Du Nervst! - An excerpt from my upcoming novella Trieste

This is the opening of my novella Trieste, now available on Kindle! A tale of sudden and drastic family revelations when a pixie punk shows up to turn the world of punk power couple Miranda and Preston upside down!

This story stars Miranda, the main character of my novel Blood, Skin, and Ink, as well as Preston, the main character of my two novels The Falling Circle and A Long Slow Aftermath. They, along with many other punks in this tale, also have stories in my Skye Wright series.

Du Nervst, Du Scheisskopf!

     She bent over her bass, plucking out frantic notes, and then arched her back, throwing her head back to fan out her long hair.
     She stumbled from the wall of sound hitting the stage, as well as from the roar of the circle pit.
     Hands touched her back as the singer Svenja came up behind her.
     Miranda couldn’t understand the lyrics, having opted out of learning any of the chorus as Svenja and Jutta shouted out their repetitive German screed at the edge of the stage.
     She looked out over the pit, which had grown to twice its size since the band’s set had started.
     The German punks were up front, railing against the stage as they shouted along to the chorus.
     Miranda furiously drove the hectic bass line in the midst of the storm of sounds as strands of her damp hair stuck to her face.
     The song stopped and she felt a warm wave wash over her as she missed the cutoff, having added a few errant bass notes to the end of the song.
     No one had apparently noticed. The undulating crowd were shouting and jumping up and down.
     Miranda looked back and forth as Svenja talked to the jubilant crowd. She could not believe how jammed the modestly-sized Gilman Club had gotten. She wondered how the sprawling collection of packed-in punks had managed to create such a large pit within the crush of the crowd.
     “That’s it for tonight!” shouted Svenja through the mic. “Check us out next week at The Bottom of the Hill!” Svenja threw an arm around Miranda. “Thanks to Miranda of The Dynamite Chicks for filling in for our bass player Hannah, who’s back in Germany visiting ihre kranke mutter!”
     The collected mass of punks started shouting for an encore as Miranda took a step back. Svenja and Jutta were both tall and skinny, with Svenja having short spiked hair and Jutta, wearing all-black clothes, had an explosion of bright green hair that reminded Miranda of lime Jello.
     Svenja and Jutta glanced at each other while Miranda looked back at the short and skinny drummer Gitta who had stood up to look over the energized crowd. Gitta looked at Miranda and shrugged.
     Miranda spotted the club personnel, walking towards the stage to get them to break down their equipment, just as the crowd was getting louder.
     Miranda nudged Svenja with her elbow while gripping her bass.
     “Awright du Schweine!” shouted Svenja into the mic. “This one is Schmeckt Besser!”
     Miranda saw the club manager and a few of her multi-colored haired minions quicken their pace to try and chase the band away, so she launched into the bass line for the song. She saw Gitta out of the corner of her eye frantically picking up her drumsticks as Svenja and Jutta charged into the song, reigniting the pit.
     Miranda had memorized the bassline, plucking out the backbeat as she listened to Svenja belt out the hybrid German-English song.
     After their abrupt encore, they were finally forced to stop playing when the club manager switched off the sound. Punks were pressing themselves up against the stage, beckoning to Svenja.
     “You fucking nailed it, you gorgeous bitch!” shouted Jutta to Miranda.
     Miranda kept making futile efforts to brush back her sweat-drenched hair. “Thanks! though I wish I knew what you were talking about.”
     “Go ask your friends,” said Jutta as she pointed to a corner of the club where her German speaking friends and Dynamite Chicks bandmates Skye and Molly were talking to The Jolly Sturms’ German visitors.
     “Shit, the regular punks were getting into it hardcore.”
     “It’s the vibe!” said Jutta as she waved her hands towards the audience.
     Miranda started helping the band move their equipment as a gaggle of fans descended on Svenja. Miranda was used to it, the singer getting most of the attention after the show which left the rest of the band to do the drudge work.
     “You leavin’ The Dynamite Chicks?” asked a barging flight-jacketed boot girl as Miranda was carrying a snare drum offstage.
     “Hell no. I’m just filling in for their bass player.”
     “No shit?”
     The short and wiry Gust, with her ratty Circle Jerks t-shirt and flaying spiked red hair, barged up to Miranda and pointed at the boot girl. “Hey, is this ho botherin’ you?”
     Miranda laughed. “No, not at all.”
     Gust contrived a look of concern. “She isn’t?” Gust turned to the boot girl. “You feelin’ okay?”
     Miranda left Gust and her friend to talk as she carried the snare out to The Jolly Sturms’ van.
     Gust came up to Miranda outside of the club after they had packed up all of their equipment. “I can’t believe these krauts wanted to play Gilman.”
     Miranda winced at Gust. “Don’t call them krauts, you jack off!”
     “Ain’t they all Germans?”
     “Mmm… Svenja and Gitta are. I think Jutta’s from Austria.”
     “Is there a difference?”
     “Why can’t you believe they wanted to play Gilman?”
     Gust waved a hand at the bustling crowd spilling out into the street. “They’re takin’ off! They’re sellin’ records like hotcakes. Half these people couldn’t even get in because the club was so full. They need to be playin’ the Warfield or The Fillmore, not this fuckin’ little rat dive.”
     Miranda leaned back against the wall and nodded. “You got a point there. Some people just wanna stick close to their roots though, avoid those big ass venues.”
