Authors: Kailin Gow
“We
don't have a choice,” said Steve. “It's already Tuesday night. We need to
decide tonight if we want to be ready by Friday. Even now it'll be a real
stretch.”
“So,
okay,” I thought for a while. “So if we give them each five minutes to play and
about two to introduce themselves, we won't be more than an hour and a half,
tops. That's not too bad. Then we can sit and deliberate.”
“Hopefully
we won't need to do call-backs.” Steve smiled.
“Hopefully
we'll get enough good people,” I bit my lip anxiously. Would anyone be as good
as Geoff?
Our
first option wasn't too promising. When we let “Farmer, John Farmer” through
the door, he trudged in wearing a dirty white T-shirt that looked like it had
never seen bleach in its lifetime and sneakers that had evidently been tracked
through several fields' worth of mud. His shoelaces were untied and from the
smell it seemed reasonably apparent that he hadn't showered for days.
Maybe
he's just a Kurt Cobain type,
I thought to myself, trying to force myself
to be more optimistic than I felt.
“So,
why do you want to play with us, man?” Steve was trying to be as friendly as
possible, but “Farmer, John Farmer's,” surly demeanor wasn't making it easy for
him. Good old Steve, I thought. Always trying to be friendly – always trying to
put the others at ease.
“I
just think it's time for my big break,” John said. “You know, I just need that
one break-out gig so I can get famous, move into the big leagues – get my solo
deal, you know?”
Luc
and I exchanged looks. This guy was a textbook example of what we didn't want
in a band member.
“I
hope he's not good,” Luc whispered into my ear. “Then we'd have to put up with
him.”
Luckily
for us, he was utterly mediocre, and we felt no guilt when the door slammed
behind him and we put a firm X next to his name on the audition list.
“Let's
hope the others aren't all like him,” said Kyle, “or else we're pretty
screwed.”
The
next few were better – and among the mediocrity we picked out two or three
players that we particularly liked – talented guitarists that could do more
than hold a pick. A few even jammed with Steve and Kyle – and our spirits
started to pick up. But the nagging feeling hadn't quite gone away.
None of
these guys is as talented as Geoff – even if they are easier to work with...
By
the time the clock struck midnight, we'd all but decided on Eric Southey – a
well-meaning USC senior with floppy surfer-blonde hair and a gravelly voice. We
didn't feel amazing about him – he didn't quite have the “it” that Geoff
managed to manifest when rocking out onstage on a Sunday night – but he was
talented and solid and seemed like a hard worker.
And
then the doorbell rang.
“My
friend in The Taxi Cabs texted me this guy's number,” said Steve. “Said we had
to give him a chance. I know it's last-minute, guys, but do you mind if we see
one more?”
“Sure,”
Luc shrugged. “Neve, what do you think?”
I
shrugged too. “Can't hurt.”
But
no sooner had our final candidate walked in through the door than I turned
bright scarlet. There he was again, Danny Blue, looking sexier than ever in a
black T-shirt that clung to his ripped, muscular body, leaving little of the
chiseled contours of his painfully perfect abs to the imagination. He was
wearing leather pants and black combat boots, his hair shining in the
moonlight. I could feel myself trembling as I put down my head, hoping he
wouldn't recognize me.
He
still has to be good, Neve. We don't pick on looks – you know that. It's about
the talent.
“Never
Ever?” Danny Blue caught my eye. “I thought you looked familiar – why didn't
you say you were from the Never Knights?”
My
mouth opened involuntarily. So that's how he knew me.
“You
know our work!”
“'Course
I do. I caught your show at the Veridium last week. Pretty solid, if I do say
so myself. That's why I figured I'd come out here, see what you guys make of
me. I'm sure you'll tell me I'm bollocks and send me home, of course. But I
thought - what the hell, it's only an hour, I'll have a go, make a wanker of
myself...” He laughed a charming, self-deprecating laugh, sweeping his long
black hair out of his eyes. “I'd tell you all sorts of nice things about your
voice, but you'd think I was just buttering you up to get into the band.”
“I'm
sure you're above such petty tactics,” I said, unable to resist a smile at his
easy charm.
“I'm
sure
you've
heard all those nice things before. About your stage
presence. About the way you sing like an angel and smile like a devil. All
those things – sure you've heard them a million times! They won't affect you
one bit.”
And
blush like a schoolgirl,
I thought to myself bitterly. Still, if Danny Blue
was trying to butter me up, he was doing a pretty good job.
“Aren't
you going to try to flatter all of us?” Luc said, his smile ever so slightly
twisted. “Suck up to all of us.”
Danny
laughed. “After,” he said. “But first – I thought I might play you a little
something. How about 'Rebel Rebel' – David Bowie? My favorite!”
“Mine
too!” I couldn't resist blurting out.
And
then he was playing, and all words died out like embers. From the moment his
fingers first touched his guitar strings, I felt an energy buzzing through the
room – an enormous, golden, pulsing force that seemed to enter each one of us
in turn. All at once, it felt like we weren't in a smelly college apartment,
weren't on some college campus – we were alone onstage just the two of us, me
and him, feeling the rhythm of the music pulse through and overpower us.
This
is it,
I thought to myself.
He's the one.
I had never been so sure
of anything in my life.
Danny
finished playing, the music still echoing on the amp as it faded into silence.
“I
hope I didn't embarrass myself too badly,” he said, a twinkle in his eye.
We
were all silent. Then, we looked at one another – silently trading
imperceptible nods.
“Welcome
to the band,” I said.
