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Scott just stared, rubbed his eyes and stared some more.
‘What the fuck?!’
Somehow, the expletive that left his lips didn’t seem potent enough to cover the situation.
In front of him, filling a space that had just one second ago been totally empty, something that looked like Mitch stumbled around in a circle, seemingly having lost all spatial awareness. It’s (his?) eyes were out on stops as it struggled to remain on its feet.
Any other time Scott would have surmised it was drunk, if it hadn’t been for the pair of wings -honest to God, white, feathery wings snagging against the coffee table as it turned erratically.
‘What the fuck?!’ said the Mitch lookalike echoing Scott, his expression matching his bandmate’s, then it hollered up to the ceiling. ‘You’ve done it now, Gabe! I told you the GPS was kaput!’
Not only had Scott just seen what looked like his friend materialise out of thin air into his dressing room, but the hallucination (because that’s what it had to be- right?), was still desperately trying to hide the fact that it had…wings. A pair of wings that would be more fitting in some religious painting. Full on, full length, white wings.
No. No-absolutely not, Scott thought. It was impossible. People just didn’t have- wings.’ Yet, there was no doubt in Scott’s mind that he’d just seen a huge pair of white feathery wings fold away to nothing behind Mitch’s -Mitch’s? back.
Scott’s eyes dropped to the seemingly innocent can of Red Bull in his hand. What the hell were they putting in this stuff these days?
‘Mmmn- hey!’ Scott felt himself physically jump as Mitch’s voice came from the thing that looked like Mitch. It was brushing its pants down, ( yes, it was wearing a pair of Mitch’s pants), sheepishly. ‘Nearly ended up on my ass this time!’
Scott shook his head and squeezed his eyes shut, hoping, praying- that he hadn’t just witnessed what he thought he had, and when he opened them there would be nothing at all standing in the middle of his dressing room, looking just as confused as Scott felt.
He opened one eye slowly and whimpered. It was still there, looking a bit pissed now, arms crossed across it’s chest and foot tapping on the floor.
‘Stop calling me It!’
Scott staggered in shock, the can of Red Bull falling from his hand, and his arms flailing as he tried to maintain his balance. ‘Fuck!’ Did it- he-just read his mind?
‘For heaven’s sake, Scott,’ the apparition, hallucination -or whatever said. ‘Get a grip- it’s just me!’
Scott gaped as the thing that looked and sounded like Mitch strode past him, bent and picked up the now empty can of Red Bull, and placed it on the side table.
Scott had plenty of time to examine it’s -his back and it looked like it always had; no wings, just the usual grey oversized tee with no holes or gaps in the fabric through which a pair of wings could have vanished.
Mitch took a seat on the couch, crossed one leg over the other and smirked at him. ‘This isn’t an exact science, babe; I’m sorry you had to see that.’ He paused, taking in the whole stereotypical picture of ‘man in shock’ in front of him. ‘I …umm…don’t know the protocol here-how long I should sit and wait for you to get over the initial trauma?’
He looked a bit embarrassed now as he gave a self deprecating chuckle. ‘Honestly? This has never happened to me before either, babe, and I’m gonna be in so much trouble. This is my third strike.’
Scott realised his mouth was opening and closing like a goldfish’s. He shut it so hard his teeth made an audible clack, and Mitch’s eyebrows shot up.
Scott finally found his tongue. ‘Th-third strike?’ His voice seemed to have reached an octave that he was usually unable to produce, but then, he was still slowly coming to terms with the fact that Mitch fucking Grassi had just appeared out of thin air and had tried (unsuccessfully) to make out that a minute or two ago he hadn’t had wings. And- that was the first thing he wanted to question?
Mitch had the audacity to look slightly bored and examined his fingernails absently. ‘Yeah- that’s the way it goes-third strike and you’re out.’
‘Out? Out of where?’ Scott had found himself circling back to the couch, never once taking his eyes from…from Mitch? The Mitch that was acting as if this was an everyday occurrence.
He looked like Mitch, Scott decided. He sounded like Mitch, and he had Mitch’s mannerisms; but surely his Mitch was in his own dressing room dressing for the concert.
