I heard voices coming from the bar and looked in that direction. I didn’t expect anyone else to be here. My chest tightened when I saw Sunny sitting at the bar with Joey Clausen.
What the hell is she up to?
“Aiden! C’mere,” Sunny yelled when she spotted me by the door.
Slowly I walked over to the bar. Instincts told me that nothing good is going to come out of this conversation. Who knows what Sunny has been saying to him. I hope she’s not ruining my career.
“What’s up?”
“We were just talking about you,” she replied.
“How ya been, A. T?” Joey asked.
“I’ve been good,” I answered. I glared at Sunny. “What’s up?
Joey chugged the last of his beer and answered, “My niece has been trying to convince me to bring you out on tour with me next month.”
I’m going to kill Sunny!
Why would she ask that? Family or not, you don’t just ask someone like Joey Clausen for a favor this big!
He doesn’t even need me on tour with him. He already has a full band.
I’m really going to kill her!
“Can I talk to you for a second?” I didn’t wait for Sunny to answer before I snatched her by the arm and pulled her into the back hallway.
“What the hell are you doing?”
“What?”
“Why the hell are you asking Joey Clausen if I can go on tour with him? You don’t do shit like that!” I yelled.
“Who are you hollerin’ at?” she yelled back. “Since you refuse to try my other ideas, I thought this would be a better route. I swear, Aiden, you are so damn ungrateful!”
“And when he says ‘hell no’ you’re not the one who’s going to be embarrassed and feel like shit. You should have at least asked me if I wanted you to ask him anything.”
Sunny stared at me for a second. She wasn’t frowning. Her mean stare was frightening...just plain old menacing.
“I don’t have to ask your permission to do shit,” she growled through clenched teeth. “If you’re content with doing absolutely nothing with your music, then fine. But if you actually stop being afraid of your talent and want to do something with it, then go on tour with my uncle.”
She doesn’t know what she’s talking about. I’m not afraid of my talent. I know how good I am. I know what I should be doing. It’s not my fault that the right people aren’t coming to hear me play.
“Sunny, don’t even go there. I’m not afraid of anything.”
“Puh-leeze!” she hissed. “Why’d you shelve your demo, Aiden? You bought all of that damn equipment, worked on it for months until it was absolutely perfect, and you never sent it to one record company. Why is that?”
“Because it wasn’t good enough,” I stated simply.
Sunny inhaled sharply and let out the air in one angry puff.
“That’s bullshit and you know it!” she yelled. “Everybody who listened to it said it was amazing! You got scared, that’s all. You got scared that an A & R person might actually sign you. You got scared that somebody might force you to grow the hell up. That’s what happened.”
“I don’t see you all gung-ho about your career,” I retorted. “I don’t see you sending samples of your clothes all over the country. If you’re not worried about your career, why are you so focused on mine?”
I’d hoped my lashing out at her would end the argument but Sunny didn’t take the bait. Instead, she simply rolled her eyes and stood as tall as her five-five frame would allow her.
“At least I have a career!” she fired back. “You play here three nights a week. That’s not a music career, Aiden. It’s a fucking gig and the last thing you need is another gig.
“Aiden,” she lowered her voice which eliminated some of the meanness. “We both know that you are too good for just this. But the rest of the world doesn’t know who the hell you.”
“And they will,” I interrupted. “I haven’t got signed because the right person hasn’t heard me play yet. Not because I’m scared.”
She shook her head. “Yes you are. Don’t get me wrong. We both know you’re a great musician but the world doesn’t. Don’t settle for this. Not when you can accomplish so much more. And we both know you’re settling on playing here because you’re scared that you might not be able to handle anything better.”
“You don’t know that,” I grumbled. In a way, she’s a hundred percent correct.
I’m not scared. But putting my all into something that might not work is unsettling. Depending on people to accept me for the way I look and the way I play is hard for me. I’ve dealt with enough rejection.
I’m not scared. I’ve just accepted the reality of the situation, as I’ve tried to explain to Sunny a million times. She doesn’t get it.
“It’s already a done deal,” she continued as if I hadn’t spoken. “Uncle Joey already said that he’d be willing to let you come out with him.”
“What?” My jaw was on the floor.
“You heard me. I’m talking the House of Blues Winter Concert Series, Aiden! Sixteen shows in three months. Act like you’re grateful, please.” But she was smiling.
Joey Clausen., the Joey Clausen, is going to let me tour with him! My anger at Sunny quickly dissipated, replaced with excitement and a lot of anxiety.
I’m not good enough for this…am I?
“Don’t get too excited yet. My uncle wants to talk to you before you go on.”
I peeked around the wall. Joey was still sitting at the bar talking to the bartender. My stomach did a few back flips as I walked towards him. He’s Kat’s brother but I’ve never actually had a conversation with him. I’m sure I can say something that will totally screw this up for me.
“Sunny told you what she asked me?” he asked when I sat down. I nodded, still too stunned to actually speak.
“Well, what do you say?”
“Umm...hell yeah! I’d love to go on tour with you.”
