Chapter 9

MOWTOWN NEVER SOUNDED SO GOOD

I.

“I quit.”  Douglas told his manager, Tyler.  “I’m putting in my two weeks as of right now.”
“I figured that was going to happen, that’s why I kept all the applications in the back.”  Tyler chuckled.  “Alright, you get back out there and give me a reason I shouldn’t just let you go right now.”
Douglas chuckled and told Tyler, “You give me a reason to not walk out that door.”
“I’ll give you five, now get your enter-explicative-here out on the floor.”  Tyler said and the two laughed as Douglas walked away.  The last couple of months, as other people would call it, were ‘crazy-pants,’ but to Douglas it was just another day at the races.  The band kept practicing every week, and sometimes Candice or Eric would come over and practice with Douglas just to get some stuff worked out.  It was starting to get to the point were every weeknight something was going on in his garage.  Not that all this practicing wasn’t helping.  The shows following the show in December continued to get better, more songs kept being written, and Rank was starting to get more and more time.  They weren’t opening anymore, they were usually second or third up, but they were always lesser known than the no-name bands they were before.  Douglas was hearing around school, “Hey, did you hear that band that was before that band last night?  Started with an R…They were pretty good.”  Or, “Man, Rank was really good last night.”  But that was always followed by a “Who?” or a “What band?”
Douglas was not enjoying school, and having work and practice most of the days after school was starting to wear him down.  His classes were bullshit, he was learning things he had learned years before and an environment he didn’t have to pay to attend.  So Douglas, being the young adult he was, started to skip classes.  His inner hedonist was happy, and his body was starting to feel better with every class skipped.  He started getting lunch shifts at the Taco stand, though, so work was getting harder and harder.  Douglas hated the lunch rush.  He was really starting to hate all fast food in general because of the lunch rushes.  Everything wrong with America would come through those doors.  He especially liked the morbidly obese women coming in and getting a taco salad because it has “less calories, so it’s better for me.”  Douglas, every time, almost laughs them out of the store.
After work, in that small amount of time before somebody ended up at his house to practice, Douglas would be in his room running scales and running through all his songs.  Sometimes he would just strum on different chords for a while and write down things he liked, but that was few and far between.  He liked to write the lyrics, Stan would write the guitar licks, and Eric would write the bass runs.  Eric had some crazy ideas sometimes, and most of the times it would work out.  All the older songs they had played that day in December ended up being rewritten because Eric found something better to do with the bass line.  And boy did they sound terrific.  Douglas could barely believe that they played those crap songs before Eric came along and changed them.  When Eric would change something, Stan would change something, and Candice would follow along.  Every time this happened, the band would have just a little more energy, energy they wouldn’t have had before.
Candice, as an already amazing drum player, continued improving.  She didn’t have a better grasp on the drum theory, she didn’t buy new equipment, but she started feeling the rest of the band.  It was almost like Candice was telepathic; she could sense when Eric, Stan or Douglas was about to throw in something new or different, and could kick the guys into it, so they knew it was alright to try.  This got the band all riled up, and new music was being produced every rehearsal.  The only person not really improving was Stan.
Stan was his own case.  He was good, but he wasn’t fantastic.  He was better than Douglas, so he was still lead, but Douglas was steadily catching up to him.  Stan would show up to the band’s practices, never really enthusiastic, and wouldn’t show up to Douglas’s house otherwise.  Stan didn’t really talk when he was at Douglas’s place practicing other than yeses and no’s.  He was almost the weak link, but he was still a good player, so Douglas never said anything.  Douglas felt the rest of the band saw the same thing in Stan too, but they were too polite to say anything.  So Douglas as well as the rest of the band kept improving, while Stan would sit on his amp and run the same licks over and over.
The band really wasn’t making any money, but Douglas really didn’t care.  More people were starting to show up for their shows to see them.  The band was becoming one of those underground successes, the bands that nobody has heard of before, except if you are die-hard fans of another band in the area.  Douglas would talk with the crowd at the shows, using the audience participation to fuel the band’s fire, and it always worked.  He would tell jokes, amusing anecdotes, anything to get the audience to pay attention, and as the size of the audience grew and grew, Douglas knew that somebody big was bound to notice.  It was kind of hard to not notice when a group was starting to show up at every show.
The date was March 15, and Rank had a show at the same ol’ club.  When Douglas told the rest of the band this, he used the term “Same ol’ song a dance” and the group got a good chuckle out of it.  After playing that many shows at the same place, opening or playing second, it was the same shit, different day.  They started repeating covers, because it was starting to get difficult to play a new oldie every time they took the stage.  So the band that same day practiced “Under the Boardwalk” by The Drifters.  The one song they hadn’t played two or three times.  So on March 15, the band was all ready to play a few new songs and their old stuff, and of course, Under the Boardwalk.  The band showed up at normal time, just about twenty minutes early for the show starting.  Doors opened at 7:00, but Rank didn’t show up until 7:40 for their sound check.  They went up person by person, warmed up, yelled at the sound guy, and got ‘their shit straight,’ then walked off stage again.  At 8:10, making a fashionably late entrance, Rank came onstage to a few dozen yells and a loud applause.  Douglas noticed a few people standing in the back, leaning on the wall and talking to one another, but Douglas didn’t think anything of it.  It’s a few people waiting for the main band, so what?  Douglas gave a small smirk and walked up to the microphone.