‘Out of heaven of course. And it won’t take me a minute to change.’
Scott sat down heavily on the arm of the couch, not wanting to get too close to it’s occupant. He had to be dreaming-that was it. He’d eaten something that disagreed with him and now he was paying the price. He pinched his thigh- hard, but Mitch remained seated on his couch, observing him through narrowed eyes.
‘Satisfied?’
When Scott didn’t reply, still searching his mind for any reasonable explanation, Mitch seemed to take pity on him. ‘Look- I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t mean to come here like this. I didn’t mean to come here at all ; I was just thinking- I was just thinking about- I mean…oh.’ A sudden realisation seemed to dawn on his face.
Scott physically jumped as Mitch snapped his fingers; the sound like a gunshot in the quiet room.
‘That’s it! I was thinking about when we used to share a dressing room ! The GPS must have anticipated I wanted to come here. Fucking technology!’
He leapt to his feet, startling Scott again so much that he lost his precarious perch on the arm of the couch and slid to the cushion, his fingers scrabbling at the leather.
‘Tech…technology?’
‘Shit-I’m gonna have to watch the things I remember until “Gabe gets his finger out and fixes the fucking GPS!”’ He yelled the last eight words at the ceiling again.
Scott scowled. Why was Mitch behaving as if he should be perfectly accepting of all this hogwash? He jumped up from the seat and grabbed the surprised Mitch by the shoulders and spun him around.
Well, he sure felt like Mitch- and Scott was absolutely certain he could smell his cologne- but despite checking again, there were no wings….
Mitch sighed, sounding just a teensy bit exasperated. ‘Babe- they’re not there. We’re not allowed to show them in public anymore. You shouldn’t have seen that.’
‘Anymore? What do you mean- anymore? And are you just confirming the fact that I saw- that I thought I saw- fucking wings sprouting from your back?!’
Mitch harrumphed as Scott turned him back around. ‘So many questions! I need a drink- wine if you’ve got any please.’
For what seemed like forever Scott just stared, and Mitch stared right back at him, chin tilted and jaw set. Eventually one perfectly shaped eyebrow twitched upwards. ‘Wine?’
‘If I get you wine, you’ll answer my questions and tell me what the fuck is going on?’
Mitch seemed to consider his request, teeth sliding over his lower lip and a long forefinger tapping at the corner of his mouth. ‘I think that’s fair enough.’
Scott had taken three steps towards the small fridge before he hesitated and turned. ‘You….just stay there. No more of that… whatever you call it!’
Mitch grinned. ‘Flying.’
‘Yeah, okay. No more of that flying!’
Well, he thought, what he’d witnessed wasn’t any type of flying he had ever seen; there had been no flapping or fanning of those wings that would normally be associated with the word ‘flying.’ Just one minute he had been enjoying a non-alcoholic drink alone, and the next Mitch was there right in front of him.
Maybe he needed the wine as much, if not more than Mitch did.
‘You okay there, Scotty?’ The voice came from behind his right shoulder and Scott almost dropped the wine bottle he had pulled from the fridge.
He whirled around. ‘Will you please stop doing that?!’
Mitch looked a bit put out. ‘Doing what?’
‘Just appearing out of thin air! My nerves can’t take much more!’
‘I didn’t just appear- I just walked!’ Mitch informed him, petulantly. ‘But you were standing for so long looking at the wine bottle label that I thought something was wrong.’
Scott snorted. ‘Oh there’s something wrong alright, Mitch! Something is very seriously wrong!’ He slammed the fridge door before stalking past Mitch to the couch.
As he poured the wine into two glasses, Scott’s hand trembled, and he realised just how shaken up he really was. It was hardly surprising though, was it?
‘I’m sorry.’ The words were quiet, almost a sigh.
Mitch certainly looked sorry now. He sat back on the couch and patted the space beside him. ‘Sit here- please?’
Scott was horrified. ‘W-Why?’ He stood there like a statue, the two filled wine glasses in one hand and the bottle in the other.
