Founding "That Damn Club"
A Shiori Experience fanfiction
Content warning: Violence, alcoholism, strong language, RPF (Real Person Fiction)
Chapter 01 : Stuck On You
CHAPTER 02 : No Rookie Mistake...
My eyelids lifted up like rusty overheads as I woke up from a neck-breaking position, beneath an unusual mass over me— Some strangers were piling up around me, and they all stunk of beer in this hoarded bathtub, feeling as stiff as a wooden string puppet.
Wait… Where’s my money?! Yes, I didn’t carry much with me but— Shit… They probably stole my phone too- Oh… nevermind, there it is—
After struggling to pull my hand off the human mass over me, I turned the screen on and would you know it… 7 missed calls from an unsaved number and 2 unread messages beneath the lock screen clock that read 11:36 AM. 5 of them were from an unsaved number; that must've been the dude who drove me here… Wait… I thought I saved his number, or did I just… write it down? Damn it!!
However, the other two… were from a number I did save… in my contacts…
Thankfully, I was sober enough to squeeze out of the bundle of equally knocked out guests and get my ass out of there as fast as I could— I ran down the stairs that were just blocked with lots of empty cans and… yet another passed out dude.
“Wait!! Where’s my fender?! Where’s Kurt?!!” After I skipped faster over the fainted rando, I paused half-way through. I didn’t know my own next move… I just scampered around this hoarder of a party aftermath.
If only I could remember what the hell exactly happened, or find Kurt so he’d tell me then… hoping he was there with me when my brain wasn't, in the first place. Then it hit me! The last thing I could actually recall from last night was the moment I was behind a crowd that gathered around the DJ in the front yard. My guitar must be there!! So must be Kurt!!
I ran out the door, straight to the yard– A sharp honk struck my ear drum. I turned my sight to where it came from, and it was the car that drove me here yesterday!
Huh… quite odd that I still remembered it… after whatever happened.
Two more honks! “C’mere!!” The driver pulled his arm out his window, motioning for me to come in quickly. I ran to the window in response.
“Get in!!” He hissed, with a concerningly shaky tone.
I turned back, still standing next to the car door. “But Kurt! Where- Oh! There you are-” An image above the car roof caught me before I shifted my focus to it. Kurt laid up there on his stomach, head resting on his crossed arms. Once again, his messy blonde locks failed to cover his tired eyes.
“Dude, you ever happened to see where my fender went last night?” Not paying much attention to it at the time, I caught the man from yesterday widening his eyes and a quiet gasp escaped him as I mentioned my lost guitar.
“Let’s see… you got yourself wasted, barfed on ‘stage’— what else?” Kurt gave himself a moment to remember the order of events in which my mind was soaked in liquor. “Yeah, that's-”
“Forget it! It’s worn off anyway!!” A fearful hiss from the driver cut Kurt's speech short. Obviously, he heard none of what Kurt told me— Not that it answered me anyway.
“Wha- No?? I can't, man!! I HAVE to get—”
“THEN HOW WOULD YOU FORGET SUCH AN IMPOR-” silence dropped after a teeny click I almost couldn’t hear if the man kept shouting one millisecond longer. “P-please…” a cowardly whisper from the man broke the creepy quietude.
“But I can’t go back there without it! I’ll be busted-”
“You– We… already are…” He sniffed in-between the split sentence he stuttered out. The click that I almost paid no attention to… it finally made sense to me.
My heart and stomach dropped, I almost believed I could shit them out right then.
I opened the rear door, and jumped back as I saw him— fuck… guess I procrastinated with wiping the slate for too long.
“So that’s the personal gig Kurt requested, huh?” The manager adjusted himself on the backseat. He wore a grin this time… It was far more eerie than any face I saw from this guy.
“Once we’ve settled down-” Once more, and despite there being enough space for two more people back there, he scooted over and tapped the empty seat next to him. “... Come.”
The mass of my blood dropped to my fingertips, feet and the bottom of my heart all at once into numbness. I got in as he demanded. The car drove off, back to the MG label department.
The manager plodded around, in front of me and my partner-in-caught-crime. My heartbeats rhymed with his derby clops that echoed through the entrance hall.
“I mean, you’re a young, ambitious brat after all… But–” he paused, facing us with his side, “This is no joke, Ford… You’re old enough to know what business is, right?” He turned his face to meet mine, pointed a 9mm out of the other side and pulled the trigger without even stretching his arm over or even turning his torso more than a quarter.
He dropped the guy next to me onto the floor like a ragdoll. And with the usual crooked smile, he said: “And in business… There’s no freestyling.”
