Second Chances

by Leigh Morgan

  “You got a minute?” He asked her, wanting to run what he had so far past her.

  “Of course.” Came her quick reply.

  When she wasn’t talking to herself, or mad as hell, she was so proper. You could teach the professor about rock-n-roll but in the end she’d never be a ‘head-banger’, and that was fine with him.

  As much as Ram enjoyed kicking out the jams, once in awhile he was looking for more depth and range in his music. He wanted to expand as an artist and that meant going back to the music he knew as a kid and transforming it into something new. Something he could grow with, expand upon and morph with his own punky-blues sound.

  “Grab a chair Rhia. Listen to this and tell me what you think. What can I add? Should I slow it down? Speed it up? I’m looking for what it makes you feel deep down.” Ram didn’t know if she’d be able to add anything helpful, but it was nice to be able to bounce ideas off her. He was stuck and Rí had a fresh way of looking at things, it couldn’t hurt to get her opinion.

  He played what he’d been working on. Of course it would sound better with Cowboy’s bass and maybe a drum solo. Hell, he didn’t know exactly what to add.

  Ram started to improvise, and his mother’s fiddle seemed to have a mind of it’s own. Fast, smoking riffs and slower more haunting sounds came to him with equal ease. He’d missed playing for the sheer joy of hearing the sounds he could create.

  When Ram finished, he opened his eyes and looked at Rhia. The look of awe on her face as she looked at him for what seemed an eternity without saying a word, was more than he could take. He had no idea how long she would have sat there just eating him with her eyes, but he needed to know what she was thinking. Try as he might, he couldn’t read it in her expression.

  “Well? Say something, sweetheart. What do you think?” Did he sound as anxious as he felt? Lord, he hoped not. Ram wanted her approval and her support. His agent thought he was nuts to branch out when he was making money hand over fist doing what he’d always done. His label wasn’t sure they’d promote his solo stuff, which meant he’d be shopping his new sound around.

  Rhia grew more serious and turned her head to the side like she always did when she had something important on her mind. Ram held his breath. Few people not in the music business could listen to a solo and interpret how it would sound with various layers of sound added. Ah, well, he had asked. The least he could do was listen to her response.

  “Have you thought about adding a bodhran, or a tin whistle? I know it’s more traditional than you were probably looking for, but if you added a sax or a trumpet it may jazz it up a bit.”

  He stared at her until she started to squirm.

  “It was just an idea. I really don’t know much about this Ram. I only know what I like.”

  She’d just hit him in the solar plexus. He started to pace, thinking out loud. “Sax...it’s brilliant...something throaty...I don’t know about trumpet, but it may work. Where the hell am I going to find a bodhran player? Tin whistle? I like that, or harmonica maybe. I can play, but not at the same time I’m jamming on the fiddle.”

  “Um...Ram?” her voice pulled him out of his musing. He was testing various sounds in his head. He wanted pure sounds for this track, not a lot of amplification or synthesized sound.

  “Yea? What is it, Rí?” He asked absently, anxious to get back to it now that he had a plan, a direction.

  “Well, every summer, when they were younger, I sent Hunter and Ethan to Irish Fest Camp. I know they’re not up to the level you would want, but they may be able to help as you write.”

  “Help me write? What are you talking about?” He was only listening to her with half an ear anyway, he was busy playing versions in his head.

  “Hunter plays tin whistle. She’s been playing since she was eight, and Ethan plays bodhran. They both play sax. Hunter knows some keyboards. She taught herself that, but she sounds good to me. She can fiddle around with the trumpet too, but she always sounds like a goose to me. You may want to stay away from that.”

  “Your kids play? Why didn’t you tell me that before?” Ram asked, surprised and excited.

  “It didn’t come up.” Rhia hadn’t thought about it until she’d heard Ram play the violin. He was wonderful, so full of life and joy. She always loved to watch the fiddle players at Irish Fest, they always seemed to have the most fun on stage.

