Ashes Of The Phoenix. Jane Fade Merrick

began the conversation: “Well, I guess you already know the names of the members, so I’ll leave the presentations to you.”

      â€œI’m Jag and this is Fade!” The boy began, recovering. Sushi’s quick fingers stopped for a moment in hearing those names, then they rapidly started again. “I'm going to finance all of your future projects: albums, concerts, music videos, everything! I have unlimited funds, so don’t be afraid to dare.”

      After a considerate look at their manager, the bass player, Nef, replied: “And what do you want in return?”

      â€œI want to be part of the band!” the boy replied with such a firm tone that he seemed older. All the glances were now on him.

      â€œAnd what instrument do you play?” asked the tall Jess.

      â€œNone, I don’t want to come on stage, I just want to watch you create new pieces, follow the trials, live here, in conclusion.”

      A moment of endless silence followed those words.

      â€œWell,” Nef concluded. “The band will evaluate your offer, and we’ll let you know.” Said that, all the members got up and left the room.

      Before closing the door behind him, Nef turned towards the two of them and said “Jag, right? Come with me, I have to discuss some things with you. We'll leave your secretary here to bargain with the manager.”

      At those words Fade jumped, but she had been prepared for that possibility, she knew what to do. The boy immediately stood up and ran to his idol like a trained puppy. The door closed behind them.

      The girl brought her attention to the manager who waited silently; she stood up on her skates and reached her handing her a large file of papers that Jag had told her to deliver without commenting. The woman took them and began to examine them closely.

      Meanwhile Jag followed Nef through the long hallways of the studios, quickening his pace from time to time so as to not be left behind. The other three members had disappeared into their rooms.

      After going down a flight of steps they came to a small white door. The musician grabbed the ornaments on his chain, he found a key isolated between them with which he opened the lock and entered.

      Jag found himself in a sort of privet with soft lights, purple walls, and a large, white corner sofa with a coffee table in the same colour.

      The musician walked behind a large counter: “What will you have? Wine, liquor, a cocktail?”

      â€œI don’t drink things like that,” the child sat with his hands resting on his knees. “Of course, you're just a kid,” he said, pouring himself a whiskey.

      â€œDon’t underestimate me” was the answer as the ice dropped into the glass.

      The man sat on the opposite side of the couch, stirring his whiskey in a circular motion. “So you really are who I think you are?”

      â€œYes, I saw your ad on the internet and I came here in person to bring you what you asked for.”

      â€œAnd that girl would be...?” The man investigated, trying to reveal as little as possible.

      â€œShe’s the virgin you were in search of for your sect’s celebration.”

      He choked on a sip of whiskey; that kid didn’t beat around the bush, so he decided to go straight to the point. “The ritual will take place within a month and I can’t afford to make mistakes. You were the only one who understood my encrypted message, and I still don’t know how you did it and how you reached me, but when you said the two code names in front of everyone I had to verify that it hadn’t been just a coincidence.”

      â€œNo coincidence,” the child insisted. “As to how I traced you, I have a widespread network of information, I can reach anyone.”

      The man drank the whiskey in a gulp spitting an ice cube into the glass. “Well, then,” he concluded. “You can stay.”

      â€œYour offer is really tempting,” the manager summarized as she lifted her eyes from the sheets. “We'll draw up a contract right away.”

      Fade nodded, though totally unaware of what all those columns of numbers on the sheets meant. Shortly afterwards, Jag reached her triumphantly, “Fade! We can go visit the studios! Let’s go!” She barely had the time to pick up her coat that she was literally dragged away by the euphoric boy.

      The two followed Nef walking proudly through the corridors, bragging about him being the one who created everything they were admiring. He gave them a quick tour of the rehearsal room, the recording and mixing rooms, the private cinema, the game room and the kitchen, and then the coffee room and bar-winery corner. They then climbed to the next floor using the elevator and crossed a long hallway on which many doors opened: the first had been smeared with spray cans, the second decorated with a lucky charm ‘neko’ cat hanging on it, the third was full of scratches, like the walls of a mental institution, and the last, carved in low-relief, depicted a great Mesopotamian demon. On all the doors hung on a “Do not disturb” tag.

      â€œThis is my room...” Said Nef pulling out a magnetic card from the back pocket of his jeans and passing it into a scanner at the side of the door which opened with a dull noise.

      The room stood out in front of the startled eyes of the two guests, one excited for a dream come true, the other because of what she saw inside. The place had a disturbing atmosphere; it was cloudy, with a curtain of smoke that hardly allowed to see the objects in the shade. When he turned the light on, everything became more distinct: between cactus plants, ethnic statues, plane models, full and empty bottles and cans left all over the place, hanging pendants, plasma lamps and a bear skin on the wall, the attention was drawn to overturned crosses, demoniac prints, tarots cards, tapestries with mythological figures, and on the unmade bed a bass and an ashtray full of cigarette butts. Above all there was an unbearable stench.

      Fade moved aside, disgusted, leaving Jag alone in contemplation. The boy rushed inside and Nef approached the girl. Like a lady’s man, he leaned a hand on the wall and asked, “So, do you like Momuht?”

      â€œQuite enough,” she replied, lying, shocked by his attitude.

      â€œYou look tall with those skates, how old are you?” The musician continued.

      â€œIt's none of your business,” she replied, looking elsewhere.

      â€œHey! Don’t act like that; we need to get to know each other since you’ll live here!”

      At those words she turned angrily. “What’s this story about? Jag is the one who wants to stay here, what do I have to do it? Jag!!”

      She cut off the conversation with the bass player and faced the real culprit of her problem; she reached the doorstep and called the child several times under the man's amused look. “Get out of this stinky room!” She shouted but he wasn’t listening to her, ecstatic in front of a witches Sabbath stamp on the wall. “Jag!!”

      She wanted to go and grab him from the ear, but the stench was too nauseating for her and she just screamed from the door, so loud that the other members came out of their respective rooms to see what was happening and when their eyes fell on Nef at the same time in search of answers, he just shrugged and said, “The contract is signed!”

      Negative thoughts

      After an unavoidable initial confusion, the lives of the accidental cohabitants found a fair balance. Jag spent his days following the band like a shadow, except for when the group showed itself in public; he had been severely forbidden to appear in public with the group members. The same