American Love Songs (8 page)
Read American Love Songs Online
Authors: Ashlyn Kane
The mellow nature of the song didnt seem to put the crowd off any. Actually, they had started swaying along, seemingly lost in the music, waving lighters or cell phones or the dimly glowing ends of their cigarettes. Jake took out his own cell and joined in, letting Parkers rhythm move him. The sound of his voice set the hair on the back of Jakes neck standing straight up, and through the fog clouding his brain he had the opportunity to wonder how the hell it was he hadnt known Parker could sing like this. Jake felt like his body could just float up and away and out into the wind on the sweet otherworldliness of it all.
By this time the desire for Cheetos had been relegated to the back of his mind.
By the time Parker finally finished up the song, you could have heard a pin drop in the audience. In the same completely mellow, relaxed voice he had started in, Parker said, “Thank you very much.” Then he got up, swayed over to the back of the stage, and zig-zagged off into the night.
Jake spent another few seconds idly kicking his heels against the side of the stage as the crowd cheered for Parker, but eventually he found the motivation to pick himself up, weaving his way across the mess of patch cords and down the rickety steps behind the stage. He almost ran into Parker, who was bent double at the bottom, emptying the contents of his stomach into the damp earth.
It took him a few minutes, partly because he was dodging girls wanting autographs, some on inappropriate body parts, but eventually he made his way to a concession stand that didnt have a lineup fifteen miles long. He picked up two bottles of water, a pretzel, a bag of Doritos (he tried not to be disappointed they didnt have Cheetos), and a half a pound of cotton candy. By the time he caught up with the rest of the band, Parker had taken a seat at the bottom of the stage steps, and Chris and Jimmy were observing from the minimum safe distance.
“Dude, what got into him?” Chris asked.
“Morning sickness,” Jake told him. Chris gave him a funny look. Seriously, if Chris hadnt caught on yet that Parker got ill before, after, or during every major performance, he didnt deserve to know. “Parker, heads up, buddy.”
Parker looked up just in time to catch the water bottle Jake lobbed at him. Jake really should have known to be prepared for this by now, and he did actually have several bottles stashed in the cooler in the van, but there werent any Cheetos in there.
“Thanks, Jake,” Parker said gratefully, twisting the top off the bottle. He must have been really thirsty, because he downed threequarters of it without coming up for air.
They ended up taking a walk to a nearby diner to clear their heads and eat something more than junk, none of them confident in their ability to drive clear-headed. Parker fell asleep at the table, narrowly missing knocking over the ketchup, and Jake snapped a picture with his phone and set it as his wallpaper.
“Dont encourage me.” He reached for his milkshake and downed the rest, wrinkling up his nose in what Jake called his brainfreeze face before smacking his lips thoughtfully. “Could be one of the last times we do this,” he said philosophically, looking around them.
A couple of weeks ago, Jake wouldnt have been so sure. He was still nowhere near as confident—some would say cocky—as Chris, but he could definitely see them going places.
“Well just have to find a better class of restaurant,” Jake said, stealing one of Parkers fries and popping it into his mouth. “One with private rooms and Cristal and violinists or something.”
“Or something.” He finished Parkers orange juice while he was at it. “Goddamn, I am tired.” He looked enviously at Parker, who might actually have been drooling on the table. Apparently his experience meandering from city to city had had one lasting upside—Parker could sleep anywhere.
Jake nodded, reaching into his wallet and fishing out enough money to cover both his and Parkers meals and placing it in the little black folder at the end of the table. Then he kicked Parkers foot. “Hey, sleeping beauty. Time to wake up.”
Chris snorted when Parker jerked his head up, flushing and wiping at the side of his face; hed fallen asleep in a puddle of condensation from his juice. “Adorable. Come on, kids, pack it in. Weve got a long drive ahead of us.”
So obviously were a newer group, and that means we have to pay our dues to those who went before us by opening for somebody else. Thats okay though, because for the month of August, we will be opening for (drumroll, please): Red Star! Well be on tour with them from August 3
rd
until the middle of November. Im posting the concert schedule below.
In other news, weve heard back from the execs at MERI, and weve got the first seven tracks of a tentative ten-track album chosen. The songs that have made the final cut so far are: The Shakedown, Independence, Two-by-Four, Black Lipstick, Hard Rock Karma, Politics, and High Fidelity.
Well be heading down to Nashville in a week or two to start laying the tracks for professional mixing. The album isnt going to be anything special in terms of layout or anything—they want to have at least a couple singles available by the time were ready to tour with Red Star, and theyre going to make the rest available on iTunes as they are finished. The final finished product should be ready in time for Christmas. Crazy, huh?
Anyway, the bigwigs are starting up a Wayward Sons mailing list for announcements of new tracks, merch, tour dates, contests, and all those goodies, so if youre interested, head on over there and sign up. You wont regret it. Well, unless you hate us, but then why would you sign up in the first place? Ill be keeping up with the blog as much as I can, too, so watch this space!
“Listen,” he said when Mike called him to bitch about how difficult Chris was being, “I told you we should have been there for the interviews. I have a couple of suggestions that are going to make your life a lot easier.”