  “Where are their instruments?” Ram asked, grabbing Rhia’s hand pulling her out of the room. “When was the last time they played? Do they get into it? I mean is it a passion, or just something they did because you signed them up for classes?” He asked, rapid firing questions at her.

  They both stopped dead in their tracks when they passed the living room. Hunter and Becca were there sitting on the piano bench. Becca’s hands were flying rapidly over the keys playing what Rhia recognized as Beethoven’s ‘Fur Elise’. Even on a piano that was slightly out of tune, Rhia had no doubt Becca was a consummate player.

  Ram stood deadly still and just listened. “No...Fucking... Way.” He whispered in total disbelief.

  Ethan walked by, breaking the spell. “Hey guys what’s up?” He asked as he walked into the living room eating a bowl of ice cream. Rhia would chastise him later for eating ice cream before noon, right now she was too sidetracked absorbing all the energy Ram was radiating.

  Ram took his wallet out of his pocket and handed Rhia a handful of one-hundred dollar bills. He raked a hand through his hair in a gesture she was beginning to associate with excitement or extreme frustration. She wasn’t sure which one best described his current mood.

  “Ethan, I want you to go with your mom. I need some recording equipment, nothing too fancy, just something good. You need to swing by the house in Washington Heights and get every instrument you and Hunter own. I don’t care how old or beat up they are, just bring them, even a kazoo. And, get back as soon as you can.”

  Ram paused just long enough to plant a quick kiss on Rhia’s mouth before ushering her and Ethan toward the front door.

  Rhia heard him as he pulled a sputtering Becca toward the study. “As long as you’re here, you can earn your keep. Maybe you aren’t so useless after all. Come on Hunter. Get the lead out girl.”

  Rhia shook her head. “Let’s go big man. The star has spoken, although he’s obviously lost his mind.”

  Ethan just grinned down at her.

  Life with the Macleod’s had just gotten a little more interesting.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Ben Stark didn’t know where to look. Becca had fallen off the map. She’d cancelled all her shoots and simply disappeared. No one knew where she was, not even her agent.

  He’d purposefully ignored her for the first week. He hadn’t driven by her apartment, he hadn’t called. He’d left her alone to stew or grow up or do whatever it was she did when she wasn’t working.

  By the time he started looking she was gone. He found out she hadn’t worked since the day he walked away from her in the restaurant. No one had seen her and now she was gone.

  What the hell was he going to do now?

  ...

  Thirty days and fourteen tracks later Ram had his solo album completed. Cowboy and one of his friends flew in and stayed for the month it took to write, record and polish. Bet, Cowboy’s friend, rocked on the sax adding a blues tone to some of the songs. Rhia was right, Hunter was at best ‘squeaky’ on the sax, but she had a sensuously low alto voice that mixed with his rumbling voice perfectly.

  She also did fantastically on the tin whistle, which they used on most of the songs. Hunter and Ethan played on almost every track and Ram couldn’t have done better artistically with professional talent, it just wouldn’t have had the same blue-collar feel that together they’d managed to create.

  The biggest surprise however was Becca. She played like an angel one minute and wasn’t afraid to mix it up and break all the rules the next. She had a great voice too, higher than Hunter’s. The two of them created harmony on the background
vocals that added a dimension he hadn’t experienced with Purple Orchid.

  Becca shocked them all when she announced that she bought out the contracts she had for photo shoots. She still had one to do for Chanel but she’d maneuvered the rest so she could tour with Ram. She was flying out to do an ad for a mobile phone company that she said would take two days. Two-hundred thousand for two day’s work and she didn’t have to do it in her underwear.

  Becca was more, well, human now, and Ram liked her better than he did when they were together. She gave one hundred percent to the music and she was damn good.

  The only member of the family who wasn’t on the tracks he recorded was Rhia. The woman couldn’t carry a tune to save her life. Ram tried giving her castanets, she couldn’t keep time. He tried having her hit the xylophone, she couldn’t hit the right keys. Cowboy gave her his harmonica and she’d just about pierced their ear drums with the squeal she made. Cowboy just smiled at her saying he’d never heard that particular tone coaxed from a harmonica before. The man was in love and even Rhia’s complete lack of musical talent couldn’t snap Cowboy out of it.

