3. Chapter Three

What the fuck had I got myself into?

I’d purposely avoided Reagan when we got to the bar and dreaded this night since Jason emailed me the schedule and I saw the familiar haunt was up first. As far as I knew, Reagan had no idea who I was, and I had planned to keep it that way. So much for that.

For the last week, I’d practiced all Chaotic’s songs nonstop, even made a few notes and suggested changes the guys readily accepted. Shocked the hell out of me, but also I felt heard, like my contribution was worthy and welcomed. If that made any sense?

I kept my head down the entire time I played. Having spent my career behind the scenes, it hadn’t been my job to rile the crowd up and keep them engaged. The rest of the band could do that while I got acclimated. But damn it felt fan-fucking-tastic to play in front of others again. Sure, over the years I played daily, but only for myself. This right here, this was that amplified ten times and the adrenaline rush was like no other.

“Thanks for coming out tonight. To keep up with where we’ll be next, stalk our website.” Jason hopped off stage to mingle with the crowd and handed out cards he made with all our info on it while the rest of us packed up the gear. We wouldn’t load it until we left, chances it would get stolen were high if we had so we left it on stage for now. Nigel and Marley finished up and joined Jason, chatting up the sea of nameless faces. I had no clue what to do next and just wanted to hide.

“Come on, handsome, I’ll buy you a drink.” I turned to face Reagan, at a loss for words. I should’ve known there was no way to avoid the impending conversation we were about to have. He now knew who I was and there was no turning back from that. Would he shun me as the others had?

“Handsome, huh?”

“You know you’re all that.”

“Thanks.”

“I’m impressed,” he fist-bumped me. “Not only did you learn their songs ridiculously fast, but you rocked the shit out of them.”

“Impressed enough to go a round between the sheets?” Nice going, Josh, the guy extends a branch, and you offer him your dick.

“Don’t push it. Take the compliment and move on.” Reagan paused long enough to pour me the usual. “So, Just Josh,” his grin was as wicked as his tongue and equally as adorable. “How long have you been playing?”

“Man,” I gripped my beard and blew out a breath. “Since I was old enough to sneak out of the house and into local shows. I got caught once by security and the band I’d watched refused to let the owner call the cops. They took pity on me, but it worked to my favor. The guitarist, Taylor, took me under his wing and taught me everything he knew. They let me hang out with them during their shows and then drove me home long after my old man had passed out. I’d get up and do it all over again the next night.” Fuck, those were the days, though they were short lived. When Taylor overdosed, the band fell apart and called it quits. Fuck, I wonder if those guys are still around?

“Well, you’re talented for sure and at least now I know what you do for a living.” How long would it be before Reagan learned about my sordid past and showed me the door?

“You’re with a great group of guys. I’ve known Jason, Nigel, and Marley for a few years.” Reagan turned away to fill a few drink orders. “You hungry? Want something from the kitchen?” He slid a menu with about a half a dozen items on it in front of me.

“When did this start?” Shit, was I smiling? I don’t smile, I scowl and bark.

“Um, let’s see. Last week when I agreed to buy the bar.” Reagan’s eyes lit up, filled with pride. Hell, I was happy for him. At least one of us found our path in life.

“Congrats, man. That’s great to hear. Change is in the air.” Maybe for both of us. Hope was the one thing I’d had throughout these tumultuous years, but I wasn’t gonna lie and say that reality nearly beat it out of me.

“Thanks. I’m excited. Changes are in the works. Positive ones that will breathe new life into this old place.” Reagan wiped down the bar top then turned back to me. “Since I updated our social media last week and posted about Chaotic playing, plus the new menu and extended hours, we’ve seen a tremendous increase in customers. Of course, tonight was the biggest night with you guys here but across the board we’re doing better.”

“I’m really happy to hear that.” Reagan worked hard and I should know, I’d clocked more hours here watching him than at home. How fucking creepy was that? Not that my current residence was a great place to be. Locked alone inside those yellowed walls didn’t help with the constant battle against depression. Reagan’s friendly smile, and how he knew what his regulars ordered and laid their drinks out before they opened their mouths. Watching him kept my mind off things. How he politely cut them off when they’d had enough was nearly comical. Too drunk to realize what he’d done was entertaining as hell. His employees never said an unkind word that I’d heard about him and obviously, he’d impressed Harvey, or he wouldn’t have sold him the bar.

“Josh Gray.” Just the way my name rolled off this guy’s tongue as he stood beside me screamed trouble.

“And you are?”

“A Social and Maiden Voyage fan.” This dude was jonesing to start shit and I didn’t have it in me deal with it. The respect I had for Reagan was what kept me from clocking this jackass.

