Behind Jerry, who is leaning against the doorway, appears Chelsea Wyatt, an impassive looking young woman in her early twenties, blond, athletic, with a hardly-noticeable face that displays obscurity. The appearance of Raymond and company does not enlighten her either.
'If I'm not mistaken, I believe my idiot brother is standing at the door.' She says.
'Are you ever mistaken?' Jerry adds, turning back to Raymond, 'You did come earlier than I expected, what's the hurry?'
'The hurry, as I've implied, is Dennis here.' Raymond pats Dennis on the shoulder, the blindfold still obstructing his sight. Jerry picks up his hand and shakes it, loosely.
'Right person in the wrong place at the wrong time, my young friend, I shake your hand with pity.' Jerry says.
'Now, Kenny and Addy are waiting downstairs in the atrium. I booked the space for the next hour and our luggage are waiting there, have you guys packed up?' Raymond is on a row.
'How can we? I had no idea you are coming.' Jerry said, 'You only look like that when it's performing time, so I assume you're planning to get us away using a gig?' His is the voice of a skeptic, though not without a hint of the laid-back attitude which defines him as a closely related younger brother to Raymond, except his hair is black, his brow is fashioned in a permanent semi-scowl, his expression withered even at the fresh age of seventeen, and his face pale like Addy's.
'Exactly my words, as a matter of fact, I believe I've arrived at such sudden non-notice, that if I had just startled you, whoever those suckers in black rovers are probably aren't aware this conversation is taking place right now.' Raymond says in a single breath. 'So stuff your bags and let's get a move on, we got a gig to attend.'
'Alright, alright, Mon, I've taken part in stranger diversions.' Jerry strolls off into the suite and Raymond enters, Chelsea smacks him on the head to remind him of his irrationality, and goes into the washroom to change out of her bathrobe. Dennis is left standing at the door unguided, now swinging shut, as Raymond goes off to find a jar of gummy bears.
Chelsea reappears, having changed into a T-shirt and shorts in an astonishing short period of time, and to Dennis, she says, 'Don't say a word, good to meet you.' Dennis can do nothing else but comply.
A few lengthy minutes later, Jerry charges out of the hotel suite, hauling a buckling leather suitcase and does not look back, Chelsea follows in a smaller carry-on, looking back in a vapid goodbye, and Raymond brings up the rear, guiding Dennis back to the elevators, and down to the atrium where Kenny and Addy are waiting with the strings.
'And before we leave, I'd like to give Dennis here a private show right here just because I can, any objections?' Raymond declares.
'None whatsoever, oh hail concertmaster.' Jerry replies, annoyed, and takes out a viola from the case that belongs to him. Chelsea unzips a full size double bass from the largest case, Kenny with his cello and hands Addy her red violin, while Raymond unearths his personal violin from his luggage (it came without a case) amongst clothing items. They tune as unison. Dennis is still without sight, and a shiver courses down his body as his ears are met with the sound of five strings in harmonic pitch.
'Alright people, go nuts.' Raymond announces the beginning of a short piece they've all memorised long ago, performed without flaw, and Dennis feels not so exhilarated since the time he went parachuting.
It is over in no time yet all the time in the world, Raymond asks shortly after the concluding fermata, 'So Dennis my friend, how many violins did you hear?'
'It sounded like...fifty, each. How many are you?'
'Two.'
'It sounded like a full orchestra of strings!'
'And that, is why we're so famous.' Raymond says, acknowledging his immaculate skill, 'Wait 'till the gig.'
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