“Crude, Sardis. You are just fucked up.” Kyle watched the trellis rows pan passed them, the breeze fluttering through the open window cooling enough that he did not have an urge to remove his jacket.
Sardis laughed. He cleared his throat, drawing up a wad of wet phloem and spitting it out the open window. “So what do you want to do until our gig starts? That fucker Elliot better show up on time tonight.”
Kyle said, “I’ve got twelve bucks. We can grab a burger.”
“Only if there’s beer.”
“You have money for beer?”
“You’ve got twelve more dollars than I do.” He glanced at the fuel gage. “Damn. We better put two dollars in this pig’s tank.”
Kyle pointed to the right, “A cheap station is down there. They sell hot dogs for a buck. If that winery pays us after the gig we can get beer.”
“We should ask them if we can get some complimentary wine. Maybe they could part with a case as a bonus. That’d last a few days.”
“Let’s ask. But only if the crowd likes our music.”
“We need cash. Elliot better be there. You should call his mom to make sure he’s not stoned out on the back porch again.”
Kyle grabbed his phone. He had bought it from someone for twenty bucks. Scratched up and banged about as if the previous owner dragged it behind his bicycle for a hundred miles. The screen had a long arc where it split but the anti-scratch film kept it together. “Hello, Elliot’s Mom. We need Elliot for a gig tonight at Amber Mountain Winery. Yes, that’s the one, it was in the papers a few months ago with all the sales from that Zack’s Blend they have. We are hoping that place is a big draw and we can sell some music. Can you make sure he is ready to go by five? –”
Sardis whispered as he turned their car into the gas station, “Good move. We don’t start until seven.”
“Yes, he’ll need a ride. It’s easy to find, just drive east on Rancho California Road. Thanks, Elliot’s Mom. Yes. See you then.” Kyle pressed the call end button.
“If Elliot couldn’t play so good I’d look for another bass player.”
“If we could pay more, then we’d have a guy close to his talent that’s punctual.”
Sardis said, “His mom is hot though. A real MILF – I didn’t believe I’d ever see one, but there she is.”
Kyle creaked open the car door, “She’s pretty, but … it’s Elliot’s mom. You know no shame.”
“If she knew how to play bass I’d have her in the band. She’d be fun on the road.”
Kyle rolled his eyes, “I’ll get the dogs. Two dollars is all the gas we can put in.”
“Load my dog up with mustard, cheese, onions – and chili if it’s free.”
“I’ll check.”
They sat in the shade of a tree looking over a vineyard that seemed to stretch in precise green rows from them all the way to the horizon.
Kyle said, “Nothing finer than gas station hot dogs.”
Sardis swallowed a chunk of the chili dog, “Don’t know what’s in ‘em nor how long they’ve been fondled under that counter-top roll heater –”
“Thanks for that image.”
Sardis shrugged. “At least we have gas station water.” He raised his plastic cup in salute.
“I don’t want to hear what you think the problem with the water is.” Kyle looked around the shade tree and along the quiet road. “Maybe we can sleep right here in the car tonight? Seems quiet.”
“We can put the drums under the tarp next to the car and then stretch out on the seats. Sure.”
Kyle dug out a bottle of mouthwash and a stick of deodorant.
“Those won’t help you land that chick.”
“I figured I better put some on because I can smell you. Here, take a little edge off with this.”
-:-:-:- -:-:-:-
Kyle and Sardis parked in the employee lot and walked across the winery grounds in the darkening light. The rough stone of the winery sat chunky and solid against the hill and glowed with energy from within. Guests floated through the warmly lit tasting room and across the tiled patio. They cupped goblets of wine like delicate crystals, scattering light that winked at the first emerging stars overhead.
Sardis said, “Looks busy already.”
“You nervous?” Kyle slung his guitar around and strummed it, checking the tuning. Then he picked up his case of effects pedals and motioned toward the building.
His drumsticks twirling in both hands, Sardis asked, “Are you doing any of that drop-D stuff tonight?”