“Hey, my name is Douglas, and behind me I’ve got Stan on Guitar, Eric on Bass and Candice on Drums.  We’re Rank, and we’re going to start out our show with a song we just wrote called Breakneck.  Hope you like it.”  Douglas turned to the band and nodded to Candice who started a drum lick to kick off the song.  He turned around and started with his guitar chords and started singing.  They’d been practicing this for a few weeks getting it ready for tonight’s performance, so it wasn’t a big deal to Douglas, he had it down pretty well already.  He looked over at Stan and it looked like he was having a little trouble, which was quite shocking to see.  Douglas didn’t pay any attention to it though, since the next verse was coming up.  He couldn’t help but stare as he sang at the people in the back of the club.  They were just standing in the back, looking at the band, while the people in the club were pretty much going nuts.  The song ended, and Douglas was ready to announce the next song.
“Alright, this next song is called Yourself, which you should always take care of.  Especially you,” Douglas pointed to a girl in the audience, “Don’t let that guy push you around.  Ask him very nicely to fuck off if he’s buggin’ ya.  And you,” Douglas pointed to the guy next to her, “politely tell her to shove it if she asks you, okay?”  The crowd chuckled as he started playing, another smirk appearing on his face.  He turned to Eric and Eric started playing this crazy groove that drove the audience nuts.  Douglas walked over to Eric and whispered, well, more like yelled softly “Remember that for later.”  And walked back to the microphone, singing the song while watching the audience start moshing.  Douglas laughed because this was a new thing at the show, a pit hadn’t opened up at any of the other shows.  But Douglas’s gaze always went back to the guys in the back.  They started getting into the music, but they were still standing in the back talking to each other.  Stan started his guitar solo, and Douglas just stood with a blank look on his face, staring at those guys in the back.  He then got a puzzled look on his face, and then his eyes brightened up.  He sang the rest of the song, and rushed through the third song to get to the cover.
“Hey, guys.”  Douglas called through the microphone, and the crowd got a confused look on their faces.  “Guys in the back.”  The group in the back looked at each other and yelled back.
“What?”  One with short brown hair yelled.
“Any of you know how to sing?”
“Yeah, what of it?”  The same guy yelled back.
“Wanna come up here and sing Under the Boardwalk?”
“Haven’t heard of it.”
“Its pretty easy once you hear the chorus a few times, get up here.”
“Whatever man.”  The brunette said and waded through the crowd to get up to the stage.  He pushed passed the front few people and hopped onstage next to Douglas.
“Alright, as most of you know, we always close our show with a cover song, and this time it’s Under the Boardwalk.”  The crowd cheered a little.  “Thanks.  Anyway, we’re giving something a shot this time, we’re going to have…” Douglas trailed off and looked at the slightly older man standing next to him, giving him the cue to him to say his name into the mic.
“Uh…I’m Mike.”  Mike said, kind of bewildered, almost as though he thought Douglas was stupid.
“Alright, so let’s get this going.  Count us of, Candice.”  And off they went.  Mike stood away for a few minutes, and then figured out the lyrics and started humming the verses with Douglas.  As Douglas was getting to the chorus, Mike walked up and started singing with Douglas.  Mike had his own style, a presence that Douglas hadn’t seen in any of the other shlubs that came into the club, and that would probably be why Douglas hadn’t seen Mike or the others before.  The crowd started singing with Douglas and Mike, and the whole place was buzzing with energy.  Even after the song was over, the whole place felt like it was filled with a sort of electricity, and the crowd started talking to each other very animatedly.  Douglas shook Mike’s hand, and Mike went to join his friends in the back.  Douglas and the rest of the group didn’t care about the bands afterward, so they all packed up their things and started to head out the door.  Mike ran up to Douglas as they were walking out the door like he had something important to say.
“Hey, thanks for calling me up there Douglas.”
“Not a problem, Mike.”
“You guys wouldn’t happen to be doing anything during the summer, would you?”
“No, not that we know of.  Whats up?”
“Well, we’re Plan B.”
“Who?”
“The band, Plan B.  Pretty popular in Sacramento…you haven’t heard of us?”
“Sorry, can’t say that I have.  Us hicks in Colman don’t get out much, you know?”  Mike and the others laughed.
“Yeah, I can see.  Anyway, if you felt like it, we’d love for you guys to go on tour with us.”  Douglas’s heart skipped a beat.  He knew who had done this, it wasn’t his shear talent that brought this man here tonight.  But it sure didn’t hurt any in Douglas’s eyes.  Douglas looked at the others, and Candice and Eric both looked ecstatic.  Stan on the other hand looked a little downfallen.
“Well…I’ll have to talk it over with the ba-“
“Yeah, sure we’ll tour with you, are you crazy Douglas?”  Candice yelled.
“Well, it looks like we’ll tour with you, Mike.”  Douglas said with a smirk.
