American Love Songs (7 page)

The butterflies had more or less transformed into pure, heartpounding adrenaline by the time they hit the solo, and Jake finally had a chance to glance over again and see how Parker was doing. With the sunglasses and the tattoo, he already looked like a rock star, and the way he held the guitar low across his outthrust hips wasnt hurting anything. For a guy who had never so much as chatted up a girl in Jakes presence, the vibes he was giving off right now were purely sexual. He hit every note of the solo beautifully, clearly too involved in the song to worry much about the audience, or maybe he didnt care because he couldnt see them. Jake knew they had this in the bag by the time the solo finished, a grin stretched across his face, and he came back in on cue a little louder than theyd practiced, but it sounded great. He couldnt help feeling like he owned the world.

Sometime in the past minute or so, the crowd had stopped milling around and started actually paying attention, turning to face the stage and watching, maybe not rapt, but intrigued, anyway. Jake loved the spotlight almost as much as Chris did, and he knew it showed in the way he moved his feet and swung his guitar and made love to the microphone. With a scout out there somewhere—Jake suddenly had to try very hard not to pick him out of the crowd—this needed to be their very best work, and Jake did his best work when he was soaking up the appreciation of the crowd.

They finished out the three-song set with a cover of “Come Together” that the crowd really sank its teeth into, and one of Chriss staples, a dirty, punk-rocky tune that he always sang in a deceptively sweet tone and never failed to get the audience laughing. It probably didnt hurt that he coupled the multitude of double-entendres with lewd hand motions or, when he was actually strumming, wild thrusts of his hips. Once upon a time that kind of performance from Chris would have left Jake with an embarrassing hard-on, and, okay, he was still half hard, but that was the audiences work and had nothing to do with his onetime crush.

In the end, Jake was sweating more at the end of a three-song set than he ever had during any hours-long gig, and he had to admit to himself that his nerves were shot. The emcee came back onstage and incited the audience to give them a warm farewell, and the four of them staggered offstage into the mud behind the staging area.

Parker broke the breathless, anticipatory silence with, “Christ, I need a cigarette.”

Jake snorted in laughter—Parker was about the last person he could ever see smoking—but then a stranger in jeans and a longsleeved T-shirt—seriously, in this weather—appeared from nowhere and held one out. The way Parker took it was completely natural, one hundred percent grace as he leaned over and let the guy light it for him too, and then he leaned back on the cheap construction of the stage and exhaled like he was James fucking Dean or something. “Thanks.”

For the moment, Jake was too weirded out by Parker smoking to wonder who their new friend was. “Dude, since when do you smoke?”

“I dont. I quit a couple months before I met you. Cost too much.” Parker took another deep drag, and Jake could practically
see
the tension draining out of him. “Awesome.” Then he dropped the still-lit cigarette onto the ground and toed it out, bent to pick it up, and tossed it in the trash. He turned to their new acquaintance with his usual shy half-smile. “You going to introduce yourself?”

That was when Jake remembered that if anyone was going to be meeting them backstage, it was probably the industry guy. He hoped Parker didnt have a fainting spell or something, because that would probably look bad. “Michael Reilly,” he said, extending a hand to Parker, who shook it coolly. Then he said, “MERI.”

Jake felt his mouth go dry at the label. Music Entertainment and Recording Industries was a newer name, but they had already signed a huge number of Jakes favorite artists, plus a bunch of other popular ones he hated.

Parker said, “Oh my gosh, you guys are such jerks.”
¹⁹
Such language
, Jake thought to himself with just the hint of a smile. He just hoped he wasnt going to puke again.

 

“Relax,” Chris said. “This is the part where you introduce yourself, genius.”

Parker managed to control his flush somehow—Jake wasnt sure how; until now, he hadnt seen much evidence that Parker could control it at all. “Sorry. Parker McAvoy. Nice to meet you, Mr. Reilly.”

“Its Mike,” the guy said, smiling. “The pleasures mine, I assure you. And you must be Chris,” he continued, making nice with Chris before shaking hands with Jimmy as well.

The dreamlike state Jake had found himself in got interrupted when Reilly offered him his hand. “And youd be Jake. Love the blog—very informative.”