“Elliot doesn’t like to change the tuning on his bass. I can play the chords fine, just a little easier if I did some dropping.”
“Call Elliot’s mom and see if he’s left yet.”
“He left already.”
“How do you know?”
“If he didn’t leave yet he will be late.”
“If we can’t field the whole band then they won’t pay us at the end of the gig.”
They circled around to the gift shop and pushed through the tall glass doors. People mingled three and four deep around the long curving bars. Everyone chatted, laughed, and clearly enjoyed the evening already. Kyle scanned behind the bar for Amanda. She was laughing at a customer’s joke while she finished pouring and returning his glass. In the space of a few steps, he watched her grab another bottle from a case under the bar, peel the metal foil capsule, remove the cork with a fancy bench top mounted lever, and pour another customer’s soon-to-be-favorite wine. Her deft and refined movements showed a dancer’s grace. He saw her hook her pinkie finger behind errant blond tresses lightened with highlights and latch them behind her ear. A diamond earring sparkled there and a matching one at the choker around her neck. She looked up and met his gaze. Kyle felt that if he did not look away her beautiful brown eyes could burn him to tinder as he stood. He needed to move.
Kyle pushed the oak door aside and kicked a wedge of wood on the ground under it as if he owned the winery. Sardis did the same on the other side. They walked between the reflecting pools to their equipment.
“Hey, guys.”
“Elliot!” Sardis said, surprised. “I thought we’d have to call your mom again.”
“I’m sorry. I’m a little late.”
Sardis lied, “Elliot, we were running late too – your timing is perfect.”
“I’ve been here for twenty minutes.”
Kyle laughed, “Elliot, we worried you’d be your usual minimum forty minutes late so we told you an hour earlier than scheduled.”
“That’s not right.”
“But you didn’t get here an hour early, did you?”
“No. I guess it worked. I know this gig is important for you two. It’s important for me too. I need rent money so I can get out of the house. My mom is killing me about finding a real job. What kind of jobs pay out there to play bass? Only this, sometimes.”
Kyle said, “Let’s get plugged in and ready.” Kyle flipped out his sunglasses and stroked the tight bows against the side of his head putting them on. He plugged his guitar into his pedal board and looked over his shoulder for Sardis. All their gear gleamed crimson and black, that he had painted himself so their random junk matched. Elliot waited for his nod, already plugged in. “We’ll start with Hot Dreams and then go through Fire, Fence Post, Mountain, and –”
Sardis interrupted, “What about New Adult?”
“You sure you want to give these people that hammering drum solo? It’s long. Fine if we are playing an arena and people paid for a three hour show …”
“I like it because it’s long. Any of these guests could be from Hollywood and looking for a drummer.”
Elliot scratched his week old beard stubble that had gone from possible sexy; if many girls fell for his pudgy face; to unglamorous scruff, “Dude, we’re a band. I’d like to do Wild because I love my ten minutes of wicked bass slapping –”
Kyle said, “No. We need to play the tunes that get people dancing and tapping their toes.” Kyle surveyed the mi
ngling crowd talking and laughing. He would interrupt all that comparative quiet in a few minutes. Then he noticed something on the ground to the side of their little stage, “Sardis, what’s that hat for?”
“Tips. Maybe we make a few extra bucks or change for a coffee.”
Kyle said, “This is a paid gig. Put that away, maybe on your head so your receding hairline doesn’t blind people in the lights –”
Sardis coiled the pork-pie hat along his arm and bumped it up to his head like some Vaudeville act. “How about this?” He cocked the brim to the side. “Like some sort of gangster?”
Elliot said, “We should get pirate hats sometime, to go with our band name.”
“Until we get cash, we can’t.”
