Frontman

by Acologic

Chapter I – Discovery

Frontman
by Acologic

Dedicated to stanku, whose work inspired me not only to write here but to keep writing.

1.

Discovery

***

Books.

Lots and lots of books. Crammed into cheap-looking bookshelves surely creaking under their combined weight. Inside each a score and analysis? Several? Or perhaps scores of QA-approved performance pieces waiting to be dished out come exam term. Who knew?

‘Very good, bring us in there, that’s it. Careful though, you’ve got too much weight behind that… Got to make those notes snappier. Again. Yes! Better.’

And guitars too. God, there were lots, hanging glumly from Post-it note–encircled wall mounts, all bashed, bruised and abused over years of thoughtless students and open-day usage. And cables, for want of a better word. Lots of those. Black jumbles of them, like a snake nest. The modern musician, he’d read, was as much a technician as an artist. That scared him.

‘No, it’s… no, bar twenty-one, please. Yes. Again, please. Yes. Good.’

Plectrums. Some scattered by a kettle in the corner, some on the floor. Rosin too. Just the one. Left behind? And on the desk a poster boasting hackneyed tag lines yet to be Blu-tacked to the corridor display.

‘Two, three and in!’

Dec waited.

‘Keep it up, don’t slow!

‘Watch that though, that one, that chord just there. “Let ring”, it says, as you play them, the notes. Let’s hear… No, the major seventh, please. Better.

‘Too much, too much behind that. Bring it down a bit, please. Again.

‘OK, when you come in, Ross, you need to hold those first three notes longer, full values. Again, and don’t rush.’

He wasn’t close to half good, this guy, thought Dec. The guitar was just… bad. Flashy, and meaningless, and horribly distorted, combining terribly with its performer to produce only irritating sound.

‘Not bad, Ross, just keep working on it, please.’

A very tactful way of breaking it to him. And Dec – knowing he was next, his own future on the line, his talent laid bare for the admittedly kind teacher to judge – he felt for this Ross.

‘… off back now, and I’ll pass on the recording, OK? Alright? Good. Thank you, Ross.’

Dec’s stomach squirmed, and he gulped a few times, feeling ill as he always did before any performance. He brushed the neck of his lute, pressed his hoof into the cold strings. Deep breaths. And as with every performance, his worries hadn’t changed. His lute, quite literally the instrument of his success, he knew it would not let him down.

But its secret could never be known.

‘And now… Dec? Dec, you can come in, please.’

Books. Bookshelves. Guitars. Cables. Post-its, and posters, and plectrums. And now Ross, unplugging, and then the classroom and everything in it. Music stands, a grand piano by the whiteboard, more cables, a few dusty corner desks, a projector and screen, and a lot of space, but mostly filled with seniors, and all of them holding instruments. CAC Chamber Group. Real musicians. And all of them looking at Dec.

His turn.

***

Quentin,

You’ll no doubt wonder what this is all about, a line instead of our usual natter by the staff base. It’s just I’ve come across a wonderful new prospect, heard him today at a tryout for the Philharmonic. We had the Chamber Group in, you know, Studio 1 at lunchtime. And this first-year… Dec Domesquad is his name. Such technical proficiency! A guitarist, hoofstyle, he’s an Earth, you see, had me astounded when I saw which piece he’d chosen! Valse du lapin, the original! At full speed! I know, I’m as shocked as you undoubtedly are, because he managed it! Hoofstyle, no horn! You could actually hear the striking of the strings!

All I ask is see for yourself. I’ve invited Dec to your next rehearsal. He’s a very pleasant boy, sensitive. Let him play, and his ability will speak for itself.

Many thanks,

H.

***

Dec manoeuvred his case into an overhead locker, took the seat opposite so as to keep it in view. Coach 11 was all but empty today, but that was no reason to be careless. Deal yourself a bad hand, whose side are you on? Caution first, always. He’d read both sayings somewhere, had taken both to heart. Jake, sitting beside him, his little smirk said he knew exactly what was going through Dec’s head as he stood up again to make certain the catch was secure.

‘So,’ said the latter once he’d finished, ‘how’d it go?’