     “How’d you figure out their songs anyways?”
     “I listened to their songs over and over again when Svenja asked me to fill in for Hannah. I still can’t figure out most of what they’re sayin’, but I got all their bass lines down.”
     “You didn’t learn none of it?”
     “Well, I remember the phrase ‘Du nervst, du Scheisskopf,’ but I still don’t know what it means.”
     Miranda glanced at the milling crowd and noted several people who were looking in her direction. Being a six-foot-tall woman who was covered with tattoos and scars meant that she was used to being gawked at. Usually it was not as much of an issue at shows, since she was so well known in the punk scene, but a small group of very young punks were staring in her direction.
     Miranda looked away from the gawkers. She felt her skin getting tight.
     She was not sure what was stressing her out, why their glares were sticking to her.
     Miranda turned to Gust. “So how’d we do?”
     “You guys kicked ass! But I’m wondering how these guys got so damn popular though, bein’ as almost all of their songs are in that funny foreign language.”
     “Hell, you can’t understand half the shit regular English singers are sayin’.”
     Miranda felt an arm go around her waist.
     She knew right away it was Preston.
     “Don’t sneak up on me like that,” smiled Miranda. “I might think it’s an ex.”
     “Like, one of the exes I should be worried about?”
     Gust made a face, “Blag! Stop being cute! Bleh!”
     “Look who’s talkin,” said Preston. “You’re the cutest one here!”
     Gust started jumping up and down. “I am not cute! I’m mean an’ ugly an’ scary!”
     Miranda leaned forward and put a hand on Gust’s shoulder. “You’re adorable!”
     “Nooooo!” bellowed Gust facetiously as she held up her arms and ran off into the Gilman Club crowd.
     Miranda put her arm around Preston and pressed herself against him, even though she was still sweaty from the show.
     Preston had not only been getting in better shape, he had been growing his hair out, making him look just a little more feral. Miranda knew it was the kind of look that could get competitors to check him out, a concern that persistently harangued Miranda even though she knew her suspicions and jealousy were her pointed character defects, defects that she was not entirely dedicated to removing with her Narcotics Anonymous step work.
     She did not want to take anything for granted, so she decided to compel herself to hang on to at least some of her angst.
     A sudden wind made Miranda shiver. “Lemme go duck back into the club.”
     “Sure thing. I’m gonna talk to Greg by the door,” said Preston as Miranda released him.
     Getting back inside, Miranda looked around the scene. Usually Gilman would empty out quickly after a show, but there were still quite a few people in the small club. Many of them were crowded around Svenja and Jutta.
     Skye walked up, just as she was finally tying back her wild black hair. Miranda noticed that Skye had also been sweating profusely.
     “What happened to you?” asked Miranda.
     “I was in the pit for half your show! Didn’t you see me?”
     “Fuck no. I spent too much time trying to remember the songs. How’d I do?”
     “You fuckin’ killed it! I’m afraid they’re gonna try an’ steal you from our band.”
     Miranda waved at the gaggle of fawning punks trying to talk to members of the band. “Gust was asking why they played this place, since they’re blowin’ up.”
     Skye slowly shook her head. “I told them they might get mobbed if they played at a venue this small. Or start a riot. Either way it was going to be a night.”
     Skye wandered off as Miranda shook her arms around. The air inside the club was still warm from all of the compacted bodies.
     She spotted Preston talking to Daphne, the singer for the local band Toxic Diatribe. Daphne was talking excitedly to him, smiling broadly as she pointed her pixie nose and bright eyes at Preston, her multicolored braids twittering as she gesticulated.
     Miranda dropped her head, looked at the floor, and took in a long, slow breath.
     Exhaling, she felt her body relax.
     Just for a moment.
     Looking up again, she spotted another woman, a short, slim, and wiry-haired young woman staring at Preston. She was looking at him with wide and fixed eyes.
     She felt a charge go up her spine.
     Another young woman with stringy bright red hair and a Leftover Crack hat came up to the wiry-haired woman and whispered in her ear.
     They both started looking in Preston’s direction from across the club.
     Gust bounced up to Miranda. “Hey, can I use my adorableness to convince you to come to Nathan’s with me an’ Trilly?”
     “Maybe,” said Miranda as she kept her sight on the young woman staring at her boyfriend. “Lemme ask Preston.”
     “What you lookin’ at?”
     “That girl with the shredded black hair, her and her friends were starin’ at me earlier. Now she’s eyeing Preston.”
     Gust glanced in the direction of the Preston gawkers and turned back to Miranda. “She fixin’ on stealin’ your boyfriend?”
     “Psh! She’s too young to steal him. She looks like she’s fourteen. I don’t know what her deal is.”
     “Maybe she wants to invite you over for a three way!” smiled Gust.
     “Right. We’d eat that one alive.”
     “You want me to step up? Find out what she’s up to?”
     “Naw.” Miranda looked away. “She’s probably just checkin’ him out.”
     “No shit. He’s been gettin’ more buffed lately.” Gust pointed at Miranda. “Watch out for them maneaters!”
     Miranda looked at Gust with a raised eyebrow.
     “Don’t be givin’ me that Tandasil eyebrow!” said Gust.
     “I ain’t no Vulcan,” smiled Miranda.
     “C’mon, scoop up your honeydripper an’ let’s jet!”