What to Read After FSOG: The Gemstone Collection (WTRAFSOG Book 5)

by Cathryn Fox

  The band tore through the large hotel room, looking for glasses and bottles. There was a liquor cabinet in the room with full size bottles of booze instead of the mini ones.

  “I love Frank,” Mack called.

  He twisted the top off a bottle and drank.

  “Speaking of…,” Luke said.

  He grabbed his phone and called Frank.

  Frank picked up on the second ring. “You boys settled?”

  Luke looked as Mack handed the bottle of whiskey to Gray. “Yeah, we’re settled. Had a little scene in the parking lot.”

  “Scene? What kind of scene?”

  “Thanks to your limo,” Luke said, “we have a swarm waiting for us.”

  “Lots of fans?”

  Luke respected it. Frank sounded excited. Fans meant money and Frank loved money.

  “There were a couple hundred people,” Luke said.

  “Damn, that’s nice. Too bad we didn’t have that here right now. Could have sold a ton of shirts.”

  “Next time,” Luke said. “Are we set for the interview?”

  “Yeah, I think so. It’s basic stuff. Put the phone on speaker and just let everyone talk. There’s going to be questions about the accident.”

  “Accident?” Luke asked. “It wasn’t really an accident, Frank. A tire blew on the bus. Tim kept the bus standing and got us to the side of the road. I think it was more dangerous waiting on the side of the road than the actual tire blowing out.”

  “Well, whatever,” Frank said. “Accident has a better sound to it.”

  Luke rolled his eyes. Mack caught him doing so and lifted his hands in question. Luke shook his head. “What else are they asking?”

  “The tour,” Frank said. “Playing with Chasing Cross. Taking over for Chasing Cross. The new album.”

  “The new album?” Luke asked. “You said that so comfortably. As though an album has been recorded.”

  “Well… you know… you guys have been writing some stuff. Right?”

  “That’s a thin line there,” Luke said.

  “Listen, give them what they want here, okay? You’re supposed to be in studio and you’re not. Everyone’s worried about you guys right now. Tell them you’re fine. Tell them you’re writing music.”

  “You got it,” Luke said.

  He walked with the phone in his hand, away from his ear, as Frank kept talking. Luke didn’t care about what Frank had to say. He was annoyed, tired, his throat felt off, and every time he looked at his band he felt like he was letting them down by not confessing his throat issue.

  Luke put the phone on the counter in the kitchen area and pressed a button to bring Frank’s voice to life for everyone to hear.

  He was still rambling about numbers and recording.

  “Who the hell is he talking to?” Mack asked.

  “He thinks me,” Luke said.

  “Wait, what?” Frank called out. “Hello? Guys?”

  Everyone stood silent for a few seconds before they all started laughing at once.

  “Yeah, that’s funny,” Frank said. “Real funny.”

  “Frank, we’re all here,” Luke said.

  “Okay. I’m going to walk to the studio in a second. First, I have to ask a serious question. No dumb answers.”

  “Only dumb questions,” Gray said.

  Mack lifted the bottle of whiskey and said, “Here, here!”

  “Guys, I’m serious,” Frank said. “Just for my knowledge… two things. First, is everyone okay?”

  “Okay how?” Luke asked.

  “I’ve got this thing with my left big toe,” Mack said. “It’s all crusted…”

  “Oh, come on, man,” Trent said.

  “What?” Mack asked.

  “I’m talking about the accident,” Frank said.

  “It wasn’t a damn accident,” Luke said.

  “Whatever the hell you want to call it,” Frank said. “Are you guys okay? I mean, you’re on a tour bus. You’re not strapped in by seat belts. Something like that happens and it gets your heart racing, you don’t realize you’re hurt until later. I’m asking a serious question.”

  “I’m fine,” Luke said. “Guys?”

  Everyone else nodded and agreed. There were no injuries from the blown tire on the tour bus.

  “Okay, good. Now, for my next question. I know you guys like Tim… but I have to know. Was he drinking or anything?”

  “Wait a second,” Mack said. “You think Tim did this?”