“Sweet.  Well, we’ll send our manager by with all the information, like tour dates and all that.  Right now its looking like the tour is going to start here on May 10th, that’s why we were here.  We were scoping out the joint.  Anyway, May 10th.  I’m going to need your address to send our manager by.”
“Oh, yeah, right.  You wouldn’t happen to…well, hold on, I’ll get something from the manager of the place.”  Douglas said and walked off to see Jimmy and tell him the news, when a goth kid ran up to him with a huge smile on his face.
“Hey, kid, what’s up.”  Douglas said, nonchalantly.
“You’re welcome.”  The kid said.
“Pardon?”  Douglas asked, his smile fading to an almost shocked look on his face.  The kid’s smile grew and he waved his hand in front of his face, the face of the black suited man’s appearing.  Douglas was scared so much he actually jumped and looked around as Lucifer waved his hand back, the face of the kid reappearing.
“You’re welcome.”  He said again.
“Thank you so much, you have no idea how much this means to me.”  Douglas said, his smile not returning.
“It’s all part of the agreement.  Now go get that address written down.”
“Sure, but you weren’t just here for us, were you?”
“Oh, heavens no.”  Satan said and laughed.  “I’m scouting new talent.  I’ve heard this band coming up next is pretty good.  But we’ll see, won’t we?”  The Goth kid said with a smile.  “Now scram.”  He said as somebody walked between Douglas and Lucifer, Lucifer blending into the crowd again.
“That guy gets creepier and creepier every time I see him.”  Douglas said and walked off to Jimmy, writing down his address and giving it to Mike.  Goodbyes were said, and Rank walked out to their cars.  Stan called out to Douglas, and they both talked for a minute.
“Hey, you got anything going on tomorrow night?”  Stan asked.
“No, why?”
“I gotta talk to you about something.”
“Well, I got time.”
“Nah, don’t wanna ruin the mood man.  I’ll be by your place around seven tomorrow, alright?”
“Yeah, not a problem.  See ya then man.”
“See ya later Douglas.”  Stan said and walked off to his car.
“Why is it always after the show the nights get weird?”  Douglas said and walked to his car.

II.

Douglas woke up the next morning feeling very sore, and feeling like he didn’t get much sleep at all.  Which was the truth.  After the news that they would be touring, he could hardly sleep a wink, and he was tossing and turning all night.  Fortunately he didn’t sleep in anymore, because he had to get up and go to work, which he was sure was going to be a peach.  Hardly any sleep, and he had to work the lunch rush.  He sat on the edge of his bed, stretched, scratched his chest a little bit, and then went to the shower.  He decided it was a better idea to take a cold shower to wake up, but when that didn’t work he quickly got dressed and went to the coffee place down the street from his job.  He didn’t know about any of that fancy latte crap, he just got a regular black coffee with lots of room for cream.  He couldn’t stand the taste of coffee, so Douglas always put tons of cream and sugar in there so it tasted more like milk sugar rather than coffee.  Douglas chugged down his coffee and then ran to his car, to the applause of the people working at the coffee shop, then went to work.  He clocked on, and went into the back to tell Tyler he was officially quitting, his two weeks put in.  Douglas had a few words with Tyler and then went about his business, as usual.
After work he dashed home, seeing as it was six and Stan was supposed to show up around seven that night.  When he got home he changed, because he was tired of smelling like tacos.  He couldn’t imagine working at a coffee place, being around coffee, working with coffee, smelling like coffee, having friends and family ask for coffee.  At least you had to be in a certain mood to go to a Mexican restaurant, and a starving mood to go to a hole in the wall taco dive like the one he worked at.  By the time he changed and found something to stuff his craw with, a knock rang out from the door.  “That must be Stan.”  Douglas said and ran to the door.  He opened the door quickly and saw not Stan, but a man in a black suit.  “Oh, its you again.”
“Yes, of course it is.  We need to talk about a few things regarding me being your manager.”  Lucifer said.
“I didn’t do anything wrong, did I?”  Douglas said, feeling a very queasy feeling in the bottom of his stomach.
“Oh no, of course not.  I’d be the first to know, possibly before you even knew.”  Lucifer said, a smile on his face.  “It’s about your public manager.  It obviously couldn’t be me, that’s a full time job.  I’ve already got a full time job as, well, the overlord of hell.”
“Yeah, that makes sense.”  Douglas said, nodding, as though he really comprehended something of that magnitude.
“Well, anyw-hey Douglas, Stan’s here.”  Lucifer said and snapped his fingers, disappearing in a cloud of smoke just as Stan turned the corner.
“You burning something over there Douglas?”  Stan said, a weird look on his face.
“Uh.  Yeah, a paper towel got too close to a candle and I decided to toss it out here.”
“Oh, that’s pretty lucky that you caught it before it did any real damage.”  Stan replied, his inquisitive look leaving his face.  “Anyway, I gotta talk to you about something.”
“Yeah, of course.  You wanna come in?”  Douglas said, showing him inside.
“Nah, it’ll be quick.”  Stan said and stopped about a yard from the door.  “It’s about the tour.”
“Don’t like the band or somethin’ man?”
