* * *
Scott helped Kelsey’s friends and parents clean up, although he steered clear of the latter. If he left early and took the two-hour drive back home to Madison, Wisconsin, he’d have replayed his conversation with Ashley during the entire trip, which would have driven him insane.
So he did some mindless work: sweeping, mopping, and tossing at least a dozen bags of garbage. Besides, he missed Kelsey and Alex. They’d both hung around him when he was a teenager. At that time, in an attempt to display his musical abilities, Alex had used various items around the house such as pots and pans, wind chimes and cutlery as instruments to create “music.” Kelsey always asked bizarre questions like, “If you got engaged, would it be okay if your fiancé wore black nail polish to the wedding?”
On the other hand, trying to reconnect with them might bring back happy memories, the kind that would ultimately lead to the heartache that took him over a decade to accept. Just as he planned to say goodnight to Kelsey, a gorgeous young brunette flashed a smile as she walked up to him. “Hi, I’m one of Kelsey’s waitresses. My name’s Nina Gilford. You were great tonight, but I’m curious: do you ever get nervous on stage?”
“Are you kidding? Every night. When you see all those people expecting to be entertained… that’s incredible pressure. I mean, one time my knees were shaking so hard, I almost tripped over my feet. That got my heart beating and my blood going, but it loosened my nerves. When I first started, I’d let the band get up on stage first. Then I’d grab the microphone backstage and start singing. If the crowd cheered, it helped my confidence. Then I’d feel like I didn’t have to be the best singer in the world to win them over.”
“Really?” Her face brightened. She let out a deep breath, relieved.
“Why do you ask?”
“I’m a singer. And a songwriter.” She frowned. “Only I haven’t sold any of my songs. Or actually gotten up on stage yet. Well, I tried out for American Idol. But I didn’t make the cut. ”
Her tale intrigued him. “So why do you want to get in the music business?”
“Because I love it. I can’t think of doing anything else.”
“Except wait tables.” Scott told the joke to relax her. He’d met quite a few recording superstars in his time, and he knew how intimidating it could be talking with someone who’d found success. Not that he considered himself in that same category. But before he’d signed his record contract, he’d met music professionals and bombarded them with question after question. So he understood the reverence to those with knowledge and experience.
“Do you have any ideas for how I can make a name for myself?”
“You mean your parents didn’t give you one?”
She laughed. “Come on, you know what I mean.”
“Let’s hear you sing something.” It took her a few minutes to warm up, but after singing a Whitney Houston tune, her confidence soared and she belted out a note that gave him goosebumps. And at that moment, he wondered if he’d written any songs that he could duet with her.
“What do you think?” she asked, lowering her head and wincing as though expecting bad news.
Scott grinned. “You have a sublime voice. And you’ve got great instincts for reinterpreting the song with plenty of emotion.” He was intrigued by her talent, so he spent ten minutes discussing the songs he’d written before suggesting they write a song together.
“Is that code for your bedroom? Because I have a boyfriend. And I’m not into trading—”
He waved a hand to ward off any other mention of sex. “You can bring him along.”
“And we’re not into threesomes, if that’s your sort of thing.”
Scott cringed. “I didn’t say anything about—”
Nina started laughing. “I’m kidding. But I totally got you.”
He let out a long sigh. “Well damn, can you blame me? It’s scary nowadays with lawsuits and Twitter and TMZ and everything. Just thought you’d like to lay down a track, check out my equipment and…” When she glared at him, he got the double entendre. “You’ve got some spunk. That’s good. Because in this industry, you’re going to need that sense of humor and ten times the spunk you just showed.”
After getting her number and wishing her a good night, he felt someone tap him on the shoulder. Scott turned around to find Kelsey hugging him. “Whoa,” he said. “You scared me.”
“That’s what I tell her all the time,” said Kelsey’s boyfriend, Damon Durant, as he walked over to him. “Still upset with me for telling your fans that you’d do a twelve-song set?”
“Nah,” Scott said and gestured to Kelsey as they parted. “But losing so many employees without any notice is tough. If I had to play some extra songs, I was glad to help out.”
“I told you he’s the best,” Kelsey said to Damon, grinning up at him with the excitement that only a new love could supply. The theme song from The X-Files played on her cell phone. “Oh, it’s Ashley.” Kelsey glanced around the all but empty restaurant. “Where is she?”
Scott found the ringtone a fitting tribute to Ashley. Not only had she regarded The X-Files as one of her favorite shows when they dated, but the show quoted two taglines that paranormal fans also identified with: “The Truth Is Out There” and “I Want to Believe.”
