by P G Loiselle
“The band’s called Fast.Fun!,” he answered. “Ever heard of them?”
Fast.Fun!? Fast.Fun! and that dirty rat, Fango Souza, Stone’s nephew? It could have been any other band in the world, and I would have been ecstatic. But Fast.Fun!? Really? Totally absurd. When Fango finds out that we’re up against them, he’ll surely look for a way to get us with the help of his friends and family. Then again, maybe it’s a set up and they’ll ruin our show in front of all those people? Or even worse, gun us down on stage.
When Brian and I were saying our cordial good byes, there were a million things going through my head, but the one thought that was most prevalent was the thought of not letting those people, Stone, Carney, Fango, Herbie and the whole lot of them, ruin our lives or douse our aspirations. We could say no, but if we did that, they’d end up the winners. If we couldn’t play there, how can we play anywhere? We need to stand up for ourselves. And that means taking on the challenge and beating Fango the best way we know how…on stage. We’d need to be prepared and act smarter than we were at the Showroom. If they tried anything underhanded, we’d deal with it when the time comes.
Mike overheard everything and saw the look on my face after I asked who we were up against. When I hung up, he said one word, “Fast.Fun?”
“Yep.”
“What are we going to do?”
“Go head to head with these jokers,” I said.” What’s the worst that could happen?”
“They kill us all.”
“They could kill us all now if they wanted. My door isn’t even locked. Besides, as they say in New Hampshire, ‘live free or die’. We can’t let them beat us like this. We can’t.”
“Whatever you decide, count me in”.
Mike and I hopped into the car with the aim of gathering the others. We went to Stevie’s first, but there was no sign of him. Tommy usually didn’t leave the house unless he was at work or with the band, so we picked him up at once. We had to swear to Tina it was a band meeting and nothing else. Dale had gotten home minutes before from a used car buying spree in Connecticut and was ready to join us straight away. We cruised by Stevie’s again to check; he was still missing in action, so we continued to my place. I had an inkling where he might be hiding.
The others gathered in the living room, wondering what was going on. I didn’t reveal anything yet. Only Piano Mike knew the scoop as he witnessed it firsthand.
I retrieved the walkie talkie from my bedroom and attempted communication. “Amy, you there? It’s me. Can you hear me?”
At first, there was only dead air. Right when I was about to give up, she chimed in. “Hey, Luke. It’s been a while.”
I felt like telling her about all the failed times I tried to reach her but had to stay focused. “Yeah, it has. You seem ok. Anyway, I’m desperately looking for Stevie. Know where he is?”
“Uh…Stevie, yeah, he’s, um…actually here. Yeah, he stopped by to bring me some Dunkin Donuts.” She said it in a funny way, trying to justify his presence. I must have knocked her off balance since she thought I was calling her. “Want to talk to him?”
“No. Tell him to come to my house right away. We have big news to discuss. Unless…”
“Unless what?” Amy asked.
“Unless there’s something more important he needs to do over there.”
“He brought me coffee and a dozen donuts because I’m stuck here. Stop what you’re insinuating, Luke. We had this conversation already, so get over it.”
“Chill out, Amy. I wasn’t insinuating anything. I didn’t know what his plans were. That’s all. Tell him to come as soon as he can and to be careful getting out of there. We don’t want anyone giving away your hideout. And hey, I’ll buzz you tomorrow night. Alright?” My voice remained neutral and gave no cause for attack.
“Ok,” she said, taking down her defenses. “We’ll talk tomorrow.” There was a short period of dead air and she buzzed me again, this time sounding fragile. “I can’t take much more of this, you know. Something’s got to happen. Anything. I’m going mental.”
“I know. I can tell you’re on edge. Something will happen, and soon. Tomorrow, Amy. We’ll talk tomorrow.”
