"Oh fuck that shit, dude," the young stoner said. "You're fuckin' Jake Kingsley! They'll let you in. They gotta!"
Jake expressed the opinion that cutting to the front of the line wasn't fair to everyone who had arrived beforehand. The young stoner scoffed at this idea. So did the majority of the crowd. They obviously wanted Jake to see Brainwash. They practically dragged Jake and Helen up the steps of the club to the two bouncers guarding the entrance and, as speculated, the two bouncers let them in without hesitation and without collecting the eight dollar cover charge.
"We can always make room for you and your guest, Mr. Kingsley," one of them said. "Especially if you came to see Brainwash."
They followed one of the bouncers inside. The nightclub was as crowded as D Street West had always been during the height of Intemperance's club days. The bar was packed with people three deep, every table was full, and most of the standing room was occupied by men and women between the ages of eighteen and twenty. Rock music played through the overhead sound system and a small stage was set up on the far side of the room. The sights, sounds, and smells triggered a powerful sense of nostalgia in Jake, bringing him back to his own club days, when they had played for peanuts just for the sheer joy of it, back before the realities of the life of a professional musician had been forced home to them.
"Let me introduce you to Mr. Meyer," the bouncer said, leading them through the crowd and through a small door near the bathrooms. They went down a short hallway and stopped at an office door. The bouncer knocked, was allowed entry, and he led them inside a small office where a stuffy looking man with a bad comb-over sat behind a desk with a computer terminal on it. The man's eyes looked up at their entry and then widened as he recognized Jake.
"Mr. Meyer," the bouncer said. "Jake Kingsley and his girlfriend decided to pay us a visit tonight to check out Brainwash. I thought you'd like to know."
"Yes, yes indeed," Meyer said, standing so fast he bashed his knees on his desk. "Thank you for bringing them in, John."
"No problem, Mr. Meyer," John said. "Anything else I can do?"
"You can grab a small table out of storage and set it up near center stage for Mr. Kingsley and his guest," Meyer said. "Guard it and don't let anyone sit there."
"You got it," John said.
"Really, Mr. Meyer," Jake said. "That's not necessary. We can find out own place to hang out."
"I won't hear of it," Meyer said. He turned to John again. "Go."
"Right," John said, leaving the room in a hurry.
"I'm very pleased to meet both of you," Meyer said, coming around the desk and holding out his hand. "I'm Brian Meyer, manager and part-owner of this place."
Jake and Helen both shook hands with him. He then spent the better part of fifteen minutes interrogating them about what they were doing in Boston (he hadn't heard about the Celia Valdez/Greg Oldfellow wedding) and how they had come to find their way to his club. He then asked if Jake would pose for a picture with him. Jake agreed and Helen took the shot. He then asked if they had ever heard of Brainwash before.
"Never," Jake said. "Some of the people outside filled me in on them. Is it true they're all teachers?"
"Very true," Meyer said. "They all work for the Providence Regional School District as educators. They got together a few years ago just for fun and realized they were pretty good together. Only one of them was ever a performing musician before. Do you remember the band Courage? From the early 1980's, I think it was?"
"It sounds vaguely familiar," Jake said.
"They were a one hit wonder band that only put out a single album. You probably remember the one hit in question. It was Going My Way?"
"Oh yeah," Jake said, remembering it now that it was mentioned. It had been a heavily aired song that had come out about two years before Intemperance had put out their first album. It was still played on hard rock stations on occasion, although the actual band was rarely mentioned by the DJs. It had been a good, solid tune, with decent guitar work and respectable vocals. Jake remembered turning up the tune a few times when it came on his radio in the car.
"Jim Scanlon," Meyer said, "was the vocalist for Courage. When their second album sold less than one hundred thousand copies, Aristocrat Records did not pick them up for any more option periods. Since Jim was not allowed to perform until the expiration of the contract, and since he had a bachelor's degree in World History, he picked up his teaching credential and went to work for the Providence School District. It was there that he met his wife, Marcie, who is the keyboard player and one of the other singers for the group. She teaches junior high English these days but has always been a pianist and a keyboardist."
"One of the other singers?" Jake said. "There are two of them?"
"Three actually," Meyer said. "Stephanie Zool is the third. She's the lead guitarist as well."
"A female lead guitarist?" Jake said, surprised.
"She knows her way around a guitar," Meyer said. "Wait until you hear her wail. She's not as good as Matt Tisdale, of course — nobody's that good — but she's certainly no hacker." He lowered his voice and spoke in a conspiratorial whisper. "She is a lesbian, you know. That's probably why she's so good at guitar playing."
"Because she's a lesbian?" Jake asked, failing to see the logic behind this particular statement.
"Well... we try to keep that quiet," Meyer said. "They are from Providence after all."
"I see," Jake said, trying to puzzle that one out as well.
"Anyway," Meyer continued, "Jim, Marcie, and Stephanie are the heart and soul of the group. They are the primary songwriters. Jim is the main composer. They each sing whatever songs they have written. In a way they're like a modern-day Fleetwood Mac. They do everything from heavy metal tunes — those are usually Jim's — to ballads with nothing but piano accompaniment. They do a lot of three part harmony as well. I honestly think you'll be impressed by them."
"I can't wait to see them," Jake said with sincerity. After everything Meyer and the young stoner outside had told him, he really was interested in hearing this group.
"Why don't you let me introduce you to them?" Meyer offered. "They're backstage now, getting ready for the show. They'd love to know you're here and watching them."
"Any chance we can wait until after the show for that?" Jake asked. "I don't want them to be intimidated by my presence or anything. In fact, I'd prefer you not even tell them I'm here until then."
Meyer nodded at the wisdom of this. "I think that's a good idea, Jake. We'll do that. After the show, just come back to my office. I'll take you backstage to meet them."
"Sounds good," Jake said.
"In the meantime, let's get you to your table. I'm sure you're itching for a drink about now."
"I'm sure you're right," Jake agreed.
Meyer led them back out into the club, pushing and shoving his way through the crowd until they reached a small table with two chairs that had been squeezed in near the front of the stage. John the bouncer was standing next to it, turning away anyone who tried to sit there.
"This table is reserved for a special guest," he would tell them.
Of course it didn't take long for those around the table to see who the special guest in question was. As Meyer pulled out their chair so they could be seated, Jake could hear the excited murmurs from all around them. "It's Jake Kingsley!" "Oh my god, is it really him?" "What's he doing here?"
"Enjoy the show, Jake, Helen," Meyer told them. He waved at one of the cocktail waitresses, a young, bleach blonde woman in a half-shirt and a tight pair of form-fitting jeans. Her eyes widened when she saw who was sitting at the recently installed table.