Just like that… It was the 3rd gunshot for me to witness since my deal with the devil. Every time it has happened so far, I thought I’ve seen enough…
I swear, he was just alive and well just now. One second, he was standing, breathing and seeing. The next, his corpse laid on his own blood pile… no transition between life and death.
I wanted to scream, cry, pass out– I don’t know, I just… I wanted to react… yet my whole body froze like if I died alongside that man.
I should’ve known it– No!! I should’ve considered it when he first picked me– punishing any disobedience right before my eyes the same way.
Before he tied Kurt’s soul and my existence to one another.
Was I so dumb that I needed a second reminder? Or did this guy know exactly when I’d get stunted enough for him to control me to his liking?
That moment kept replaying in my head again and again for days, months!! My eyeballs felt dry and my eyelids shrunk from the lack of blinking.
Even for Kurt, the unfiltered, snuff-mouthed guy himself, couldn’t keep up with all of this.
More time passed by, nothing new… Nothing but me having to play songs on my own, learning to mimic Kurt’s style even more, just so the manager doesn’t blow my head clean off if he finds out that Kurt now despised playing even more- To the point where I even barely saw the guy around! I was SO close to convincing him to play again, until the other guy bit the dust… Oh! And he wasn’t the last, anyway!
Every now and then, I hear someone letting out a loud grunt or a gut-wrenching scream… Those guys must’ve bent out of the manager’s wishes a little too much to deserve such a reaction… All for whom? Jimi Hendrix.
Speaking of Jimi, the manager decided to take me to his memorial outta nowhere, someday in the middle of March.
“Wake up, boy!” The manager knocked on my bedroom door. I literally jumped out of bed as if some springs were released beneath my mattress. Though my mind had a scenario that suggested I wouldn’t open the door, my body opposed me for I ran towards it as fast as I could, then opened it to face him.
“Good morning~!” He gave me an eerily gentle smile. “And I can make it better- Say, why don’t we relax together, out on a lake? Y’know? Quality time… Just you and me… Like father and son!”
“... Huh?” That came outta nowhere… Father and son? I don’t remember fathers killing others in front of their sons over rookie mistakes! Besides, didn’t you say earlier that this is business?
“I’ve been thinking of treating you and Kurt to a vacay.” He patted my resting arm. “We can go fishing, breathe some fresh air and eat our own hunts, and~ visit the legend himself!” That sounded more like treating himself, honestly. But y’know what? Maybe this could be a blast and a half if he’s bringing no more businessmen to gun down over some inconvenience.
Just, what decides someone’s life worth for this man? I mean- I disobeyed him worse than those assistants ever did, yet the worst thing I ever received was being made watch a staff member die— At this point, it’s kinda like witnessing the filming process of some sorta white version of Pulp Fiction. Despite the amount of men he killed in front of me as a threat, he never laid a finger on me… Ever!! Yet… I believe I’m on the list as well– just dunno when’s my turn.
“... Wait- We’re visiting Kurt’s grave?”
Of course, we started with the graveyard visit. A gentle breeze ran through my sprayed hair, rattling the grass around my feet as well. For some reason, I took steadier steps, and the deep breath that I took, as I basked in this momentum of tranquility, almost made me float. Maybe I did need a vacation– going somewhere with nothing but mostly nature. That was the most peaceful, nerve-relaxing moment I had felt so far, before the manager hollered happily with his arms open in the air.
“Oh Jimi, my champ~!” He approached the massive memorial stone with wide-open arms. “Oh how I’ve been longing to talk to you again ever since I knew I could!!”
I stood behind him with my eyes on the stone. Then I noticed someone sitting beside its interior– It was Kurt!! The manager’s there before me, so making any move would spill my beans– Shit!! I gotta hold on until he moves away– But knowing the manager… he won’t… in a short time, at least.
“Ford!!” Called the manager, “What’re ya foolishly standing there for? C’mere!” I stepped forward, trying to ignore Kurt’s existence and act like I didn’t see him… in case my surprise didn’t leak outta my face, that is.
“This– This is the man we’ll soon meet!!” The old man passionately remarked. “Doesn’t it excite you? To meet THE legend of Rock himself? I mean, I have had the privilege of seeing him alive, but– What about you, son?” He nudged me.
“Hm? Oh, y-yeah… That’d be cool!” I forced a smirk onto my face.
An awkwardly long moment of silence passed us. “Huh… I guess you only know of him by name.” The manager remarked. “Sheesh, it’s been that long?” He turned around and lifted his head up as he leaned onto his cane.