Dec grinned guiltily. ‘Mr Harriot’s mouth was open after only six bars. Couldn’t have gone better in a script.’

‘Hah!’ Jake snorted, slapped a seat, sending dust everywhere. ‘He transferred you?’

‘Yep,’ said Dec happily. ‘Tomorrow morning, first thing. I’m playing with the Phillies. You know what that means?’

‘Gevanni?’

‘Yeah.’

Jake whistled. ‘Sure you’re up for it?’

‘Jake…’ Dec nodded at the locker as the engine gurgled into life and the bus jerked forwards.

‘No, I mean you. Psychologically.’

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

Jake clicked his tongue and shrugged. ‘Well, he’s got a reputation, isn’t it? What if he finds out?’

Jake had said that deliberately, knowing the effect it would have on him. Dec could feel worms in his stomach again.

‘He won’t.’ But it didn’t sound confident, which bugged him even more. You’d think after all these years undetected he’d have more faith in himself, in his lute. And he’d seen Harriot’s face. He’d done alright, hadn’t he? Attention, yes, but in all the right places. No one suspected anything.

‘How’s the job?’ he asked as casually as he could, hoping to change the subject.

‘Don’t change the subject,’ came Jake’s reply. Dec grinned at that.

‘Huh. You’ve seen through my cunning plan.’

‘You’d better hope he doesn’t.’

‘Gevanni. Yeah, I’m… pretty nervous. But it’s nothing new. We’ve done this for years.’

‘You’ve done this,’ corrected Jake. ‘I’ve just…’

‘Kept quiet for as long as I have? Yeah. The word “complicit” comes to mind.’

Jake’s turn to grin. ‘Good luck either way. Knock ’em dead.’

‘Might have to if he finds out.’

They laughed, Dec a little forcefully. How many times had he made that joke? Still, it was funny. He turned his attention to the window, watched the city crawl by. Canterlot. Busy as always, stagnant traffic, flashing lights, chewing-gum encrusted streets. The world had so much going for it, so many other details and distractions it hardly mattered that he, Dec Domesquad, was up to something. Who would notice amidst all this? He watched a flock of pedestrians cross the road, their collars up against the wind. Who would care even to look, to glance?

But was it right? Ah, there it was again, that little voice inside his head. Was it right, this deception, albeit harmless? Harmless. Sort of. Who was he hurting, really? In fact, all he’d done so far was bring joy to ponies around him. Happiness. Contentment. And to himself too. Was that so bad? It wasn’t as though he was lying either. People simply assumed it was so, and he didn’t bother correcting their mistake.

But is it right… Is it right… Is it right… Is it right…

Not wrong, anyway. Not really. What else was he supposed to do? You get given a gift, you use it.

He sighed.

***

Half an hour later, the bus pulled in. Dec’s chip-yellow stop post. He carefully dragged the case from its perch, knocked hooves with Jake.

‘Hayhouse later tonight?’ said Jake, pulling out an earphone.

‘Not really feeling it,’ said Dec, ‘but give me a call after seven, I might be hungry enough.’

‘Will do.’

Dec thanked the driver and stepped off. The bus curled itself around the bend and out of sight. His grey-brown cuboid of a student village, hardly the most welcoming. But a home of sorts, and at least inside was ten if not twenty times more tolerable than its brutal exterior. Gate. Stairs. Yard. Gust of wind. He swiped his key card, tugged hard on the heavy door to Block C, grunting. More stairs.

No. 23, key card again.

And in.

He tossed his coat onto its peg, leaned his bag against the cold radiator, laid his case on the bed, walked over to the window. Now there was a thing he liked about the room. His window, a big one, almost large enough to fall through were it glass-less. Through it Dec could observe the entire undercity, so dubbed purely on account of the citadel, for unlike most diminutives it was hardly inferior. Lower Canterlot was three times the size of its counterpart and teemed with life, unassuming and everyday, just as that of any healthy city should be, written in the reds, greens, purples and yellows of neon signs and street lamps.

Oh, and noisy. Car horns, and laughter, and pigeons, and come nighttime college parties and carelessly loud pubs and clubs. City noise. The music of mundanity, as important a part of inspiration as anything.