“No, it’s not that.  They seem like a fun bunch of people, it’s just that…”
“What’s up, Stan.”  Douglas said, knowing something wasn’t at all right at this point.
“Well, Douglas, I’m dropping out of the band.”  Stan said, puffing out his chest as though he needed courage.
“What, you’re kidding me!”  Douglas said, taken aback.
“It is how it is, Douglas.”
“We gotta have you on the tour, man, we couldn’t have made it this far without you.”
“Damn right you couldn’t have made it this far, but you know as well as I do that you can take over for me.”
“What are you talking about, Stan, you know how terrible I am.  I just picked up the guitar a few months ago!  I can’t play lead!”
“Douglas, you’re nuts if you think you aren’t a prodigy on the guitar.”  Stan uttered, a grave look on his face.  “Its almost spooky how quickly you’ve improved.”
Douglas looked at Stan for a second then said, “What are you saying, Stan.”
“I’m saying, Douglas, you could easily take over for me.  You have just enough time to work all my parts, learn to solo.  You have improved so much since we first got together that this little set back shouldn’t hurt the band whatsoever.”  Stan said, that same grave look on his face.  Douglas sighed and scuffed his feet.
“Man, the band is going to be so bummed out about this, Stan.”
“They’ll get over it.  Besides, that’s the reason I’m leaving.”
“I’m not following.”
“You guys are twenty years old.  I’m almost thirty five, Douglas.  I’m too old for this scene.  You’ll tour, you’ll get famous, you’ll be together for a while.  By the time you’re ten years old, I’m going to be almost forty-five.  By the time the band breaks up or fades out or whatever, I’m going to be close to fifty, fifty-five.  Even if you guys wanted to get a reunion tour together, I’m either going to be way too old or dead.  You guys are going to be feeling just the first signs of getting old.  I’d be holding you back if I kept going.”  Stan said his chest puffed out again, his head held high.  Stan felt what he was doing was the right thing, and Douglas knew this.  Douglas sighed again and then looked Stan straight in the eye.
“If that’s how you feel man, I can’t stop ya from leaving.”
“That is how I feel, little buddy.”
“Well, then that’s that I guess.”  Douglas said and walked over to Stan, putting out his hand.  “It was a pleasure working with you Stan.”
“It was a pleasure working with you, Douglas.  Stop by tomorrow and I’ll give you a killer discount on an amp.”
“Will do, Stan.”  Douglas said as Stan turned away.
“And don’t forget about me.  I want to fly on your private jet someday, Douglas.”
“I’ll reserve a seat just for you, man.”  Douglas said, waved, and then turned around as Stan turned the corner.  “There goes one good man.”
A cloud of smoke appeared and congealed into the shape of a man very quickly in front of Douglas.  “As I was saying.”  Lucifer said, and Douglas was so scared he jumped and let out a little yelp.  “Sorry, I forget you’re not used to that yet.”
“Just give me a second for my heart to stop beating at ‘hummingbird.’”  Douglas said and caught his breath.  “Okay, as you were saying.”
“I can’t be your public manager, because of the whole hell thing.  So the deal is that after the tour, regardless on whether you get a record deal or not, a man is going to ask to be your manager.  Accept the deal.  It is, of course, a deal I set up using a man who traded his soul to me.  And the record deal is still in the works.  Those guys really know how to barter.”
“Can’t you…y’know.  Force them to accept your deal?”
“That wouldn’t be as much fun, now would it Douglas?”  Lucifer said and laughed.  “Anyway, my work here is done, and Plan B’s manager is coming down the street.  Better get inside before he thinks you’re crazy.”
“Wouldn’t be the first rocker to be considered crazy.”
“Suppose you’re right.  Anyway, ta-ta for now, Douglas.”  Lucifer said and disappeared with another snap.  Douglas walked inside and went to wash his face.  What a stressful twenty minutes that was, he though as he just hovered over the sink for a minute.  The doorbell rang, and Douglas knew it was the manager.  He turned the faucet off, dried his face and calmly walked to the door.
“Hello, you must be the manager for Plan B.”  Douglas said with a platinum smile on his face.  The man was dressed in a brown suit with a tan vest underneath, wearing a matching tie and pants.  He was wearing a fedora, but it really didn’t look that great on him, since his pale white skin color didn’t match the hat, and his dark black hair didn’t match anything about his suit whatsoever.
“You would be correct in that.  I’m Paul.”  He said, a small smile on his face.
“And I’m Douglas.”  Douglas said, holding out his hand and shaking Paul’s.
“Shall we get down to brass tax?”  Paul said quickly.
“Sounds good to me.”  Douglas said and showed him inside to the dining room.
“Man, this looks like something out of the seventies.”  Paul said, looking around the house.
“Yeah, man, imagine how I’ve felt.  It’s the end of the nineties and I’m stuck in the seventies.”  Douglas said and the two laughed.  Paul sat down at the head of the table, and Douglas sat next to him as Paul pulled some papers out of his briefcase.
“Well, Douglas, Plan B just got off a mini-tour around northern California, so this tour is going to be kind of short.  It starts May tenth and ends June twentieth, which is about forty days.”