Chapter
6
W
e had no time to lose. It was already Tuesday
night, and we had three full days to rehearse nonstop if we wanted to make a
good impression for our Friday night gig. We were all running on adrenaline –
we barely had time to introduce ourselves to each other before we stopped
exchanging pleasantries altogether and started jamming. I had so many questions
for Danny Blue – where had he learned to play the way he did? What was a
doctoral student in ethnomusicography doing with a black leather trench coat
that rivaled that of David Bowie? And what could account for that strange, sad,
brooding look in his eyes? But I had no time to ask any of those questions. We
didn't talk about anything that wasn't about pure business – frets, chords,
tabs, and rhythm. I taught Danny the songs; Steve did a few licks on the drums.
Everything was about music – just the way I liked it.
I
was always the first person to complain when personal talking infringed upon
band time – I'd always been the first one to say “back to work.” I didn't have
a personal life; this band
was
my personal life. So why was I the one
who, all of a sudden, felt a sting of disappointment when Danny said “back to
work” and we didn't share more than two seconds of greeting before we were back
to playing?
But
the second Danny started on his guitar, I didn't want to do anything else. I
never wanted to do anything else. His cracked, soft voice – at once harsh and
sweet – the way he made the guitar strings quiver in his fingers and strain out
beautiful music – his energy was something that washed over me like a tidal
wave. My mind went blank; my thoughts were silenced. I no longer thought in
words or phrases or lyrics – the pure
sound
of the melody was all that
coursed through me like adrenaline or blood. That was the effect Danny Blue's
music had on me. It made me crazy; it made me weak. But above all things it
inspired me – made me feel that somewhere within our lyrics and our melodies
and our jams there was some height of beauty that we had not reached, some
summit we had not yet scaled or reached the peak of, and in Danny's piercing
blue eyes I felt hope that we
would
get there. If only we practiced a
little harder.
Unfortunately,
by Wednesday night, we'd already experienced our first set-back. No sooner had
we started a full run of our Friday night set list – crashed-learned between
classes all day Wednesday – than there came a knock at the door. Luc sprang to
his feet and opened the door to reveal Mr. Reynolds, the building
superintendent, looking red and sheepish.
“I,
uh, hate to bother you guys,” he said. “But there have been a couple of
complaints from the neighbors, you know. Apparently last night you guys were
playing until pretty late...”
“Yeah,
sorry about that,” Steve said, blushing.
How could anybody object to Danny's
playing?
I wondered.
“It's
just – uh – you know the terms of the lease. Communal noise and all that. You
guys can't really play after nine p.m., you know that. I've been pretty lax on
you guys because you've been responsible, but once the neighbors start calling
in it's off my hands.”
“But
we've got a gig on Friday!” Luc interrupted, his eyes wide with distress.
“We're desperate – we need to practice...”
“Sorry
guys,” Mr. Reynolds ducked away. “Rules are rules, you know.”
“Damn...”
Kyle watched him go mournfully. “What could we do now?”
“Can't
we go to your house, Neve?” Luc turned to me.
I
sighed. “You know what will happen if my dad hears us practicing – he'll freak
out!” I turned slightly red. I'd still managed to avoid letting Danny Blue know
that my dad was Keith Knight, and I wanted to keep it that way as long as
possible.
“Your
dad not a fan of rock and roll, then?” Danny turned to me with a wry smile.
“He's...uh...old-school,”
I said. “He's not really a fan of the idea of me being in a band. And we can't
use my dorm – I share a room with Kaylee Miller, and you know how she is...”
“I
don't want my guitar smelling like pot smoke all week,” confirmed Luc. “We
could go to my place – but I feel kind of bad, you know? It was one thing when
we were kids, but now that we're all off to college Mom's turned the basement
into a room for Jennifer so she and Amy don't have to share, and...”
“We
could go to my place,” said Danny, playing with the keys in his hands.
“Oh,
no...” Steve said quickly. “You're new – we don't want to intrude.”
“Well,
if I'm part of the band – I figure I ought to do my share, right?” Danny's grin
managed to make me melt inwardly. “I don't want to be a drag on our resources.”
“You're
not,” I said – too quickly. “I mean – you're already working pretty hard to
catch up, and...”
“I
do
have a freezer full of frozen pizzas,” Danny added. “And a beach
view.”
“Those
frozen pizzas
do
sound awfully tempting,” Steve said. “And it's better
than running into Neve's dad...”
“But
how are we going to get there?” I said. “The bus doesn't run that late – and
everyone knows we can only fit two into Steve's car.”
Steve's
dad had bought a vintage Volkswagon Beetle for his sixteenth birthday. It
looked incredibly cool, but it was also incredibly impractical – there was no
way more than three people could fit in at a squeeze. “I left my car on campus
– I'd have to walk back to get it...”
“I'll
drive Neve,” Danny offered. “We've got my car. And then Luc and Kyle and Steve
could drive together. You two just follow me...”
The
boys looked at each other nervously – as if they were going to object – and
then fell silent. “Yeah, sounds good,” said Luc. “You do that.” He gave me a
wary stare. “You okay with that, Neve?”
“Uh...sure.”
I was blushing again, wasn't I? I knew it didn't mean anything – Danny was just
being gentlemanly by offering to drive me. He wasn't flirting – if that's what
the boys were worried about. They knew as well as I did – no dating in the
band. Those were the rules – weren't they? Not that Danny Blue – gorgeous,
talented, and easily five years my senior, would want anything to do with me.
Still,
I couldn't help but feel a shock of electricity as he helped me into his car
seat and got in beside me, revving up the engine.
“Still
haven't gotten used to driving on the wrong side of the road,” he laughed.
“Actually, Neve – there's a reason I asked you to come along with me in the
car...”
I
tensed up, my face going hot and cold all at once.
“Oh?”
“I
wanted to talk to you about something.”
All
of a sudden I was painfully aware of his presence beside me; the very air
between us seem to hum and vibrate.