When Retro and Licks realized he’d moved, they too, stared at me. I couldn’t keep the wince off my face. Lars noticed it and took a step back.
Retro stood in one fluid move. I watched all of them, waiting to see who’d lose their shit first. It remained silent, except for the sound of the diesel engine as it powered us down the road.
Lars looked at each of the guys in the eye, holding their gaze as if they silently communicated their thoughts. His eyes skipped over to mine, burning into me. “None of us heard that. Are we clear? You didn’t play it, and we never heard it.”
The guys nodded in agreement, and I felt my stomach roll.
Lars stepped past us and disappeared down the hallway without further explanation. My shoulders slumped, and I slid my case around to set my guitar inside. I’d done enough damage for the moment.
“Hold up, Jared.” Licks lifted his guitar back on his lap and turned enough to face me.
No matter how bad I wanted to crawl off and lick my wounds, I owed it to Licks to hear him out. He, at least, hadn’t walked off. And what the hell was that about anyway? Why would Lars say that? Obviously, I’d played it. And even more obvious, they’d heard it. It had affected them, yet there were no words to say either way how they felt.
“Licks, I… I don’t even know what to say right now. It wasn’t my intention to piss you guys off, or change your songs. I…”
“Chill, Jared. Nobody’s mad. For real, bro. You just took us by surprise is all,” Retro said, leaning back against the Formica countertop. The bob and sway of the tour bus didn’t seem to affect him at all as he spread his feet and crossed his arms. “Just do yourself, and us, a favor. Stick as close to the material as you can. Believe me when I say this—if Woody hears that, what you didn’t just do… you don’t want that sort of attention from him. Okay?”
I nodded my head in agreement, even though hundreds of questions ricocheted inside my head. There’d be time to learn the hows and whys when they let me a little further into their circle. It was clear they stepped around Woody for a reason. My conversation with Ace came back to me. I’d keep my ears open, and my options too. If this didn’t pan out, I’d have some hard decisions to make.
“How exactly do you practice on a bus?” I steered the conversation in a different direction.
Licks snorted beside me. “It’s a cluster-fuck, that’s for sure.”
Retro motioned for me to stand up. I moved out of his way, taking a step back to look where he bent down and slid a panel open under the couch, revealing a jack and small speaker. “There are two jacks here, and then one here.” He stepped back and reached inside the hallway. “This is where I plug in.”
It made sense now, how he could stand so still with the motion of the bus. He’d had a lot of practice.
“So, where’s your electric?” Licks asked.
“At the store?” I chewed the inside of my lip, waiting for them to understand that I hadn’t brought it with me. I’d thought about it, but I decided against it, since it really needed to be replaced. I’d bought it secondhand, and it hadn’t ‘fit’ me. Which sounds odd, but it really isn’t. It was stiff, unyielding to what I wanted it to do. I figured once I landed in L.A., I’d be able to check out some music stores and find the one that did ‘fit’. Besides, I had my twelve-string, Stella. Stella and I, we made beautiful music together, and she was the only girl who truly had my heart. Yes, I named my guitar. No, it wasn’t weird.
“Jared…you can play an electric, right?” Licks ran his hand over his face with a groan.
I felt my face pull tight into a confused sort of scowl. “Of course I can. I just didn’t bring the one I had. It’s hard to explain, but I just can’t…” My hands opened and closed, fingers mimicking cords. I shrugged and dropped my hands. “I don’t know how to explain it.”
Licks nodded in understanding. “It’s an artist thing. I totally got ya. I have like three in the back of the bus. They do absolutely nothing for me. Hang on.” He handed his guitar off to Retro and walked down the hall. He reappeared seconds later, motioning for me to put my twelve-string away.
Snapping the latches closed, I slid the case onto the bench seat of the dinette. Licks handed me an ivory white, Gibson Les Paul, and I all but drooled as I held it up, devouring it with my eyes. Licks slapped me on the shoulder, and then handed me the end of the cable. I jacked it into the guitar, and the speaker under the seat came to life, hissing and popping. Licks adjusted the volume, and then gave me the signal to strum.
“Give it hell, Jared.”
