Downstairs, Chris watched his brother as he raised their radio volume.
They stood inside the large living room of their house and Wayne stretched his hand with the remote, toward the Music System, controlling the tempo.
“The song is good.” Chris commented.
Wayne turned to him. “Yeah. We thank God for that.”
“We? You and?”
“The team. We have a band in college. Together, we made up this song.”
Chris was amazed. “Wow. I can’t wait to hear your part.”
“Oh. You’ll be amazed to know that, you are hearing it.”
Chris furrowed his eyebrows in queer.
Wayne only grinned at him.
Chris laughed when he realized it. “Oh bro. How could I have missed it? Wow. The beat right?”
Wayne nodded, smiling.
“You’re good. Seriously bro.”
Wayne thanked him. “You hear the lady singing the chorus?”
“Yeah. She’s cool.”
“Her name is Vicky. She’s the one who composed the song. I’ve never met a person so God-fearing like Vicky before. She is the true example of how a person should live toward God. She knows the Word of God, she is so kind and humble. God has made her that way.”
“And gave her a talent as well. A New Yorker?”
Wayne shook his head. “On the contrary, she is an African young lady coming from East Africa. A place called, Dar.”
“Oh. From Africa. Amazing.”
“So special.” Wayne said, remembering her.
“Dar, Dar. Is it in Kenya?”
“No, no. I don’t think so. The state starts with T.”
“Oh. Tanzania.”
Wayne nodded. “Have you ever heard of that place?”
“I’ve been to Arusha. It’s in the Northern part of Tanzania." He shared at length and added, "we were with the embassy for a conference in ICC. Dar must be the short form of Dar es Salaam.”
Wayne smiled. “Yeah. She told me that.”
Chris turned back to the radio. “And the boys are great.”
“That’s Kyle. He used to be a bad guy. God changed us all.”
“I want him to change me.”
“He will make everything work for your favor Chris.”
He smiled hopefully. “Amen.”
“So, will you please help me make something?”
“I’m open.” Chris replied with out-stretched arms.
“Yeah. It’s pasta but, no ordinary pasta. Vicky pasta. She makes the best pasta, ever. I only tasted her pasta once. I hope, I would be able to make anything close to it with our ingredients here.”
Chris rubbed his chin, following his brother, who was already exiting the room, to the kitchen. “So, she also cooks, ha?”
“Yeah.” Wayne replied, comfortably.
They entered the kitchen and Wayne walked to the cupboard. “Now, do we have any spices, here...?” He wondered aloud.
Chris leaned on the threshold of the wide kitchen of maroon floor and white tiled walls. “Tell me more about this Vicky.”
“Well… She cooks, she loves God. She is a giver as well. She is very kind and could advise you in anything.” He said, opening the cupboards and turned back to Chris, “She is the one who introduced Jesus to me.”
“She sounds very awesome.”
“Yes.” Wayne agreed immediately. “You should meet her.”
Chris nodded slowly with his lips pouted forward.
Wayne narrowed his eyes at his brother. “Why do you look at me like that?”
Chris drew from the wall, stretching his hands in defense. “Nothing, nothing.”
Wayne shook his head and turned back to the cupboard.
“What happened with Sasha Cruise?” Chris asked, purposely.
“Oh. You remind me to call her today and tell her that I’m home. She’s doing better in Boston General Hospital.”
“I’m glad to hear that.”
Wayne shook a tin of spices in his hands. “Full. You haven’t cooked for a while.”
“Check if they haven’t expired.”
Wayne did. “Too old.”
“We have to get fresh spices I guess.”
Wayne turned to him. “Yeah. Can I borrow your car keys?”
“Let’s drive together bro. There’s a lot of catching up we need to do.”
Wayne smiled and followed him out.
#
The two left the house and acquired the ingredients in a market downtown. Many of the neighbors who saw the brothers together, were amazed.
They ended up getting more than enough groceries to suffice for a whole month. Carrying the bags in the house, Wayne thought of extending his leave. He looked forward to a lot of great things with his family. He thanked God for the change of his heart and for the renovation of his home.
#
Back in Manhattan, Victoria arrived the record company with the rest of the Faith Band.