“Well, not really- It’s just that I can’t match your enthusiasm…” I don’t know how that came out of me, but I had to do some sloppy damage control by finishing it off with a fake, obviously anxious giggle… HOW COME MY PROFESSIONALISM FLEW OUT THE WINDOW!?!?
I sucked air outta my teeth, hoping he wouldn’t kill me, one way or another.
“Aww~” The manager lowered his head down, “‘Couldn’t match my enthusiasm’ he said… How cute!” He murmured.
I forced a nervous chuckle out of me before turning around and noticing Kurt sitting beside the memorial stone, then laying completely on his side.
“What the-” I hissed, almost forgetting who I was standing next to. Thankfully, all of my muscles tensed up, stopping me from talking any further. A slow sigh left me to relieve the tension before approaching the memorial on my own.
“Hm?” The manager noticed my movement, obviously. “Where ya going?”
“Just… Getting closer to the legend himself… Y’know, maybe he can radiate me with his, uhh… vibes- blues!! yeah…” My steps went backwards as I turned around to face him while still moving towards Kurt. I don’t know why I did that then; was it because of Kurt’s presence there that shocked me after not seeing him for so long? The manager’s eyes that magnetized mine out of fear? Or could it be both? ‘Cause then, it was a fight-or-flight situation, and I definitely couldn’t afford to throw a fit.
At last Kurt was in front of me, after so long. “Dude! Where have you been!?” He looked me up and down, “... Here”
I looked sideways, “… Why?”
“Gee, I wonder” He adjusted himself to lay on his back, crossing the stonefoot.
“... Wait, did you know we'd come here?"
"No? I thought only you could see our whereabouts.” I pointed at him.
“No vice versa?” I shook my head.
“Ford!!” The boss called me from behind. “What’cha telling the ol’ Hendrix, eh?”
“What? You’re gonna rat yourself out?”
“No!!” I hissed again, except this time I was much closer to actually telling on both of us.
“Oh, Kurt’s here too…” I almost shat my own stomach out there. “But of course- I’ve been thinking whether Jimi would have mutual respect for you…” He looked at the stonefoot as if he knew Kurt was indeed around there. “No offense, by the way.”
“Why, though?” Curiosity pushed me to intervene.
“Kurt might have a scratchy, unique way of playing his jaguar, but he plays by ear, and I don’t think Jimi would be cool with aimless amateurs…” Such a statement made Kurt sit up and give the old man a stink eye, “But until we meet the man himself, we can’t just keep assuming, right?” I nodded in response, though most of my attention was towards the offended Kurt. “Welp! Let’s go back home!” The manager turned around and walked out to the car along with his guards, while I stood longer to convince Kurt to come with us.
“C’mon, buddy. It’s been exhausting for me to do all the gigs by myself. Don’cha feel like… Y’know– Write your anger out in a song or something?” I extended my hand to him, even though touching him was impossible.
“I’d rather punch it out, actually.” His silently raging eyes looked at me.
“Look, I know it’s hard as hell right now, but somewhere I believe this’ll all be worth it! Come on, man-”
“Come on, you two!!” the manager shouted from afar, the backseat door that faced them from many steps away was wide open, waiting for me to enter for our next stop.
Back in the car and on our way to lake Washington, Kurt curled up on the right backseat with his eyes on the road that we bass by as I sat next to him in the middle. All the while, the manager was on my left side, doing the same as Kurt… except, a bit more enthusiastically, probably whispering stuff about the day he sees Jimi again. My buddy’s doomed facade always tugged onto my heart, it hurt me to see him let himself get dragged by me. I didn’t want to rope him into this, I know full-well he wished to let me die with the manager… Damn– Do we really pity each other?
With a bucket full of fishing tools I’m not so familiar with in one hand, and a fishing pole in the other, he walked into the muddy shoreline after applying bait to the hook, then threw the rod far away into the lake, holding onto the pole.
For someone who’s obsessed with Jimi Hendrix, he never bothered to fetch him a contractor as soon as possible. I don’t know how I thought that time and that place would be great for me to ask him that… I guess it was a Jimiless, understimulating area for him to not be so fixated on that man for a few minutes.
I came closer to the manager, “So uh… why do you not look for a contractor for Jimi like– Y’know– you did me & Kurt?”
“The same reason why I never specified what fish I’m willing to catch right now. All I want is for it to be big and thick of meat.”
“In other words… Because he's a legend, an icon… He’s the frontman of frontmen!! But such a man can't be wasted on just any regular contractor– and since he’s one of a kind… I’ll leave it to fate to pick him the best one out there.” and turned around to me with his usual grin, “And you two are the fancy bait~”
The rod got tugged on and the reel span before the manager held it and twirled it back. “Atta, boy!! Oh, she’s a fat one!!”