Mitch’s expression changed from apologetic to frustrated in an instant. ‘Because you’ve always sat next to me? Scott- it’s just me-Mitch. Only one thing has changed and that is that you saw something you shouldn’t, and once again, I’m sorry about that. ‘ He paused to extract his glass from Scott’s hand and took a long drink.
‘I promised you answers in return for this- so here we go. Yes, you saw my wings…’ He grinned now. ‘Cool huh?’ I’ve had them since twenty eleven…’ He hesitated as Scott sucked in a breath through his teeth.
‘Twenty eleven?’
‘We’re not gonna get far babe if you keep repeating everything I say.’ He took another mouthful of wine. ‘ We used to be able to just fly around with them on display a couple of thousand years ago- but the boss put a stop to that when normal people started trying to make their own and jump off cliffs and buildings and stuff.’
‘Wh-what?’
‘You’ve heard of Icarus, haven’t you?’ Mitch swilled his wine around his glass thoughtfully. ‘Believe me- he was just one of many but most of us didn’t get written about.’
Scott swallowed the contents of his glass in a couple of gulps, watching Mitch carefully the entire time.
‘And yeah- we call it flying, but it really isn’t anymore- for the same reason.’ He spun the stem of his glass between his fingers. ‘It’s more like…de-materialisation.’ He laughed. ‘A bit like in Star Trek!’
Scott couldn’t help it. ‘Star Trek?’ His voice was barely a squeak now.
‘Oh God- you are taking this badly, aren’t you?’ A cool hand reached over and patted his own.
Scott’s eyes raised to the ceiling in horror and he held his breath.
‘Something wrong?’
‘Just waiting for the thunderclap or the lightning bolt or something.’
‘Huh?’
‘Well- isn’t that what happens when you people, you…what the hell are you anyway?’
‘An angel.’ He fluttered his eyelashes demurely.
‘Of course.’ So damned matter of fact. Well, why not? People had been saying that for years anyway, hadn’t they? “That Mitch Grassi sings like an angel!”, or “Mitch has the voice of an angel!” Why wouldn’t it be true? It certainly would explain a lot!
Scott refilled his glass and topped up Mitch’s. He needed the break just to process, but most of all, he just needed the wine. ‘So no thunderbolt for taking God’s name in vain? I mean- if you are an angel- aren’t you supposed to be good?’
‘No Hunty. No thunderbolt. You see- that isn’t his name.’
‘It’s not? ‘ Scott found himself going along with Mitch’s nonsense despite himself.
‘Nope- God is his title- not his name. ‘Course I can’t tell you what is is, you being a mortal and all, but I doubt you could pronounce it anyway.’
‘Aha.’
Mitch sniggered. ‘And what the hell do you mean? Supposed to be good?! I’ll have you know that I’ve got badges for being good!’
Scott couldn’t help a dry laugh. Yeah, if anyone had badges for being good, it would be Mitch. ‘But you’ve also got three strikes?’
‘Not yet- but this is bound to get me my third. Showing your real self to a mortal is kinda a big deal. Hardly my fault though.’
‘What did you do to get the other two?’
Mitch grimaced. ‘First one was getting us to win the Sing- Off, and the second…’
‘Hold on, hold on there!’ Scott demanded. ‘What the hell do you mean “getting us to win the Sing- Off?’
Mitch bit the side of his lip. ‘Guess I shouldn’t have mentioned that, huh?’
Scott was appalled. ‘You- you fixed it for us to win the Sing-Off?’
Winning the Sing-Off had been the miracle that had started it all, and Scott could still, even now, barely believe how lucky they’d been. Hell- they even wrote a damned song about it- about how they’d been the lucky ones. Now to find out that it had all been engineered?
Mitch leant over and gently lifted Scott’s jaw back to it’s rightful place. ‘You thought having Kevin and Avi just falling into our laps was an accident?’ He smiled gently. ‘All those fortuitous little events? Nope- that was all me.’
The little shit looked quite proud of the fact too, Scott decided. He didn’t know if he dared ask about the second strike.
‘I’m not going to tell you about that one.’