“First, we cant have a guy for a production manager. I know that sounds weird, just—hear me out, okay? Its a clash of the egos thing. Men and Chris just dont get along, unless hes known them for ages or theyre gay. He only let Parker in the band because Parker is a genius. We need a woman. Preferably a lesbian, because otherwise Chris is going to be too distracted trying to get her to sleep with him to get any work done.”
Rubbing his temple with one hand, Jake shot Chris a look out of the corner of his eye. He was sitting on the hood of the van, smoking a cigarette and brooding. “I realize that. Look, I know its a lot to ask. Just… let us come to interviews, alright? You can pre-select candidates or whatever.”
After Mike agreed, it didnt take much to persuade the other guys into spending a day in an office. The interview process was a little strange to Jake—he was used to sitting on the other end, for one thing—and once he almost shot water out his nose when Jimmy flat-out asked the candidate if she was a lesbian.
She wasnt, it turned out, but the woman after her was, volunteering this information upon introduction
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, so probably the word was getting out that they were a little unusual. Her resume was sound, though, and after a few minutes of careful deliberation, she was hired.
They had to fire her a week later because it turned out she was a lesbian who occasionally screwed men, and Chris could not work with women hed previously fucked. It was a character flaw.
This time, when they went into the interview, they were looking for a woman who was either a) capable and completely unattractive or b) willing to sign a legal document stating that she would never sleep with Chris. At this point, Jake was ready to settle for someone with standards.
It was not so much fun the second time around; Jimmy was grumpy because he was missing his yoga class, and Chris had a date lined up with the lesbian, but Parker was still Jakes loyal sidekick, so they ended up conducting most of the interviews by themselves, Mike supervising off to one side.
“Hello, nice to meet you, my name is Sara, and Im a lesbian,” she said, as casually as if she were announcing she was a Pisces who liked long walks on the beach.
The first round of interviews was not promising. There was one girl who kept leaning over to give them a better view of her cleavage; a competent, matronly older woman too nice ever to earn Chriss respect; a guy in a suit who was in serious need of an attitude adjustment—Jake glared at Mike, who shrank back in his chair—and a lady with a rather impressive resume and excellent interview skills who
licked her lips
every time she looked at Parker.
The rest—mostly women and a handful of men—werent glaringly terrible, but neither did they inspire the confidence Jake was looking for. None of them really clicked with the band; nobody shared their artistic vision. It was kind of like looking for a fifth Beatle.
He had a good feeling about the last resume in the pile, though. It was a bit thin—the woman it belonged to, an Allanna Danvers, was only a few years older than he was—but Jake had made Mike call everyones references, and hers glowed. She was new to the industry, but everyone theyd talked to had said her organization skills were impeccable. Apparently, she used to be a life coach.
“M awake,” Parker assured him, sitting up and wiping a hand across his chin. Chris and Jimmy were playing some kind of game on their phones, possibly interactively.
The door opened to the answer to Jakes most recent prayers. Allanna Danvers was short—not much over five foot—and slender, her auburn hair cut in a stylish bob. Her blue polished nails were chipped, and she was wearing a band T-shirt. Not their band, but it was an interesting touch. She shook hands with Jake first, then Parker, waiting with her hand stuck out for a few seconds in front of Chris and Jimmy before clearing her throat and raising an eyebrow when she finally got their attention. The two of them actually looked guilty before standing—Jake mentally added five hundred points to her interview score—to shake her hand and introduce themselves. Her eyes flicked them all up and down without lingering, and she took her seat with a smile. “Its nice to meet you. Mike sent me your demo; you have a really interesting sound. Kind of retro with a modern twist, but sometimes….”
That was exactly what every band wanted to hear—that their sound was unique, different, that it stood out—so Jake tried not to take it too much to heart, knowing it could just be flattery. Still, Allanna seemed to have reasons backing up the compliment, so he was cautiously optimistic. Parker totally had worked classical-sounding riffs into background tracks, or sometimes he used classical songs and built a rock tune out of them. It was pretty damn impressive, and Jake liked that shed noticed.
They got through the standard interview questions in record time, and even Chris and Jimmy participated, throwing in a question here and there, asking for elaboration on an answer.
Then Chris attempted to draw her into some flirtatious banter, and Allanna shut him down so fast he didnt even see it coming. Jake wished he had the moment on film, because he would play it every single time Chris did something douchey, which happened a lot.
Finally the interview ran out of steam, and Jake stood, thanked her for her time, and waited patiently and impassively while she shook everyones hand again. As soon as the door closed behind her, though, he threw his arms up in the air and whooped. “We have a winner!”
Parker beamed, practically bouncing, something like a dog that had been cooped up in the house all day and needed to be let into the yard. Or maybe Jakes own enthusiasm was just catching. “Shes got vision,” he said. “And she knows about music.”
Mike shook his head resignedly. “Id like someone with a little more experience, but maybe shes just young enough to keep up with you. And maybe her past life as a life coach will do the lot of you some good. Ill have someone draw up the paperwork and bring her in to sign everything as soon as its all in order.”