Venetia gazed up at the open window with the doe-eyed stare of an adoring fan. “Blade Urban. People listen to him.”
Poindexter raised his eyebrows. “I guess if people will listen; it doesn’t matter who it comes from,” he said, as Venetia had already made her way to the door.
“Are you coming?” she called from inside. Reluctantly, Poindexter followed.
Winding up the staircase, the music grew to an earsplitting level—the bass turned up so high the interior of the building shook almost as much as the previous night’s storm. At the top floor, Venetia watched pretty-boy superstar Blade Urban, with his long hair, tattoos and tight leather pants. Blade screeched at the top of his lungs and ground against the microphone stand. When she entered the room, one by one, the band stopped playing, leaving Blade singing unaccompanied.
After a few notes, Blade realized the music had stopped and that Venetia was in the doorway. “Venetia love, could it be true? Have you finally given into the Blade?” he asked, giving her a slobbering kiss.
Venetia brushed herself away from Blade’s advances. “I need your help.”
Blade released her, seeing Poindexter in the doorway. “Ah, I see you’re not alone. You brought your own protection,” he said with a wily grin.
“He’s a brilliant scientist. He discovered ARR…well, now DER,” said Venetia, waving Poindexter inside the door.
“I don’t do DER, but I am always good for ARR,” Blade growled.
“Stop your messing around, this is serious,” replied Venetia.
“Got it. We all saw your bit on the telly and we’ve already started recording a song for your benefit gig,” replied Blade.
Venetia bit her fingernail and said, “I think it’s a little more serious and will take a lot more than song.”
“How do you mean love?” asked Blade, “A song can change the world.”
Carefully stepping over electrical cords and drunk groupies, Venetia walked to the window. “I’m not sure you noticed, but take a look at the sky. Don’t you think it’s a little weird? I mean it looks like sunrise all day.”
Blade squinted out the window at the pinkish indigo and brightly lit starry sky. “Wow, look at those stars man. It reminds me of the night in Machu Picchu where we all took—” he paused and gazed at Venetia. “That’s bizarre; I’m not even on anything. What’s it all mean?”
“Poindexter, come in and explain your theory to Blade,” Venetia said and turned to Blade. “He’s rather shy about his theories. They have been controversial.”
“Controversy, now you’re speaking my language,” said Blade.
In the presence of the rockers, Poindexter squared his shoulders and pressed his glasses to his face. “Well it’s all very simple; the Earth has stopped rotating.”
Blade and his band stared at Poindexter in disbelief. “What does that mean?”
“The world has stopped spinning,” replied Poindexter. “The Earth has stopped moving.” He looked at Blade in earnest. “The rock has stopped rolling.”
“The rock has stopped rolling,” he muttered. He looked up at Venetia. “Well, even if the rock isn’t rolling we can continue to sing.”
Within a few hours, Blade Urban and his band recorded a new song. Blade sang:
Spin my world down the alley of shame
Into the gutter of my heart.
Spin the world, oooh, oooh,
Spin the world, baby.
Venetia sighed. “That’s great Blade. Hopefully people will listen.”
“Everyone listens to me babe; it’s only a matter of time until it hits the charts,” he replied.
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CA - http://amzn.to/1hij3C6