  “No.”

  “You do. Frank, it was a blown out tire. Drunk or not, Tim had nothing to do with it.”

  “Tim saved our lives,” Luke said. “He kept the damn bus straight and on the road. You should call and thank him for what he did. Any other driver would have been swerving and then we would have had some injuries.”

  “Okay,” Frank said. “I wasn’t there, okay? I’m just checking. That’s all. I need you guys safe and in one piece.”

  “So you can cash in on us,” Jake said.

  “So we all can cash in on this,” Frank said.

  Luke snarled his lip and shook his head. He hated when Frank talked like everything was about money and how to make more. Luke respected that only in the sense that the more Fallen Tuesday made, the more they got to do. They got to meet more fans, play bigger shows, and create a huge budget for their next album. Sure, the money was nice, but Fallen Tuesday would always write their own music, record it how they wanted it to sound, and they would always make sure their fans were happy with everything about the band.

  Luke touched his neck and swallowed. How bad could it get? How bad was it? What would the resting and rehab be like? Worse yet, how long would the fans wait? It was no secret how fast Fallen Tuesday had broken big and taken over where Chasing Cross left off. What if some no name band was right there, waiting for their shot?

  “Okay,” Frank shouted. “We’re all set guys. I’m with John right now. He’s the host for the radio station and the interview.”

  “Hey guys,” John said. “Everyone alive out there?”

  “We’re fine,” Luke said. “Just a little detour.”

  “Hell of a detour guys,” John said. “We’re on air in ten seconds. Standby.”

  An intro to the show sounded and Luke looked at the rest of the band. They didn’t seem very excited or impressed. Luke understood it. He would have rather been there in person. At least this way, he didn’t have to sing.

  “Ladies, gentlemen, rockstars, and ramblers,” John said in a professional voice. “This is John taking you home, bringing the party alive, and right now on the line I’ve got five survivors of a tour bus accident… that’s right, they were supposed to be in studio, but instead they’re calling from a hotel where they’re recovering. Fallen Tuesday is on the line. Guys, how are you feeling?”

  “We’re good,” Luke said. “Really good. I mean…”

  “It was harrowing for a few seconds,” Mack cut in. He winked at Luke. Luke didn’t like this. They were playing into something that wasn’t true. “We have a hell of a tour bus driver who kept the bus on the road and got us to safety.”

  “Wow,” John said. “So they tell me a tire blew out?”

  “Yeah,” Luke said. “Unexpected, of course.”

  “Sure,” John said. “Well, I really wish we had you guys right here in the studio with us. A ton of fans were waiting. Plenty are still here… hey, can everyone say hello to Fallen Tuesday?”

  An explosion of cheers tore through the small speakers of Luke’s phone. It made Luke smile. Some fans were just so damn dedicated.

  “Listen to that,” John said. “Guys, does it ever get old?”

  “Never,” Luke said. “It’s almost unreal still.”

  “You had a major rise in fame,” John said. “Sharing the stage with Chasing Cross and then taking over. How does it feel to tour?”

  Luke nodded to Gray.

  “It feels amazing,” Gray said. “To get out there and get up on stage and see all those fans.
Every night we play for thousands of new people waiting to hear our songs and join in on the fun. Our goal at each show isn’t just to play, it’s to bring everyone together.”

  “It’s like a jam session,” Luke added. “With twenty thousand people.”

  “A jam session with twenty thousand people,” John said. “I love it. Okay, guys, everyone wants to know about the upcoming album. I think I can speak for everyone when I say we want some new music.”

  Luke laughed. Frank was lucky that they weren’t all together. If they were, Frank would have been well deserving of a punch in the face.

  “I can’t say much to that,” Luke said. “We’re writing. We’re touring. We’re enjoying everything around us.”

  “We were even writing a song on the bus before the crash,” Mack said.

  Luke looked at Mack and mouthed, the crash?

  Mack shrugged his shoulders and smiled.

  “Sounds like you have some material right there,” John said. “Is that where you get your songs from? The road? Life?”

