Bravo —Sunday, 2:37 AM
My masterpiece is complete. Once just a melody, its composition has evolved to convey her inspiring majesty. Layers of triumph soar above adagio sostenuto's harmonious fingertips, back and forth, over the melodic chorus, like an infinity symbol. I pen the last note—the purity of a full semibreve. Perfect as the muse who inspired it. Yet, something sounds off. There's a ringing as I key my creation along the black white piano teeth. It's in tune...
There it is again! Uninvited chimes accompany intrusive light erupting from the unopened mail cluttering my otherwise spotless counter-top. I rise from the bench and stalk towards the kitchen. A ringing repeats within the flashing yellow envelope. I gingerly pull the top flap, careful not to tear the package. A phone?
Could it be my brother?
"It's the middle of the night, Bravo, for fuck sakes." A drawn-out sigh follows Nightmare's cranky reply.
I offer no response. A long silence passes before he continues.
"D'you expect Pixie to deliver a new burner for you every week? Take care of this phone—for real!"
"Absolutely, Javier. How are you this fine morning?"
"To be honest, brother—I'm heated. I've got Belle blowing up my phone because Dahl's crashing cars. Debonaire's texting me twenty-four seven, because someone, hasn't been collecting Gomez's pickups. So yeah..."
I clench the phone between my shoulder and head, swaying to the melody in my head.
"That's terrible, Nightmare. To be fair—I anticipated Dahl's failure."
His inauthentic laughter sounds misplaced.
"Why haven't you made Gomez's rounds, Bravo?"
"Oh? Debonaire gave me a different task..."
"Why didn't you do it before?"
I slide along the piano bench's smooth surface. It's becoming hard to dually stand and think.
"I meant to... but..."
"No, T.J., un-fucking-acceptable..."
"I realize you're disappointed, Javier, but let..."
"Gomez wouldn't fuck you over like this, so why are you screwing him like this?"
I brush my forehead over the pearly keys, not pressing them enough to emit a sound.
"I wanted to take care of it, truly, but I had to do a job. My brother needs me. I'm all alone in this. No one is helping me. You still refuse to tell me why..."
I wonder if the call's been disconnected as I collect the moisture from the piano keys with my cheeks.
"Bravo. Listen to me."
Please, help me.
He doesn't. He simply continues, unable to hear my thoughts.
"We all feel for you because of your brother. It's time to get your head on straight. Now! I can't protect you if you keep trippin'. I don't want to hear anymore whining about your brother. Go to sleep. Answer when I call. Straight up."
The simulated voice of the phone punctuates—'Call ended.'
"But... I can't sleep..."
Thanks for Reading! I've considered whether or not this chapter should be cut. I wanted to empathize Bravo's isolation and mental state before 'Caterina' shows up as promised in the next part of his narrative. If you enjoyed this chapter please consider giving it a vote.
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Rival demigods-Venus and Killer Caterpillar-assume control of the gangster scene, dragging Dahl and Bravo into their ongoing conspiracy. ****** Trigger warning: Violence, Mature Language, Sexuality, Murder