Within a half hour, we were complete. I didn’t spout the news randomly but told it chronologically, as I experienced it. It was as if we hovered around the campfire telling stories and I was the Scoutmaster, the Indian Chief, the Shaman, the one who knew all the secrets that had ever been. They listened with mouths half-open. Even Stevie, at first perturbed that I dragged him away from Amy, gave his full attention. When I was done, there was a brief span of silence before Dale let loose.
“I say we go for it and whip their skimpy little asses. If Stone and his Portagee brother are looking for a fight, that’s what we’ll give them. I’m not going to let those buttheads push me around.” He leaned back in his chair and put his hands on the back of his neck. All his aggression subsided, giving way to a sparkly-tooth smile. “Besides, how cool would that be to hang with Tyler, Perry and the rest of them? That’d be making it and, if I died after the tour, who cares.”
“Dale’s got a point there,” Tommy said. “We can’t let them suckers force us into giving up. It’s the best chance we got so far, and tons of groups made it big after playing back up. Hendrix warmed up for The Monkeys for Christ’s sake. Look what happened to him.”
“He died an early death,” I said.
Tommy ignored his faux pas and continued, undeterred by my comment. “Picture it: on stage at the Providence Civic Center with thousands of locals cheering us on. We’d be hometown heroes. Tina’d be so proud.”
Mike chimed in next. “I was first to say we should do it and haven’t changed my mind. Don’t forget, first we have to win the contest, and who knows what we’ll be up against.”
“Whatever we’re up against,” I said, “if we don’t play, we can’t be winners”.
“You’re a real winner alright,” Dale said and hurled a pillow at me.
Most of us started becoming giddy, clowning around, thinking that it was a done deal, until we realized there was one more vote to be counted, a very important vote. All at once, we got serious again, and eight eyes shifted over to Stevie, looking for his seal of approval.
“How wonderful. A dream come true. And we only need to show up to get the prize.” He tightened his lips. He sneered. “It’s so obvious.”
“What’s obvious?” I asked.
“Stone, Fango, Stone’s half-brother, they’ve thrown the hook and will reel us in like sucker fish. If you can’t see that, you’re either blind or stupid.” Stevie’s usual weak hiss of a voice was now smooth and resonant, and sure. It was like a different person was talking and that person was charged with negativity and seemed to be moving against us. “They’ll stop at nothing to get to their money and see us as key to getting it. They’re positive we know where Amy is and know she has their cash. Even if it’s not a setup, once it’s announced, they’ll begin scheming right away. If that’s what you want, go for it, but do it without me.”
“Don’t be such a crybaby,” Dale said.
“Shut up, dickhead,” Stevie said.
“No, you shut up, shit for brains.”
“I’ll shut you up myself,” Stevie said, “you conceited asshole.”
Both jumped up and went nose-to-nose, panting and snorting in each other’s faces.
“Stop.” I said, pleading, and wedged myself between them to stave off a bloody fistfight. “Stone’s winning already. Can’t you see that? Divide and conquer. That’s their strategy and always was. We need to stick together, the five of us and not just four. Let’s think about it. How can we have our cake and eat it too? How do we play the show without risking life and limb?”
Everyone was distraught considering how fast we seemed to turn on each other. It was the first time in my life that I felt let down by Stevie.
We’ve had our arguments, but he was always there for me. This time, he was ready to make the cut and go his own way. Everyone was speechless. Nobody even knew how to begin until Mike broke the ice.
“What if they think a different band is playing, and we turn up instead? They wouldn’t be able to plan anything and by the time they found out we were in the contest, we’d be done with our set.” He looked around the room for a reaction.
“What kind of silly idea is that?” Tommy said.
“No, wait. That’s brilliant,” I said. “It’s the old bait and switch trick. Fast.Fun! will think they’re up against some other band, and then we show up.”
“How’re we supposed to pull that off?” Stevie said, contracting his snout. He looked as if he chewed on an orange peel.
“Jake said that Brian’s a good friend of his. Maybe we can finagle something. I’ll call him to see what’s possible.”
