No Return Track

Part 2

It wasn’t hard to find the little shop. Nevertheless he had to be careful, not to get one of the journalists on his tail. Only two weeks passed since Daniel R. had been found dead in his apartment. People weren’t ready to give up that easily and eat what the police had to offer. They needed facts, even if they weren’t reliable, they wanted to see weeping faces of friends, even if they declined to speak about their grief. So the media threw all its forces to provide the material for the crowd.
As the father of the dead musician declined to give an interview: “The kid brought me enough trouble while he was alive!” and as there was no other close relative, journalists concentrated on the ex-band of Danny “Post Script”.
Waiting for them in front of their practice place, following them to their homes. In the end Dominick, who was the leader announced that because of this commotion the band was going to take a break.
What tripehounds didn’t know was that they’ve kept on meeting, but in another place.
In the flat which belonged to Dominick’s uncle, who was somewhere in Africa at the moment. It was located in the part of the city, where mostly warehouses were residing. Actually there were no living buildings, Dominick uncle lived in a 5 stock house, filled with little offices. The only shop was 15 minutes from it. That’s were Gabriela bought cigarettes and Lemon Tea.
It took him 2 days to trace Gabriela’s way from her apartment to the secret hideout. All this time his thought kept on returning to their encounter, remembering more details and inventing some of them. You know how it happens; it is not love at the first sight. When a human being is enjoying the company of solitude for a long time, the first person to leave some kind of strong emotions is very significant in one’s mind. If the person looks nice and intriguing – even more so. The shorter your contact with that person was, the more you start contemplating how it would be to meet him or her again. It’s a bit less than obsession, you see, human beings live in dependence of emotions, they need to pour them on others and they wish to bath in them, positive, as well as negative emotions.  Now he even knew the approximate schedule of the band. It was 17:34, and she was going to take her leaf, two packs of “Vogue”, one bottle of lemon tea and mint candies. Kazuya wondered if that has been her usual meal for the last weeks, for Gabriela looked thinner than at their first meeting. 
-          Hi.
How do you start a conversation under such circumstances? By saying something dramatic or funny just to get attention? Or do you pretend this is normal, like you see each other every single day at the bus stop?
“I never really knew how to move you
So I tried to intrude through the little holes in your veins
And I saw you
But that’s not an invitation
That’s all I get
If this is communication
I disconnect”
She looked up at him, her face not reflecting anything at all for a moment, but then it was gone at pure surprise suddenly shined in brown eyes.
-          Why… what are you doing here?
-          How about a coffee?
That were the only words they’ve exchanged with each other for 40 minutes, while they walked away from the shop and into the direction of the crowded part of the city. A small café that managed to survive it the century of Starbucks, that’s were they took a seat, both looking in the window, waiting for the waitress to bring their order.
Kazuya felt his thoughts slowly drift away as he was watching the person in front of him. Trying to get a hold on them, he reached for the cup, but still the only thing on his mind was the image of her. If one didn’t know that she was the lead vocal of a rock-band, it would be a bit hard to imagine her on a stage drawing her soul out in a deep voice. Because of her face you could call her “cute”, but there was no trace of a smile, or puppy sadness on it. A secretary, a seller, a bookkeeper or a simple student – she could be all that and more, still she was a singer. Her silver earrings and a big ring hanging on a black lace surprisingly matched with the gray t-shirt, while her eyes were a deep brown. So simple, but somehow hard to approach.
It’s like someone took a lot of contradictions and managed to match them in one body, so Kazuya thought.
-          It isn’t coincidence that you came there.
-          Would you prefer it to be a coincidence?
-          Don’t answer with a question.
-          You didn’t ask, you stated.
She looked at him like one looks at a nut you can’t break, ducked her head a little and smiled.
-          You’re not so easy to deal with.
-          I hope so. I just wanted to see you.
Again this face like a black mirror, no reaction, maybe some doubt…
-          And ask if you would like to work for me a bit.
-          Work? - Now she was indeed surprised, - What kind of work? More important, why do you want me to do it? It’s the second time you see me… or not?
-          It is. I’m a photographer. No, I’m not offering to pose for some porn magazine, - he couldn’t help but chuckle at her disturbed and scandalized look.
He continued to watch the changing expressions even more interested in her. Suddenly the still water began to flow and all the contradictions seemed to leak with it. It was more fascinating than seeing a bronze statue come alive: surprise, puzzlement, uncertainty, and question – everything expressed not only by her eyes and mouth, but also the movement of her hands, how she would dive her fingers into the brown locks and trace them down.
-          Why are looking at me like that?
-          Like what? - He smiled at her suspicious face.
-          Like I’m something truly amusing. You aren’t some maniac, aren’t you?
-          In a way I am. You know what they say, that all artists are a bit crazy.
-          Just what I needed to make my day. So, Mr.-a-bit-crazy photographer, what kind of job do you want me to do? Not that I have time for you…
-          Quite simple actually. You don’t need any kind of extra knowledge for it. I’ll also pay you for each hour.
-          Great, - Gabriela rolled her eyes, - he’ll even pay me… you know, I don’t really know why I am doing this. What’s you’re name?
-          Kazuya.
-          Never heard of an artist with that name. Are you Japanese?
-          I’m not surprised you didn’t, - Kazuya suddenly felt quite confident and superior.
-          Now what that’s supposed to mean?! You know, I really don’t like guys like you. All mysterious and so.
-          Because it’s hard for you to handle? Anyway, you don’t have to like me, you just are going to work for me.
It seemed Gabriela lost her voice for a moment. Than she looked at one sight, swiftly stood up sized him with a murderous gaze, put on her cardigan and wanted to storm out of the café, but he managed to catch her wrist.
-          On Thursday, - he put a card in her hand, - at 10:00. Try not to be too late.
-          I think you’re much crazier than “a bit”!
With that she went out of his sight.
Kazuya looked at the gray afternoon through the window, until the waitress brought the bill. He heard some whispers behind his back, curious eyes following his figure out of the café, but all that died in the depressing colors of the street. “There are no white and black, only different shades of gray”. That was the favorite saying of one of his teachers from his old High school. Figures he had been right. But why was there always a little fleck of yellow like the light of a street lantern now?
Not to let him being swallowed by the different shades of gray, Kazuya went into a bus.
He remembered just how messy his apartment was and a feeling for doing some cleaning emerged somewhere on the surface of his consciousness.
Outside in the shadows people were hurrying from work to home, carrying large bags, in one of those you could probably place a 4 years old child, clashing like some warriors with each other and moving forwards, always forwards. Such an ordinary picture of a big city.
It should have been quite cold, when he got off the bus, but Kazuya only felt strange anticipation mixed with the yellow color. Usually yellow symbolizes sun, warmness and other nice things, but this one was different. It was the yellow of a lonely lantern, flickering in the cold street.