Scott was taking a mouthful of wine, and spluttered it back into the glass. He peered back at Mitch, a dribble of wine running down his chin. ‘You can read my mind?’ He knew the answer already.
Mitch nodded slowly. ‘Of course…’ His nose wrinkled in disgust. ‘It’s a swamp in there too, dirty, chaotic and lustful.’ He shuddered.
Scott was on his feet. ‘Mitch? Mitch I…no, this isn’t happening.’
Mitch waited while Scott paced the floor, his fingers wrapped in his hair. He occasionally paused to glance at his unexpected visitor whose crossed leg was bouncing in irritation.
‘Okay, so you know my name. Do you mind just sitting down. You’re making me wish I’d gone to the bar with the others, and you know how much I hate that!’
‘How long?’ Scott had stopped the pacing, and now just stood in front of Mitch. ‘How long have you been able to read my fucking mind?’ He almost fell into a chair, his hand rubbing his face.
Mitch chuckled darkly. ‘Long enough.’
‘You mean…’
Mitch was nodding slowly. ‘I know- sorry, knew everything your dirty little mind conjured up from the word go. But don’t worry, babe, you’re not the only one…’ He gave a low chuckle and Scott stared in horror.
‘You mean that every time I….’ Mitch was nodding slowly as Scott stumbled around the fact that every single time he…his voice was lowered now, almost as if someone was listening. ‘…every time I thought about you, you were listening?’
Mitch shuffled, uncomfortable now. ‘Not every time. I can turn it on and off. And believe me, I have to turn it off- a lot!’
Scott sighed and shaking his head in consternation, thought about the miasma of scenarios involving Mitch that had flitted through his head for years. He could feel the colour burning his cheeks.
‘That’s a bit like eavesdropping, isn’t it? A bit unfair if you ask me. I can’t believe you did that.’
Mitch raised one shoulder. ‘Sorry again. But it was very entertaining.’
‘You said you wouldn’t tell me what you got the second strike for. Does that mean it involves me?’
‘No comment.’
‘It does, doesn’t it?’
‘Look…’ Mitch’s expression had become furtive. ‘I’ve already said too much. I shouldn’t be sitting here discussing any of this with you.’
‘So what happens now? You shoot me with one of those memory zapping guns and I go back to just enjoying a Red Bull in peace?’
‘Memory zap….’ Mitch looked confused. ‘Oh no- this isn’t Men in Black you know. It’s not that easy.’
‘Then what?’
Mitch suddenly dropped his head to one side, for all intents and purposes, looking just like Mozart when he’d heard one of his favourite words.
‘No you don’t ! Kevin- don’t you dare…’
‘You’re in so much trouble. The boss wants to see you now- like right now!’
Scott was numb now. This day had to be the weirdest in human history. In some sort of self survival mode he just stood and accepted the fact that Kevin- yeah-fucking Kevin complete with yes, wings-had just appeared in his dressing room with a teensy weensy bit more grace than Mitch had.
‘What the hell are you doing here?’ Mitch’s voice was raised, ‘I was handling it all perfectly well!’
Kevin didn’t seem as bothered about disappearing his wings quite as quickly as Mitch had; and why would he? Scott thought, the cat was well and truly out of the bag now. He practically fell back into his seat.
Kevin barely gave Scott a glance. ‘Handling it? This is what you call handling it, Mitch? You’ve broken practically every rule in the Code of Conduct in the past ten minutes!’ He sighed as his wings slowly retracted enough for him to take a seat on the couch, while Scott felt as if his whole body was slowly curling in on itself. ‘I love you, man- but you’ve got some issues.’
Mitch snorted. ‘It really wasn’t my fault this time!’
‘Maybe not getting here, but the rest…? You better not keep him waiting, you know.’ Kevin cocked his head as Mitch had earlier. ‘He’s on his way,’ he told the ceiling almost as if talking on an invisible phone, and Mitch glanced over at Scott, now hugging his knees to his chin.
‘You’ll take care of that?’ he nodded in Scott’s direction, and Kevin grimaced.
‘Just go- I’ll sort out what I can.’
Mitch gave him a huge smile. ‘Love you too, Kev.’
