Fast Lane

by Ashley, Kristen

  Interviewer’s Disclosure:

  I have been employed on a contract basis by RockitRollit.com for the last three years selecting artists for features on the site, and writing those features, along with being a freelance entertainment journalist specializing in popular culture and the music industry, primarily the Rock and Punk genres. The latter of which I began in high school, submitting one of my commentaries to Alt Yes magazine and garnering my first byline at age eighteen.

  Prior to commencing the “Fast Lane” project, I became engaged to Brody Townes.

  However, it must be noted, I was an admirer of the Roadmasters’ music, had a long fascination with their story and had already made requests in an effort to embark on this project preceding my relationship with my now fiancé.

  Before beginning this venture, I had not yet met my fiancé’s father’s band and I requested that Brody Townes not be involved in procuring access to the players for this undertaking.

  Thus, he was not involved.

  However, it should be noted that, even though my fiancé was not a part of this project, I am fully aware I would not have gained access to the band, even if I had not previously met any of them but Tim Townes, if I was not considered by them to be part of the family.

  The reader can interpret any bias they wish as per my admiration of the band and my relationship to it.

  The Roadmasters’ request, anyone moved to do so by these tales having been told, that they donate to their local nonprofit legal services or child abuse organizations, or they can send their gifts to Childhelp and/or the NAACP Legal Defense Fund.

  Childhelp: www.childhelp.org

  NAACP LDF: www.naacpldf.org

  Interviewer’s Impressions, Recorded After Event:

  Just before Lyla’s final interview completes, McCade uncurls from around his wife and exits the daybed with the tiger cat in his possession.

  It does not escape notice that the gray cat keeps a distance, but trots behind him.

  After we finish, Lyla reiterates the invitation to stay for chili.

  She then pushes from the daybed, and I follow her through the door into the inner sanctum.

  A massive room confronts me.

  A room filled with windows.

  Furniture.

  And warmth.

  We are immediately in a large kitchen over which is a tall ceiling made of angled skylights, ten of them—five facing five—buttressed braces spanning the overhead space.

  There are butcherblock countertops and barnwood paneling.

  A top-of-the-line range sits in a hearth of carefully laid river rock, the back of the hearth, behind the stove, is fashioned of brick.

  There is a long dining table that seats ten beyond an island made of glossy black cabinets with a startling white farmer’s drop sink in the middle. The table sits in front of a window which both the tiger and gray cat are perching on the ledge of, their tails curling and unfurling, their gazes aimed outside.

  I look out the window and see McCade and his son in the gently sloping front area with all three dogs, including the Maltese.

  They are at work at a large firepit surrounded by rocks beyond which is a circle of a goodly number of Adirondack chairs.

  Lyla goes to the stove and lifts the top from a very large, very shiny pot.

  When she does, I feel the need to check my notes.

  It is my understanding Lyla and McCade have two children: Jesse Baptiste, aged eighteen and Evelyn “Lynie” Loretta, aged sixteen.

  The large dining room table and that pot, not to mention a living area with a long couch and a number of comfortable armchairs with and without ottomans aimed at an enormous TV and/or a fireplace that currently has a crackling fire indicate a much bigger family lives in this house.

  Lyla picks up a spoon, stirs, and a rich, spicy aroma fills the air.

  Lyla then moves to the front door that sits between kitchen and dining area, opens it and shouts through it, “If Bobby McGee gets filthy, I’m not the one giving her a bath!”

  I look to the window.

  McCade just tips his head back from being bent over, laying logs in the firepit, and grins at his wife.

  His son shouts back, “Lynie will do it!”

  Lyla closes the door and looks to me.

  “That means, after they have fun and make Bobby McGee love them beyond compare by allowing her to get filthy, I’m giving that dog a bath.”

  She does not appear upset about this.

  I share I’m uncomfortable roaming their living space freely as pertains to my current reason for being there.

  Lyla shares that if Preacher didn’t wish for me to do so, I would not be invited for chili.

  “And if it’s okay with Preacher, I’m fine with it,” she finishes.

  Even in all she and Jesse have shared with me, and my burgeoning position among these people, I feel like an interloper.

  Therefore, I do not make a thorough investigation to report for this effort.

  I note instantly, however, there are no gold and platinum records on the walls, no awards tucked into shelves, of which, McCade has earned many.

  This family reads books.

  And if a wall that is nothing but rows of stacked vinyl and compact discs, as well as an impressive shelf stereo system with turntable, is any indication, unsurprisingly, the McCade family enjoys music.

  There are a number of framed pictures set in shelves and on tables.

  I peruse these.

  A tired Lyla and a proud McCade shoved into a hospital bed, Lyla holding a bundle that has to be Jesse, McCade holding them both.

  The same when Lynie is born, except Jesse is tucked in the curve of McCade’s arm and hanging onto his father’s neck.

  Further, there are a variety of snapshots of past Christmases and barbeques and vacations and much time spent in and around this cabin set around as reminders of family times, and many of them have one or more of the Roadmasters and their own families included.