“Ready to cash out?” Saved by Reagan as he cut whatever the guy was about to say off.

The douchewad signed the check and slid it back across the bar. “Well, at least you still have it and didn’t lose it like everything else.”

Mother. Fucker.

Reagan shook his head at me in warning. I was so damned close to smashing a glass over that fucker’s head. “All right, have a good night.” At Reagan’s dismissal, he left.

“Is it always like this for you?”

“In the beginning, yes. Now that I’m a virtual no one, not so much.” Being back on stage launched me right back into the limelight, though. With no other talents, I had no choice but to play again unless I wanted to live in my car, which I didn’t. Besides, the feel of the strings beneath my fingers and song writing was in my blood. Without that I had no reason to live.

“It’s been a long time. People need to let it go. You’ve got a gift and you’re meant to share it.” Fuck, Reagan knew.

“Bartender, philosopher, and hot as fuck. You’re the whole package. How is it that you’ve not been snatched up?” Taking compliments wasn’t easy for me, better to turn the conversation back on him. Banter? Now that was the best way to brush off uncomfortable words that threatened to expose a heart. Could it be that Reagan had warmed up to me?

“My life is busy which leaves no time for dating. I’ve got blinders on right now and allowing someone in would only lead to failure, which I couldn’t live with.” Reagan had a huge heart, and I could see him agonizing over a failed relationship. He truly cared about others and even volunteered at the Lambert House in his spare time. He was a smart man who knew his limitations.

Reagan nodded toward my empty glass as he reached for the iPad he kept behind the counter to turn the music back on. Classic rock for the win tonight, for which I had zero complaints. Before the Eagles reached the chorus in “Hotel California,” I had a fresh drink in front of me. The dickhead from earlier aside, this turned out to be a damn good night.

Though I’d never strummed the chords to this song, I could clearly see the notes move through my head. When Taylor mentored me, he said I had a magic brain when it came to music. Musical savant he once said, I had to look it up to figure out what he meant. It was good to know my mind worked for something because outside of that, it played the leading role in an endless stream of bad decisions.

“One time, I’m gonna get you to tell me the stories behind all your tats,” Reagan said as he washed the glasses and set them aside to dry. Turning the focus to something other than my lifelong fuck-ups was a nice change. Now tattoos I could go on for hours about.

“Well, the one on my dick is the most interesting and turned into a work of art.” When he side-eyed me I held my hands up. “One hundred percent truth. It started as a lost bet, but the artist refused to put his name on a napkin-drawn whatever it was. I had no clue, and I was drunk. So, he designed this ornate, I don’t really know how to describe it. Kind of like horns with a solid band that circles the shaft. Hell, saying it aloud basically describes Maleficent’s head, which I guess it kind of resembles. But it’s a killer tat and hurt like a mother fucker.”

“Oh, um, I’m not quite sure how to respond to that.” Poor guy’s face was beet red, and he glanced everywhere but at me.

“Ha-ha. It’s been a topic of more than one drunken conversation.” I had a bad habit of ending up naked after one too many drinks and not always for fucking. “If the kitchen’s still open, I’ll take an order of nachos.” That would keep my pie hole shut. No more oversharing. The dude was already not your biggest fan, Josh. Though I did feel a change in the air tonight, if only for a moment. Maybe someday, Reagan and I would be ready for a relationship at the same time, and I’d have a chance. Says he who’s the surliest fucker of all. Jesus Christ, why did everything in my head sound like a Disney metaphor? Mirror, mirror, on the wall, who’s the surliest fucker of all?

“Hey, man,” Jason slung his arm around my shoulder. “We’re gonna take off. Gotta work ma?ana and we’ve got another show in Seattle tomorrow night. Great job, mi amigo.” He turned to Reagan, “Thanks again for letting us kick it off here. Show went off without a hitch. This guy’s got a few tricks up his sleeve.” Jason winked at me. Not long after he left, Marley and Nigel did, too.

As the crowd wound down and midnight neared, I paid for my tab, loaded up the car and went home feeling lonelier than I ever had. Had I become a people person or just a Reagan person?

Fucking crushes suck.

When I woke up the next day it was to rapid-fire texts in the Chaotic group chat. They loved that name to a scary level and even renamed the chat to match. Tonight, we had a gig at High Dive, but the band scheduled at El Corazon for Saturday cancelled, and Jason was able to get us their slot. That was a major steppingstone, some big names kicked off there over the years, and it was a huge deal to get into their lineup. That place was booked for literal months out. Jason and Marley were in panic mode, concerned I only learned the four songs we’d played at the bar last night, but I assured them I had them all down.