“And if this Brian guy’s involved in the set up?” Stevie asked.
“We don’t even know if it’s a set up; I doubt a friend of Jake’s would do that. Brian seemed to be on the up and up, and Jake wouldn’t screw us. I’m sure of it. We can call ourselves Equinox, the name of our first band. Remember that, Stevie? And we can wear masks and rip them off in the middle of the show.” I was almost getting excited. “What do you think? Thumbs up?”
Dale, Tommy and Mike all put their thumbs up and glared at Stevie again.
Stevie’s head looked like it should have been on a totem pole. His arms were crossed with his hands held tight to his rib cage; his scornful eyes veered towards Dale. It appeared that there was no way to budge him. We were all on edge, awaiting his response.
“Alright,” he said, finally giving in. “But I want to listen in with Brian. If it’s too shaky, I’m out. If it feels ok, I’ll do it.”
“Deal,” I said. “Now wait here.”
I went to the refrigerator to fetch the rest of Mike’s beers plus some of my own. When the suds were gone, I pulled out the hard stuff. Stevie has a penchant for Jack Daniels when he’s uptight, unsure or insecure, and I hoped that it would loosen him up. Unfortunately, all that alcohol didn’t help. The air was smoldering with emotion about what was said and done; only time or forgiveness could take that away. Forgiveness wouldn’t be doled out so quick and the fresh verbal punches still smarted. The conversation remained plain vanilla, white bread and butter, neutral talk to thwart any new fights amongst the men. I kept wondering how we were going to hold it all together without cracking under the immense pressure. Our skins are getting mighty thin.
After they left, I came here, to my mattress, to get it all down. Trying to put together the pieces of this intricate puzzle, however, is mind boggling. Everything and nothing makes sense all at the same time. My thoughts are ricocheting in every imaginable dimension and at this point, I’m fried. The last time I looked, 4:30 a.m. was edging up on me, and I feel that in many ways, time’s running out. I only want my consciousness and all my worldly problems to disappear into the nocturnal void, even if it’s only for a few precious winks. But, low and behold, the song of the world gradually waking is a solemn reminder that this is one of those nights that I don’t get to sneak into nothingness, a nothingness that I so badly need right now.
Tuesday, July 28, 1987
“If you back out of the battle, you’d be a bunch of limp dick losers in my book,” Amy said.
“We’re not backing out,” I said. “We talked to Brian, and Stevie felt ok with it. We told Brian we’d only do it under a fake name, or it was a no go.”
“And he agreed?” Amy said, sounding doubtful. Her voice barely floated on top of the static from the walkie talkies but was still coherent.
“Yep. And I made him promise that he wouldn’t tell a soul.”
“The guy must’ve thought you’re a bunch of freaks. What ridiculous excuse did you give him?”
“I told him it was a publicity stunt and we wanted to prove that we could win without the help of all our hardcore fans. I said we’d stay masked and rip off the disguises during our set, like Kiss taking off their makeup mid-show.”
“And he believed that cockamamie bullshit?”
“No idea what the guy believed. He accepted our terms. Kept saying how much he likes us and even saw us play some dive bar once. With less than two weeks to get ready, though, who knows if we can cut the mustard?”
“Cut the mustard? Cut the crap, Luke. Come on, Fast.Fun! sucks, like the Pet Shop Boys died and went to hell. How can you not be ready? You were more than ready to play the Showroom only last Friday if Stone hadn’t ruined it.”
“And his little helpers, fat face Herbie and his loser sidekick, Rodney.”
“Who’s fat face Herbie? And sidekick, Rodney?”
“Two guys in Stone’s crew that are always causing trouble. Herbie seems young. Must be second-in-command, a mini Stone. And Rodney’s an idiot who does whatever he’s told, even repeats what Herbie says. He’s so dumb. He even blurted out Herbie’s name by mistake. Herbie got so pissed that he…”
While I was still talking, she started murmuring something, “Herbie? A mini Stone? Herbert.”