  And of note, resting at an honored place on a table behind the couch, is a framed photo of McCade, Mancosa and Audie Campbell sitting around a modest but sturdy and well-worn kitchen table, all with glasses of bourbon in front of them, cigarettes between their fingers, a used ashtray is also on the table between the three.

  Sonia, Lyla’s sister, is standing, leaning into her grandfather. They have their arms around each other, and like all the men, she’s smiling at what is presumably Lyla behind the camera.

  Lynie Campbell, however, is bent over Preacher McCade, her hand wrapped around his jaw, and she’s bestowing a motherly kiss on the top of his head.

  My biggest surprise is that, pride of place, and rather large, there is a framed copy of The Clinch, a photograph the taking of which infuriated McCade.

  But it has to be one of the most seen in the room, as it sits on a shelf just above the TV.

  When Lyla notices me studying it, she says, “It pissed off Preacher, but I always thought it was the bomb.”

  Seeing it again, it is my opinion she is not wrong.

  I’m about to ask where the awards and accolades are, but Lyla tips her head to the side, smiles and says, “My daughter is home.”

  I’m told McCade’s honors are displayed in his studio “up the hill.”

  And then Lynie has arrived in a flurry of rustling bags and an excited tiger cat.

  When we’re introduced, Lynie is much more friendly to me than her brother but has more interest in describing her purchases to her mother.

  They decide to go through them later, and after a gentle “put them away, honey,” from Lyla, Lynie disappears into the back of the house, reappears and then exits out the front door.

  She is greeted perfunctorily by her brother in a big-brother way.

  However, she is encased in a bear hug by her father who also kisses the top of her dark-haired head.

  McCade then tucks her into his side and, for some time, does not let his daughter go.

  Lynie returns this ge
sture.

  Holding each other close, they are standing in front of the woodshed.

  I then note that the building of the fire is a signal.

  For it is not only Lynie who has joined her father and brother, Jesse Simms is out there with his wife and both his daughters.

  I would then learn something that, until this reporting, has been kept a secret, and my fiancé has left for a surprise.

  The patch of land that Preacher McCade bought in the Arizona mountains included thirty acres.

  In the time between their reunion and now, all the Roadmasters, including Tom Mancosa, have built homes tucked somewhere within walking distance on that land.

  Only the McCades live there full-time, but as Lyla fusses about in the kitchen, she explains at least one of the Roadmasters with his family is there at any given time.

  She shares their house is what “the boys” call “the headquarters.”

  And this explains the long dining table and large pot of chili.

  I’m recruited for service and thus carry out a number of thick, plaid, wool throws with fringed ends after Lyla shouts to McCade, “Tub duty!”

  McCade then breaks off from a huddle that now includes Dave Clinton, Janey Rogers, with Simms and McCade’s son, all standing by a roaring fire, while Lynie, Simms’s daughters, and his wife Natalie have rearranged some chairs closer to the fire and to each other, this now including Clinton and Rogers’ very young offspring.

  Simms comes to the house with McCade, greets me on the way, and they return to the fire with a large tub filled with beer and soft drinks covered in ice.

  DuShawn Williams and his wife Vanessa are the next to arrive. And although the rest are in warm, rugged, but attractive mountain gear, Vanessa wears a trim, belted puffy coat and expensive lace-up-the-shins boots.

  Their three boys, all around the ages of Jesse and Lynie, herald a breakup of generations, Adirondack chairs are again rearranged, but although Simms’s and Clinton’s children are quite a bit younger, they are naturally included with the teen-aged sect.

  Tim and Marty Townes and Tom and Simone Mancosa join the group around the firepit.

  Tom and Simone’s sons and daughter join the other young ones.

  At my request during this project, Brody has remained at home in California.

  Perhaps after the deep dive into the history of Preacher McCade and the Roadmasters that I’ve done for the last several months, with intensive research prior to the interviews, and a longstanding appreciation of the band, I am surprised that the conversation is not reminiscing.

  Nor is it about the industry they’re in.

  It is about the chili they all are about to consume and if, again, McCade has made it too spicy, or for others, not spicy enough.

  It is about a girls’ spa trip the women are planning somewhere in central California.

  It is children’s grades, sporting events, lessons, what was last binged on Netflix, books read, movies seen, and quite a bit about McCade despairing that Lyla recently bought their daughter the Mini considering he isn’t a fan of her driving with a number of “I heard that” coming from Lynie.

  McCade and Lyla are very openly in their element.

  They are not king and queen.

  They are among family.

  After the chili there is a general sprawl in the living room with the female youth disappearing into Lynie’s room and the males walking to the Williams’s house to play video games.

  However, the wives do not segregate themselves from their husbands.

  Simms queues up the concert video of the show the Roadmasters performed for the Scott-Wright Legal Services Center in August of 2001.

  The concert album, and video, are still available for purchase with all proceeds going to the Center.