I slid the guitar strap over my head and sat down. The cords flowed out of the speaker as I got a feel for the guitar. It only took a minute to settle in and become one with it. An extension of myself. A goofy smile crept over my face. I could feel it, stretching and pulling as I made nonsense cord runs. I paused, looking over at Licks.
“It’s like she’s made for you.” He shook his head with a lopsided grin and then bent over, slid the panel open, and jacked in his guitar. “Now, let’s run through some songs so you get a full feel for her.”
MY HANDS STILLED OVER THE strings as we finished the last song. Retro had joined in, and we jammed for over an hour. Lars had eventually come back. He slid into the same seat he’d vacated earlier, rapping the beat against the table, and air drummed the rest. I reached down, unplugged the guitar, and wound the cable up. “That… was awesome.”
Licks held out his hand for the cable. “One thing’s for sure, that guitar was made for you.”
“Yeah, I’m gonna see if I can find one in Shreveport once we get there.” I held the guitar out and looked it over again. I wanted it. Bad.
Licks snorted. “The likeliness you’ll find that guitar is a shot in the dark. And you’re gonna need one, like yesterday.”
I forced myself to hold the guitar out to Licks. He waved me away. “Just keep it for now. We can work something out.” Licks didn’t give me a chance to reply when he left to put his guitar and the cables up.
Retro, bass still slung over his neck, walked over and put his fist out. I bumped mine into his. “That was pretty freakin’ cool. At least Woody was right about one thing, you got skills, bro. Welcome to the band.”
Happiness bubbled up inside of me, spreading out along my face. “Thanks, bro.”
“Grab your twelve and follow me. I’ll give you the grand tour,” Retro said, nodding to Stella’s case on the floor.
I adjusted the strap so that the Les Paul rode across my back, picked up Stella, and followed Retro as he stepped into the hallway, leading to the back of the bus.
“The bus doesn’t look like much on the outside, but we’ve made some upgrades.” Retro stopped beside two closed doors. “Bathrooms are here,” he said, pointing his fingers left to right. “With four guys, and sometimes Murphy, we pretty much demanded a second one. Both have showers. Just don’t fuck up Murphy’s, or you’ll see the wrath of unholiness unleashed.”
“Wait, who’s Murphy?” I’d not once heard that name associated with the band before.
Retro snorted with a shake of his head. “Murphy does the books for Woody, takes care of us, and bails our asses out from time to time.”
“You mean jail?” I couldn’t help but wonder if that sort of thing happened a lot.
I bumped into Retro when he stopped short and turned to face me. “Where are you from, Jared?”
I felt my eyebrows pinch together, questioning why Retro would ask me that question out of the blue. “Alabama…”
“Okay, listen, Bama 'cause I’ll only tell you this once. Us, the other guys and me, we take what we do seriously. We’re not one of those bands who decide that coke, or whatever else bullshit is out there, is better than our music. You start on sniffing shit, or shooting shit, you’re outta here. Got it?”
I put my hands up in defense. “You don’t have to worry about that with me. I’m here to play. Nothing else.”
Retro’s face split into a wide grin that took over most of h
is face. “I’m fuckin’ with you, Jared. I don’t give a shit what you do, as long as you do it on your time and not the band’s. A’ight, Bama?”
I dipped my head and clutched the handle of Stella’s case until my knuckles hurt. A sudden pang of homesickness rolled through me. Bama, he called me Bama, and it made me miss my friends with an intensity that stole my ability to speak. I was truly on my own in a world much bigger than I’d imagined it would be.
Retro, completely oblivious to the tidal wave of emotion rolling though me, continued as we passed by bunks on each side of the narrow walkway. “Bunks. Top left is Licks; bottom left is me. Top right is you, and bottom right is Lars. Whatever you do, don’t sleep on it yet. Not until Murphy comes up with something new for you.”
His comment made my skin crawl. What the hell had Kit James done up there? I shuddered, pushing away the images that flashed through my head. No. Just no. “Do you at least have extra sheets until then?” I wouldn’t be sleeping on that mattress otherwise.
