I turned my attention back to Shane. He wore a short-sleeved Henley with the first three buttons undone, and I peeled it open to take a gander at his chest. “I’m gonna miss this.”
He dragged me into a bear hug. “You could come with us.”
“Stop. I have to earn some money.”
“So, grab a train and come up to Boston Friday.”
“To the festival?”
“Why not? You could hang backstage. You wouldn’t have to fight the crowds. Think about it.”
I wanted to. Backstage . . . My God, that sounded amazing. “I don’t know. My boss was already mad I missed a day last week.” Not to mention, Adam had invited me to his rehearsal on Friday.
“Just think about it. Maybe it will work out.”
Micah climbed up the steps. “Are we just waiting on Rick? Oh, hey Layla. Did you decide to come with us?”
The image before me—three of the band members from Theater of the Absurd—standing in their tour bus suddenly struck me as surreal. This had never even been anything I’d ever fantasized about. Backstage, sure. Tour bus? Never. It was so crazy, the awe snuck up on me.
“Let me get a picture of you guys before I go. I can add it to my blog post. I bet fans eat up this kind of stuff.”
It might have been my imagination, but I could have sworn Noah rolled his eyes. Micah said, “Yeah, sure. We’re not going anywhere until Rick gets here anyway.”
Shane joined them as I got out my phone, praying the lighting would cooperate. “Say cheese!”
Not a single one of them said cheese. Noah brooded. Micah flashed his normal perfect smile. But Shane gave me bedroom eyes and sexy-times lips. I exhaled wishing we could be alone on that bus for a few minutes. I snapped a bunch of pictures in quick succession, planning to find the one that flattered Shane the most and use that one. I had no doubt that anyone who hadn’t noticed how hot he was wouldn’t miss it in those pictures.
“Got it! Thanks!” I tucked my phone away, then glanced around awkwardly. I had no further reason to be there. “I guess I’ll just—”
Shane took my hand and led me off the bus where he pressed me up against the side and kissed me like we were in private. I relaxed into him, wishing I could stay with him the rest of the day, then stay in his hotel the rest of the night. But it wasn’t meant to be.
Rick chose that moment to appear. “Come on. We’ve got to be in Albany by six if we want time to check sound.”
The bus started up with a raucous rumbling.
Shane placed a foot on the first step. “I’ll call you later.”
“Take care.”
He tipped an invisible hat. “And I’ll be watching for your blog post!”
The doors shut, and I backed away onto the sidewalk, waving at Shane through the windows as the bus pulled away, and the wild part of my life went with it.
I took a deep breath. It had only been a week, but it was going to be so weird to stay at his apartment with him gone.
Almost as if she read my mind, Jo came over and draped an arm over my shoulder. “You know you’re always welcome here.”
I shook my head. “I appreciate it, but it’s fine.”
Honestly, though, I felt keenly alone, like I’d lost a part of myself I hadn’t known existed until Shane exploded into my life and then just as quickly disappeared. I wanted to ask Jo how she managed the intense loneliness when Micah toured, but she’d think I was insane to have succumbed to a Shane addiction in the span of a week. How was she able to let Micah go time and time again and trust he’d return as in love with her as when he left?
The Rock Paper
In the Rehearsal Hall: Theater of the Absurd
By Layla Beckett
As a fan of a band, you feel lucky when a new album drops and you get to queue it up, close your eyes, and listen for the first time to brand new tunes.
You feel like you’ve won the lottery when you score tickets to see that band in concert and hear the songs you’ve been singing for months.
You hit the jackpot if you win a meet and greet and get to ask the band you love for an autograph and a picture.
Then, if all the stars align, you might get a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to combine all of these experiences into a private concert for one.
I don’t even know how to describe the day I just spent with a band I adore as they performed never-before-heard new songs, never recorded or even performed in concert.
Lucky doesn’t cover it.
I’ve been following Theater of the Absurd ever since they broke on the scene while touring with Walking Disaster. Once on my radar, I made it a point to buy all their albums, falling in love with their off-beat rock music. Whenever I had the chance to see them in concert, I jumped at it, and like so many fans, I couldn’t get enough of their surprising onstage antics. The first time I saw Micah bodysurf across the audience, I knew I’d be a fan for life.
I never expected I’d ever meet the band. I’m just a Midwestern music fan. Never scored a backstage pass. Never went to a meet and greet. I’ve always been in it for the music, but I’d be lying if I didn’t confess a certain idol worship of the guys who bring this music to life.
Today my lucky stars converged, and I got the chance to meet them, hang out with them, and watch them banter, fight over setlists, cover a couple of songs, and perform unreleased music.
And as the ultimate treat, I get to share my score with fellow fans.
Here are my impressions from the day.
Micah Sinclair is as hot as you think he is. He’s also incredibly generous and as easy-going as you’d expect a Libra to be, but it was impressive to watch his leadership skills in action.
Noah Kennedy loves to play to the camera. He has a reputation for his fiery personality, and he didn’t disappoint. Between sets, the give-and-take between Noah and Shane could get blistering.