  To date, the concert, the video, the ensuing concerts held in varying places across the United States every other year that are organized by Williams, McCade, Mancosa and all the Roadmasters have made over thirteen million dollars for a number of legal aid organizations since 2001.

  I have watched this video at least twenty times.

  It is a rare privilege to sit with the band and view any of their performances.

  Especially this particular one.

  To hear them razz each other for dropped chords or coming in an octave too low (when they did not).

  To listen in as they debate a setlist, the perfection of which has been carved into rock history.

  The opening of the Roadmasters’ set, which is the finale of this festival-style concert, is legend.

  Played in downtown Baton Rouge, where the Blues Festival is located, with no fanfare and no one introducing them, McCade and the Roadmasters wander onto the stage.

  They strap on or sit at their instruments, as the case may be, and move to their mics as the crowd comes to realize they’re onstage.

  Before a din can erupt, or even the entirety of the audience knows the players have taken the stage, the band explodes with the opening chords of Thin Lizzy’s “The Boys Are Back in Town.”

  With McCade singing lead.

  Needless to say, the crowd went berserk.

  The Roadmasters’ set lasted two hours and thirty-seven minutes and the crowd demanded three encores.

  They played their hits.

  They played their B sides.

  They played covers, including “Life in the Fast Lane,” “Maybe I’m Amazed,” “Lovesong,” launched into an epic, ten-minute version of Steppenwolf’s “Magic Carpet Ride,” and added more recent (for that time) artists including the Gin Blossoms’ “Follow You Down” and “Wonderwall” by Oasis.

  They played minimal tracks from their new album.

  They did not perform “Give Then Take.”

  As the concert video is coming to its end, Lynie McCade wanders into the room, going directly to her father. She settles herself on the arm of the double-wide chair he and her mother are sitting in, winding herself around her dad’s shoulders.

  Her mother is sitting so close to McCade, she’s almost in his lap.

  Perhaps he’s been called, perhaps there’s a familial sixth sense of what is about to happen, and an understanding it isn’t to be missed, therefore Jesse McCade also returns to the larger group.

  He moves to sit on the floor at his father’s feet and does not hesitate to rest back against his dad’s leg.

  In fact, all the younger generation eventually filters back into the living room to watch the final songs of the concert.

  The penultimate being “Your Eyes” from the Follow Your Star album, an up-tempo love song that nevertheless has melancholy lyrics that detail a searching man’s lonely journey to understanding, and the only thing that keeps him sane along the way is “Waking up and going to sleep seeing your eyes.”

  This would be the first single released from that album.

  It would reach number eight on the charts.

  And go on to win four awards.

  There is no ribbing and no speaking as the Roadmasters perform this song on the television while the Roadmasters and their loved ones in that living room watch.

  The next song will bring tears.

  The concert ends on a cover which is arguably, but not curiously—and if the feel of that room was appropriately assessed, this does not offend the band—what Preacher McCade and the Roadmasters are known for the most.

  Their seven-minute rendition of a two minute and forty-four second song that was played with massive energy and almost palpable electricity, even on video, at the end of a balls-to-the-wall concert.

  It was understood deeply by their fans and served to launch the band to a new generation of the same.

  It was introduced by Preacher McCade with the words:

  “In my life, five people asked this of me.

  The first were Loretta and Oscar Williams.

  The next was Minnie Simms.

  The next, Jesse Simms.

  The last, my Lyla.

  I can finally answer.

/>   Yes.”

  And then they played Pete Townshend’s “Let My Love Open the Door.”

  The End

  We hope you enjoyed the show.

  Goodnight.

  KRISTEN ASHLEY IS the New York Times bestselling author of over sixty romance novels including the Rock Chick, Colorado Mountain, Dream Man, Chaos, Unfinished Heroes, The ’Burg, Magdalene, Fantasyland, The Three, Ghost and Reincarnation, Moonlight and Motor Oil and Honey series along with several standalone novels. She’s a hybrid author, publishing titles both independently and traditionally, her books have been translated in fourteen languages and she’s sold over three million books.

  Kristen’s novel, Law Man, won the RT Book Reviews Reviewer’s Choice Award for best Romantic Suspense. Her independently published title Hold On was nominated for RT Book Reviews best Independent Contemporary Romance and her traditionally published title Breathe was nominated for best Contemporary Romance. Kristen’s titles Motorcycle Man, The Will, Ride Steady (which won the Reader’s Choice award from Romance Reviews) and The Hookup all made the final rounds for Goodreads Choice Awards in the Romance category.

  Kristen, born in Gary and raised in Brownsburg, Indiana, was a fourth-generation graduate of Purdue University. Since, she has lived in Denver, the West Country of England, and now she resides in Phoenix. She worked as a charity executive for eighteen years prior to beginning her independent publishing career. She currently writes full-time.

  Although romance is her genre, the prevailing themes running through all of Kristen’s novels are friendship, family and a strong sisterhood. To this end, and as a way to thank her readers for their support, Kristen has created the Rock Chick Nation, a series of programs that are designed to give back to her readers and promote a strong female community.