“Sheets? Hell no, I’d burn that fucker before I slept on it. I don’t think flipping it would do you any good either. Take the couch for now.” Retro gave the top bunk a look of revulsion. “Dude was a damn mess. Helluva rocker though.”
We moved past the bunks to another short hallway. Each side was lined with a closet and drawers, top and bottom. “Same rules here. Yours is top right, although… where’s your bag?”
I pointed at the floor. “Stowed away.”
Retro shook his head. “We’ll get it when the bus stops. These new drivers Woody’s been hiring don’t have a clue as to what we need on the long hauls. Of course, they only do small stretches before another one takes over. Doesn’t make much sense, but Woody thinks it’s cheaper that way.” He shrugged and kept moving into a small living room.
A couch stretched across the entire right side, wrapping around to an open doorway at the back of the bus. In front of the couch was a small, square table bolted to the floor. The corners were chipped; the surface bubbled and warped with rings from neglected use. Along the top of the couch, mounted snug to the ceiling, were cabinets for what I assumed was extra storage. Above my head was a domed skylight, yellowed with age. The off chance of any sunlight getting through it seemed next to impossible. Lights were mounted in each corner, facing the center of the room. Midway down the wall was the switch to turn them on. A flat-screen TV was mounted on the left wall. Beside the TV was a small cubby area with movies, a gaming console, and a radio.
Lars walked through the open doorway at the back and sat on the couch. Propping his feet on the table in front of him, his hand fished between the cushions and pulled out a remote.
The TV turned on with the sound of static hissing through a set of surround-sound speakers I hadn’t noticed mounted in various spots of the room.
“We stow our gear back here,” Retro said, bringing my attention back to him.
THE ENTIRE BACK WALL OF the bus was lined with wire-mesh shelving. Retro lifted his case over the raised lip and set it on the floor, as Licks pointed to three empty shelves. “Those are yours.”
I stowed Stella as Licks asked Retro, “Did Murphy say where we’re stopping at?”
“Dunno… my guess would be right when we get into Arizona. If not, we’ll be outta gas and pushing this bitch.” Retro spoke over his shoulder, walking the short distance to the doorway.
The bus swayed underneath my feet.
“She doesn’t like it when you talk shit about her,” Licks said as he grabbed the shelving to keep from losing his footing.
“Ah, bro, she knows I say it with love.” Retro shook his head with a soundless laugh when the road heaved up, jostling us again. “See, she says I’m okay. She only tolerates the rest of you fuckers.”
Retro disappeared into the living room while Licks and I waited for the road to smooth out.
“So, what do you think, Jared? Is living on the road all it was cracked up to be?” Licks asked as he steadied himself. He looked a little pale, as if the motion was getting to him.
“Can’t really say right now since this is my first time.” I hadn’t really put a lot of thought into the fact we were walking around on a moving bus. Feeling it shudder and heave as it shook us around like dice in a cup made me a little queasy.
Thinking about it only made it worse, so I decided to change the subject. I had a lot of questions. Maybe Licks would be willing to answer them. It might even help him take his mind off of the motion of the road. “Who is Murphy?”
“Murphy?”
He looked confused as to why I’d asked him that. “Retro said that Murphy does stuff for you.”
His face pinched into a scowl. “Murphy is off-limits to all of us. Retro knows that. You better know it too.” He pushed himself off the shelf and went to leave.
“Hold up. I’m confused. Retro said that I’d need to get with Murphy about replacing the mattress in my bunk, and that Murphy also ‘bails’ you guys out. I was just curious who Murphy is, because I’ve never met him before—never even heard of him until Retro mentioned him.”
Licks busted out laughing, and the more my confusion swept over my face, the harder he laughed.
“What’s so funny?”
Licks got his laughter under control and took a couple of deep breaths. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have jumped your ass about Murphy. I thought you knew. I really thought you knew exactly who Murphy is. I mean, shit… Murphy, she’s the one who picked you up from the airport.”
“Her name is Murphy? Woody’s niece is Murphy?” My confusion sent Licks into another round of laughing. I crossed my arms against my chest and gave Licks a dirty look. “How the hell was I supposed to know that?”