“That’s short?”  Douglas said, shocked.
“More or less.  Some bands tour for months without a break.  Anyway, it’s going to start here in Coleman on the tenth, then work its way up through Oregon, then break for a few days as it goes down to Nevada, down through Arizona, then make its way back up through California, ending in Sacramento.”  Paul said, handing Douglas a few sheets of paper stapled together.
“Saving the best for last, Paul?”  Douglas said with a chuckle.
“Well, that was the plan.” Paul said and pulled out a few more papers.  “Hotels will be paid for, so is the bus.  You’re going to share with another band, Plan B has their own bus.”
“Makes sense.” Douglas said, letting Paul continue.
“The only thing you have to worry about is food, so make sure you have some cash saved up before the trip, or make sure you get some money from your folks.  You and your band will be paid a decent amount for this tour, the finances haven’t been calculated for all the clubs, but it’s looking like a cool $50,000 for all the bands put together, half going to Plan B, and a quarter going to you and the other band.”
“That’s an assload of money, if you don’t mind me saying.”
“Don’t mind at all, but its pennies compared to other bands.”  Paul said, and then continued.  “Plan B wants you to go second, meaning you have about forty minutes to play.  I would get started now setting up a playlist and start practicing your ass off.  We don’t want a crappy band to play with us, but from what I’m hearing from Mike you’ve already got your shit in order.”
“Well, one of our guitar players just quit before you got here, so we’ll need the month in order to practice.”
“Then get them over as much as possible.”  Paul said, pulling out a pen.  “Now, do you have any questions?”
Douglas thought hard for a moment.  “No.  No I don’t think so.”
“Alright then,” Paul said “If you could sign at the bottom of this form agreeing to the terms.”
“And what are the terms exactly?”  Douglas asked, most gravely.
“That we can use your name on the tour, though you still own your name, and that if you suck we can kick you out at any time and you have to find your own way home and we aren’t responsible for what happens to you.  Oh, and if you ruin any hotel rooms its on you.”
“Makes sense.”
“Oh, and don’t get caught with drugs, because we won’t bail your ass out.”
“Don’t think that will be a problem.”  Douglas said and signed the form.  It was officially official that Rank was touring starting May tenth.

III.

After Douglas was done with Paul, he was on the phone with Eric, and then on the phone with Candice.  They both seemed a little distraught, angry, and like they were about to have a panic attack, but the three of them decided it was a good idea to get over to Douglas’s house “Like now.”  Douglas was already waiting with his guitar in hand, his ass on the floor.  He never realized how quiet his guitar was until he didn’t have an amp to sit on while he practiced.  Eric showed up and set up his bass in record time, Douglas plugging in to his amp for the time being.  They jammed for a few minutes, both feeling very nervous.  It didn’t show on their faces, but rather in their music.  Eric wasn’t taking any chances with what he was playing, and Douglas just kept messing up.  When Candice showed up, she looked white as a ghost and kept fumbling around with her set, dropping stands and misplacing the toms.  Candice sat down on her stool and the band started playing for about an hour, having to stop and restart because all three of them kept messing up.  They got through about two of their songs, completely, before Candice stood up and threw her sticks at the wall.
“Goddamn him!  How could he do this to us?!”  Candice screamed as she ran her fingers nervously through her hair.
“It’s not like he started with us just to do this to us, Candice.”  Douglas said, his voice quaking.  Both Candice and Eric looked at him, each with a look of anger and fear.  “He quit with our best interests in mind.  He couldn’t have done it at a worse time, yes, but at least he did it now rather than later.”  All three of them just stood there for a second, all looking at the floor.  The silence was finally broken by Candice knocking over one of her cymbals.
“God fucking damnit!”  she yelled and then sat on the floor, resting her head on her hand.
“It’ll be okay, Candice.”  Eric said quietly.  “It’s just like Douglas said.  Better now than later, right?  We’re all just panicking because of the tour.  He…really wasn’t that great.”  Eric said, sounding almost ashamed of himself for saying so.  “Look, it’s ten already, lets all go back home and sleep this off, and then we’ll start bright and early tomorrow.  Pull an all day rehearsal.  We’ve got to if we want to be ready by May 10th.”
“Sounds good to me.  I’ve got to pick up an amp tomorrow when the guitar store opens.  Stan’s giving me an awesome deal, he said.  So I’m thinking around eleven tomorrow morning.”  Douglas said, and waited for everybody to respond.
“Okay.  Fine.”  Candice said and stood up, picking her cymbal off the ground.  “Can we leave our shit here?”
“Yeah, just tuck it in the corner.”  Douglas said and started moving their things into the corner.  Candice took apart her set and the three of them moved the pieces into the corner with the bass amp and Eric’s bass.  “Alright, so eleven sound good for everybody?  I’ll order pizza around one or two so we’ll have some lunch.”
“Sounds good.”  Eric said with a soft smile.
“Fine, whatever.”  Candice said and walked out of the garage.
“See ya tomorrow Douglas.”
“See ya Eric.”  Douglas said, and when Eric walked out he pressed the button to shut the garage door and walked inside to hit the hay.

IV.