“Uh,” Jake said intelligently. His brain had stuck on the idea of a rep from MERI actually researching their band. It was completely surreal. “Yep, I think so.”

“I apologize,” Chris broke in. “He was dropped on his head as a child. Repeatedly. Irreparable damage to the part of his brain that controls intelligent conversation. Hes only good for music and blogging.”

¹⁹
Parker never swore.

 

“So what did you think?” Jake finally managed, ignoring the urge to shoot Chris the finger.

“Impressive,” he nodded, but his face was unreadable, and Jake couldnt tell if that meant “not bad for a bunch of barely grown guys who just put their band together a few months ago” or “I want to sign you right now and give you lots of money.” “You showed a lot of versatility for a three song set. I have to ask, though—why the cover?”

Jake fell back and let Chris field the question.

He shrugged. “We have our fair share of fans in the greater area, but it tends to be the bar-going crowd. Most of the people here this afternoon are a little older. You cant please everybody, but you can sure as hell do your damnedest.”

“Good answer.”

 

“Plus, we like paying homage to the gods of rock,” Jimmy added in. Jake was surprised—Jimmy didnt really talk to strangers.

After a few more stilted attempts at small talk, Jake was the one who got his thoughts together and asked the question none of the rest of them had the stones to say aloud. “So, did we pass the test?”

Reilly shot him a grin. “Oh, Im going to like you. Nothings set in stone yet, of course, too many details to go over, but provisionally— youre in.”

Jake said, “Holy shit.” Chris whooped and was immediately chest-bumped by Jimmy, the force of their enthusiasm knocking them both back a few steps. Parker looked a little green. Jake sincerely hoped he could wait until Reilly was gone before he threw up again.

“Heres my card,” Mike said, handing one to each of them. It had the MERI corporate logo on it with his picture in the corner. The logo was embossed, contact information printed neatly underneath. “I was hoping we could get together sometime while Im still in the area to discuss particulars, though I understand if you want to go over the contracts first. How does Thursday sound?”

“Thursdays good for me,” Jake managed to get out, still hardly able to believe that this was really happening. Today was Sunday; that gave them four solid days to freak out. “Guys?”
“Uh-huh,” Parker said faintly.

“Lets do lunch,” Chris said with a grin. Jake could cheerfully have killed him for getting hold of himself so quickly, except that then theyd be short one lead singer.

“Good, good. That Italian place—Giuseppes—it looks nice.” “Theyve got a great veal parmesan,” Jimmy told him. “Delightful. One oclock sound good?”

Jake had to hope that the other guys were absorbing the details of this conversation, because the only thing going through his mind right now was
Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God, we’re having lunch with a rep from MERI.
He shoved his hand into his pocket and pinched himself, just in case—but
ow
, no, he was definitely awake.

He managed a wave as the guy moved off to his car, and then Chris cuffed him across the back of his head to snap him out of it. “Did you forget to put your brain in this morning, asshole?”

“Be glad its broken,” Jake muttered, rubbing the spot where Chriss watch had hit his head. “There would have been clapping and verbal diarrhea otherwise.”

“Well, get your shit together by Thursday, okay? I dont want him to think youre”—Chris fluttered a hand around in the air to illustrate whatever it was he didnt want Reilly to think Jake was— “you know.”

“Gay?” Parker supplied with a quirk of his lips.
“Well, its not like hes going to miss that,” Jimmy said. “Hey!”

“Jake, if you could stand the idea of getting inked, youd have a pink triangle tattooed across your chest.”

 

That was true, so Jake just shrugged and took it. “Whatever, if hes read my blog, he already knows Im gay anyway.”

“I was talking about hiding the fact that youre a total spaz,” Chris said a little irritably, but then he broke out into a wide grin. “Holy shit, you guys, we made it. Can I get a high five or something here?”

Jake muttered, “Oh, and Im the spaz,” but he submitted to the group hug Jimmy initiated with as much grace as he could muster. It wasnt so bad, though being pressed up against a half-naked Parker was kind of awkward. “So, I guess we need a lawyer?”

“And a lot of beer,” Chris agreed.

 

“Maybe some groupies,” Jimmy teased with an elbow to Chriss ribs.

“Good idea.”
“How bout a shirt,” Parker put in.