Shane Morgan is my secret favorite. He’s a madman on the drums as you ought to know already if you’re a fan. You’ll also be aware that he’s kind and funny. I can attest to how hot he is in person, and all I can say is: Hands off, ladies. I saw him first.
Rick Walters hangs back and does his thing, which is to show how to play a bass guitar righteously. I really loved watching him at work, but I don’t think we exchanged two words the entire day.
As it was a rehearsal and not a live show, the guys were more subdued than I’m used to, but it made for a more intimate experience. It was awesome just to focus on the music which as always blew my mind.
Videos with new music, including two covers and some between song banter are posted below the fold.
Chapter Twenty
As nice as it had been to get chauffeured or taxied to work, the subway presented a certain amount of novelty for this Indiana girl. I didn’t mind riding in and watching all the different people around me, most of whom seemed considerably more bored than I was.
Even the thrill of emerging into Times Square hadn’t worn off yet. I still couldn’t believe I had the most amazing job at the most amazing music magazine in the most amazing city in the world. I breathed it in, foul-smelling gutter garbage and all.
Once on my floor, I nestled into my cube and prepared for the morning scrum. My plans for automating Tweets had gotten provisional approval. Ajit anticipated no problems implementing the proposals. He wondered why they’d never coded it before. The meeting went smoothly, signing off on estimates and deadlines.
I was in a fine mood as we broke up and I headed back to my desk where I discovered an email from Lars telling me I was free to post the blog I’d set up. Holding my breath, I hit submit.
And just like that, my name was on the front page of the Rock Paper.
The adrenaline from that experience came rushing back as I clicked through and watched one of the videos. Would I get lucky enough to do it again?
I composed a quick email.
Lars,
Thank you for this opportunity. I wanted to let you know that Adam Copeland loved this idea so much he invited me to their rehearsal on Friday. Please let me know your thoughts. I’d need to clear it with Byron of course.
Layla
There. I wanted to get that on the books. My stomach swirled with excitement. My God. Walking Disaster in a small room. Just me and them. Could I make a request? I wished I could post about it to the fan forum and solicit opinions on what to ask them to play.
I wished I could tell the posters anything about this at all.
As I stood to go grab a cup of coffee, Gabe stepped out from between the cubes, blocking my path.
“Now I understand why you found my review too critical.”
“I never said your review was too critical. I only questioned your assumptions and conclusions.” I tried to move around him, but he put his hand over the nearest cube wall, and I realized I’d be doing the limbo to get through him.
“This is a well-respected music magazine, Layla. Do you know people read us to get an objective opinion about the music from reviewers whose expertise they value?”
“Yes. I know that, Gabriel. I think I even complimented you on your writing. If you recall.”
He moved an inch closer. “Yet, it’s funny what passes for journalism when you lose that objectivity.”
I stopped looking for ways to get past and met his eyes. “I’m sorry?”
“I read your article this morning. If you can call it that.” His jaw clenched. “You basically just gave free advertising to your boyfriend. And ‘hands off, ladies’? I don’t think I’ve ever read that printed in a music magazine in my life.”
Was he truly offended as a writer? Or just jealous? I rolled my eyes. “Are you fucking kidding me, Gabe? This very magazine once printed a fifty-page spread of the pretty boys of rock. You know who was in it? Micah Sinclair.”
“The fact that you know that is troubling.”
“The fact that you find it troubling means you don’t know your audience.”
He glowered at me, then moved out of my way. As I passed, he hissed, “Maybe I should write a balanced point of view of that new song you just posted.” His threat registered, and I paused long enough for him to know he’d made an impact. “The drumming sounded . . . what would we say? Maybe like a poor attempt to copy The Who?”
I tried not to laugh. Shane would no doubt find that insult rather amusing. Complimentary even. I flung the back of my hand dramatically across my forehead. “Oh, no. Please don’t compare him to Keith Moon.”
Then I shot him a death glare and stalked back to the kitchen in a much shittier mood. I muttered to myself, “Douche!” I let it go and focused on cramming the little coffee packet into the machine. I slammed the flap closed a little too hard. As the coffee sputtered out, sending lava-hot drops onto my skin, a Walking Disaster notification ringtone exploded.
I grabbed my phone to silence it and quickly check what the emergency was.
Ash had texted: Is that where you were last week? OMFG. Why didn’t you tell me?
Crap. I should have given her some warning. Now I was going to look like I didn’t trust her. Or worse. Like we weren’t close enough friends to share that kind of news.
I texted back: It was top secret. I lowered the volume on my phone, knowing she’d want more intel, and sure enough, it vibrated seconds later.
How did it happen?
I befriended Jo. That was the truth at the end of the day.
Congrats! It’s amazing. Can I post it to the forum?
It’s a public article, isn’t it?
Then I sent a follow up because I didn’t think she’d realize I couldn’t be connected to my own self. Don’t mention that I’m Pumpkin, okay?
Aye aye.
I shoved my phone in my back pocket and finished making my coffee, but I’d barely set it down on my desk before I heard my name.
“Layla.”