As for Scott, on the day he graduated high school, he contemplated the meaning behind those cryptic statements by attributing them to Ashley… when she abandoned him. He wanted to know why she left him (“The Truth Is Out There”) and he trusted that one day she would come back to him so they could spend eternity together (“I Want to Believe”). Fifteen years later, he still wanted an answer to that first question, while having only recently given up on the second.
Kelsey said into the phone, “Hey, where are you?” She paused. “I thought you were staying over at Alex’s. Oh,” she said, lifting her eyebrows in surprise. “Sure, you can stay with me.” She remained silent for a moment. “Fine, I promise, no questions about the past.” She smiled at Scott. “Until I can’t hold out any longer. Then you’ll spill all the details. Agreed?” Kelsey covered the speaker with her hand and said to Scott and Damon: “She’ll cave. Ashley could stay at a hotel, but—” Kelsey returned to the phone. “No, that’s the deal. Either that or you get a hotel room. Take it or leave it!” She grinned again, then provided her address. “Great, see you soon.”
Kelsey disconnected the call. “I’m just ticked off that she left early. Mom really needed her help in the kitchen. And she was kind of pissed! And by that I mean smiling and pretending that nothing’s wrong, which is how she manages anger.”
“I’m sure Ashley has a good reason,” Scott said.
Kelsey’s irritated expression morphed into one of wonder. “You’re too nice. How’d you get caught up with my sister?”
“She paid me.”
“I bet,” Kelsey said. “How else would she snag you?”
“How will things shake out with this place? Did tonight help?”
Kelsey let out a long sigh. “We pulled in a lot of dough from drinks tonight. And most of that is pure profit. I just hope I get some promising applications. If I’m lucky, I might be able to re-open by New Year’s Eve.”
Damon said, “It’s gotta be a long ride back home. Feel free to crash at my place tonight, if you’re not allergic to dogs.”
“There’s a three-day art show at Winter in Serenity,” Scott said, referring to a ski resort/lodge that offered guests a banquet hall for everything from weddings to private company retreats. Rather than buying fancy cars that depreciated in value, he preferred to purchase art that appreciated in value. “So I’ve booked a stay there for a while. But thanks, man. I appreciate it.” If he hadn’t reserved the room, Scott would have taken him up on the offer. Damon seemed like a no-nonsense guy with a good sense of humor.
And since Scott spent so much time in and out of recording studios over the past decade, he hadn’t been around people who didn’t work in the industry. During those evenings, h
e usually dated women in the entertainment industry. But he hadn’t really hit it off with anyone. Most of the women rated an 11 on a 10-scale in the beauty department, but far too many were self-absorbed, egotistical, and ignorant, while lacking a sense of humor.
He’d given up on finding a suitable replacement for Ashley. She got his quirky sense of humor and understood the darkness in him without ever inquiring why it dwelled so deep within him.
So in his spare time, Scott retreated to his home studio and worked on his own material, writing and recording hundreds of songs. In all that time, he couldn’t remember the last time he kicked back, had a few beers, and hung out with a buddy. The idea seemed promising. Of course, Damon hadn’t suggested it, but based on his easy-going nature, Scott got the impression they could be good friends.
“No way,” Damon said, staring at his smartphone in awe. “Dude,” he said, moving closer to Scott. “You’ve gotta check this out.” He tilted his phone, revealing a YouTube video of Scott’s performance tonight.
A streak of dread passed through Scott. While he had no qualms about hearing his voice, he was conscientious when seeing himself on screen. He felt exposed and couldn’t help but focus on his flaws. If he gave too much thought to it, he wouldn’t give a convincing performance. Just as important, he’d lose all sense of spontaneity and wouldn’t have the presence of mind to lead the crowd through any given set list.
So he looked elsewhere on the screen. “That’s gotta be a mistake.” He pointed to a number. “Right here.”
“No man, your vision’s fine. Hey, Kelsey, in the last two hours, over 34,000 people viewed Scott’s concert.”
Scott’s heart pounded with fear. “I must’ve messed up somewhere. See? That’s why I don’t like doing covers of other bands… because I can’t mess up my own songs.”
“Dude, are you kidding me?” Damon asked, slapping him in the arm with the back of his palm.
“I don’t know,” Scott said.
“You’ve got over four hundred comments. Listen to this: ‘Why is Scott Mettle singing other people’s songs? The man belongs in the Songwriting Hall of Fame.’ Or take this one: ‘He crushed ‘Welcome to the Jungle.’ And his take of that Bruno Mars song? The man’s ridiculously talented. But get back in the studio. Put out another record already!’”
Scott’s pulse jumped to a quicker beat, but this time, he disregarded the compliments, because he would never be satisfied with any performance. Instead, he focused on what those posts said: release original content.