“After Mountain I’ll put up the name of the next songs … Ready? Hot Dreams in a three, two, one –”
Sardis tapped on a cymbal in rising waves while Kyle’s guitar shrieked a single harmonic note across the patio. The piercing note rippled across the vineyards behind them and washed forward into the building. Then Sardis stomped the bass drum pedal where Elliot came in and both of them were chased into the tasting room by Kyle’s chord progression that made a wall of sound that crested like an army blitz. The volume of the instruments dropped to a lower volume and Kyle’s voice rolled out over the pounding beat. Kyle liked this song because the start came like an alarm clock to wake the crowd and then show them the soothing side of their most articulate playing and smoothest vocals. Later, as the song swelled to its climax, there would be new blitzes of crescendos and squealing notes plucking at their minds.
Already the crowd poured out to the patio to hear the band that startled them into motion. Kyle smiled and launched into his next riff. His old mentor voiced in his head, seize the audience early, and never give them a chance to breathe. Write your songs so simple and engaging they cannot help themselves tapping and dancing. Kyle forgot all his troubles when he stood playing his guitar behind a microphone. When you cut your profession close to your strengths you’ll never feel like it’s work. Talents cannot be bottled up; they give your soul more peace than any other thing on this earth.
Kyle looked through the winery plate glass at the illuminated interior and saw Amanda leaning on the bar, watching, and listening to them. Her face held a small smile as if she enjoyed his song. His mind skipped into the same voice of his mentor, but it was Kyle’s own idea: Talents are probably only second to a hot chick that is into you. What would he trade to have her?
He watched the winery personnel push out a massively carved, wheeled bar onto the patio, fold it open, and lock it in place. Amanda moved to the patio bar. Winery guests found chairs, refilled their wine, and watched the band play. When the last note of Mountain faded from the amplifiers, Kyle toed the kill switch for everything except his microphone, “We’re going to take five. Is everyone having a great time?” The clapping and whistles threw their own wall back at Kyle. He turned to Sardis and Elliot after the clapping subsided. “I’m going to talk with Amanda for a quick minute. Maybe you want an appetizer. See if someone in the kitchen will supply us?”
Elliot said, “Yeah, that’s an excellent suggestion, dude.” He slipped his guitar strap over his shaved head that gleamed like a white pumpkin. “I’ll go ask. I am famished. That fatty of mine earlier is catching up now. Would you two like something too?”
Sardis nodded, then he said to Kyle, “I thought we agreed she was mine to talk to?”
Kyle waved his hand, “I didn’t agree to anything like that.”
“She’s been looking at me the whole time we played.”
“Probably all your tattoos freak her out so much she watched you to make sure you didn’t do something crazy.”
“I don’t hide my tattoos like you do. I share my artwork with the world. Just like this music we make.” Sardis pushed back his already sweaty hat.
“Sure, Sardis.” Kyle hung his jacket on the microphone and walked over to Amanda. He had not thought that when the music stopped Amanda would be so busy – he realized he should have guessed better.
“Can I get a water?” he asked Amanda’s back. She poured a pair of wines to an elderly woman that looked like an old movie star. Great thing about the Temecula Valley wineries was they are only an hour outside of Los Angeles. Kyle hoped word would get around the Valley eventually and someone in the music business would hear them. He should also figure out the Internet thing and publish their own music and music videos. He would need money for that though.
Amanda spun around and said, “That is awesome music. Is it all yours?”
Kyle marveled at her perfect smile. “Yes. I write the lyrics and the main riffs but Sardis and Elliot add their own magic.” He took the goblet full of ice water from Amanda. “Besides working here, what else are you doing? School?”
“I’m working here, doing some nanny-type of work, and applying to local colleges.”
“What major?”
“I’d really like engineering. Probably electrical circuit design. But I have to finish all these per-requisites and it’s cheaper through the community college so I’m doing that.”
“Are you experienced, like with circuits?”
“You know I could take that inappropriately.”
“Sorry,” his hand rubbed the bar. “I meant do you do any electrical circuits as a hobby?”
“No, I just see it in all these products, like this phone,” she pulled her phone out of her pocket. Kyle recognized the sleek Android model.
“That's cool. You’d laugh at my phone.”
“What kind of phone?” She rustled a few glasses around the bar.