I craned my neck around to find Lars standing in his doorway. He waved me into his office then leaned against his desk, motioning me to a chair. I worried I was in for round two of Gabriel’s harangue
“Really loved the article. You totally captured the spirit I was aiming for. I’ve read fan blogs that had that same genuine enthusiasm, and already, I’ve seen a lot of positive responses in the comments section. I followed the trackbacks to some of the sites where the link was dropped. Fans wish they could have been you.”
I beamed, relieved and proud. “That’s great, Lars. Thank you.”
“You say you landed a similar gig with Walking Disaster?”
“It was Adam’s idea actually.”
“Oh, was it?’ He rubbed his chin. “Hmm. It got me to thinking. This seems to be something that bands might find useful.”
“I can see that. It’s free publicity for them.” I realized Gabe had said the exact same thing moments before. But how was that a bad thing? “Micah said it’s a great opportunity to connect with fans, but also to float some experimental songs and get honest feedback. Plus, it’s interesting content for you.”
I shifted in my seat because my hands suddenly wanted to talk for me, like Shane was rubbing off on me.
“That’s why I suggested it in the first place.” I didn’t correct him. Instead, I waited for him to piece together the bits of information and draw the conclusion I was hoping he was leading toward.
He paced to the back side of the room, then back to the floor-to-ceiling window and looked down over Times Square in silence. I continued to wait.
“What if—” he spun around “—what if we made this a series? We could pitch it to other bands as a way to cultivate some of the content we share, but it would give us a unique insider view. We could even call it something like ‘Inside Access.’ ”
I winced. “Or ‘Fly on the Wall’?”
He nodded. “Yeah. I like that.”
It was definitely something I would have loved to read myself. “What fan doesn’t want to hang out and watch a band do its thing?”
“Any specific bands you’d like me to reach out to?”
I could have rattled off dozens. “Pretty much anyone. I don’t think I could tire of that experience.”
“Awesome.” He went back to the chair behind his desk, and I sensed our meeting had come to an end.
I stood and thanked him, then went back to do the less glamorous part of my job, scheduling tweets and setting up FB content. I started to daydream about sitting in with Walking Disaster and meeting all the other guys in the band.
Talking Disaster Forum
Topic: Other Bands - Theater of the Absurd - Media - In The Rehearsal Hall - Page 1
DeadFan wrote:
Some lucky fan. Can you even imagine?
The Rock Paper: In The Rehearsal Hall - Theater of the Absurd
WD40 wrote:
What’s Noah playing? Is it a Gibson?
MusicArt wrote:
Micah’s so subdued. It’s kind of weird to see him standing in one place like that except when he’s solo.
RobinHood wrote:
Who’s Layla Beckett?
CaliforniaDreamin wrote:
Could just be someone who works for the magazine they sent over to fabricate some fan buzz.
CakeOrDeath wrote:
I bet you’re right. The whole thing did feel a bit forced. Like she’d wikipediaed some random info about the band. Libra? How is that relevant?
Jayhawk wrote:
Oh my god. This is amazing video! New music! I’m going to hang out over on the TotA fan forum tonight and hope that there are more videos.
LowRider wrote:
Y’all know that’s probably just one of the girlfriends, right? Did you notice the picture from the tour bus? Does
n’t one of their girlfriends ride along sometimes?
Jayhawk wrote:
@LowRider - who cares?
Sailor8 wrote:
Micah’s girlfriend usually takes credit for her photography. Rumor has it Noah’s broken up with his girlfriend (hoping it’s true!) and Shane doesn’t have one. Rick’s married. His wife never travels with them. Looks to me like someone just got lucky. (And why is it never me?)
Chapter Twenty-One
With a pillow plumped behind me, I sat in Shane’s bed and read through the reaction to the blog I’d posted. Over on the TotA forum, the posters were having a field day discussing the new song and debating which cover they preferred. It was fun to wallow a bit in their thrill of seeing it all secondhand. I was already starting to forget the first-hand awe of sitting right there.
My phone erupted in the FaceTime ringtone, and I rolled over to grab it and accept the call.
“Hola, Cuddle Rock.” I attempted a seductive grin, but it was awkward to do so at a device.
Shane appeared on my screen. I guessed he must be in a hotel in yet another college town. Their schedule up until Friday was basketball arenas and small theaters. Friday, they’d arrive in Boston for a major festival.
“Layla, I’ve got a question for you.” There was a bit of scruff covering his chin. I’d never stopped to investigate if he tended to go unshaven during a tour. I smiled to myself as I considered all the fun things I had yet to learn about him.
“Uh, huh?” I grinned anticipating some flirty banter.
“When’s my birthday?”
My breath caught. “Oh, shit. Was it today?” He’d told me he was thirty-one when we talked about it, and I never did go look up his statistics. “I didn’t know.”
“No.” The muscle in his cheek twitched. “Do you even know what sign I am?”
I hadn’t figured out where he was going with this, so I attempted a stab. “Uh, Taurus?”
He snorted. “Close, but no.”
Kind of Famous (Flirting with Fame Book 3) Page 19