  “Our first album was songs we’ve had for years,” Luke said. “This one is a different animal though. The fans are going to love it.”

  “I wish we could have had a sample,” John said.

  A sample?

  That implied that if they were in the studio, John would have pressured them into playing new material. There was no new material.

  “I wish we could have been there,” Gray said. “Next time.”

  “Next time,” Luke repeated.

  John asked a few more questions about the road, life, and women. The band answered all questions and the interview wrapped up with John letting the band hear the cheering fans again. The call ended and Luke stared at his phone for a second, taking it all in.

  “That was good,” Trent said. “I can’t believe all those people showed up.”

  “I know,” Luke said. “I feel guilty.”

  “Why do you feel guilty?” Gray asked.

  Luke looked up and opened his mouth. On the surface, there was no reason to feel guilty. Luke hadn’t made the tire on the bus blow out. Luke hadn’t caused the delay that caused the cancellation of the radio show. But Luke did have plenty to be guilty about. Fielding questions about new material and thinking about tomorrow and the days the would hopefully follow left him even more nervous.

  “Nothing,” Luke said. “Just hate the idea of fans waiting for us and we’re not there.”

  “I agree,” Mack said. “But we’re right here. In a hotel room. We’ve got booze and we’ve got each other. Let’s grab some guitars and get some work done.”

  The band agreed and they all split up. Luke figured he was in the clear because he didn’t have his notebook with him. He could jot down some ideas on paper and talk along as the band played. That would be the extent of his participation.

  Luke watched the guys set up their guitars. Mack opened a hard shell guitar case and pulled out a beautiful black acoustic guitar. He had it custom made a few months ago, after getting his custom drum kit, of course. Mack had been playing guitar for about a year and enjoyed just strumming chords rather than learning how to play any lead parts like Gray and Jake.

  “Hey, Luke, I have something for you,” Mack said.

  Luke pushed from the counter and walked in to the main room of the hotel to join the band. Mack lifted a notebook from the guitar case and smiled.

  “What’s that?”

  “Your notebook. Figured you’d need it, right?”

  Luke half smiled. He took the notebook and opened it to a random page. He hadn’t expected to see his notebook until he was back on the tour bus.

  “Thanks,” Luke said.

  “Now we can keep working on that song,” Mack said. “Everyone remember it?”

  Gray started playing the song. Jake joined in, along with Trent, giving the song its full sound. Mack watched the way they played the chords and slowly tried joining in. Luke paged through the notebook trying to find the page he had been singing from. He considered just going back and forth and making up an excuse, but the song was really good and the lyrics in the notebook were really good too. Luke found the page and he started listening to words in his head as the song continued.

  He licked his lips and swallowed. He waited for the right time to enter the song and began to sing. The first few words sounded like hell, which they always did. The next few were better and by the end of what would be the first verse, Luke was into the song. His foot tapping on the floor, he found the rhythm of the song. The louder he sang, the better it sounded. He could feel his throat growing annoyed, his vocal chords stretching, wanting to protest, but the song was really good. Luke stayed with it until the song switched into what would be the chorus. There he stopped and nodded along, trying to find the words to the chorus. That was sometimes the hardest part. Luke had plenty in his notebook and had plenty in his mind to sing about, but it was all about finding the right words that would connect with the fans and stick in their minds.

  Luke waved until the song came to an end.

  “What’s wrong?” Mack asked.

  “I need a chorus,” Luke said. “That sounds really good. I like the verse and everything. I have enough here for two more. I just need… a chorus.”

  “Then find one,” Gray said.

  “Keep playing it then,” Luke said. “Let me see what happens.”

  Gray nodded and counted off a four count. They went back into the song, to the chorus, and played it over and over and over. Luke walked his way to the kitchen and stared into his notebook. A few minutes later, like pieces of a puzzle coming together, Luke managed to do it.

  He stopped everyone again.

  “I think I got it,” Luke said. “Let’s do a run through, okay? Intro, verse, chorus, break, verse, chorus, break, bridge, solo, verse, chorus, outro.”

