12-21-2012, 12:28 AM
Sorry this took so long. I'll do my best to finish this before the end of the world...someday.
Roxanne Morris knocked on the back door leading into the kitchen. "Mom?" she called out. "You home?"
"In the living room, hon," her mother called out.
Roxanne turned to the skinny, tattooed young man with black spiky hair dressed in black leather standing behind her. "Okay," she said, "come on in."
The two entered and went into the living room where Melody Morris was folding laundry while watching her soaps. She looked up briefly at her daughter and her companion. The sight of the latter did not alarm her; she was accustomed to seeing Sid Vicious types since Roxie had been in high school. She simply said, "Hi, hon, who's your friend?"
"Mom," Roxanne began, "this is Pierce. He's our new drummer for the band, and he needs a place to stay. Would it be okay if he stays in Boone's old room in the basement? He works days as an electrician, so he's got a steady income. He can only afford three hundred a month, so..."
Melody thought it over. Guy's a friend of Roxie's, he's got a steady job, three hundred a month--not too shabby. "Works for me," she said with a shrug. "So long as he cleans up after himself and doesn't bring the cops pounding on the door, he's welcome to stay as long as he wants."
Pierce and Roxie smiled. "Thanks, Mom," the latter said. "We really appreciate it."
"Yeah, thanks Mrs. M.," Pierce said. He jerked his thumb toward the kitchen. "Hey, I'll go get my stuff."
He left the living room to fetch his belongings. Roxie turned to her mother. "Don't worry about a thing, Mom," she said. "Pierce is a good guy, really. Doesn't do drugs or nothing."
Melody went on folding laundry. "Well, that's good to know," she said, flicking the kinks out of a pillowcase. "So long as he comes up with the three hundred a month, his affairs are none of my business." She gave a depreciating little laugh. "Compared to your brother," she said,
"this guy's a Boy Scout. At least he doesn't go on about all those crazy conspiracy theories, like hoaxes and UFO's and the end of the world and all that."
Roxie smiled a little, then started a bit. "Oh, that reminds me," she said, snapping her fingers. "We got a gig at Menage's on the twentieth of December--the big End of the World party they're giving. It's six weeks from now, and they're paying us a fifteen hundred bucks for one night's show! Isn't that great?"
Her mother was impressed. "Fifteen hundred, huh? Not bad. Split four ways, that's like, what?"
"Three seventy five each," Roxie answered. "Our biggest take yet!"
He mother sniffed. "Well, let's just hope the world doesn't come to an end before you can collect it."
For the Eastern Seaboard, the end of the world almost came before Thanksgiving of that year when Hurricane Sandy slammed into it with a vengeance. Thousands of homes were destroyed from Baltimore to New York to New Jersey and beyond, displacing millions of people.
It was with great relief to Criss Angel, a native New Yorker, to have his mother staying with him at his estate, Serenity, when it happened. Dimitra, however, was in a constant state of anxiety over the welfare of family members still on the East Coast who may or may not have been affected by the storm. Days of endless attempts to reach them by phone or email proved fruitless; phone wires and cellular antennae were down, and there was no electric power for computer terminals to function. It was all Criss could do to reassure her that everything would be all right.
By the end of the first week after the disaster, Criss decided she needed to get out of the house, so he got on the phone and called the first person he could think of to help.
"Hello, Springs? This is Criss Angel."
"Oh, hey, Angel, how's tricks?"
"Good. Hey, would you do me a favor? Mom's here at Serenity, and she's been worried sick about everyone back in New York being hit by Sandy, so I was wondering if you could take her out sometime. You know, somewhere nice, so she can get a load off her mind about the storm and all."
"Well, I'm happy to oblige, Angel, but I'd been kinda under the weather with my heart and all. How's about she come to my place for a visit. She'd keep me company for a while."
"Okay, Springs, you got it. I'll make the arrangements for, say, this Friday?"
"Friday sounds good to me, kid."
"Okay, Springs. Later."
"Yeah, bye, kid."