American Love Songs (16 page)

“
A man walks down the street. He says, why am I soft in the middle? Why am I soft in the middle? The rest of my life is so hard
.”

“Paul Simon?” Becca said. “Really?” Then she shrugged and turned to Parker. “Alright, its my birthday, and you know what that means.”

“You want cake?” Parker asked hopefully, his eyes betraying his apprehension.

“It means you have to dance with me. Official birthday rules.” “Says who?”
“Says me, and its my birthday, so you have to listen!” “But—” Parker began, his eyes appealing to Jake for help. Jake grinned. “Sorry. Have fun.”

Finally Parker had no choice but to let Becca drag him off to the makeshift dance area—albeit under a certain amount of obvious duress.

“
You can call me Al
,” Allanna sang, too loudly and somewhat off-key for the real harmony. But Chris, who was singing the melody, had a grin that matched hers and didnt seem to notice. Meanwhile, the small selection of road crew not responsible for the madness had crowded in front of the stage and was dancing along with Becca and Parker, who, to be fair, was not so much dancing as standing there somewhat awkwardly and being sung at by Jakes sister.

He was smiling, though, so he obviously didnt totally hate it. “Okay, that is adorable,” Jimmy intoned from Jakes right.

Taken aback, Jake snapped his gaze away and turned toward him. “
That
is wrong on so many levels.”

Behind his dreadlocks, Jimmy rolled his eyes. “Parkers hardly about to make a move on your sister, dude. Its just nice to see him cutting loose for once.”
³⁴
When Jake didnt respond, he offered, “I could cut in if you want.”

“No!” Jake said, too sharply. “Its just, kids grow up so fast, you know?”

 

Jimmy blinked at him guilelessly. “Sure.”

Three days later, when he was saying goodbye to Becca at the airport, she wrapped him in a hug tight enough to squeeze the breath right out of his lungs. “Thanks for letting me stay with you.”

“Hey, any time. I mean that.”

She released him and took a step back, then looked him up and down appraisingly like she had something to say, but all that came out was, “You could call me a little more often, you know?”

Why did he feel like he was missing the text that was floating in the ether between the lines? “You know Im terrible at keeping in touch.”

“Also at getting a clue,” she muttered.
“Hey!”

Then she smiled, and he forgot to be mad. “Take care of yourself, hotshot.”

 

“I will. Give Mom a hug for me.”

 

“Kay.” The PA system announced the last call for Beccas flight, and she hugged him one more time. “Tell Parker thanks for the dance.”

 

³⁴
Jimmy had a funny definition of “cutting loose.”

 

Then she was gone.

O
DDLY, it was the lack of pencil scratching on paper that pulled Jake away from the television, where hed been watching a Discovery Channel special with the closed captioning on for the past forty minutes. Parker was sitting cross-legged on the floor in his pajama bottoms and what Jake belatedly realized was the sweatshirt he thought hed left at their last concert. His feet were bare, his hair was fluffy, and he was staring down at the pad of paper in his right hand blankly.

Jake grimaced. Theyd been over and over and over this in the last three weeks, Parker scribbling madly on any available surface only to scratch everything out a moment later. It had taken him half a day to write the guitar parts, but Parker had never been one for words, letting Chris and Jake and the melodies do the talking. This was his first real solo project, and though Chris and Jake were both dying to get a look at what he was writing, so far he had refused to allow them even the slightest peek.

“Parker? You okay, dude?”

He looked like he hadnt slept properly in three weeks, either, which wasnt exactly a stretch for anyone in the business of rocking hard and often the way they did—except that they had been rehearsing and recording for the past three weeks, and Parker was not actually
on
any drugs. He wouldnt touch anything stronger than coffee or alcohol and the occasional toke off one of Jimmys roaches—and, okay, this was so not the time for Jake to be dwelling on things that might or might not happen when Parker was high.

“I think Im done,” Parker said, finally looking up at Jake, his tortoiseshell glasses slipping down his nose. He sounded equal parts bewildered and exhausted, though part of that could have been the last of the nasty cough hed been fighting off.