  Ram banned her from his make-shift studio after the harmonica debacle. That lasted half a day. Ram just didn’t play as well when she wasn’t there smiling, or more times than not, scowling at him. She’d started calling him ‘herr rock star’ when she thought he was being tyrannical, which he had to admit he was at least once a day when he was working. Rhia kept him in line.

  She sat with her sketch book and drew them as they worked. She captured her children in motion perfectly. Ram thought Rhia still wore blinders when it came to the rest of the world though. She made Becca more beautiful than she was, although Ram had to admit since Becca lost the stick up her butt she really was more attractive.

  Rhia missed half of Cowboy’s wrinkles, and when she wasn’t penning him with an impossibly dark scowl, she managed to make Ram look like a ad for men’s cologne: smoky, sexy and taller than he was. Ram shook his head as he paged through Rhia’s latest sketch book. She just ignored reality when she drew him larger than life and twice as compelling. He liked the way she saw him and he fervently hoped she never stopped seeing him as better than he knew he was.

  He was going to have the one she did of him sitting, playing his Gibson with Hunter standing on one side and Ethan on the other blown up matted and framed. All three of them looked so happy, and that Rhia had captured perfectly.

  Yea, Ram mused, Life was just about perfect.

  Then the door bell rang.

  ...

  Ben Stark pushed right past him.

  “God man, you look like crap.” Ram observed.

  “Yea well, I feel like crap. I met a process server at the front gate. He’s looking for you, and he’s got two buddies to spell him so you’ll probably save yourself time if you just go to the gate.” Ben ran a hand through his already mussed hair.

  Ram quirked a brow. Apparently Ben hadn’t found time to shower or get his ritual three week haircut. “What are you talking about?” He asked. “Why would a process server want me?”

  Ben turned and just looked at Ram. This wasn’t the first time Ram had the recipient of that particular look. It didn’t take long before the light dawned and Ram knew he was in deep shit.

  “Again?”

  “Apparently. What else could it be?”

  “How the hell did they find me? And why now? Fuck. Rhia’s never going to understand this.” Ram hit the door, before he opened it and started down the driveway barefoot.

  How in the hell had this happened again. He thought he’d left all that behind him. Especially now. He was married for Christ’s-sake, a condition he’d like to have continued. This wasn’t going to help.

  Ram didn’t see the photographer parked down the street, but he did see the obviously pregnant bleach blond walking toward him carrying a suitcase.

  What the hell is going on?

  Ram stopped the woman just inside the gate by putting a hand on her arm. “May I help you?” His question was polite, his tone wasn’t.

  “You must be Ram. I saw you play once. Didn’t really like it.” She shrugged dropping her case. “To each his own I guess. Would you mind taking that in? The drive is longer than I thought and my bag is getting heavier by the second.”

  Not waiting for a response she headed toward his house. Ram left the bag where it was and went to the gate. Sure enough there was the guy, manila envelope in hand. Ram didn’t even give him a chance to speak.

  “Just give me the damned thing and go away. I am Ramsey Macleod. You’ve got the right guy. You’ve done your job. But, I swear if you say anything, anything at all, I will bust your chops and then you can come back and serve me again with paperwork for battery.”

  The man was smarter than he looked. He handed Ram the envelope and backed away. Ram looked at the sky wondering how such a cloudless day could bring so much rain. The only thing that could cap this day, Ram thought, was a visit from Rhia’s ex.

  He showed up at eight.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  William pushed past Ram into the foyer. Ram was beginning to feel like Rodney Dangerfield, no respect. This was the second time in as many hours that he’d been moved aside in his own house, there wasn’t going to be a third.

  “Where’s my wife?” William asked clearly frazzled.