Now that Jakes brain was working again, he noticed that Parkers nipples were standing out and his lips were kind of blue. Maybe he was in shock—it was certainly not what Jake would consider cold outside. He peeled off his top layer and held it out.
²⁰
“Here.”

In a daze, they packed up their instruments and equipment, loading them into the back of the decrepit old van automatically. Jake had driven on the way up, and Parker didnt have a license anymore, so Chris and Jimmy were in the front seats, the radio turned low to some quiet alt-rock station, and Jake and Parker were on the bench seat in the back, surrounded by ratty blankets that had probably been in the van since the late sixties, empty beer cans, and microphone stands. Parker fell asleep five minutes into the ride, evidently worn out by their exciting day, but Jake stayed up staring out the window at the dark, gently rolling southeast Kansas landscape until it resolved into the street they lived on.

PRODIGAL: OFFICIAL BLOG OF THE WAYWARD SONS

 

Date: June 11, 2009 Author: Jake

 

²⁰
The shirt he was wearing underneath actually did have a pink triangle on it.

 

MERI Presents the Wayward Sons

 

In case you guys didnt know, we signed with MERI today, so the concert tonight? Is going to be off the hook.

 

Okay, okay. You want details? Ill give you details.

That CD weve been talking about doing for so long? Thats finally going to happen. I know weve only had the ones we recorded in Chriss basement out for a little while, but this is going to be a little different. Ten tracks, professionally produced. We retain creative control, were just gonna have a little help recording and editing. Oh, and were getting paid for it this time, which is pretty awesome.

Theres a tour in the works as well, though itll just be a short one, probably August till November, and then hopefully well be back in the studio cutting some more tracks for another CD in the spring.

Obviously, we are more than over the moon about this.

Thank you so much to all our fans whove stuck with us this long and helped us get this to happen. We love you guys and we hope to see you on the road!

T
HE night after they signed their first record contract, they played a festival in some dinky hick Kansas town. They had already been high on adrenaline and good vibrations when they got on the stage, but now they were buzzing with a contact high too.
²¹
So far Jimmy had managed to keep them in line with his driving drum beats, but Jake honestly didnt know how much longer he could keep it up. Also, he really wanted a bag of Cheetos. And maybe some candy.

He and Chris called the end of the set by mutual agreement—he met Chriss red eyes across the smoke-hazy stage and nodded, both of them unslinging their guitars and handing them to a stage hand, which was so far the closest thing theyd ever had to a roadie, though this one was working the festival, not for them. Chris was just about to thank the audience for a great night—he was literally half a step away from the microphone—when Parker somehow got between them and flopped himself down at the edge of the stage, feet dangling over the side, and swiveled the mike stand so it hovered about two and a half feet off the ground, just in front of his face, where he needed it.

²¹
Seriously, the town must have been the grass-smoking capital of the world or something; Jake felt lazy and slow, so it was a good thing their set was winding down.

Chris mouthed, “What the hell?”—by this time, Parkers stage fright was legendary and a major source of good-natured ribbing—but Jake had no idea, and even if he did, he probably wouldnt try to stop Parker anyway. He was way too curious how this was going to play out.

“Hi,” Parker said softly into the mike, and the whole crowd just got quiet listening to his voice. Jake was just stoned enough to wonder if Parker had some kind of crazy magical influence before he said, “Imma play a song now,” and his fingers started spanning frets easily.

Jake chanced a look back at Jimmy, who just shrugged and set down his drumsticks, and figured since he had no idea what Parker was doing and no desire to play another song (or in fact do anything other than park it and listen)
²²
, he might as well sit down beside Parker and enjoy this.

A nice, leisurely lead-in eventually resolved into a recognizable song, and Jake smiled a little, though it felt strange, because for some unknowable reason Parker had chosen Stevie Nickss “Crystal.” Jake didnt even like admitting he
knew
such a girly song.

It didnt escape his attention that Parker was stoned out of his mind. His eyes were glassy and red, and his posture was much more relaxed than he usually managed during a performance. In the months they had lived together, Jake didnt think hed ever seen Parker so carefree, which was maybe a little disturbing. The high hadnt affected his ability any, though—each note rang as clear and precise as ever, though Jake would have sworn, looking at Parkers fingers, that they were actually moving in slow motion.