Date: Mon, 6 Nov 1995 14:58:36 -0600 Reply-To: Samantha Anne Copeland Sender: Highlander TV show stories From: Samantha Anne Copeland Subject: Daddy's Little Girl part 09 I know it's been a while, I think all of my professors are trying to get as many tests in as they can before the holidays. I have had one right after the other, it's driving me crazy!!! I hope you enjoy this part. If you are just now picking this up, or if you are missing parts, head to my web page, http://www.vuse.vanderbilt.edu/~copelasa/home.htm I have all parts counting this one, there. Soon you'll see why I've been doing 0* for the part numbers. Samantha ******Part 9****** Ten minutes later the two pulled up in front of Chris's apartment building. She parked the car in a space near it. When Richie tried to lock the door, he ended up with another lesson about old cars. (You can't just shut the door, it unlocks. You have to hold the button down while closing the door or the button will just pop right back up.) The two made their way up to the second floor where Chris's apartment was. Chris dug out her keys and opened the door. The two were astonished by the mess in the apartment. Chris didn't recall having left that much of a mess. * Robert must have been really pissed to have torn the place up that much. * The two went into the apartment and began straightening up. "Boy, somebody really knows how to party!" Richie said, surveying the damage. "I can't believe the guy went through all this trouble. All it's going to do is get me mad." "Maybe that's the idea. He's probably hoping that you'll get careless; then he'll strike." "Then he's out of luck. When I get mad, I get more focused and determined to come out on top. I also tend to loose some of my control. Next time, I won't hold back so much. If this guy is trying to hack me off, he's doing a pretty darn good job -- but man is he gonna have a problem!" "Remind me not to get you mad," Richie said, taking a few steps away, to get out of striking range. She shrugged it off, "Don't worry. It takes a lot to get me this mad. Something along the lines of breaking in here and waving a sword in my face." Richie laughed to himself, remembering the night that he and Mac had first met. Back when he'd been a small time burglar. He'd broken in and taken a sword from a display case, and when he turned around, Mac was standing there sword in hand, ready to strike. After the night that he'd broken into the antique store, nothing had been the same. "What's so funny?" Chris asked. "Oh, what you said reminded me of how I first met Mac. I had broken into his shop and I ended up with something right out of the Knights of the Round Table. For a while I thought he took me in to keep me from telling the police what I had seen. But after the first time I woke up, everything came together, I had a good idea why Mac had kept me around, he _knew_." "I wish I had been so lucky. The first time somebody came after me, I didn't know what was going on, I just knew something was very wrong." With that, Chris went into the kitchen area and retrieved a garbage bag to put some broken items into. She was glad it wasn't much. Most of the broken items were ceramic pots that her African violets had been in. Robert had dumped the plant shelf over, breaking the pots. Most of the plants had been torn up to much to salvage so she sadly put them in the bag as well. The rest of the mess was furniture that had been knocked over. She and Richie had righted the furniture, now it was time to vacuum up all the spilt dirt. She dug the suction vac out of the closet and sucked up the dirt. Once done, she put it up. She examined her computer to see if it had been damaged; the printer had been knocked to the floor, but otherwise it seemed fine. Richie saw that his services were not needed at the moment and proceeded to look around the place in his usual inquisitive manner. He went into the other bedroom and opened the closet. He found Chris's instruments stacked inside. Chris got up from the computer, realizing that Richie had left the room. She followed him into the other room. "What have you got here?" asked Richie. "I see you found my instrument stash. It's been a while since the last time I played. I'd almost forgotten that they were here." She took the cases out and laid them on the bed to be sure that they were O.K. She opened he cases one by one. The horn and trumpet were fine, as was the classical guitar. She played a few chords on the guitar to check the tuning. "How long have you been playing?" "Let's see, uh... a couple of years, off and on and off on all of these," she motioned to the array of instruments. She suddenly felt like playing again; it was always a good way to relieve stress. She warmed up by outlining some chords, becoming oblivious to Richie's presence. Satisfied that she had gotten the feel of it, she played a simple arrangement of "Greensleeves", picking out the individual notes and occasionally adding a chord for harmony. After she finished, she put it back in its case. She looked at the horn; it was still in mint condition. It was the replacement to the one she'd rebuilt the year before. She'd barely played it since she bought it, and she wasn't about to embarrass herself by attempting to play it right now. It would probably take an hour next to a piano to get the pitches centered again. She looked to the trumpet, a silver plate Bach Strad. It really needed to be polished, something that she had been putting off since graduation. She picked up the polishing cloth and wiped down the bell and the leadpipe. It would have to do for now. She picked up one of the two mouthpieces; it had turned grey with tarnish, not a good sign. She wiped the rim off on her jeans. She checked the size to make sure that this was her usual mouthpiece. It read "Vincent Bach 1 1/2 C". She had grabbed the right one. She put it into the receiver and gave it a slight twist. She moistened her lips slightly, slid her left hand around the valves, and raised it to play. At first, she played some long tones, beginning in the low register. Then she moved on to upper octave work, playing the upper C scale. She wasn't sure if she still had her range; she'd barely played over the summer. Sure enough, the high C came out, though slightly strained. She paused for a moment to remember some music. She couldn't really remember any whole piece so she quickly took out a book of old English trumpet tunes which was stuck in the bottom of the case. She flipped through the book until she found the one she wanted: Purcell's "Sonata in D". She managed to play it with a light, bright tone, an improvement over past attempts. One good thing about Immortality that occurred to her was that her lips didn't split or get smushed too thin to play. All she needed for recovery was a few beats rest, and she could play on. This would certainly come in handy for playing on short notice. The only requirement was that she keep her lip strength up to utilize the upper register. Since most of her favorite pieces were classical or baroque, a strong upper register was a must. She came out of her reverie to notice that yet again, classical music had put Richie off a little. She dug deep in her mind, trying to remember something he might appreciate. * Bingo! * She played what has come to be known as the Lone Ranger theme part of William Tell. When she finished, she put it away. that was enough for today. "How did you remember that?" "It took me about a week to get to where I could play that cleanly. I must've played it hundreds of times, trying to get it right. I learned it by repetition, I guess." With that she packed up the instruments and placed them back into the closet where they came from. She chased Richie out of the room. Before leaving the room, she remembered that Mac had asked her to bring her fencing gear back later. She figured now would be as good a time as any to get it done. As she came into the main room she happened to glance at the clock on the wall. A quarter to twelve. She was hungry. Finishing off some leftovers was not an appealing thought. Now that she had seen the way things were, she wanted to get out and go somewhere else. "Are you hungry yet?" Richie asked, seeming to reading her mind. "Yeah, I could use some grub. Any ideas?" "I remember seeing some fast food places not far from here." "Sounds good to me. Gimme a minute, and we'll go." She retrieved her foils and remaining epee from the corner, and slid them in with the rest of her equipment. She slung the bag over her left shoulder and they left. Samantha Copeland copelasa@vuse.vanderbilt.edu http://www.vuse.vanderbilt.edu/~copelasa/home.htm | "This isn't an Olympic event, there's no medal /~\ for comming in second." --- Duncan MacLeod Oxxxxx| (|=========================- \____/\_/ "I don't tan, I don't burn, I implode." | --- Nicholas de Brabant =========================================================================