Is it right… is it right… is it right…

Oh, shut up with that, he thought to himself. This was impersonal. Just business, as they say. That tomorrow he’d be playing with the big boys… On the face of it, small – but Dec recognised the significance of this progression and fought his conscience down.

The battle was short-lived. Cut short, in fact, because his MagCo went off.

He rummaged through his bag, pulled it out.

His heart leapt.

‘… Dad?’

‘Dec, haha, my son, how are you, haha, how was the day, my son?’

‘Good, Dad, I –’

‘Haha, so good to hear your voice again! Your aunt told me the big news, the big first-year now! At the conservatoire, very… how do you say, posh? Haha! So proud! So proud, of course, so happy, haha!’

‘Dad, I… well, yeah, I’m – I got in –’

‘Good school, is it? What they teach you there, my son? The piano, yes? Good for your keratin, work the hoof tips, you get plenty of exercise, my son, haha, plenty of the workouts!’

‘Actually playing my lute, Dad, heh… just, still on that, you know…’

‘Oh, I know, I know, a little joke, haha, just the fun, you know how I say, haha?’

‘Yeah. Dad, I… I actually had a tryout today, at the school. Like, an audition. For the philharmonic orchestra?’

‘Haha, the big star already, I can bet! Impressing them with the skills already, playing them into astonishment, I can bet, haha! You make me very proud.’

Dec felt an eyelid flutter. ‘Thanks, Dad.’

‘Make me so proud! Haha, they’ll remember the name Domesquad then, haha! You make your mother too, so very happy, she sees us, she knows, haha!’

‘How are you though, it’s been ages. Nancy still at your beck and call?’

‘Haha, you know, haha, you see, no fooling! She’s here, next to me now!’

‘Nancy? No end to your suffering, then?’

‘Haha, see how she smiles! Haha!’

‘Just want to know if you’re OK though, Dad.’

‘Me? Pah! You know how it is, I sit, I watch the happy pictures. Haha, you know how it moves for me, haha, how life moves!’

‘But you aren’t working?’

‘Me, no, no, of course not! No, little bit here perhaps, there and here and not much, only how you say, the small jobs.’

‘Dad, you’re not supposed –’

‘Which reminds me! How good that you say! I’m sending an allowance! No, I don’t want to hear!’

For Dec had protested immediately.

‘My son, my money, I give to whomever I choose, haha, you see how, know how it is, haha. My little works, they pay some for your fundings, haha! For your savings!’

‘You sure you know how to transfer these days? It’s all magic now.’

‘Haha, the big joker, haha, from me you get this! You’ll get your funding, haha, my son, so good to hear the voice again. So good.’

‘Heh, thanks, Dad. Are you…’ He paused. ‘Still on for summer, right?’

‘Oh yes, haha, yes, yes, your uncle, he say I come over, haha, will be seeing you then, I can bet, haha!’

Dec grinned. ‘Great. Wouldn’t be right without you.’

‘Haha, no dropping-ins here, you see how it is, haha. This time it’s all mapped, haha, on the plan! Oho, Nancy, haha, how you make me laugh! Haha, my son, I am to go now, Nancy wants – no, no, haha! Nancy is wanting me out of the staff room!’

‘Heh. I should have known.’

‘Haha, you see how it is! I’ll speak soon with you more, son, haha! Goodbye, Dec, goodbye!’

‘Bye, Dad. Bye.’

‘Haha, my son, goodbye!’

His MagCo flashed out.

Comments

[Friendly Spartan IV]

This fic sucks balls! It will NEVER make featured, no matter how many you chumps try!!!

[Midnight Song18]

Ugh, oh dear. I'm sorry the first comment you got had to be hateful.

Judging from the description, it actually sounds pretty interesting. I'll add it to my 'Read It Later' and give it a go! Keep writing!

[Acologic]

9305442
He justified what he said in a PM, so I didn't take it badly. His reason was one you might not expect.

Thanks! Appreciate the support.

[Midnight Song18]

9306001
Okay, but you can give harsh criticism without actually being HARSH. Glad that you're not upset!

[Acologic]

9306632
It wasn't criticism, actually. It really didn't have anything to do with the story.