  “Wainwright.” Ram warned, “I swear, if you call Rhia your wife one more time...”

  William waived a hand in front of his face, unmoved by Ram’s unfinished threat. “Not that one, the other one.”

  Ram took in Wainwright’s disheveled suit, the bags under his eyes and the slight slurring of his words. “You’re drunk?”

  William’s shoulders slumped and he rubbed his eyes. “Not quite. A little maybe. Candi left a note saying she was coming here. She is here, isn’t she?”

  So he wasn’t the only one with woman trouble, Ram thought, leaning against the door, crossing his arms over his chest. He almost felt sorry for Wainwright, he wasn’t looking forward to explaining to Rhia what was in the envelope he’d been served with earlier so he was feeling a bond, a thin one to be sure, but a bond with Wainwright.

  “Blond, pregnant woman? Big chest?” Ram asked.

  “Yea that’s her.” Came Wainwright’s tired reply, he didn’t even bother raising to Ram’s bait.

  Ram had been hiding in the study since he came back into the house. He did not need or want to know about anyone else’s trouble. He hadn’t even asked about the blond, he had all he could do to try to minimize the damage this suit was sure to generate.

  He and Ben read the papers in his study then Ben left to try to make a deal. Ram looked at his watch, Ben should have been back by now. He frowned and turned back to William.

  “You know Hunter’s here right?”

  William nodded. “That’s the other reason I’m here.”

  “She’s a good kid, Wainwright. You’re lucky to have her. She was hurt pretty badly by what you said.” Ram kept his tone neutral. Hunter needed to know her father loved her. The more time that went by without the two of them talking, the harder it would be to fix things. Ram could never have taken it if he’d been estranged from either of his parents, they had been too important to him. He didn’t want Hunter to go through that pain any longer than she had already.

  “I know. She’s my daughter.” William sat on the bench in the foyer, uninvited. He clasped his hands together in his lap and bent over. It was clear to Ram that the man was in pain. He had to be if he was willing to spill his guts to his ex-wife’s new husband.

  “God. I was such an ass. It was horrible. I was watching myself from far away, like an out of body experience, you know?” He shook his head and continued. “I just couldn’t stop what came out of my mouth. I wanted to. I wish to hell I could take it back, but it just kept pouring out.”

  William’s breath caught and he wiped tears from his eyes. Ram looked up and saw Hunter on the steps. He didn’t say anything and she had
eyes only for her father. If she wanted Wainwright to know she was there that was her prerogative, if not, well that was her choice too.

  “I told her to get out. I didn’t mean it. I swear to God, I didn’t mean it. I was just so surprised.” William looked at Ram, torment clearly written on his face. “The worst part, the absolute worst part, was the look of betrayal on my daughter’s face. God, it’s burned in my memory. I wake up in a cold sweat seeing her face, knowing I threw away a part of my life I can’t live without. I’ve been so ashamed. I can’t forgive myself. If I can’t, how is Hunter ever going to?”

  Ram didn’t look in Hunter’s direction, although he knew she hadn’t moved. “Why don’t you tell her you love her. You fucked up, big time I might add. But you love her and you want to be part of her life if she’ll let you. It wouldn’t hurt if you told her that it’s her choice who she sleeps with and you’ll deal with it.”

  William stood. “I don’t care about that. She could sleep the queen of England for all I care. I was shocked and stupid and I’ve waited too long to tell her that.” He rounded on Ram. “I don’t give a shit about the fact that she’d rather sleep with women. Hell, so would I.” William must have realized how stupid that sounded because he sat back down and was quieter when he continued.

  “I just want my daughter back. I love her. This is killing me. If only I could explain it to her in a way she’d understand. ” William said, his head in his hands.

  “You just did.” Ram said, nodding toward the steps as he passed. Hunter was outed whether she wanted to be or not, Ram thought it was well past time she got her dad back.

  ...

  The blond, Becca and Rhia were sitting in the kitchen when he entered, Ethan was nowhere in sight. Smart man, Ram mused.