he took note of a few signs pointing them towards the Bronx. The name rang through his head. He liked the way it sounded, the way it rolled off his tongue. He scrawled it in the corner of his notebook, making a mental note to build a song around it at some point. The next few days passed peacefully; Pete hadn't broken anything, everyone was getting along, their shows were going great. During their time in Philly they had opted to rent a small studio apartment after the show. A couple of mostly sleepless nights on the bus made them willing to pay that bit extra for a bed, even if they still had to share. The space in the apartment was a welcome change from their cramped vehicle, and they spent most of the night after the show on the couch in front of the TV. They didn't have to leave too early the next morning so they were free to let the post-concert adrenalin carry them through until their heavy eyelids got the better of them. As the night wore on, Andy and Joe retired to their room. Patrick had tried to stay up but eventually fell asleep on the couch, his cap falling over his eyes as he leaned back into the cushions. The blue light from the screen painted the room in feeling of calm, the static from the old television set creating what looked like waves washing across the walls. Pete's mind was loving the atmosphere and was rattling with lyrics that were itching to get out of his brain and onto paper. He snatched his notebook from beside the couch and began writing down any and all that came to mind.

"What are you doing?" She asked quietly from across the couch, gesturing at the pen in his hands.

"Working on some lyrics." He shrugged, not looking up from the pages as he tried to hold onto the feeling of inspiration.

"Can I see?" His pen stopped mid-sentence as he looked over at her. He didn't often let people see his lyrics before Patrick had the chance to edit them, to turn his crazy thoughts into things that resembled poetry and music. He was fairly certain people would think he was crazy if he left these things out in the open. Well, crazier than they already thought he was.

"Are you sure?" He asked hesitantly.

"I've liked what I've heard of you guys, I can't imagine I'd dislike anything you've written." She answered, leaning forward and holding her hand out for the book. He swallowed hard, in the end deciding that if he was going to be stuck in confined spaces with her for another three months he might as well let her in at least a little bit. Passing the notebook over, he studied her expression as she glanced at the messy words on the page. "What does that say?" She asked after a moment, pointing a word out to him. He leaned forward, squinting through the darkness to try and read his own handwriting.

"Telescopic." She hummed thoughtfully at his answer. At least he hoped it was thoughtfully, and not in that 'I should call the nearest mental institute, this guy is off his rocker' sort of way. Most of what he wrote was just a sentence or two, vague ideas that sounded good in his head and words that sounded interesting when strung together. Patrick was the one who was able to sculpt them together and turn them into a coherent song.

"I like this bit, the 'I'm a loose screw from a complete machine' idea. It kind of rhymes with the bit... where was it..." She flipped back a page in his book. "The half-doomed, semi-sweet one you've written here."

"Machine and sweet don't rhyme." He frowned.

"They kinda do? Maybe not. Maybe I'm just imagining it." She laughed quietly, handing him back the book. He ran the words through his head a few times, nodding to himself as he drew a star next to each line. Pete ended up giving up his mattress in favour of staying on the couch with Patrick, who nobody had the heart to wake up and ask to move.