“I signed that line, turned in my soul
Gave up my life, gave up control
Unseen chains still hold you down
Bullshit gains; here’s a paper crown
That ink’s not blood, the sky’s not blue
I signed that line, my soul to you”
The fans were on their feet now as Jake silenced his guitar and the band switched back to the rap rhythm in E major and G began to belt out the next verses. Jake continued to stand at his microphone stand, tapping out the beat on the side of his guitar, moving his shoulders and head to the rhythm. And then the chorus came around again and he ground out the crunching riff once again, singing out his next part; the lyrics different on this rep except for the first line and the last.
This brought them to the bridge portion, the first true fusion of the two sounds. They extended it out another twenty seconds for the live performance, building it up in intensity before Jake sang out his portion of the angry retrospect of a first-time contract. G then added his portion of the bridge vocals and that brought them to the guitar solo.
Here we go, Jake thought nervously, feeling an intense sensation of stage fright as he prepared to shred a solo in front of an audience for the first time in his life. Let’s see how they like this. Assuming I don’t fuck it up.
He did not fuck it up. His fingers began to move up and down the fretboard while his guitar pick struck the individual strings in rapid succession, producing a cascade of notes that flowed out of the speakers. He did not miss or mistime a single note. And the audience, which consisted almost entirely of rap and hip-hop fans willing to pay top dollar to see this show, went truly crazy as he played. The jumped atop their seats and clapped out the rhythm as he performed. Feeding on their energy, feeling their love and appreciation for what he was doing, Jake let the moment take him away. He bent and twisted his body as he played, pushing the neck of his guitar up, down, sideways, while his fingers hammered out the solo. And when it wrapped up and it was time to switch back to the E major rap rhythm for G’s final verses, the band had to improvise out an extended transition because the cheers and applause in response to the solo were so overwhelming.
Yes! Jake thought, a large smile on his face as he acknowledged the cheers with a wave. This is what is missing from my life right now. I need to get out and do what I’ve been put on Earth for a little more.
They finished up I Signed That Line with an extended outro and a final flourish of instruments. As the last note faded away and the applause and cheers washed over them once more, G walked over and grasped Jake’s right hand with his left. He raised their hands into the air in triumph and then the two of them shared a brief bow. Jake then headed back for the stage left door.
G went over and snatched his microphone out of the stand. “Jake Kingsley everyone!” he yelled. “Let’s hear it for him one more time!”
They let him hear it one more time.
Jake sat back down on his stool in the backstage area while G and the boys launched into the next song in the set: Move Along, from G’s second independent CD. He drank some Gatorade from a bottle that Bark had handed him and then took off the tie and the dress shirt, leaving him only in his slacks and a simple white undershirt. Bark put the used shirts in a bag, where they would be laundered and neatly pressed along with the rest of the group’s stage clothing.
“That was fuckin’ tight out there, Jake!” Bark said, shouting into his ear to be heard over the music from the stage.
“It was, wasn’t it?” Jake shouted back.
The intermission came. G and the band left the stage, and the house lights came up. Jake followed them through the tunnel under the arena back to the locker rooms where their dressing area had been set up. Everyone drank their fill of Gatorade and then G and his band all passed around a joint to reinforce their highs. Unlike Jake and the members of Intemperance, Bigg G and his band embraced marijuana use before performing live, believing it enhanced their ability to feel the music.
To each their own, Jake thought with a shrug, though he had a lot of unpleasant memories about performance mishaps when Darren and Coop started taking hits of marijuana and drinking before shows. He could not bring himself to partake in the joint. No one seemed to hold this against him.
Once they were feeling right again, the band quickly stripped off their formal clothing and put on more casual wear; though they still stuck with slacks and dress-style shirts. Jake joined them in this. He stripped out of his undershirt, shoes and pants and picked up a pair of torn jeans and a black t-shirt that commemorated Pink Floyd’s 1980 tour for their album The Wall. The shirt was in pristine condition. He had bought it on an internet auction site that Nerdly had introduced him to a few weeks before, paying more than a hundred dollars for it, but it had been delivered right to the Coos Bay house three days after the purchase.
“You know somethin’, Jake,” asked James, who was eyeing Jake’s body as he changed. “I was really expecting you to have a pair of tighty-whitey briefs on.”
“No shit?” Jake asked, looking down at his dark blue boxer briefs. “Why would you think that?”
“Because you white,” James said simply. “I kind of assumed all white people wore white jockeys.”
Jake gave him a faux glare. “Why you wanna stereotype my people like that, James?” he demanded.
James chuckled. “Have your people call my people,” he told Jake.
Everyone got dressed in the second-half clothes and made their way back to the stage left door. Most of the crowd was back in their seats now and starting to get antsy for the show to start again. Jake glanced up at the clock. They had four minutes to go before the lights would go back down and the second set began.
“You ready for this shit, homey?” G asked.
Jake glanced at his Fender guitar. “I’m ready for it,” he said. “The question is...” He nodded toward the audience. “ ... are they ready for it?”
“I guess you’ll find out,” G said lightly. “If nobody pops a cap at you while you’re playing, then they like it.”
“Very comforting,” Jake said, borrowing a Laura-ism.
The clock continued to tick down. When it was inside of a minute, Jake stood and picked up his Fender guitar. He slung it over his shoulder. Bark came up behind him and plugged him in, just as he had done with the Les Paul.
“Go out there and shine, Jake,” Bark told him, giving him a pat on the back as the timer reached zero and the house lights went back down.
“It’s what I do,” Jake said with a smile.
The cheers sounded up as the lights went down and then slowly faded back down. Jake took a deep breath and then walked out onto the stage alone. A single spotlight followed him as he strolled over to his microphone. The cheers amped up a bit as the crowd realized he was back, but there was also a bit of puzzlement in the air as they undoubtedly wondered where G and the rest of the band were.
Jake stepped on the right effects pedal and then looked out into the dimness of the audience. “Hey, LA,” he said lightly. “How’s everyone doing out there tonight?”
The cheers erupted again.
“Fuck yeah!” Jake said. “I want to thank G and the band for inviting me to play with them up here tonight. I gotta tell you, it’s been a long time now since I’ve been up on stage, playing and singing for an audience, and I forgot how good it feels. So ... from the bottom of my heart, and with utmost sincerity, thanks G, thanks James and Fro for letting me play your parts, and thank all of you out there for listening to me and making me feel like I belong here.”