She stayed outside the office of the producer with Deborah, waiting as Kyle and the original crew of the band, briefed the producer about the change of songs.
The whole band was fasted that day, to overtake the will of the producer and of the label company.
As Deborah and Vicky hovered anxiously in the waiting hall, the office door opened and the heavily built producer walked out with the Salvation CD. His face was red and wrinkled and Vicky crossed her fingers when he halted in front of her and Deborah.
The boys stood worriedly behind him.
“You are?” He asked Vicky.
“Victoria.” She replied, confidently.
“You insist that, I will love this song?”
She widened her eyes in assurance, nodding. “Yeah. Try it out.”
“Do you realize that, the market demands specific contents despite the beats and voices?”
“They will love it," was her response.
He sighed. “Follow me.” He said and instantly increased pace to a door at the end of the hall.
The band followed him, murmuring about what the producer spoke to the boys in his office.
“Keep praying in your heart guys.” Kyle whispered.
The producer led them to a large recording studio which also had more guys wearing the company shirts.
There was one other guy behind a glass wall, separating himself from his voice instructor, who stood in front of a set of controls.
At his entry, the crew turned to their boss and greeted him.
He signaled to the artist and faced the instructor, waving the CD to him. “Play this.”
“Okay boss.” The man replied and pressed a button at the bottom of the control machine. He inserted the disc when the compartment opened and they all waited as it loaded.
“It’s no rock.” The producer begun, discriminating the song when the beats started,
Vicky’s voice came with the refrain.
The crew stayed quiet, being fond of the voice.
There is salvation in no one else!
Except Jesus Christ who died for us.
For there’s no other name given among men!
By which we might be saved.
The crew smiled at the interjection of the boys’ voices in the first verse and as the song went on, some of them were cheering.
The producer had his eyebrows furrowed in queer. He did not expect the song to be that good.
The artist behind the glass had to abandon his post, in order to hear closely what the others were enjoying.
The rest of the band sighed with relief when at the last verse which Kyle sang, the whole room clapped and cheered.
“Kyle. I didn’t know that you could sing.” The instructor said as the song ended.
Some of the other crew members pat Kyle’s shoulder.
He smiled modestly, thanking them.
“Who composed the beat?” Was the producer’s first question, before the instructor took out the CD.
“Our friend. Wayne Harts. He’s left New York though.” Kyle replied.
“Aside from minor acoustic corrections, the song can be produced as it is. What do you say boss?” The instructor said.
“It preaches about Jesus but, I’ve seen the reaction it causes in everyone’s heart.” The producer said to Kyle and turned to the crew. “We will produce the song.” He announced.
“YEEY!!” the band shouted, embracing each other with joy.
The crew laughed, being happy on their behalf.
“Thank you Jesus!” Kyle exclaimed.
“Amen thanks God.” Deborah, Vicky and the rest of the band said in turns.
The producer awed their faith. It touched his own heart.
“Okay. Back into the booth, Jeremy. Boys, girls? Please wait outside; we’ll do re-recording and make the corrections but, we will use the original beats.” The instructor told the artist, and directed the Faith Band.
“And one more thing boss,” Kyle said. “We would like a change of name.”
The producer arched his eyebrow in queer. “Yes?”
“We want a change of the name Fangs to Faith.” Kyle said.
His friends nodded.
The producer did not seem pleased by the proposition.
“You’ve changed your faith?” The instructor asked, before the producer said anything.
Kyle turned to him and said, "Yes."
“That will be a lot. Do you plan to always compose Christian music?” the producer asked.
Kyle turned to the others for support and they nodded to him. He faced the producer. “Yes.”
“If they will be as good as this then, alright.” The producer agreed.
The band exclaimed again, thanking God.
“Amen, Amen.” The instructor called aloud. “Faith band!”
The room laughed.
The producer took out the phone from his jeans pocket. “Let me call Counselor Martin. He’ll handle the paperwork.”
“Thank you boss.” Kyle said on behalf of his group.
“It’s fine.” He said simply and exited the room, talking with the lawyer.
The artist returned into his booth and the rest of the band, left the room, waiting for their turn to record.
#
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