Kyle pulled it out. “It’s a rugged model from the stone age I bought off some guy. I think he upgraded to your phone.”
“Ooh, that is an old phone. I’ll let it go for now because you are such a great singer and guitar player.”
“You like this kind of music?”
“It’s the style I listen to all the time. Bluesy Rock. A little metal. Great stuff. I get tired of all those auto-tune mixes – it is overdone. How do you get that great tone out of your guitar?”
“It’s in these fingers.” He wiggled them around.
Amanda smiled, “I’ll bet you think that.” She twirled a bottle opener in her hand. “How about you? What are you working on?”
“This band right now. I'm hoping to get something started with our music.”
“Any backup plan?” Amanda toyed with him.
Kyle pulled his sunglasses off, a smile creeping across his face, “You haven't heard the rest of our songs, and you think I need a backup plan?” Her feet moved on the floor in her heels, Kyle wondered what the parts of her he could not see revealed when she moved like that. She already leaned forward and he made sure he kept his eyes up. God is she hot.
Amanda lifted her chin and surveyed him down her smooth nose, “I can name that song in a few notes. You probably lead with your best stuff first? It's a tough business.”
Kyle asked, “Can you sing? Or play instruments?”
“Me? Not many instruments anyway.” Her lips wrinkled suppressing a smile. “I can't sing except in the shower.”
“Perfect! You can sing with us, I have a magic tone pedal that mimics the reverb in a proper shower.” Amanda’s eyebrows lifted and Kyle saw her body go rigid for a moment. “I’m just kidding. Perhaps another night?”
“I’d be frightened of being on stage and no one will want to hear me sing.”
He leaned closer to her, “I want to hear you sing in the shower. Any day, any time. But I must get back to entertaining.”
“Oh! And is that what you call it?”
“Thanks for the water.” Kyle pushed back from the bar and saluted, laughing as he strolled back to the microphone and his guitar.
Kyle gripped the microphone and signaled to Elliot, mouthing their next song Riptide. Elliot banged his head with each strum of the dark chords that seethed across the crowd. Heavy and monstrous footsteps like a my
thic creature slopping out of the sea in vengeance for a long ago defeat it would rectify. Kyle sang of the heroes falling before it with their mighty swords, their legendary sharpness and strength faltering before the swirling high notes from Kyle’s guitar and the growling bass. Sardis brought in rapid drums at first like machine guns and then the crack of heavy tank mortars that slammed the audience in explosive fury. The monster swayed and tumbled before Kyle’s shred of rapid tapping notes.
Kyle glanced at the bar. He saw Amanda leaning against the wall of the building, unmoving and locked in the music. He winked and smiled at her.
Kyle walked freely across the stage, as comfortable as if it were his living room and playing to close friends he had known since he was a child. He lightened up the pace with their next song that brought half of the guests to dance on the patio. The winery staff set up additional strobes and spinning lights that reflected in the pools and made a good stage fantastic. Kyle waved to bring others out to dance, “Don’t be afraid to join in! Yes! You over there and there and there. Yes you! D-a-n-c-e.”
Kyle smiled with the crowd. A frequent trick they played on the dancers. Their next five songs rolled continuously from the end of one to the beginning of the next without a break in the beat. They trapped the dancers in a long marathon. He signaled to Sardis and Elliot to roll forward with his lead.
“How does everyone feel? Need a break yet?” He motioned, “I can’t hear you? No? Boys, we got another three song run starting right … Now!”
By the third song, Kyle saw many of the dancers had fallen to the chairs so he skipped a long guitar solo and signaled to wrap it up. He faded their amps down and touched them quiet.
Kyle sauntered over to talk with Amanda, once the surge for drinks thinned. “Another water plus I’d like to sample your best wine.”
Amanda leaned close to Kyle, “I don’t think I can give you our best wine.”
“And why is that?”
“At least not until you explain your band’s name.”
“Just like it’s spelled: Vampire Pirates.”
Crushing (The Southern California Wine Country Series) Page 3