Licks spread his hand out on his chest as he tried to stop laughing. It really wasn’t all that funny. “Sorry, Jared… it’s just Murphy… I can almost see it now, with her being so pleasant and all. I bet she never even introduced herself, did she?”
“No, she didn’t. I got the cold shoulder and a silent fuck you.”
Licks pushed himself off the shelves and clamped his hand on my shoulder. “That’s our Murphy. Pleasantly rude.”
He didn’t expand on it and, really, I didn’t want to know anymore. Murphy had pretty much told me off. What more was there to say?
Licks gestured for me to go ahead of him. “Come on, I need to sit down before I throw up.”
I stumbled into the living room, continuing through the bus to get my book bag. When I made it back to the living room, the surround-sound speakers were rocking with the thundering boom of an explosion. The guys had settled in on the couch to watch a movie. They’d left a spot open for me, so I kicked my shoes off and fell onto the cushions when the bus hit a dip in the road.
From the corner of my eye, I saw a blur of white, and then felt a pillow smack into my head. I snatched it before it fell to the floor, tucking it beside me, and hauled my book bag into my lap to get my phone. No calls and no texts—did the others not even miss me? I thought sure as anything I’d at least get a text from Riley. But there was nothing, and it sort of hurt.
I tossed my phone back in my bag and made myself as comfortable as I could on the couch. Before I knew it, the sway of the road and the background noise of the TV had me out like a light.
I WOKE UP TO ACE squirting me in the face with water. He always did stupid shit like that. None of it ever worked. He should know better. Blindly, I searched for my comforter to pull it over my head, but when all I grabbed was open air, my mind woke up, and I realized that whoever was dousing me with water wasn’t Ace, because he wasn’t here. I was on a bus, going on tour with a whole new set of friends.
“Damn, he’s still out. Do it again, Licks!” Retro called out from somewhere across the room. He didn’t know I’d woken up. He didn’t know my confusion in thinking one of my best friends was here with me, when he really wasn’t. I sighed, throwing my arm over my eyes. I just needed another minute or two to fully wake up.
“Ah, see,
it worked. He’s not dead, so you can quite worrying now, Mother Retro. Ouch!” Flesh hit flesh and I peeled my arm back to squint over to where the noise came from. Licks rubbed at his arm, shooting Retro the middle finger. I couldn’t help but laugh at them. It was something the Six would have done. A surge of homesickness tried to rear its ugly head, and I shoved it back with a hard mental kick, locking it down. It wouldn’t do me any good to keep looking back on the past, feeling sick over what once was. I had new memories to make.
Licks rubbed at his arm. “What the fuck man, you charley-horsed my damn arm!”
Retro bounced around on his feet with his fists up as if he were ready to box. “Come on, candy-ass. We’ll go for round two.”
Licks hand stilled. Before I could blink, he was bobbing and weaving as if challenging Retro. “I got your candy-ass, bitch. Now, try to hit a moving target.” His hand shot out, clipping Retro’s arm.
“Ow, fuck, shit… that hurt!” Retro darted out of Licks way when his fist jabbed out again.
“Three years of boxing, Retro. You don’t wanna mess with me.” Licks jabbed the air in front of him as Retro kept moving to avoid being hit.
What Licks didn’t see, but Retro and I did, was Lars. He hooked his arms around Licks and pinned him to the floor.
“Wrestling, all-state championship, two years in row. Now what, hot shot?” Lars asked as he leaned more of his weight on Licks.
Retro doubled over, laughing at the sight of Licks pinned to the floor. I shot off the couch, scrambling over. Sliding to a stop on my knees, I slapped the warn carpet “One! Two! Three…”
No matter how hard Licks tried wriggling his way out of the hold Lars had on him, he couldn’t.
The floor underneath us heaved, sending us tumbling in a heap of limbs.
THE BUS ROLLED TO A stop a few hours later at a rural gas station. The guys and I had fallen into a silent lull, each doing our own thing to pass the time. I popped my earbuds in and kicked my feet up on the table in front of me, wondering how soon it would be before I went completely stir crazy.
End Note Page 3
