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The sound of expensive brass utensils scraping against
fine dishes filled the air, mixing well with the sound of wealthy pets munching
on pricey food. La Parrie Grill was one of the finest restaurants in
Neopia, catering only to the exclusively rich.
Tranis walked out onto the sun deck where many
of the elite sat to eat; many sat near the railing, where they could look out
over Neopia Central in all its splendor and beauty. As he walked to a table
in a corner, not a single customer bat an eye. All of them were either far too
old to keep up with modern music, or simply just too stuck up to take notice
of the red Kyrii. He pulled up a chair at a table in the back occupied by only
one other pet -- a blue Chia.
"Hey, Chill Pill!" Tranis greeted cheerily, taking
notice and great enjoyment in the wonderful day around them.
"Tranis." The Chia looked up, somewhat startled.
He removed his black shades and, through squinting eyelids, made a quick sweep
of the dining area, as if he were expecting someone else.
"So, ummm, how are you? How are things going?"
The DJ was horrible at small-talk.
"Oh… fine, I guess," Tranis shrugged, taking
a sip of water on the table.
"That's… that's good," the Chia responded, wringing
his tiny blue paws together nervously, quite out of character for such a "chill
pill."
"Tranis, ummm…" he searched for the words, "how
are your… finances?"
"Oh! I, ah, I don't know." The Kyrii stared back
at the Chill Pill, squinting, though not from the sun. "Fine, I guess… I mean,
we're the biggest band in Neopia, so I assume I must have SOME money! Why do
you ask?"
The DJ pulled out a beige folder from a suitcase
underneath the table, almost hidden, that Tranis had failed to notice in the
beginning. He slid it across the table, very spy-like. "Well, you might want
to see this…" His voice, normally smooth and silky, was now full of a hurried
anxiety.
Tranis opened the folder and slipped a few papers
out of the folder; unfortunately, none of them made sense. Most had nothing
more than various numbers, notation, and symbols, none of which registered with
Tranis.
"I don't get it," he replied, sliding the folder
back to Chill Pill. "What am I supposed to be looking at?"
"What are you looking at?!" the Chia shouted
back, exasperated, then, catching himself, lowered his voice to a hurried whisper.
"It's proof! Proof that Basen has been stealing from you!"
"What?" Tranis head moved back, his eyes squinting,
as though someone were shining a light in his eyes. "No, no, Basen would never
do that, he's on our side! He's helping us show everyone our music! Our art!"
"Your art?! Tranis, wake up! He doesn't care
about your art! All he cares about is money, moolah. And getting as much as
he can!"
"I… I have to go." Tranis picked up the folder
and rushed out of the restaurant, leaving behind him a herd of befuddled well-to-do
pets wondering what exactly had just happened.
***
As Tranis entered the dark penthouse apartment, his figure cast a shadow, created
by the light illuminating from the hallway behind him; the only light in the
room was the warm glow cast by the fireplace. He flicked on the light switch
and staggered over the couch, slumping deep in its warm leather cushions.
How could this have ever happened? All this time,
he had trusted Basen, he had put his entire life, the band's entire lives, in
his paws. Now, they had been betrayed, stolen from.
On the coffee table before him lay a couple of
various rock and music magazines. They were issues that had had the articles
about the band on them, with big, colorful pictures of Neopia's number one rock
band smiling on the front. He picked up one and flipped through it.
Page after page full of photos of the band together,
articles about the band. Tranis looked flicked through it, reading over interviews
he had given not too long ago. But to him, now, it was like looking at it through
new eyes. Everything in it seemed to be… garbage! Nothing talked about his music
at all! Everything was about what kind of jewellery he had (of which, none existed),
his girlfriends (again, nonexistent), and other pointless stuff.
Tranis, threw the magazines into the fire. He
was now forced to stare at a new reality. One which he hadn't seen the likes
of before. It was an existence in which no one cared. No one saw. To everyone,
and now, to himself, he was simply a prop. A tool. He, The Conundrums,
they had been used.
No one cared about his music. He curled himself
up in a ball and lay there on the sofa, starring at the soft crackling ember
of the fire which now consumed the magazines, it's flames licking at the pages,
devouring every false hope Tranis had ever had of being a real, true rock and
roll musician. Because he wasn't a rock and roll musician. He was just like
Alistar, used only for his looks. He might as well have been mute.
He was simply an image. People didn't buy his
albums because of his astounding guitar playing, or his great lyrics. They bought
them because he looked cool. That was it. And he was as much a fraud now as
Alistar had been then.
After some time of deep thinking, the sound of
the door opening met Tranis' ears, followed directly by a shaft of light. The
rest of The Conundrums entered.
"Tranis? What are you doing?" Zaines asked, flipping
the light switch into the on position.
"It's over," he replied darkly, with great regret.
"What are you talking about?" Bey asked hanging
his coat up on the hook and sitting down next to Tranis.
The Kyrii handed the folder to Bey. He opened
it, took one glance, and stuck his nose up as though it had some bad smell to
it. He tossed it across the room to Zaines, who grabbed a seat on the floor
in front of the couch. After studying the contents for a moment, he looked up
at Tranis, a worried and confused expression etched out on his face. "Are these
numbers true?"
"What numbers? You mean you can read that?" Bey
blurted out, astonished.