And then he was gone…the wings were back for a fraction of a second, then Mitch was -just gone. Scott’s mind tried to stick a label on what had happened, but none of the words he had learned so far seemed to fit the circumstances. Faded away? De- materialised? Ceased to exist? He supposed they all meant pretty much the same thing, but all those things were impossible as far as he knew. But yet- here it was happening right in his own dressing room.
Scott slowly turned his head back from the now empty space where his band mate had sat a few seconds ago, to find Kevin looking at him- no, studying him curiously. He snorted. ‘Don’t bother.’
Kevin’s eyebrows shot up. ‘Oh?’
Scott dragged himself off the sofa, reluctantly ignoring his last bottle of wine to grab a bottle of water from the refrigerator. ‘Apologising,’ he called over his shoulder. ‘Mitch has done enough of that for both of you.’
Kevin shrugged. ‘Okay. I know this has been a shock, but when you’re ready, I can answer any questions you have. Well, the ones I’m allowed to answer anyway!’ He gave a light chortle. ‘Don’t wanna end up where Mitch is now. Oh- I’ll take one of those too.’ He waved a hand at Scott’s water.
‘You angels still need to drink water?’ Scott asked dryly, tossing Kevin a bottle. ‘And where is Mitch now anyway?’
‘In front of a panel that will decide his punishment.’
‘It wasn’t exactly his fault, was it? He said he just thought about when we used to share a dressing room together and ended up here. And the GPS being off…or something?’
‘Well hopefully he can convince the panel that. But he let his mouth run away a bit after that too. All that secret stuff about reading minds…’ He tutted, slowly shaking his head in despair.
Scott sat back opposite Kevin, considering his bandmate. He had so many questions, but one was at the forefront of his mind. ‘So, are all my band mates angels?’
Kevin laughed. ‘No, Scott- just myself and Mitch.’
Well, Scott thought, Kevin being an angel totally made sense- but Mitch? Tiredly, he peered at Kevin in resignation. ‘Do they …’ he raised his eyes heavenwards, ‘do they actually know what they’re doing up there?’ A hundred instances of Mitch not being good seemed to flicker through his mind; drunk Mitch, high Mitch, Mitch finding new and inventive swear words that would make a rock star blush…and that was without the inventive and definitely not ‘good’ bedroom stuff they’d shared.
Kevin flapped a hand at him. ‘That’s all part of fitting in…it’s just life.’
Scott remonstrated with himself for allowing those images to appear. It made sense that if Mitch could read his mind, then Kevin could too.
‘But you don’t behave like Mitch, Kev,’ Scott observed. ‘You are the very definition of an angel- going to church and all.’ He leaned forward, staring into Kevin’s soft, brown eyes. ‘I mean- you are good!’ He gave a firm nod to accentuate his words.
Kevin chortled in delight. ‘Why, thank you, man! But Mitch is a work in progress. He is good, you know? He wasn’t joking when he said he has badges for being good. He might have trivialised it a little, but he has a good heart.’
‘So- two angels in my band.’ Scott said the words almost to himself, as if trying to convince himself.
Kevin nodded slowly, more serious now. ‘It’s unusual, having two in such close proximity. I sort of …’ Kevin considered his words carefully. ‘I sort of got sent to look after Mitch. He tries, but he has a way to go yet.’ He sat back easily on the couch, his arm draped casually over the back. ‘He wasn’t wrong when he said he made things work so that you found me just in time for the Sing-Off- but it was more like I sort of let him believe that. It was a good way to barge into your lives.’
‘You think?’ There was a little more than a trace of sarcasm in Scott’s voice. ‘So who chooses who gets to be an angel? Or is it some sort of lottery?’ Despite his disbelief and conviction that he had stumbled into one of those alternate realities that Mitch was always talking about, he was curious nevertheless.
‘It depends on your previous life,’ Kevin smiled. He appeared keen to divulge his secrets despite the way he’d seemed to chastise Mitch for doing the same thing, and Scott began to feel uncomfortable. ‘Your pass grade- so to speak. Live a good wholesome previous life and you get bumped up a grade in the next one. Not until you’re old enough to be able to handle it of course.’
