Collision Course - Wayne 3

[For back story see lower numbers in archive]

Panic was not something that came naturally to Wayne. Indeed, panic wasn’t something he thought he did, although he sort of did since it was the name of the second track on his new album. It was also something which infused his sentiment of dubiousity, providing the undertow of all his seminal work, the raison d’être if you will, of his oeuvre and dare one say it, his joie de vive? – or at least that was what the Observer music critic had written so it must be true.

Right now, however, with little evidence of any joie at all, Wayne was panicking. Not only did he have blood coming from a gash in his arm, dripping off his elbow, ruining his designer-white trainers, he had no front door key. He leant on the buzzer of the person who lived in the flat downstairs from his, in the hope that they might not remember it was he who was playing very loud music til 4am last Saturday night (he’d actually passed out at 1.30 himself, inexplicably unable to stay awake despite the noise). Hell, maybe they’d even have forgotten the very loud music he was playing before he went out for his so-called run.

“Yes?” said the intercom voice.

“Can you let me in? I’m from the flat upstairs? I’m injured and I’ve lost my key.”

“Just leave it on the door step and I’ll come and get it,” said the voice on auto-pilot and the intercom went dead. 

Wayne looked puzzled at the intercom and pressed it again.

“Is there a problem?” came the voice.

“Yes, yes there is. There’s an emergency to be honest.”

“Yeah, mate, I know don’t I? That’s why I’m saying leave it there, ain’t I?”

The intercom went dead again. Wayne pressed it again.

“This is not a delivery!” Wayne yelled as soon as the connection was made. “I’m your upstairs neighbour and I need to get in.”

“Calm down, mate, calm down. Tell us again?”

Wayne tried to calm down, he really did, but he probably wasn’t as calm as his neighbour was hoping. But then his neighbour was really hoping he’d just go away or not be there in the first place. Wayne couldn’t blame him for that, so he tried harder to be calmer, which, for someone used to being listened to and have his words acted upon, wound him up no end.

Eventually, following a series of strange questions which his neighbour believed only his upstairs neighbour would know the answer to (and sadly one of them was ‘what time did you finally stop playing music on Saturday night?’), the buzzer was pressed to enable the downstairs door to open. 

Wayne entered, now sacrificing one of his socks to staunch the flow of blood. 

He met his neighbour outside the neighbour’s door. Or rather, there was a small pile of first aid supplies outside the door and the door was open with his neighbour standing, resolutely, two metres within the flat.

“Strange we’ve never met,” said the neighbour. “But there again it’s not kind of place right? I’m Dave. I’d shake your hand and everything but, you know.”

“Sure, thanks,” said Wayne as he ripped open a plaster with his teeth. “I guess you know me, right?”

“Um, what like heard your records?”

“Yeah, yeah I know.”

“You shouldn’t play ‘em so loud. I was gonna call the cops on you. Or sound pollution people or someone. Went on so long I though you might be dead or something. Or out, but then you wouldn’t have been out would you?”

Something was not quite right. 

“So you don’t know who I am?” asked Wayne. “I mean, you don’t recognise me?”

“Like I say, even though we’re neighbours or whatever. Heard each other though, eh?”

“I’m actually a bit famous,” nudged Wayne, trying to be off-hand and everything.

“Really? What as?”

“Well I’m – you heard of an act called ManzDown?”

Dave searched his memory.

“Maybe…. What’s do you do?”

“Oh, look it doesn’t matter, honestly. If you don’t you don’t I just thought…”

“So you’re famous like?”

“I’m a musician. First album was a prize winner, but you know…. Look thanks for the help. Sorry I bothered you.”

Wayne started for the stairs.

“How are you going to get into your flat – without the key and what-not?”

“Oh, my PA. She…. She left me a key in a secret place just in case.”

“An internal one, but not a front door key?”

“She said it was safer like this.”

“Right… right. OK. Well – take that stuff with you. No offence but, you know what this pandemic’s like.”

Wayne gathered the kit together and started off again.

“Wait!” Said Dave. “You’re like BarnStormerz, right? Play that kind of music.”

Wayne sighed but at least it was something.

“They started playing after me,” he said. “I influenced them. They came after I’d already been doing it. I broke the scene.”

“Oh,” said Dave. “Sounds a bit dubious.”

“What did you say?” said Wayne, a little too snappy.

“You’re actually ManzDown?” wondered Dave. “Like for real?”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“And you… fell over?”

There was a smile beginning to play on Dave’s face.

“Oh shut up,” said Wayne.