At 10:15 Douglas walked into the guitar shop and saw Stan behind the counter.
“Hey buddy, how’d the band take it?”  Stan said, his usual self again.
“Not so great Stan.  We all rushed together to practice because we’ve only got a month to get over our nerves.  Needless to say it kind of fell apart.”
“I don’t blame ‘em.  So what are you guys going to do?”
“Well, pick up this amp, and then rehearse all day until our bodies hurt.”
“I remember those days with my other band.  Those were the days, man.”
“I just hope Candice doesn’t throw anything again.”
“What?  What’d she throw?”  Stan seemed shocked Candice would ever do such a thing.
“Well, she yelled obscenities as she threw her sticks against the wall and then threw over her cymbal.”
“No way, you’re shitting me.”
“Would I do that to you, Stanny boy?”
“Sheesh, she sure did take it hard.”
“She’s just nervous.  Hopefully she slept it off.”
“Yeah, hopefully.  She has some nice equipment on that set of hers, I’d hate to see it all banged up.”
“What’s funny is I thought Eric would have taken it harder than Candice.”
“You’ve met very few bass players, obviously.”
“Huh?”  A confused look wrinkled itself on Douglas’s face.
“They’re usually all about peace, love, sex, food.  He’s probably nervous but won’t show you.  He probably went home and lit up.”
“Shit, I didn’t think he did drugs.”
“Define drug.  If he did go and get high, its probably a rec thing and he can live without it.  Ol’ Mary-Jane doesn’t get you addicted.”
“Okay, now you’re joking.”  Douglas said, crossing his arms.
“No shit, man.  If you’re going to do a drug, do grass.”
“And you’d know this how?”
“I’ve done it for years, man!”  Stan said, a grin on his face.  “You’d never guess it but I’m just sobering up right now.”
“No way, you’re really pullin’ my chain now man.”  Douglas said, shocked.  Stan just stared at him for a moment.
“What are you, forty?”
“Oh Stan, don’t give me that crap.”  Douglas laughed.  Stan shook his head and smiled.
“Yeah dude, I don’t know if Eric does but he’s probably all better today if he did.  Nice and relaxing night of eating junk food and smokin’ weed.”  Stan gazed out into the distance and sighed.
“You okay there, Stan?”  Douglas almost whispered.  Stan jumped a little and shook his head.
“Oh yeah.  Anyway, you here for that amp?”
“Heck yeah, is it any good?”
“It’s…okay.  It does what it’s supposed to do.”
“Does it do it well?”
“Well.  It takes sounds and amplifies them.  I’d say its okay for what you’re going to use it for.  The venues you’re going to be playing at will have amps for you to use, as you know.  So a garage band can get buy with this amp.”
“How much?”
“$150.”
“Holy crap Stan, how is that a good deal?”
“It’s better than what it should be.  I marked it lower because it had a ‘chip’ on the side of it.”  Stan said and smirked.  Douglas laughed.
“Now you’re thinkin’ Stan.”
“So you got the bones for this amp?”
“I brought two hundred clams with me just in case.”
“Good man.”  Stan reached down and pulled up the amp from behind the counter.  “Here it is.”  Stan said as he dropped it on the counter.  It was incredibly old, as could be told by the once white trim.  It was a dingy yellow color after the years of dust that had gathered on it.  The brand couldn’t be told, except for a script letter ‘e’ placed in the upper left of the speaker.  “New tubes in the back.  It just looks like crap.  Speaker is as old as the rest of it, so the tubes make the speaker obsolete.  It’s like playing the guitar with bass strings.”  Stan said and the two chuckled.
“One-fifty you said?”
“Yep.”
Douglas walked over to the counter and handed Stan his two one hundred dollar bills.  “Goodbye, Benjamin twins.”
“They’ll miss ya pal.”  Stan said, opening up the cash drawer.  Stan pulled out two twenties and a ten and handed it back to Douglas.  “There you go man.”
“Thanks Stan.  Well, I gotta get back home for practice.”
“Have fun, Douglas.  And tell Candice to kiss and make up with her cymbal.”  Stan called after, and Douglas laughed as he walked out of the store.
“Will do, man.”


V.

May tenth, D-Day, came so quickly for Rank.  The concert at Club Funk went without a hitch, which was a big relief to the band.  The group didn’t really listen to the band that went before them, a band called The Betabet.  Douglas chuckled when he heard the name, but the butterflies kept him from finding it too clever at the time.  The band just sat in the back , staring at the floor until Betabet got done with their set and then got up on stage.  Douglas looked out at the crowd and saw a lot of faces, which was a brand new thing.  This made his palms all clammy and he felt a little faint.
“Hey guys, we’re Rank.”  Douglas said, his voice shaking a little.  “For those of you who have heard and seen us before, you might have noticed a band member missing.”
“Where’s Stan!”  Somebody from the crowd shouted out.
“Hey, don’t showbiz me, kid.”  Douglas said and chuckled.  “Before we get this show going, I wanted to announce that Stan has left the band.”  As Douglas said it, half the crowd moaned their disapproval.  “He said he was too old to tour and that he would just hold us back.  He quit with the band’s best interests in mind, and for that I thank him.  Hopefully you all can forgive us and him with the help of a little rock.  Let’s do this.”