For tonight, I suggested four different songs for us to play just to prove to them I knew my shit. The band only had about a dozen songs in total, and I had a notebook full that screamed to be shared. Hopefully, I’d grow a pair and do it and they’d like them enough to lay down new tracks with. The idea of sharing something as personal as my lyrics was really putting myself out there, and I wasn’t sure I was ready to be that vulnerable.

“All right, guys,” Jason said as we waited backstage. “We have ten minutes,” he scanned our shocked faces, “no joke, to set up and tear down. As soon as…”

“You’re up, Chaotic,” the manager hollered as he reached us. “Let’s go.”

We filled our hands, arms, and any available limb with equipment and began setting up while the previous band tore down theirs. Organized chaos? Not so much, but that’s how these shows went. Most fans didn’t realize what bands went through at every show. The only reason I did was because in my previous life I was the behind-the-scenes guy and after I tuned Ryder’s guitars I shifted to roadie and helped out there.

“Hey, Josh,” Jason leaned toward me. “Maybe keep your head up tonight and eyes on the crowd. That is, unless you can’t play without staring at your fingers.”

His laughter said he knew better. “Fuck off,” though I said the words through a smile. I think these guys were just what I needed. Well, a relationship with Nigel was still a work in progress but yeah, the rest was falling into place.

If I thought the energy last night was insane, I was wrong. This—seeing the excitement in the crowd as they sang along was beyond words. Given the larger venue, and we played a non-acoustic set with our amps and pedals locked and loaded, it was kick ass. More bodies in the crowd showed the band had a decent local following. The cheers when I hit the guitar solo on “Break it Up” with the added riffs were mind blowing.

Things are out of control, the place is hopping tonight

Someone’s gonna blow, the crowd is rowdy all right

So grab your gear, let’s give ‘em a show

This is the life, they’re here for us

When the melodies play it brings them to their knees

And the reaper’s held at bay

Chorus:

Break it up

Or you’ll miss the show

Break it up

What the fuck do you know

Break it up

Just you wait and see

Break it up

Chill the fuck out, or leave

I see you eye fucking me from across the room

Let’s find a dark hall, a few minutes will do

The bouncers had their hands full breaking up a fight

And with the bartenders busy slinging drinks

There’s no one watching the room

Now’s our chance to slip away

No one will notice we’re both gone

Chorus:

Break it up

Or you’ll miss the show

Break it up

What the fuck do you know

Break it up

Just you wait and see

Break it up

Chill the fuck out, or leave

The crowd is out of control, chanting for another show

Encore’s done, time to roll

We better get the fuck out before it comes to blows

Break it up

Shows over

Break it up

Before the cops throw you under

Break it up

It’s time to leave

Break it up

You’ve already caused a scene

Just fucking go home

Break it up

It’s high time you leave

A single finger salute held high above your head

Make no mistakes, we get what you said

They enjoyed hearing me play and that was a serious aphrodisiac. I swear to god I was rock-fucking-hard. This shit did it for me. Screaming fans, wailing on my guitar. Pure fucking magic.

“Great show. Here’s your pay.” The manager handed Jason an envelope. “Let me know if you want in the rotation again.” I had no idea what our pay was and even though I needed the dough, I was thankful for the chance to prove myself.

“Tomorrow night is a big one for us.” We’d just finished loading the vehicles when Jason struck up a conversation with the three of us. “Sal from Masterson Management will be there.”

“Oh man, the last time Easton and Diamond went to a show it was a total train wreck. Dude,” Marley turned to me, “please don’t fuck up or walk off stage.”

“I don’t plan to, but Sal does know I’m your new guitarist, right?” Fucking hell, if they forgot to share that bit of information with him this could be disastrous.

“Shit, I didn’t think about that. But Maiden wasn’t signed with them until after you left, right?” Jason asked.

“Right. But now Masterson is one big, happy family with Maiden, Social, and Embrace. Don’t forget, Sal’s son not only manages all three bands but is married to Social’s drummer. I can guarantee Maiden and Social would be happiest if I was six feet under.”

“Sorry, I hadn’t thought about that. I was too hyped up when I found out he’d be there.” I could see that from Jason, he was a go-go-go guy, though his admittance didn’t solve our current dilemma. He shrugged. “Maybe just stand off to the side and say nothing?”

“Yeah, that will work so well while I’m onstage.”

“It is what is, and my ass is tired.” Nigel wasn’t thrilled with me to begin with, I’m sure this only added to the animosity. “We’ll deal with it as it happens. Later.” With that we got into our respective vehicles and left.

Fuck, if there ever was a time for a drink, that was now.