"Yes… unfortunately." The guitarist went on to
explain to his bandmates everything. He told them about what Chill Pill had
told them at the restaurant and went on to tell them his feelings. He tried,
harder than perhaps one had ever tried before to put his feelings into words.
He explained to them about what he'd read in the magazines. But most of all,
he told them about Basen. About how they'd simply been used to make money, about
how they'd been sold out.
By the end, all were left wondering what to do
from there.
"We can go to Basen, show him the evidence, see
if we can convince him to give us our money back."
"That's the stupidest plan I've ever heard, Zaines!"
Bey hollered out. "I suppose, being the stand-up Grarrl he is, he'll just give
it back, no problems, right?"
"Well then, what do you think we should
do, mister smarty pants?"
"I don't want to do this anymore," Tranis announced
suddenly.
"What? Tranis, what are you talking about?" Zaines
asked.
"I don't want to be this any longer."
"This is what you've always wanted to do, since
you were young! This is what you were born to do!"
"I wanted to be a rock star, a musician, an artist.
But I'm not that. All I am is a fake. And I don't want to be that, anymore."
The rest of the band sat quietly, pondering this.
They were at quite a crossroads now. They could give up everything they'd gained,
everything they'd achieved. Or they could continue on as they were, being stolen
from, being mere puppets. Bey spoke first.
"Tranis, you kept us going when no one else could,
and we wouldn't be here without you. If you say it's time to end it all, then
I for one will follow you to that end."
"I agree with Bey," Sparta agreed, speak for
the first time.
Zaines shrugged. "I can't really say I like any
of this, but you all are right. I think it's time we stepped aside."
So it was to be. The Conundrums, the greatest
band in all of Neopia, were leaving for good.
***
The next concert The conundrums were set to play was to a packed stadium
of fans in Neopia Central. But five minutes before the show was set to start,
the band approached their manager, Tranis in the lead.
"What's going on?" he asked, smiling cheerily
as always. "Why aren't the four of you in your costumes?"
The red Kyrii gulped, then stepped forward, looking
Basen in the face as best as possible. "Because we're not going to play another
concert."
If the Grarrl was in any way surprised, he didn't
show it in the least. Instead, his smile only grew wider, looking as though
he believed a joke was being played on him. "Not going to play another concert?
What are you four talking about?"
"We know that you've been stealing money from
us! And we're not going to take it anymore! We quit!" The hot-headed Lupe's
voice came through nice an clear, though it might have had something to do with
he was standing near the back of the group. And though he knew he meant well,
Tranis wished Bey had simply kept his dumb mouth shut. The Kyrii was the one
who would have to take any wrath Basen decided to deal out first.
But Basen dealt out no wrath, nor anger. He only
laughed. Laughed, very much like the manager at the radio station had laughed
at the band when they'd first tried to get their demo played on the air. Right
now, he probably gave the band as much credibility as that manager had.
"Oh, but it's not quite that simple," he replied,
an evil gleam in his eye. "You all are under a contract. You HAVE to play! You
have no choice!"
Tranis gulped. Hopefully, his bluff would work.
"Yes, but that means you have to keep us signed
to you, no matter what. If you don't release us of our contract, we'll play
so awfully, no one will ever come to our concerts or buy our CDs. And all the
money you spent on us will disappear. You'll never see it again. Moreover, you'll
be laughed out of the industry. And no one will ever higher you to be their
manager again. Ever."
For the first time in their history together,
the band witnessed a remarkable event. Basen stopped smiling! His smile quickly
fell to a frown. He had been beaten, defeated by his own greed. And he knew
it, too.
"Fine," he said simply, quietly, as though he
were almost ashamed. The most powerful record exec in Neopia was ashamed! "You
win. It's done." With that statement, he turned and walked off.
And it was. The adventures of The Conundrums
came to an end. They'd finally reached the destination their path had been leading
to all along.
EPILOGUE
Tranis and the rest of The Conundrums never played another concert or
released another album again.
With their sudden retirement, a lot of people
began asking questions; it was soon discovered about Basen's stealing money.
He was forced to repay every Neopoint. His company, the company he had started
himself, fired him. No other bands would hire a thief for a manager, and Basen
lived in poverty for the rest of his days.
His position at the record label was instead
filled by Chill Pill, who went on to retune the label, so that they only hired
musicians based on their artistic quality, and not on their look.
Years later, it was discovered that the Zaine's
"radio," had really been an ill-gotten transmitter. And though he would inevitably
try many-a-time, his father would never take a dime. He died poor, with nothing,
not even his son, to his name.
Tranis, Shamus, and Lily were not only able to
make their apartment payments, they were able to buy the whole apartment building.
It's now a shelter for lost and homeless pets to stay. The only catch - they
must learn to play an instrument during their stay. Lily still to this day will
not let a single other soul see her drawings, not even her brother, Tranis.
The band pretty much lived in relative peace
for most of their lives. Today, though they only came out with one album, they
are still considered the greatest band to ever be heard in Neopia.
On clear nights, Tranis would lay up on roof,
staring up at the night sky above. He would think back on all the great adventures
he'd had. And even with all the hard times, he wouldn't trade a moment of it
for the world. And on those clear nights, he would focus intently on the twinkling
diamonds. For, written in the stars above was a tale. A tale of four poor, lost,
homeless and hopeless pets with nothing who walked a trail of hardships and
became everything.
Their path to the stars.
THE END.
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