‘Of course.’ Scott felt more and more uneasy. Why was Kevin telling him all this? Was there actually a ‘memory zapper’ that would turn his brain into an empty jam jar? Was that what was going to happen? Was Mitch being a little economical with the truth?
‘Calm down, Scott. There’s no memory zapper…’
‘Then what happens? I have an accident or something?’
‘What on Earth…?’ Kevin laughed, and the familiar sound eased Scott’s anxiety a little. ‘Look- no accidents, no memory wiping. ‘But I do need your assurance that you’re gonna keep this to yourself. It wouldn’t do for it to get out, especially in our position. News travels fast on social media.’ He winked at Scott who nodded slowly.
‘Believe me, I’ve got no desire to end up in a straitjacket. Can you imagine? There’s not a soul who would believe it.’
Kevin laughed just as a loud thud followed by a stream of expletives sent them both scurrying to the bathroom.
Mitch was crouched in the sink, wings splayed out over the counter top haphazardly and Scott’s toiletries hitting the floor one after the other. Seeing them in the doorway, he glared. ‘Get me down from here- please?’
Kevin was struggling to contain his laughter. ‘GPS still down?’ He moved Scott over to take Mitch’s hand. ‘Turn sideways and sit on the counter.’ He held onto Mitch’s hand and arm for balance until he managed to do what he was told. From there it was easy to jump down, and once again, Scott was privy to those wings disappearing into Mitch’s back.
‘Better, thanks.’
He stood now, hands on hips, looking from one to the other. ‘Well- did you fill him in?’
Kevin nodded. ‘As much as I could. And you? Third strike?’
Mitch sighed, looking suddenly serious. ‘Nope- Gabriel was there and backed me up, thank god. But the boss wasn’t too happy. Said he’d been considering leaving me to my own devices and letting you mentor someone else, but this umm- event, had changed his mind.’ He peered sheepishly at Kevin. ‘Sorry, bud- guess you’re stuck with me for now.’
Kevin sighed. ‘You were never gonna get your freedom anyway. You’re a bit of a…liability still.’
Mitch glared at him. ‘A fucking liability? What the hell is that supposed to mean?’
Kevin seemed to communicate telepathically to Mitch, Mitch’s facial expressions changing from mildly amused to horrified. ‘Yeah- okay. Enough!’
Scott felt like he’d landed in one of those AU fanfics Mark liked to read to him. His eyes flickered from one to the other, still unsure. ‘So what happens now?’
Mitch glanced at his phone. ‘Now, we have a show to do. Guess I’d better get changed.’
‘So that’s it, then? We just carry on as normal?’
‘Normal is good,’ Kevin nodded. ‘We just carry on the way we always have. And you…’ he laid a hand on Scott’s shoulder. ‘You keep all of this to yourself and treat Mitch and I the same way as ever. Okay?’
Scott rolled his eyes. ‘I suppose so, but he’s…’ he nodded his head in Mitch’s direction. ‘He’s gotta stop reading my mind!’
Mitch snorted, but Kevin nodded slowly. ‘I think we can arrange that.’
‘The hell we can, Kev! Do you realise just how much entertainment I get from that?’ He looked aghast.
‘Use your phone, Mitch, get back on social media and talk to people. You know we’re not supposed to listen in full time!’ He looked harassed as he turned to Scott. ‘See what I’ve got to put up with?’
Scott shuffled his feet, embarrassed again at the stuff Mitch must know. ‘Well, okay then. Mitch keeps out of my head, and I keep my mouth shut. Agreed?’
‘Agreed,’ Kevin answered.
For a few seconds it looked like Mitch was going to decline to agree. ‘ For fuck’ sake!’ He caught the warning glare from Kevin and threw a hand up in resignation. ‘Damn it…agreed.’
‘Okay then. We’d better get a shake on or we’re gonna be late. See you shortly, Scott.’
Scott stood staring at the empty space his two bandmates had just vacated, and sighed heavily. ‘I suppose it could be worse,’ he muttered to himself, and shuddered. ‘They could have been werewolves.’