With that, Rank played their first show of the tour.  The band closed, as usual, with a cover of an oldie.  The band played the song Peggy Sue, and the crowd thought it was just cute enough to be a good closer.  When the band got off stage and Plan B passed them, Mike gave Rank high fives, and the rest of the band gave them polite nods.  “Good luck!”  Douglas called back to the band as they got on stage.
“Luck has nothing to do with it.”  Mike said with a smirk.  Douglas stood just off stage and listened to Plan B play.  He really liked their sound.  It was rock, but it had some horns in it.  It wasn’t ska, it was too hard to be second wave, it was a rock band with horns.  The horns were used more for back up more than they were used for effect.  It was new, original, and Douglas really liked that about them, and could understand why they were pretty popular.  After Plan B finished, he walked back to where the rest of the bands were talking.  Douglas sat down on the floor next to Eric, and started listening to the conversation Rank was having with the Betabet.  Eventually, Douglas introduced himself to the bus mates, and they introduced themselves.  All of the guys were pretty tall, all had died black hair, but all of them where wearing completely different styles of clothing.  One was wearing white bell bottom jeans and a white studded jean jacket, and introduced himself as Pete, another was wearing a tight Tee Shirt and some boot cut denim jeans and introduced himself as Tim, a third was wearing a black messenger cap, a loose jersey and shorts that hung around his ass and this one called himself Rich.
“I always hated this style,” Rich told Rank, “but it looks most humorous on me, so I’m forced to wear it.  When we get back to the hotel I’m straight out of this.”  Rich said and eyed Candice a little, the later had been looking in the prior’s direction since Douglas had sat down.  The fourth person to introduce himself wasn’t wearing a shirt, and had tight skinny jeans on and introduced himself as Paul.  All four of the guys seemed pretty nice, and said they all dressed up this way as a kind of gag, a way to bring people to the concerts, and from what they could tell it was working.
“There’s not a big crowd for grindcore.” Tim was telling Douglas.
“What’s grindcore?”  Douglas said.
“My point has been proven.”  Tim said with a chuckle, “A lot of people have been showing up to our concerts though.  I can’t quite explain it, it might be the clothes, and it might be because of the music.  We’ll have to find out though.”
“You obviously did something right if you’re on tour with Plan B.”  Eric said with a small smile.
“Again, I can’t quite explain it.”  Tim said with a hearty laugh.  The rest of the bands joined in, and then decided to clear out to the hotel rooms.  The two bands stood up from where they were sitting and left the club from the front, going through the hallway and out the front door.  Eric and Douglas were talking to Tim, Paul, and Pete, while Candice and Rich entertained themselves with conversation a good way behind the other two bands.
Douglas decided it was a better idea to stay at a hotel with the band than at his house, so he wouldn’t sleep in or something wouldn’t come up, so he followed the rest of the groups to one hell of a dive hotel.    It was an Ultra 16, or something like that, Douglas didn’t bother to remember.  The two bands had four hotel rooms, two people to a room, one for Candice since she was the only lady.  This would explain, Douglas thought, why they had to stay at a dive.  Douglas didn’t see any buses in the parking lot, so he assumed they hadn’t shown up yet, and why not?  They weren’t going anywhere tonight, and the busses were probably not there for Plan B and Betabet only because they needed to charter a bus up from Sacramento to start the tour.  Douglas and Tim went up to the office to get the keys, and then joined the other band mates to give them their keys.  As the two bands walked up the stairs, since the rooms were on the second floor, Candice was whispering something in Rich’s ear and then walked quickly to her room, a devious smile on her face.  Rich looked very, very nervous.  Douglas opened the door to the room and saw two twin sized beds with tan sheets, a nightstand in-between with a lamp on top, a desk with a phone in the corner, and an entertainment center.  The bathroom was a shower in a hole in the wall, and the sink was tucked in the corner of the hole in the wall.  Eric and Douglas were going to get to know each other very, very well.  After Douglas looked around a little more, he decided to go get his luggage from his house.  The two groups had walked there, so Douglas was going to walk back to his car at the club, then have his mom or dad drive him back here.  As he opened his door, he saw Rich walk very quickly down the hallway and knock on a door.  Douglas, having just stuck his head out, leaned out of the doorway and saw as a pair of very feminine hands opened the door, grabbed Rich around the waist and only heard the door slam shut.
“Hey Eric!”  Douglas called over his shoulder.
“Sup man?”  Eric said from the bed, still watching the TV he had just recently turned on.
“Good thing we don’t have a show tomorrow.”
“Why’s that.”  Eric asked, nonchalantly.
“Candice and Rich are going to be sore tomorrow.”  Douglas said with a chuckle and left, the door shutting and a loud belly laugh being heard from inside.

VI.