  “Is that all?” Mack asked and laughed.

  “We need eleven more of these after this,” Luke said and smiled.

  It was a real smile, but definitely a nervous one.

  The song started again, Gray taking the lead with the same intro he played back on the bus. Right on cue as if they had been playing the song for twenty years, Jake knew just when to come in. Trent came next with his acoustic bass, the thick strings giving the deep tone and heart of the song. Mack added a few strums of his guitar as Luke prepared to start singing again.

  With one more breath, he jumped right into the song.

  It was smooth but had plenty of flaws. The lyrics were solid, but Luke needed to make some minor changes, which he could do in a studio. Some of the guitar parts needed tightening and there was a need for fills and riffs, but Gray and Jake could handle them after they record the song and play it back.

  During the guitar solo, Luke touched his neck and stretched. Gray improvised a solo that wasn’t bad at all. Luke saw the look on Gray’s face though, it wasn’t good enough.

  The song went into the last verse and the last set of choruses before ending with an outro. When it was done, Mack jumped up and held his guitar in the air.

  “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah.”

  “I like it,” Luke said. “I really like it.”

  “The only thing…,” Gray said. He put his guitar down.

  “What’s wrong?” Mack asked.

  “I don’t want this to be some sappy acoustic album though,” Gray said. “We’re built on sound, man. Loud guitars. Pounding drums. Lyrics that are catchy but have a deep meaning to the fans.”

  “We’ll get there,” Luke said. “Anything we write now we can always work on in the studio. We can jam at the next venue if you guys want. What the hell, right?”

  “I don’t want to lose our sound,” Gray said.

  Luke closed his notebook and tossed it toward the kitchen counter. He stepped up on the coffee table and looked around at the band.

  “We will never lose our sound,” Luke said. “I don’t care about contracts. About money. About touring even. I care about our music. Our
fans love us and our music. Keep it that way.”

  The band agreed and celebrated with a stiff drink. Luke jumped from the table to the floor. Mack lifted his guitar and started strumming some chords. Luke smiled as he recognized it as one of their hit songs.

  “Come on,” Mack said. “Let’s have a little show for ourselves.”

  That’s all the convincing Jake and Trent needed. They had a guitar and bass lifted, ready to go. Gray took another drink from the whiskey bottle and sat on the arm of the couch, his fingers already moving up the neck of the guitar, playing the lead riff to the song Mack still strummed. It was so good. Luke loved the sound and when it came time to sing, he thought about his voice. The bus tire blow out was supposed to be a benefit. Luke had planned on relaxing, calling his doctor, and looking for some remedies online. He had planned on doing nothing to strain his voice.

  Then came the chorus to the song. The fire and passion within Luke was too strong. He couldn’t help himself. He was born to be a rockstar. He was born to write music and share his emotions through songs.

  Luke closed his eyes and sang.

  There were three tables left in the restaurant and three women sitting at the bar enjoying tall glasses of wine. Uncle Tom walked the restaurant, casually cleaning up and organizing things how he wanted them. No matter who cleaned up and set the tables, there was always something that needed to be moved an inch. Uncle Tom never yelled about it and everyone in the restaurant learned to not take offense to it. It was very much understood that Uncle Tom needed to have his hands on everything, everyday.

  Amy surveyed the kitchen and inspected the food being covered and put away. She went into the office and took the order sheet off the desk and scanned it again. She had no reason to scan the order. Everything the restaurant needed was ordered. And if by some chance something had been forgotten then they could order again. Uncle Tom had such a good relationship with food and beverage vendors that they would do anything for him.

  The truth was that Amy knew that her shift was almost over. Some people count down with the clock to get the hell out of work. That was the part Amy hated most about her job. Each second that ticked down meant a second closer to leaving the restaurant and facing the real world that waited. One that included people like Denny. There was no way she could tell Uncle Tom anything about Denny. He was too old to handle a situation like Amy had herself in, not to mention what it implied for the restaurant. The restaurant was everything to Uncle Tom. Amy couldn’t mess with that.