“Lemme guess, not even Jimi's safe from this parasocial fucker.” out of nowhere, Kurt commented behind me as he approached the scene.
Even though nobody but me could see and hear him, his shit talking to the manager always got me stressed for my life. “Where were y– What do you mean?”
“He's gonna look for some other teen to tie him with, no?”
“Oh, yeah!! That's the thing! He won't!” I confirmed, acting like the manager wasn’t just being insulted by him. “He believes fate will choose his contractor, or something… Right, sir?”
The manager noticed unusual noises behind him, just to find out that Ford was stepping back, with his hand on his neck, running around the shoreline, the guards followed him until pushing himself off with his until he pushed himself off , palms and knees into the muds.
“What’s the matter, boy?” The manager turned around as he dropped the fish into his bucket.
“Let go of me, you pricks!!” He yelled at the guards who picked him up from the soaking wet grounds. “Listen here, you wrinkled sack of shit. You are not disturbing Jimi's peace like you did mine! As long as I'm here, nobody else is put out here to suffer again.”
Internally, Ford panicked immensely, fearing the manager would think those words were from him.
The manager laughed, “Why the projection?” He pulled a pocket knife and sliced the flopping prey’s stomach to keep it from moving ever again. “With all respect, Mr. Cobain, some love jamming for the love of the game; They jam to express any and every emotion other than wrath, y'know?” “I've been there, and Jimi's done that~”
Once again, Kurt’s fuming glare disappeared on Ford’s face right when he jacked out of him. The younger man kept staring at his boss with a frightened look now. “I’m so sorry, sir!! It was-”
“Not you– Yes… Anyway, wanna check my big hunt?” The manager pointed at the bucket behind him.
His sudden casualty was somehow more intimidating, though it should’ve been relieving… Oh, well… I do wonder what he got in mind once Jimi does get the contractor… What if… This singular fancy bait isn’t of his liking?
Before feasting on his own hunt, the manager called me over for “some big update”.
“Well, I know you’ve been waiting for this day your whole life, so… You’re free!!”
“Well, I got you your own little apartment and all that. You don’t have to worry about any bills and all that.” He added, while fidgeting with a retractable pen: “Just to give you enough time and financial space for your music career, you got that? It’s technically not for free.”
“Understandable… Thanks a lot!!” I subconsciously bowed to him. “I do wanna ask, though…”
“Soooo… let’s just say… Jimi did get a contractor-”
“Uh… N-not yet… That was hypoth-”
“Don’t you tease me!!” He pulled a gun and pointed it beneath my chin. “Or I’ll tease you back…” he laughed as he pulled the trigger. A tiny flame flickered out of the gun’s muzzle, he moved the gun-shaped lighter to a cigar that he picked off of his desk, placed it between his lips and lit it up.
I took the breath that I held out of terror. “So uhm… Back to what I was saying… If he got contracted, you think he’d actually be a part of our project? Plus, what about the rest? And– Oh, uhm… Too many questions…” I lowered my head.
“That should be none of your concerns, Ford.” His smile faded as he brought up a serious face. He reached his desk’s drawer. “Your only mission is to see when he’s contracted, and go fetch him and his crossover… Got it? I want you to go out there and make your own name and existence…” his index that carried my new keys laid on my chest, “Be their convenience.” he then lowered it and dropped them for me to catch. I pinned them to my abdomen with both my palms. “Now, go rest! Tomorrow’s your first day of being an independent man!”
After being driven to my new address, I entered my new home. Oh, the awaiting calm and solitude… Well, if Kurt chose to crash here as well, I first thought.
All I saw that night was that soft, clean, warm bed dragging my exhausted body to it like a sloth succubus. It was the best sleep I ever had— Knowing it was a sleep in a house that I live in, on my own! Even if the provided “freedom” is just extra spatial distance, I couldn't bring myself to care! All I wanted that night was to experience this pure solitude euphoria, and I did.
Until the next morning, where I woke up to Kurt’s face almost merging with mine. I slid myself back so hard that I smashed my head against the headboard, “Dude!! What the fuck!!”
“What happened to ‘good morning’?” Kurt asked.
“WHAT HAPPENED TO RESPECTING PERSONAL SPACES!?” I yelled.
“Can’t a man be fascinated by a human’s mundane activities?” he leaned aside with a lazy smile.
“Oh yeah, you like that shit-” I palmed my face and sighed. “Whatever! What do you want?”
“He’s here…” He pulled his manual, open to the page where his, and his contractor’s names were written, “Jimi’s been contracted…”
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