Strings and Schemes

Chapter 1

AUTHORS NOTE: A huge thanks to my bff who has been encouraging me to write & has read all of this so far, offering helpful and thoughtful feedback and made this banner & the poster for Strings and Schemes. 

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The rain hit the ground and ricocheted like so many nights before in London, but something about tonight felt different to me. Energy was abuzz in a way I hadn't felt before, or maybe it was just the vast amount of alcohol Louis and I decided to down in an attempt to find the answers to life, as it's certainly not 42. I think.

"Ay - mate - Hurry up!" Louis yells through the thundering rain as I struggle to catch up to him in my impractical suede shoes.

I jump from driest land to driest land in an attempt to salvage them from the puddles, but truthfully it does no use as I am outside longer than I would've been had I just bulldozed on in. I finally catch up to Louis who's annoying all the other patrons of our local haunt by keeping the door to the miserable British weather open.

"You're changing shoes with me", I state. As usual, Louis is the best and while I know he'll put up a fight, he'd do anything for me, including wearing my soggy wet suede shoes, in exchange for his warm, dry practical shoes.

He gives me a warning look, as if to say - can you please not emasculate me in front of all these people? In front of Harry? I give him a trying smile, as if to say you know I'm cute and I owe you. He shakes his head as I walk through the door he so graciously held for me. I look to the left and see the long bar with numerous options of crisps, and germ infested nuts on the bar and grab a seat at the far end, keeping my back to the door and window, and patting the seat next to me for Louis.

"I'm not a dog," he says, irritated as all hell, but following my order.

"Then why do you listen so well?" I reply, matter-of-fact. 

He in fact never listens well, he just seems to be for now. 

Louis  promptly ignores me, turning his attention to the barkeep. 

"Harry!" He yells in excitement at a volume far too loud for this place, considering its almost closing hours and the rest of the patrons are at least a decade older than the two of us combined.

Harry walks over while miming for us to lower our voices. "What can I get you both? Please say water." He almost begs.

"You just like hearing the American pronunciation!" I accuse.

"Maybe," he starts, "but I desperately do not want to have to clean up your American," he then eyes Louis, "or his British sick tonight."

I try to object, Louis is now enthralled in another conversation with a man who he calls skipper despite his rank definitely not being skipper.

"Don't even try to deny it, Addams", Harry laughs with a gleam in his eyes, "it's not even you I'm truly worried about. Since when does Louis want to dance to the chilli peppers with someone who's not you when he knows you like to keep a low profile while out?"

I look over and see Louis doing some sort of waltz mixed with some head bobbing with Skipper. I decide not to intervene in Louis' impromptu dance party and instead turn to Harry. "Two waters, a hard cider, and whatever's new on tap."

The Brits always knew how to do a good cider. Harry sighs in relief at my order.

"Can you put my playlist on?" I ask harry when he returns.

"Sure, but start with something the others won't hate or won't pay attention to until they leave, then you can play whatever you want" he smiles, reaching for my phone.