Willy Gelb found a box at the front. It was addressed to Mai Lee-West. It must have been a present of some kind. Willy scratches his head--Mai did get admirers like this every now and then. It just made the kids' head spin. If enough people liked Mai, why was she at a small run down joint like this one? This place--at least to Willy's understanding, was one step up from singing at a Karaoki bar. Willy's small twenty something frame bend over to pick up the box of an odd weight. The guy who delivered it seemed a bit more quiet than usual. Not a person to want to talk--like it was against his religion, or something.
Mai had left early that night. Seemed in a rush--or something. Willy had no idea where she was running off to. It was just past closing when this box showed up, early morning really. Maybe the guy got plastered out of his mind, and just phoned for a gift delivery? Willy never bothered to open these to check. Even the odd time a bomb, or anthrax letter has appeared (it involved some guy who was related somehow to somebody Mai rejected... he was ticked right off), Mai usually just knew it was there.
Willy looked at the box--there was no address on it. Shaking his head, not certain if he imagined it actually being for Mai--or if he had assumed it was her because it was a show she was on that night. Willy lays the box near the door of the mail office. Mai had insisted she not get her own dressing room--but to share one with the other small acts. So, the result was the mail boxes, usually use to only a few letters and fliers, got filled with flowers, chocolates and themed balloons.
Willy looked around to see what was all here--quite a bit... considering this was a place for washed up stars, or stars that just have not gotten going again. Willy stretches his back, with his hands near the small of the back. He wore loose clothing to help with this. The hoodie he wore felt like it had been on forever. Heh--he needed to get home, take a bath and put on a new shirt. His pants were loose slacks. Kind of higher class than denim jeans--but not that over dressed. Willy just grabbed these from a thrift store the other day. Seemed like he had always been wearing these slacks as well as his hoodie.
Willy turns--somebody in tomorrows show will figure out this trash. Willy just was going to go home and--Hello, what is this curious thing.
Willy picks up a small piece of paper--a calling card or something. Written on the back in an odd handwriting--like the scrawl of a child who barely knew the letters being written and the grammer of a text message--to phone the people here, as Mai's leave may be extended due to odd circumstances--or something about not being here or something. Willy traces part of a logo on the back. He barely recognised it--it was similar to the faded logo on the water boiler. An older janitor joked that it had been scribed on there, "as this way, I can stop watching the damned thing so often."--the boiler having previous had a reputation to be fussy.
The text message in odd scrawled writting was surrounded by other symbols. Some Willy recognised as luck--others were things that were vaguely insulting that were right next to the "luck" symbols. Willy flips the card around--it was an odd number he thought he saw in the call logs of the place. Rarely though, Mai tended to have her own phone for that. The name next to it was "Blackwood"--and some rubbish about paranormal investigations.
Willy searches his pocket for his phone--no sense using this place's, it was much too late at night and the phone had been cut off. Too many drunk dials here causing phone company issues. They'd be turned on in the morning a few hours after opening.
Willy walks out the door, ready to stroll to his house. He lived near by and the brisk morning air would do him well. Putting the hoodie part up, he puts his hands in the pouch in the front, and starts walking.
After a block of walking, Willy noticed a small device beside the road. He picked it up and found it was his cell phone. Head looking around to see who might have put it there--realising they were probably long gone, he says a mild insult. Quickly going over what he said in his head--confident it was free of cursing or swearing, an odd habit Willy Gelb had. He felt that somehow, by never saying a curse or swear, some higher power would smile on him now and again. Willy found it just had him falling down holes quite a bit.
Willy picks his phone up, and starts dialing in the number on the card. Somebody answers--sounding like an irritated male, "uh, hi, my name is William Gelb, you can call me Willy--I got some odd cryptic message about Mai and leaving her place of work, or this place she sings at, or something, the message is hard to make out in this scrawl... it was in amongst some cryptic scrawl of symbols. It was on the back of this calling card. Do you guys know anything about this?"