Blessed Fate
Blessed Fate by HB Heinzer
Text copyright © 2013 by H.B. Heinzer
Interior Design by Angela McLaurin, Fictional Formats
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Also by H. B. Heinzer
Bent (Back to Brooklyn #1)
Blessed Tragedy (Blessed Tragedy #1)
Coming Soon
Breaking the Rules (Back to Brooklyn #2)—Sept. 2013
Blessed Chance (Blessed Tragedy #3)—Dec. 2013
This book is dedicated to all the musicians out there who give up a piece of themselves for our entertainment. When you make it to the big-time, it's hard to maintain a division between the artist in the studio and on stage versus the person with a life outside the music industry. Thank you for being willing to deal with the fish bowl you live in...
"Okay guys, you need to have an open mind," Travis warned.
We had been sitting around his crappy studio apartment for the better part of three days, trying to figure out what we could do to get more gigs. Our band, Blessed Tragedy, had a loyal following at Wilson's Pub, but we all knew it was time to branch out a bit.
Jon and I looked at one another and shrugged. At that point, I didn't think there was anything we wouldn't try if it meant we would be able to make our mark on the world. Okay, so that might have been a bit dramatic, but if you're gonna dream, you gotta go big.
"Lay it on me, Trav," Jon said, leaning forward on the ratty sofa left over from the seventies.
Travis picked up his cell phone and sent a quick text while grabbing another round of beers out of the fridge. "Okay, so I've been thinking. We've got a good thing going here, but we need to change it up. And I think I have just the thing."
About that time, there was a light knock on the door. Travis opened it slowly, saying something to the person on the other side. He looked back to us and swung the door wide open. "Guys, meet Rain."
I had no clue what Travis was thinking, but standing next to him was a beautiful girl who looked utterly terrified. If she worked at the ring in her lower lip much harder with her teeth I was worried she would rip it right out. Between that and the way she was twirling a lock of bright red hair around her finger, I couldn't help but wonder if she really wanted to be standing there.
"Hi," she said, her voice barely over a whisper, her eyes fixed on a stain in Travis' carpet.
"Rain, meet Jon and Colton. They're the assholes I was telling you about," Travis said, pointing to each of us. "Guys, you have
got
to hear this girl sing. I really think that if we rearrange some of our current stuff, she's gonna kill it up there."
Rain crossed her arms tightly in front of her chest. "I never said I was going to do it. I said I'd come over and see what was going on," she said sharply. Even though she was nervous around us, I could tell from the way she snapped at Travis that she was feisty. I liked that and hoped the day would come when she felt comfortable enough around me and Jon that I could make a point to push her buttons.
"I know, I know. But, you need a band and we need a change. It's a win-win. You'll see." Jon glared at Travis, appearing more than a little put off by him taking control on such an important decision. Although we had formed the band together four years ago, Jon had always been at the forefront of all of our decisions.
Jon stood and made his way across the tiny living room in three long strides. "Nice to meet you." It took her a minute to take in the sight of Jon and I didn't blame her. He towered over her. The scowl that seemed to be a permanent fixture on his face intimidated me, and I had known him a hell of a long time. "Come, grab a beer," he said, motioning her further into the apartment.
Jon handed her the beer he hadn't yet started to drink and grabbed another for himself. Rain looked around the living room for a place to sit.
Bad news, little girl, it's the couch or the floor.
Yeah, it was going to be fun getting to know her.
"Come on, we don't bite," I said patting the cushion beside me.
"Often," Jon added. When Rain looked at him as if he was serious, the room erupted in laughter.
"First rule; if you plan to hang...lighten the fuck up." Despite the signals this girl was giving off, I put a hand on her shoulder, gently massaging out the tension. I mentally kicked myself for the forward gesture when she flinched away from me. I couldn't help myself; I needed to push her just a little bit. I wanted to see how she would react, but I wasn't prepared for her to move away from me as though my hand was soaked in acid and burning her skin.
The four of us sat there for the next two hours, talking about everything and nothing at all. She told us that she had left home after high school, hoping to make a living playing music. How in the hell she wound up in Portland, I'll never know. There are so many places that are better destinations if you are chasing that particular pipe dream. She didn't have anything in the way of a musical background, but damn, the girl had more passion than most people I knew.
Jon seemed to ease up as it got later—a combination of beer, Jack Daniels, and the fact that Travis just might have been onto something. "Okay kid, you talk a good game. Now, let's see if you can back it up." He tossed my guitar at me, nodding. "Go on; tell him what you wanna do. He's not as dumb as he looks; he'll be able to muddle through it."
I scowled at Jon as I pulled my long blond hair back into a low ponytail. "Never mind him. So, you tell me..." Even with her nerves still frayed, she had eased up considerably.
"Black Velvet," she said, her eyes fixed on mine. "Don't fuck it up."
She sat up at the edge of the cushion, swaying as I started playing the intro. Alanah Myles has a voice that is hard to beat, and
Black Velvet
is one of those songs you don't attempt if you can't do it well. The way she was bobbing her head and biting her lip, I had a feeling we were about to get schooled. This girl wasn't getting ready to sing a song; she was allowing the melody to possess every cell in her body.
"Mississippi, in the middle of a dry spell..." From the very first words, I had to remind myself that I was supposed to be accompanying her. She kept her eyes closed through every beat of the song, the expression on her face telling the story as much as the words coming out of her mouth. While not anything we would normally play, her smoky voice made me think we could easily cover the song during our shows, and the fans wouldn't complain. I glanced in Jon's direction at one point and saw him in the kitchen, wide-eyed and slowly shaking his head. He was as captivated by her as I was.
When she finished, Jon slowly clapped from the kitchen island. "Damn little girl, you got some pipes on ya. That's not what we normally do, but shit!" Jon, the man who was never at a loss for words, seemed to be having trouble figuring out what he wanted to say. I'm just glad he finally spoke up because it was going to take a while before I could pick my jaw up off the ground.
"Not bad." She draped her arm over my shoulder and pulled me in for a hug. Had I known that all it would take for her to open up to me was to get her singing, I would have insisted on starting out with that instead of wasting so much time talking.
It took over a month for us to convince Rain that she really was badass and would be doing us a favor by rounding out Blessed Tragedy. During that time, she hung out with us every day, mostly doing covers from eighties greats like Pat Benatar and Joan Jett.
Every Saturday and every other Friday, she would join us at Wilson's. The first three nights she was there, she sat at our table to the right of the stage watching us play our set. The following Saturday night, Jon came out from behind his drum kit two songs into the second set. It wasn't unusual for him to decide he had something to say, but normally we planned it ahead of time. I gave him a curious look before stepping to the side.