“You know,” Jake said to Ron as he took in the sights, sounds, and smells, “I’ve really missed all of this shit.”
Ron nodded. “The road is a bitch, but she has her charms.”
“True that,” Jake agreed.
“We can set your things down here,” Ron said, pointing to a corner that was relatively debris free.
“Sure,” Jake said, putting his suitcase and the saxophone case down where told.
“Come on,” Ron said. “The band is probably out on the stage, getting ready for the check.”
Jake followed him out through the stage left door and onto the platform where Bobby Z and company (and possibly me, he reminded himself) would be performing later that night. The instrument stands had all been set up and arranged and the drum set was in place on its wheeled platform. The entire band was there. Jake only recognized Bobby Z and Laura.
Laura was dressed in a pair of faded blue jeans and a ragged white T-shirt with a picture of a basset hound on it. Her hair was tied back in a ponytail. She looked tired and worn down, but she was also one of the most beautiful things he had ever seen. She saw him as he walked out on the stage and her face lit up in huge smile.
“Jake!” she squealed, rushing over to him. “You made it!”
“I made it,” he agreed.
A moment later he was holding a hundred and twenty pounds of squirming redhead in his arms as she threw herself into him, wrapping her arms around his neck, her legs around his waist. Her mouth was kissing him on the lips, on the cheeks. He relished the feel of her soft body against him, knowing that he would, sometime in the next few hours, be naked and thrusting himself inside of her.
“Now that’s what I call a happy to see you greeting,” Z said with a smile.
“Yep,” said one of the other musicians with a nod. He had a scowl on his face, but did not seem unhappy.
Laura kissed him a few more times, including one smoking hot exchange that involved her tongue penetrating his mouth, and then finally allowed him to put her down.
“It is so good to see you,” she told him. “God, I’ve missed you.”
“I missed you too,” he said, having to squirm a little to adjust his expanding erection. “Anyplace we can be alone?”
She giggled. “Not just yet, unfortunately. Let me introduce you to the guys.”
“Right,” Jake said, looking at the band members who were all looking at him. “Hey, guys! I’m Jake.”
They laughed (except for the scowling guy). All knew who he was, of course. Laura then made the official introductions. He had never met Z before, but had spoken to him on the phone. Z had a firm handshake and did not seem the least bit effeminate. Next came the scowler, who was called Homer and who played the drums. Groove was the bass player. Sally played the trombone. And then there was Squiggle, who played the trumpet. Squiggle told Jake that he’d always admired his work and was looking forward to playing with him.
“Well ... we’ll see how this goes,” Jake said. “I’m not sure we’re going to be able to put together anything with such limited rehearsal time.”
“You never know until you try, right?” asked Z.
“I suppose so,” Jake allowed.
“I really want to perform up on stage with you, Jake,” Laura said. “Let’s try really hard.”
“I promise to give it my best,” Jake assured her.
She smiled and then pulled him into another hug, squeezing him tightly and covering his face with kisses again. “Sweet Lord, you feel good,” she whispered into his ear. “I just want to eat you alive.”
“I could get into that,” Jake whispered back, feeling even more blood go rushing south.
“But, business before eating,” Z said. “We have a sound check to do, and Jake is going to want to plug in and dial in his sound as well, right, Jake?”
“Right,” Jake said with a sigh. “Business first.”
The sound check went quickly, as they tended to do once a band was in the groove of touring and used to performing them day after day (and didn’t have the Nerdlys to nitpick and over-analyze every adjustment). When all of the primary instruments and microphones were dialed in, the techs had Jake plug in his Brogan to a pre-amp. Since he would be playing clean—if he played at all—there was no need for effects pedals of any kind. He strummed his strings when told as the techies adjusted volume levels on the pre-amp, the amp, and then the speakers themselves. Once that was done, they set up a microphone stand and a voice mic for him next to Z’s piano and went through the same process with that.
“All right,” Z said in satisfaction once Jake and his guitar were locked in. “Do you want to dial in that soprano sax now, Teach?”
“Let’s do it,” Laura said, pulling it from the case and attaching a clip-on microphone to it.
It took her a little bit of time to tune the instrument and get it warmed up for proper playing. The techies used her trips up and down the scales to dial in the sound as she did this. Finally, she and Z were both happy with the sound.
“Okay now,” Z said. “Are we ready to try a little South Island Blur now?”
“I suppose,” Jake said. “You all have the sheet music I brought?”
They all did, except for Squiggle and Sally. There was no trumpet or trombone in Blur and trying to fit them in just for the sake of doing it would have increased the complexity of what they were trying to accomplish exponentially.
“Okay,” Jake said. “I’m told you’re all familiar with the tune from hearing it on the radio and CD copies, but that you’ve never actually played it before. Is that correct?”
“Not in a formal manner,” Z said, “although I have been practicing the piano parts by ear since you agreed to give this a shot.”
“This should be interesting,” Jake said. “Let’s do it just like the studio version, except you should probably allow me to lead in with the guitar and then have Laura pick up on it after the first repetition and then everyone else jump in for the third rep. It’s a four, in the key of A minor, and the beat is consistent at one hundred. Sound good?”
“Sounds good,” Z said, giving a nod of respect. “So, we’re talking four reps of the intro melodies before the vocals start instead of two reps like in the recording?”
“That’s right,” Jake said.
“Everyone down with that?” Z asked.
Everyone was down with it.
“All right,” Jake said, gripping his guitar. “Let’s do this thing.”
He began to play. Laura jumped in on the second rep, blowing that sweet, sad melody from her soprano sax. Z, Groove, and Homer jumped in on the third rep. After the fourth rep, the melody settled down and Jake began to sing.
They ran through the entire song and it sounded much better than any of them had any right to expect. Things got a little rough during the bridge section, when Homer misplayed the changeover and Groove followed his lead, and then again when they brought the tune to end and didn’t quite hit unity in silencing their instruments, but all in all, it wasn’t shitty, particularly not for a first run through of song that three of the five had never played before.
“I think we can do this,” Z opined once they were done. “We just need to jam it out a few more times.”
“Yeah,” Jake said pleasantly surprised with their efforts. “Maybe there is something to those Hollywood jam sessions after all.”
They ran through it four more times and each repetition sounded better than the one before it. They were not performing the tune flawlessly, by any means, but any errors made were easily covered for and would likely not have been even noticed by the audience had they been there to hear them. True, the rendition wasn’t as polished as it could have been, but they were going to be presenting it to the audience as an impromptu piece anyway. It was actually desirable for it to sound a little rough around the edges and quickly thrown together.