Beckett and the Heathens – Episode Four

A Weekly Fictional Series – Episode Four  – ”Perhaps”

(Previous episodes can be viewed here, for those truly bored)

***

Beckett was fairly certain that being scorned by Elizabeth in his brother’s restaurant was due to both of them being…in his brother’s restaurant.

After all, he reasoned, this bad food hatchery was a place where assaults on one’s taste buds, not to mention their digestive systems, was a common occurrence and something the restaurant was quite skilled in creating day in and day out.  This was fact in Beckett’s mind, for, after all, he’d been in the kitchen on numerous occasions, and he intimately knew of his brother.

“45 years old, single and purposely remaining to be so,” his brother said, taking Elizabeth’s seat.

“It’s only a matter of time, dear Melvin, when our paths will cross again and I’ll right the wrong committed here, probably due to your miserly habit of watering down the drinks.”

Just as Beckett was about to take out another cigarette from the case, Melvin grabbed it and put it in his back pocket.

“You’re probably right, Beck – I’m assuming most women, or really anyone who has to deal with you in any manner would be better off being drunk to handle your idiocy.”

“Christ, what a deplorable oaf you are.  If you weren’t believing in all modern day scams that might makes right, taking off from this den of distaste to waste a couple of hours at another truly heinous den of distaste, that being the local gym, work-out facility, odorous sweat factory or whatever you refer to it as – you’d be no stronger than I, and being such a daft dimwit most of the time – I could easily bounce you around for a few minutes, for your own good of course.”

A split second before Melvin’s raised fist was about to come crashing down on Beckett’s livelihood, Beckett sent Elizabeth’s untouched drink into his brother’s lap. Melvin was up in a flash, Beckett snatched his cigarette case from his brother’s back pocket and was at the front door before Melvin could take a step.

He could hear the screams from his brother as he quickly made his way past the front panel of windows, catching the look of shock on diners’ faces from hearing the screaming Melvin. Beckett thought that this was quite fine and proper as the customers surely were void of coherent thoughts, not to mention having an insane taste for bad taste. It was good for them to be jolted into reality.

Beckett and Melvin had been fighting since they laid eyes on each other, not being able to comprehend how they were in the same house together, let alone, brothers. It was only because of a promise each made to their dying mother that they’d look after each other that kept them continuing to enjoy each other’s company.

The gentle wind from the early Autumn evening was sending a chill through Beckett’s tailored suit jacket, and not wanting to catch a cab, or even more distasteful to him, using an App on a phone for a ride from who knows what of humanity, Beckett dashed into the concert hall that was just a block away from his brother’s restaurant.  Bach was in order, he thought.

The frail and withered young man who was tasked with keeping guard on the empty concert hall immediately recognized Beckett and gently asked, “do you want to play the grand piano on the stage this evening?”

“None other,” Beckett replied.  “But first, perhaps you can tell me…you haven’t seen a vixen of a woman in here of late…of a rather delicate refinement, exquisite legs, a bit of a dolphin face with an upturned nose, dark hair that doesn’t appear to be dyed – the scent of gardenia’s about her and a nasty temperament?”

“Do you know her name”, he asked.

“I do as a matter of fact.  It’s Elizabeth.”

“Well, it sounds like the woman who is one of our big donor’s, minus the nasty temperament – she’s here quite regularly.”

“Hmmm,” Beckett started in, “are you completely sure that she doesn’t have a nasty temperament? A disagreeable individual, one who might have been shunned by misfits of parents while growing up? One who might not have been able to withstand the cat calls from lecherous arse’s, howling over her legs, or even more troublesome, a temptress who couldn’t appreciate musical genius even if he was sitting across a table from her?”

The young man could only offer a shrug of the shoulders.

“Perhaps you can do me a favor. The next time you see this vixen…I mean, this benefactress of the arts – could you place a seed of a thought into her mind and ask her the following – has she ever known a greater genius of playing Bach than that of Beckett?”

“I guess.”

“Then you have it, man…right?

The young man nodded.

“Splendid. Ensure you contact me straight away to let me know of her answer.  But, if any other than me is named – immediately send her off with the following quip: no one plays Bach as Beckett does.”

Beckett then sat down at the piano in the empty concert hall and began playing Bach. He was instantly raptured into a state of admiring his genius, interspersed with thoughts of burning down his brother’s restaurant.

Next week’s episode: “Christ!”

***

Bach: Concerto for 4 pianos – BWV 1065 III – Allegro (David Fray, J. Rouvier, E. Christien, A. Vigoureux)

Photo credit (front page): http://www.unsplash.com/@brucemars

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