“What? What’d you say? Herbert? You ok?”
Out of nowhere, Amy seemed to drift, as if she had slipped into another cognitive dimension or a dream sequence. “I knew a boy once,” she said, “when I was a little girl, living in Fall River. His name was Herbert, and we went to Sunday school together.” Her inflection was a straight line, devoid of emotion. “He always wanted to sit near me, and we played together after class. Herbert was my friend, and in a kid’s kind of way, I loved him.”
“So what?” I said, trying to play it down. “There must be lots of kids named Herbert.”
“I only knew one boy with that name,” she said, coming over like a wounded dove, “my Sunday school friend.” For the next ten seconds or so, there was only static. It was clear that she needed a moment for the spell to be broken. “Herbert all but disappeared from my memory until you mentioned his name. The last time I saw him was odd, and I never questioned it. It must have been the Sunday after my father went missing. We were down in the rectory basement, and all the other kids heard about what happened and had gathered around to comfort me. Herbert, with his chubby cheeks, was part of the circle and was blubbering even harder than me. He knew how much I loved my father and how important he was to me. All at once, the door flung open and in walked a big, angry looking man. He grabbed Herbert by the arm and ripped him out of the room before anyone could even say a word. Herbert never showed up to Sunday school again. We ended up leaving Fall River a short while after that, and he was gone from my life for good. Everything was messed up for me at the time, and I never looked back. I blocked it out of my memory. But, if I squint hard enough and concentrate on that door flying open, I can see the face of the man that yanked Herbert away. The picture’s fuzzy yet it’s a familiar face, unmistakable even, but younger than the one I know.”
“What face do you see?”
“Stone,” she said, almost indifferent.
“Stone? You think Stone took your Herbert?”
“I know he did. And if I put their faces side by side in my mind, I have absolutely no doubt why he took him. Stone must be Herbert’s father and couldn’t let Herbert pal around with me any longer. Herbert, my old friend who I adored, who cried by my side after my father died. Herbert, the one who’s making our lives miserable. Herbert, that god damn cocksucker, the one who’s going to get his eyes plucked out, by me.”
Thursday, July 30, 1987
Ever since Carney’s attempts at intimidating me to give up Amy, my week had improved with each passing day. I had dropped off the loan payment, including interest, in the designated mailbox. Carney was absent since Monday, supposedly on a business trip, and Stone’s men left us alone. Those factors, combined, gave me the respite I ached for. Besides, we
were back and better than ever. During practice tonight, everyone was on top of their game, and the five of us played together as one tight unit. Nobody fizzled out at the periphery, botched the tricky parts or attempted to outdo their neighbor. If we could play even half as good when going up against Fast.Fun!, we’d still take home the trophy, for sure. The best part of the practice, however, was that the bad blood from Monday seemed to have been forgotten, and we behaved as mates.
“Sweet shit,” Tommy said to me. “Your singing, I mean.”
“Thanks, man. Got to vent somehow these days. Might as well put my stress and frustration to good use.”
“Well, I certainly was awesome. Wasn’t I?” Dale said with a fake snob accent. His eyes went googly and head rolled from side-to-side, as if butterflies were fluttering about his crown. “But I couldn’t have done it without you pricks, my true inspiration. When I heard that wall of song you put up, I had to pound away at my very best to give it justice.”
“Jesus, Dale. How sappy can you get?”
“Come on, Mike,” I said. “He’s only joshing. Besides, after Monday’s infighting, a little extra love with a sprinkle of sugar on top isn’t going to hurt.” I tousled his bristly mop, but it was glued in place.
“Yeah, Mikey,” Dale said. “It was only a joke, even though I really did play awesome.”
“Well, we still have three more practices until the battle,” I said. “They’ll be plenty of chances for everyone to screw up.”
“Why three?” Tommy asked. “I thought just Tuesday and Thursday?”
“We meet Saturdays too,” I said, “if there’s an important show coming up.”