Joey took a swallow of his usual Hennessy. He wasn’t smiling. Joey, from what I know about him, rarely does.
“Ya know, Aiden,” he started to say. His Southern accent was more prominent than I’ve ever heard it. “I don’t usually let people I don’t know tour with me.”
“So why me?” The insecure little demon in my head came back full force.
“I’m doing this because I think you have a lot of potential. I like your sound and I want to help you out. I think you could have a great career outside of this bar.”
He sipped his drink. “Sunny told me that you did a demo a few months ago. What happened with that?”
I shrugged. “Nothing really.”
“If you took the time to record it, why are you just sittin’ on it? You wouldn’t have recorded anything that wasn’t good.” He sounded curious, not condescending. I decided to be honest with him.
“I don’t think that anyone’s going to like it. It might be a little too bluesy,” I admitted.
Telling Joey the truth is okay. He’s been in the industry long enough to know what labels are looking for. Sunny does not.
“Yeah, that might be a problem. These record companies ain’t really looking for real musicians. We have to make it happen for ourselves. You have to really love music in order to make it as a blues player. What is it about music that you love?”
His question caught me off guard. No one has ever me that. I actually had to think about it.
“It’s the blues,” I smirked. “Who doesn’t like the blues?”
“I’m not talking about the blues,” Joey clarified. “I’m talking about music. What made you want to pick up a guitar? That’s what I wanna know.”
“I guess it started on my 15th birthday,” I told him. “My dad gave me a Strat that Keith Richards autographed. I thought it was the dumbest gift ever because I thought that only rock stars played the guitar and I didn’t like rock music. I kept it under my bed for weeks.”
Joey whistled through his teeth. “Why you talkin’ i
n the past? You don’t have that guitar anymore?”
My face wrinkled into a heavy frown automatically. “No. My father confiscated it when I quit the football team.”
Joey burst out laughing and threw back the rest of his drink. “No wonder you sing the blues,” he howled. “If my father had taken my guitar, I’d be nowhere. You probably got more stories than me.” He chuckled again.
Most people think that my life is all John Hughes “Sixteen Candles” and it’s not. It could have been, but I gave up that life. I’d rather struggle to write songs and play my music than to live like my father.
“So you got the Strat but you didn’t play it right away...” Joey forced me to continue my story.
I nodded. “Then my friend, Paulie, introduced me to Jimi. I’d never listened to that kind of music before, aside from hearing it in movies. I was hooked and I wanted to play like Jimi.”
“Same happened to me. My brother gave me a Hendrix tape. It was downhill from there.”
I laughed. “Then Paulie’s dad offered to give me lessons. Eric taught me a lot, but mostly I just sat up in my room practicing and listening to as much music as possible.”
I told him about the arguments I had with my parents over my anti-social guitar playing. I confessed that I have subscriptions to every guitar magazine ever printed. I must have rambled on for at least an hour because next thing I know, the bouncers were unlocking the doors and people were starting to arrive.
I hope I impressed Joey enough so that he doesn’t change his mind about letting me on the tour. I think he understands that I just want to write songs and play my guitar. He even said that he wants to hear my demo. I’m sure if he mentions it to Sunny, she’ll slip him a copy of my demo by the end of the night.
I don’t know what I’m going to tell the guys. Wild Mike and Eddie have been playing much longer than me. They deserve an opportunity like this more than I do. They are going to be pissed.
After our set, everyone sat at Kat’s table, winding down with food and drinks. Anxiety and insecurity clouded my head. How am I going to break the news to my friends?
Mike slid a plate full of barbeque ribs across the table. I shook my head and reached for a beer instead.
“You ain’t eatin’?” Mike asked.
“What’s wrong?” Sunny stared at me. “I’ve never seen you turn down food.”
“Umm,” I tried to talk around the lump in my throat. “I have to tell you guys something. And I hope you don’t get too pissed at me because this wasn’t even my idea...” I stopped talking again and wiped the sweat off of my beer.
“Damn, A. T, what you so scared for?” Eddie laughed. “Whatever it is, it ain’t like we gon take you outside and lynch you.”
“Yeah, what’s up man?” Mike looked directly at me.
“Umm...”
“He’s going on tour with my uncle!” Sunny blurted out. I tried to kick her under the table but she moved her leg out of the way instinctively.
I expected a chorus of angry words and curses. I got just the opposite. Smiles, cheers, and well wishes filled up our small space.
“You’re not mad?” I asked Mike.
“Why the hell would we be mad? Joey’s good people. He’ll teach you everything you need to know about this music shit. You need a guy like that on your team.”
“But don’t you think you and Eddie deserve a shot like this?”
Mike burst out laughing. So did Eddie.
“You couldn’t pay me to go on tour with Joey,” Mike howled. “But you need this, A.T. You really do.”
Their inside joke was making me a little uncomfortable. What do they know about touring with Joey that I don’t? Probably a lot.
I don’t care what it is. I’m going on the road!
This should make my dad proud of me again.
