Chase to the Encore

by P G Loiselle

  All five of them entered quite cautiously and surrounded my bed. As I scanned their cheerful faces, I came to the realization that they were all there, by my side, and had safely made it through the face-off with Stone. Like a light being switched on, the details of what I had witnessed came back to me.

  “What a pain in the ass. Huh, Luke?” Amy said, as a conversation starter. With that opening line, I had to crack a weak smile. “Here, we brought you this.” She handed me one of the band’s banners that was hanging up. It was neatly folded and placed in a cardboard box.

  “I took it down from the rafters,” Dale said, “and passed it around the room for everyone to write something to you, get well wishes and soppy shit like that.”

  “After Stone, Rodney and Carney were busted, we thought the show must go on,” Tommy said. “Figured it’d be what you wanted after getting plugged in the can and all.”

  “Unfortunately, Herbie escaped, but the authorities have an APB out on him,” Mike said.

  Next up was Stevie, and he was gentile and starry eyed as he recalled the finale. “You connect us all, Luke: the band, the audience, everyone. We had no idea how to finish without you. But the fans took over, sang every word, sang their lungs out, for you.”

  Amy peered over at Stevie with her eyes rolled up and stuck a finger down her throat, simulating her gag reflex. Stevie countered with a dirty yet playful look.

  “I personally missed the mushy ending,” Amy said. “I was busy explaining my side of the story to the Feds. Jake got the end on tape, along with Stone’s confession. Don wired up the backroom with so many microphones, Jake said he had no problem picking up Stone’s voice, blabbing away, especially with your wireless mic sitting on the bar. He played it live over the PA to the packed room and said the crowd just stood there, mouths agape, wondering if what they were hearing was real or part of the act. As soon as those undercover guys filed into the club and were gearing up to storm the back room, they knew it was real. The Feds took the original recording as evidence, but Jake has a backup copy that we can listen to, you know, for fun.”

  “And, Luke, she forgives us,” Mike said, referring to Amy.

  “I was totally confused when I saw him,” Amy said, “and pissed off at you and Michael for keeping it from me…only for a second. It wasn’t your idea, and it turned out to be for the best. If I would have known beforehand, I probably wouldn’t have gone along with it.”

  I had no clue what she was talking about. Before I could even ask, she continued.

  “Who would’ve ever believed that sweetheart Susanne, Michael’s own office manager, is my cousin Mickey’s live-in girlfriend? Apparently, Mickey had his eye on me all those years. Kind of unsettling in a way, but I guess he was looking out for my best interests. He said he had recently lost tabs on me, and word on the street was that Stone was on the lookout for a young female. Mickey knew that I worked at Far Out and of the company’s connection with Stone and deduced it might have been me that Stone was after. Still had no clue where I was or where I could’ve disappeared to. After Susanne told him about a girl in her twenties secretly living in the apartment above the warehouse, he realized it had to be me and started keeping 24/7 surveillance.”

  “That’s why there was all that commotion in the mills on the day that we got Amy out of there,” Mike said. “They knew Stone was up to something. And guess what Mickey drives…a black Mustang.”

  The whole time, I hadn’t said a peep and was soaking in everything they were telling me. Although Amy wasn’t mad, I still felt compelled to explain myself, even in my foggy state. “Mickey Plan B. Mike told me, Susanne his girlfriend, how funny’s that? Didn’t want to lie but didn’t want you dead.”

  “Easy there, cowboy,” Amy said. “You’re delusional. Save your strength. Maybe if I hadn’t been such a stubborn wench, I would’ve taken your advice and trusted in my cousin. Instead, it was left up to Michael to concoct the raid at The Showroom with Mickey. He could’ve helped much earlier. How reckless I was, gambling with your lives like that.”

  I looked around to make sure no hospital personnel were in the room and asked the obvious question, still slurring my words. “The money?”

  “Yes, yes…the money. You think I’d let them get that. Whatever’s left is still safely tucked away in the guitar case waiting to be put towards a good cause. If Stone, that slime ball, accuses me of taking it, I’ll deny everything. I have all sorts of people who’ll back me up. It’s not going to even come to that. Nobody’s going to be pestering me. I told Mickey the whole story and he said he’ll take care of it. This is bigger than only Stone, and Mickey’s not going to stop until, well, justice is served. Like I wanted in the first place.” Amy was beaming and must have felt redeemed.