The next morning Douglas and Eric went down at the same time to the continental breakfast after having packed and gotten ready for the bus trip.  They opened the beat up wooden door to the breakfast and saw tiny boxes of cereal and coffee.  If this is what the continentals had, then this country would be built on nothing but diabetics with a coffee problem.  Douglas grabbed a box of Apple Jacks and sat outside the closet sized room to eat it, watching the people coming in and out of the motel.  Eric sat on the other side of the door and watched as Tim, Paul and Pete each walked in separately, grabbed cereal, and then walked back to their rooms.  Douglas had just finished his cereal and thrown the box away when he saw Candice and Rich walking down the hallway, Candice’s right hand in Rich’s right butt pocket, and the world’s biggest smile on her face.
“Hey,” Douglas called with a nod, “You two have a good night?”  Candice looked at Rich and giggled, pressing her forehead to his chest.  Douglas smirked and looked at Rich.  “Stretch your hammies next time, that way you don’t pull something.”  Douglas walked back to his room with his hands in his pockets, feeling like he’d fulfilled his mischief quota for the day.  As he walked away, he heard Rich call back.
“You’re working too hard if you’re pulling your hamstring, Doug.”  Douglas pulled his hand out of his pocket and gave Rich the bird as he walked away.  When Douglas reached his hotel room, he laid on the bed until he heard a large raucous outside.  He peaked his head out of the window and saw a large black bus outside.
“Aw hot damn!”  Douglas yelled and ran downstairs.  When he got out to the bus, he walked around it for a minute, just admiring the look of it.  It had tinted windows and looked like it could take a beating from about four cars before the people inside would be injured.  Douglas walked to the open door and looked at the driver.
“What’s up kid?”  The driver asked sternly.
“Who’s this bus for?”
“None of your business, now get moving.”
“Well, it kind of is.  I’m with Rank, and this looks like a tour bus.”
“It is, it’s for Plan B.  Your bus is coming in a few minutes.”
“Oh, thanks man.”  Douglas said and walked back towards the breakfast room and sat down on the ground.  He waited for about five minutes until a big yellow school bus showed up.  “You’re joking.”  Douglas said and got up to walk towards the bus.  When he reached the door, he knocked on the Plexiglas, and the bus driver opened up the doors for him.  “Who’s this bus for?”  Douglas asked the old, scruffy bus driver.
“It’s for a few bands, I guess.  Hell if I know.”  The driver said, after pulling a cigar from his mouth.  “Why do you care?”
“I’m with one of those bands,” Douglas said, then turned his head and whispered to himself, “unfortunately.”
“What was that kid?”
“Oh, nothing.  Should we go get our stuff and put it underneath?”  Douglas asked, ready to get on the road.
“What underneath are you talkin’ about?”  Old driver man asked.  Douglas poked his head out of the door and looked at the bottom of the bus.
“Well, it looks like we’re storing our stuff on the bus.”  Douglas said a little shocked.  There were no storage compartments underneath the bus, seeing as it was only a school bus.  “I’ll go get my stuff and tell the others to get their stuff ready.”
“You’ll know where I am.” Bus driver man said and shut the doors just as Douglas pulled his head out of the bus.  Douglas turned quickly away, cursing quietly to himself and went back to his room.  He put the cardkey in the lock and threw open the door.  Eric jumped a little at the commotion, and then went back to the TV.
“What’s up man?”  Eric said, still a little scared.
“Bus is here.”
“No shit!”  Eric said and looked out the window at the parking lot.  “That shit looks awesome!”
“Looking at the wrong one.”  Douglas said pulling his bags together.  Eric looked for a minute longer.
“You’re kidding.”  Eric said, sounding a little downfallen.
“Nope.”  Douglas said quickly before heading out the door with a few bags.
“That shit sucks.”  Eric called as Douglas left the room.  Douglas walked down the hall to where Candice and Rich slept the night before and kicked on the door to knock.  About two minutes later, Candice answered the door, her shirt inside out.
“What.”  She said very sternly.
“Bus is here, tell Rich to put his clothes back on and get his band to the bus.”
“Heard ya buddy.”  Rich said from a place Douglas couldn’t see, probably the bed.
“See ya down there, Candice.”  Douglas said with a smirk, and walked down the hall to the stairs.  He hobbled down the cement staircase and waddled to the bus.  After setting down his bags, he knocked on the door and scruffy bus man opened the door for him.  Douglas put his bags in the back of the bus and then hurried back upstairs to grab his guitar and make sure people were moving.  Douglas was very, very anxious to get going.  When he ran upstairs, he saw Betabet walking towards him, so Douglas got out of the way and let the band pass.  Excited smiles met him as Betabet passed, which made a huge smile appear on his face.  The day had come to finally hit the road, and Douglas was as giddy as a school girl.  Douglas ran back to his room to see Eric finalize his packing and rush out of the room, Douglas close behind with guitar in hand.  Douglas ran down the stairs, passing Eric and jumped the last four steps to get a running start at the bus.  As Betabet ran out of the bus heading back towards the rooms, Douglas bounded into the bus and sat down in the middle, guitar in lap.
“Hey, driver!”
“Don’t call me driver.”
“I was just about to ask, since I can’t call you scruffy man either.”
“Phil.”
“Douglas.”
“Won’t remember.”
“Didn’t think you would.”  And then Douglas stared out the window, bouncing on his seat, waiting for the moment the engine turned back on.