Chapter 18
I was a seventeen when I saw the House of Blues the very first time. I hardly paid any attention to the band that was playing. I stared at the Sacred Heart hanging from the purple backdrop on the stage and saw myself playing in front of it one day. I promised myself that I’d play on a House of Blues stage at least once.
I’ve done it four times so far.
Boston was our first show. I spent an entire month learning Joey’s songs. I spent hours on top of hours with the band, only to go home and practice until I fell asleep with my guitar in my hands. No amount of practice or the unsolicited advice I got from seasoned musicians prepared me for what happened when I stepped on stage in Boston.
I was more nervous “than a hooker in church” Joey had said. He wasn’t lying.
Twenty-four hundred people filled the house. Twenty four hundred people waiting to see Joey Clausen and his band. My legs felt like JELLO when I crossed the stage. All I wanted to do was pick up my guitar. I wished it was big enough to hide behind because all twenty-four hundred pairs of eyes were on me. The crowd may have been cheering for Joey but I know that they were all thinking the same thing...
What the hell is this white boy doing on stage with Joey Clausen?
I wasn’t back in Rabbit’s where everyone loved me. I wasn’t in some coffee house providing background noise to people who could care less that I was there. I was smack dab in the middle of the House of Blues in Boston, Massachusetts and nobody knew who the hell I was.
At least they didn’t boo when Joey introduced the band.
That was four shows ago. We’re in Vegas now. I’m playing with the same confidence I have when I play at Rabbit’s. I’m getting the hang of this touring thing.
I’d probably be having more fun if Joey wasn’t riding my ass every five minutes. As much I appreciate what he’s doing for me, I need sleep. I need to eat.
Apparently Joey doesn’t think so.
He’s like a drill sergeant. Only instead of pushups at the drop of a dime, I’m writing like crazy or practicing.
Drop and give me ten chord progressions, boy!
So I knew there was going to be a problem when Joey knocked on the hotel room door and woke me up.
We’ve been on the tour bus for two days and I just wanted a few hours of sleep in a real bed. My idea of few and Joey’s idea are completely different. I don’t think I was asleep for three hours before he came in the room carrying our guitar cases.
“Rise and shine,” he said. “We’ve got work to do.”
This isn’t the first time on the tour that Joey had made an early morning visit turn into a songwriting session. Or a lecture.
After my sex-capade with two strippers, Joey spent most of the ride from New Orleans reiterating the tour rules.
No wild parties in hotel rooms.
No underage drinking.
Sound check is mandatory. Don’t show up and you don’t play or get paid.
He added some additional rules just for me.
Don’t stay out all night.
Always use a rubber.
Don’t get caught with any strippers or underage girls.
Stay out of bars that we’re not playing in.
His personal favorite…
When you’re not on stage then you need to be either in your room with your guitar or on the bus with your pen and pad.
He always ends his lectures with, “You ain’t made it yet, boy.”
It’s annoying but I know better than to open my stupid mouth and say something that’s going to get me sent back to Atlanta.
I sat up in my bed and pushed the blanket to the side. “What’s going on?” I looked at the clock.
Eight o’clock.
“I’m changing up the set list tonight,” he stated.
“Why?”
“It’s Vegas, baby. Different type of crowd here. Gonna have to lighten it up a bit.”
I have no idea what he’s talking about. What does being in Vegas have to do with the set list? Don’t people in Vegas still expect to hear the blues at the House of Blues?
“I’m thinking about featuring you on a song or two tonight,” Joey said
.
My eyes bugged out of my head. “Huh?”
“This is your type of crowd, Aiden,” he answered. “I’ve heard your demo. You can play for these people.”
“If you say so,” I replied slowly. I’m not sure he’s right but if this is what it takes to land my own solo gigs like he does, I’m game.
He opened his guitar case and handed me a few sheets of paper. “Those are the songs that I think you’ll be able to pick up pretty quickly.”
They looked easy enough. I should be able to pick them up. I listened to him play the first one straight through. Yeah, I can get these.
We practiced for hours. Joey left around three in order to get in a nap and a couple of hands of blackjack before the show. I ordered room service and watched cartoons, occasionally picking up my guitar and going over the songs. We have three shows in Vegas. I can explore the city later. Right now, I have work to do.
Around seven I showered and changed into clean jeans and a black polo shirt. There’s no dress code in Joey’s band, which is great for me. My limited funds don’t allow me to dress like a rock star.
I dropped my guitar off with the guitar tech and stepped out of the massive hotel into the warm Nevada air. I looked around the strip. Bright lights, thousands of tourists, hustling into one casino or another to escape the stifling heat.
Las Vegas baby!
I started walking without a particular destination in mind. As long as I can find the Mandalay Bay Hotel before the show, I’ll be fine.
I stopped in front of a flyer for our show tonight. Joey’s name was in big bold letters. One day my name will be up there, headlining my own tour with my own band.
A tap on my shoulder interrupted my fantasy.
I turned around and stared into the welcoming and excited green eyes of my older sister.
“Aiden,” Sara’s voice cracked and her eyes filled with tears. She threw her arms around me and hugged me so tight that I could barely breathe. I was too stunned to do anything except hug her back.
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