But finishing—now
that
was cause for celebration. Jake vaulted over the side of the couch and crowded next to Parker on the floor, reaching for the paper and ignoring the fact that he was completely up in Parkers personal space. It wasnt like hed respected it all that much before—well,
before
. “Chris!” he bellowed. “Its done!”

The thundering of his feet on the stairs up from the practice room in the basement heralded Chriss arrival. He skidded into the room in bare feet, his old football warmup T-shirt, and a pair of sweatpants with more holes than Swiss cheese. At one point in Jakes life, that would have been solid gold wet dream material.

God, how pathetic.
“Gimme!” Chris demanded, snatching at the notebook.

Parker jerked his hands away, but that just made it easier for Jake to grab it instead, which he did. It only took half a second to call up the memory of the melody Parker had been picking out on his guitar for the past month, and then he was somewhere else inside his head, hearing the harmonies.

Half a verse in, he already knew it was Parkers magnum opus. A chill went through his body. The hair on the back of his neck stood straight up. Embarrassingly, he felt his nipples go hard though his Tshirt.

Seriously, that was just ridiculous. Jake needed to go out and get laid already.

By the time he got to the end of the chorus, he already knew exactly how things were going to progress from there. The song would be slower and more raw than anything they had released so far, it was going to sit at the top of the charts for months—and Chris was not getting his smooth pretty-boy voice anywhere near it.

“Holy shit,” he said to himself, reading it a second time through and then a third before reluctantly allowing Chris to pry it out of his grasp. “The student has surpassed the masters.”

Chris was dead quiet for about two minutes while he read. Because he knew Parker, Jake got up and went to the kitchen and came back with a generous glass of rum and coke. The amount of emotion packed into a couple of hundred words had
him
hankering for a drink, and he had only read it. “Come on, down the hatch,” he encouraged, pressing the glass into Parkers hand.

Parker was not a big drinker normally—Jake could count the number of times hed seen him drunk on one hand, and he tended to block out a good portion of the events that occurred. But it didnt surprise Jake when he guzzled the drink in one go. He put the glass back on the table just as Chris finished with the notepad.

“Holy shit, Parker.” Chris ran his hand through his hair. “This is good shit, dude, but—I cant sing this.”

 

Parker flopped back on the hardwood, staring unhappily up at the ceiling. “Yeah, I know.”

 

“We need a chick,” Chris said decisively.

“Yeah,” Parker said, sounding exhausted and… something. Jake couldnt put his finger on it, but if he had to guess? Hed have said that that song was a lot more real than Parker wanted to admit to. The idea made his gut twist uncomfortably. “I know.”

This was why Chris was their front man, and why he was usually the one who talked to Mike about any new direction they wanted to take. Parker was a genius with melodies and harmonies, but Chriss gift was the bigger picture, knowing who was right for a part and how to get the most out of the words, where to put the emphasis, when to let the words slur. He knew how to bend the music into the emotion of the lyrics.

Now that Jake thought about it, yeah, it wasnt just that the song was wrong for Chris—it was wrong for a guy, period. Or—maybe not
wrong
, but unusual. Jake was all about breaking the mold and everything, and the rest of the Wayward Sons generally agreed, but the truth was he thought it was going to need a womans touch. Not someone with a sweet voice, but a rough, sexy, balls-out, no-holdsbarred wailer.

Or, no, actually, that wasnt quite right—“Make it a duet,” Jake said before he could stop himself.

 

“Rewrites already?” Parker whined, throwing his arm over his face. “You guys suck.”

Jake decided not to tell him he thought Parker should sing the male part, because Parker would just freak out even more, and they kind of needed him not to lose his shit. “Seriously, though,” he said, grabbing the notebook again, “this is amazing, Parker. Its going to be huge.”

He couldnt see Parkers face, but the tips of his ears went red, so he obviously knew that it was true.

Now that the shock of how seriously awesome the song was had worn off, Jake could feel not just the emotion but the raw sensuality behind it, feel the picture Parker had painted like it was happening to him. It was a love song, and it wasnt that they didnt do love songs; everyone did love songs. It was just that this one was
good
—real, understated, not trite and overdramatic, not cheesy and over-the-top. Also, just the right amount of sexy, and Jake took a moment to furiously sublimate some frustrated desires of his own.