  “Christina?” I asked.

  “She took off right after we showed up this morning” Mike said. “Didn’t you realize that she rode in the ambulance with you? She insisted on it. Must have spent the whole night in the hospital. The poor girl looked exhausted when she left but somehow relieved, like the rest of us. Said she’ll be back tomorrow. I think she really dug that speech of yours during the concert when you referred to her article.”

  “Finally, someone likes one of his speeches,” Dale said, and we all laughed.

  I felt my eyes well up with tears… of joy, that is.

  That joy followed me for the rest of my hospital stay, those memorable days that I was visited by all those people that I love. And when I lay down this pen and close my eyes to the conscious world, that joy also needs to follow me into sleep and permeate my deepest dreams. That joy, a windy ride with family in an Italian convertible, a monumental rock show for true fans, an intimate kiss from a new love, needs to permeate every aspect of my life and not only slivers of it. If I let it, there are so many reasons why it can.

  Friday, August 28, 1987

  ‘I can’t quit you babe, so I’m going to put you down for a while.’ It was the mighty Zeppelin’s version of the old blues classic that was spinning through my mind today when I decided to take some time off from my journal. Writing down this story, a wild one at that, helped me put it all into perspective and kept me from going insane. But now, I feel like I was given a new start, a blank slate, and need to break from the past. Maybe once this fresh chapter in my life gets rolling, and rocking, I can start writing anew. Until then, I see it only fitting to leave with a song.

  “Dead and Gone”

  Chorus:

  When I’m dead and gone, don’t say a prayer for me

  Just think about tomorrow, and drink a cup of tea

  When I’m dead and gone, you know that I’ll be free

  So, think about tomorrow, but don’t say no prayer for me.

  Left the back woods for the city / Hopped on the old blue line

  Found you in the rail car / Catching flies to pass the time

  You went left and then I followed / You went right, I held on tight

  You went crazy I remember / I drove you there that night

  But please forgive me if I say, it’s got to be that way

  Cuz sunshine I’m certain, there’s bound to come the day

  [Repeat Chorus]

  Yesterday I met a stranger, and son, he said to me

  There ain’t no time to fritter away, you’ll surely make history

  I looked up at my mama, her gaze so straight and true

  She said, boy don’t you worry, because I believe in you

  But please forgive me if I say, it’s got to be that way

  So, take back your predictions, there’s bound to come the day

  [Repeat Chorus]

  Acknowledgements

  I’d like to thank all of those who supported me during the long chase to the encore and through to the final notes.

  A special thanks to my beta readers, whose feedback was invaluable: my wife, Janka; my daughter, Zoe; my mother, Jeannine; and my sister,
Denise; my niece, Chelsea…and my friends, colleagues, and acquaintances: Nicole, Michael, Eric, Shila, Pavel, Diana, Ava.

  Thanks to Gary from BubbleCow for helping me take the story to a new level during editing with his professional insight and advice.

  A big hand goes out to Janis for bringing the book over the finish line with her awesome cover artwork and interior design. And speaking of the cover, thank you, Mia, my daughter, for the great cover idea and Holger my friend, for the initial sketches. Photos © Yvette de Wit / unsplash; Francisco Moreno / unsplash.

  Also, I’d like to thank everyone who helped me produce the soundtrack to the book. To my friend and bandmate, Michael (aka Piano Mike), who helped compose all the songs out of a bunch of lyrics and some noisy drum tracks. To bass master Muli and the guitar maestros: Holger, Ralph and Andy. To Peter K. and Norbert for blasting out the horns on “Long Daze”. And yet again to my daughter, Zoe, for singing background with me on multiple songs. To the music production experts: Stefan from Redlight Studios and Tony from M3Mastering. Finally, to Mirjam, my vocal coach, who showed me that I really can sing…well, sort of.

  Thanks to my R.I. friends for all those madcap teen experiences that we shared, which inspired me while writing the book. And last, but certainly not least, thanks to my parents; without them, this book wouldn’t have been born either.

  About the Author

  P.G. Loiselle grew up in a small Rhode Island town before fleeing the New England chill for Southern California. As fate would have it, he was lured off to frosty Frankfurt, Germany where he lives with his wife and two daughters. Besides his day job as a hardcore business geek, he also studied Audio Engineering and plays drums and sings in his band, Crazy Horst. Chase to the Encore is his first novel

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