“Come on,” Chris said finally, slapping Parker on the thigh. “Lets get Jimmy. Were gonna do a run-through right now.”

 

PRODIGAL: OFFICIAL BLOG OF THE WAYWARD SONS

 

Date: Tuesday, April 13, 2010 Author: Jake

 

Dont Panic!

Guys, I just opened my inbox, and… whoa. “Where are you, Jake?” “We miss you, Jake!” “Our lives are empty without you, Jake!” You guys are so
needy
. Now I have guilt! (Not really. I totally deserved a little vacation. Sorry.)

Okay, yes, it has been a few weeks since I last posted on here. Since I totally have a phone I could have posted from, I dont really have an excuse. Weve just been
busy
.

The tours over, as Im sure youre all aware, and as much fun as we had, we are kind of enjoying having nowhere to be right now. Parker didnt get out of bed for, like, three days when we finished. Mind you, he had bronchitis or something. Better him than Chris, I guess.

Our original plan was to head back to Independence after the tour was over, but it turns out the label wanted us right back in the studio recording as soon as we were ready, and, well, we were ready. I figured they were going to send us back to Tennessee to record, like we did last time, but apparently were meant to go out and be
seen
now or something, so theyre renting us a place in LA where the real rock stars live. I went to the grocery store the other day and saw Steven Tyler. Steven Tyler! I think he was drunk.

Anyway, it is
awesome
. Its also part of the reason I havent updated in ages—they just got the damn Internet hooked up yesterday, and weve been here for like a month already. Torture! The people in charge would probably prefer if I took my laptop to a Starbucks and updated there, but I hate feeling like people are looking over my shoulder.

Not that it matters if Im going to make a public post on the Internet, I guess.

Anyway, where was I? Oh yeah, were back in the studio next week. You guys are gonna freak. Have I mentioned that Parkers a fucking genius? Because he is. And Chris is making him sing backing vocals! For those of you not in the know, Parker singing is hot enough to wet panties at 800 meters. We are all in awe of the raw sex appeal.

He also wrote an opus, but we are keeping that in our pocket until the next album. Suckers.

Allanna tells me its only a month til they sort out our next round of tour dates (we are on fire in practice), so watch this spot for news of when were hitting a town near you!

J
AKE had thought that being back on tour would be awkward. Not because theyd gone soft in the two months theyd been in LA. It was just—

If he was honest with himself, it wasnt “just” anything. The thing was, he was kind of sort of maybe a little bit infatuated with Parker.

He had no intention whatsoever of doing anything about it— dealing with unrequited lust had been a major part of Jakes life growing up, and he had gotten good at ignoring it early on. Hiding it had been more challenging, of course, but he was better at that now too. Anyway, he wasnt going to risk destroying the most important friendship of his life over a little thing like this, so he shoved his feelings into a bottle and screwed the cap on tight and carried on as usual. That wasnt so hard in LA—they had a big house, and Chris and Jimmy were always around, and there was always something to do.

But on tour they shared a hotel room and were stuck on a bus together with not much else to do for long hours at a time, and Jake had been worried about that.

Apparently hed underestimated his ability to sublimate, because he was doing just fine and theyd already been back on tour for almost a month.

He settled comfortably into the chair that had been provided and hooked his right ankle over his left knee. On either side of him, Jimmy and Parker slouched bonelessly, radiating heat and moisture. Apparently they had got caught up doing their yoga and only barely had time for showers before the interview.

That reminded him. Jake unclipped Parkers glasses from the neck of his shirt and handed them over. “You left them on the tour bus.”

“Thanks.”

Finally, Chris came in, taking the seat across the table from Jake and cracking open a bottle of water. He rolled the cap around in his hand a few times, not meeting anyones eyes.

“Ready when you are,” the interviewer said, obviously catching the same vibes Jake was.

 

At that, Chris put on his game face and grinned. “Bring it.”

 

Rolling Stone

 

Issue dated June 11, 2010

 

The Return of the Wayward Sons By Jason Hahn

Unless youve spent the last month under a rock with your radio switched off, you probably already know that newbie juke box heroes the Wayward Sons are back on tour with their sophomore album due out in a couple of weeks. What you may
not
know about them is— guys, what do the fans not know about you?