A paralyzing uneasiness made every muscle lock up on him. He’d spent so much time writing with other artists because, if he recorded a new album, he’d want to start touring. And he couldn’t hit the stage and play his catalog of material without Gabe backing him up on lead guitar.
When he broke up their band seven years ago, after butting heads with Gabe while recording their third record, they went in similar but separate directions. His brother also spent the last seven years recording with other artists and touring with other bands. Although Scott counted Gabe as the best friend a guy could ever have, he hadn’t reached out to his brother, nor had Gabe contacted him. It seemed some things were best left in the past.
Despite that, unlike other vocalists, Scott would not tour under his own name or that of the band he’d founded. It would be like Eddie Van Halen kicking his brother out of the band and still calling his band Van Halen. And while Scott had no illusions that Scrap Mettle should ever be compared to a group that had been inducted into the Rock ’n’ Roll Hall of Fame, he still felt that using his last name would denigrate his brother’s contributions.
“Thirty thousand,” Damon said. He raised a hand for a high-five. “Up top.”
Scott followed through, but the large number of page views and comments on YouTube were undeserved. For one thing, he’d simply played other artists’ songs. He hadn’t added anything new for people to listen to. It brought to mind all of the music he’d crafted in his recording studio. His listeners wanted a new album, and he had plenty of material. And they were right. He’d spent enough time helping other artists form their careers. He needed to fulfill his own musical aspirations.
And if he didn’t want to use his name out of respect for his brother, Scott would have to create a new band. Still, only one band name felt right. But the gulf that existed between him and Gabe would make that impossible.
CHAPTER TEN
Rather than head over to Winter in Serenity and catch some shut-eye for the night, Scott agreed to Damon’s suggestion that they visit a bar. After performing in front of an audience, he found it difficult to come down from such an amazing rush of excitement and adrenaline. It often took him five to six hours to unwind. And judging by that timetable, he still had another hour or two before he settled down.
Scott stepped into a wide, two-story bar erected in a triangle pattern with a bar on each floor, surrounded by booths on all sides, the dark interior with vintage signs from various beer companies were spread across the walls. Other than the circular lamps hanging from the ceiling, blue and pink neon lights cut through an otherwise dark ambiance, allowing customers the opportunity to talk since the top 40 music playing through a decent sound system didn’t force patrons to raise their voices.
They took a couple stools at the bar on the second floor of Sanitarium. Scott noticed a few attractive women in their mid-twenties looking their way, but he didn’t pay them any attention.
“So what’s the deal with Ashley?” Damon asked. “Kelsey doesn’t have a clue what went down with you two.”
“It’s… complicated.” He took a gulp from his bottle of Barq’s Root Beer.
“It’s midnight on Sunday. Does it look like I’m in a rush?”
“Fine. After we graduated from high school, she vanished. No break-up. No phone call. No letter. Nothing. She just disappeared.”
“What did you do?”
“That’s the thing. I didn’t do anything.”
Damon took a sip of his bottle of Miller Lite. “Maybe that’s why she took off.”
“The day before, everything was great. But because her parents didn’t approve of me, I couldn’t reach out to them to get an answer.”
“Why didn’t they like you?”
“With Ashley’s father being a cop, he did a background check on my dad.” Seeing that Damon didn’t understand, Scott said, “My dad is an alcoholic. He lost his job, got on disability, and took out his anger on me.”
“Dude,” Damon said, dropping a hand on Scott’s shoulder. “Believe me. I know exactly what you’re talking about. I was shuttled from one foster home to another for a decade. And I dealt with a lot of the same things you probably went through.”
Scott felt a closer attachment to Damon. “So you probably had it worse than me. Thing is, we’re talking about my dad. He wasn’t a stranger. He was supposed to protect me, not…” He shook his head. “Ashley’s dad thought I’d grow up to be my old man. An alcoholic who’d lose his job and abuse his kids. Add to that my dream of becoming a musician, which is tough to make a career out of. I guess I can’t blame him for wanting to protect Ashley.”
“I can see that,” Damon said. “But did he even give you a chance? Look at me. I didn’t turn into a drug addict or a thief or a wife-abuser like the foster parents I had. So if you ask me, her father meant well, but he mishandled the situation. He’s a decent guy now though.”
“You think so, huh? He confronted me after I left the stage tonight. He told me to stay away from Ashley or he’d knock me out.”
“He doesn’t mince words. But are you interested in her?”
“She disappeared fifteen years ago,” Scott said. “She didn’t even break up with me. Why would I be interested?”
“Because I can tell she really hurt you. But when you talk about her, you perk up.”
“I’m not interested,” Scott said, despite feeling his breath catch while admitting that.
“I barely know you,” Damon said,
“but I don’t believe you.”
Scott nodded. “I guess that makes two of us.”
* * *
“Have you ever been here?” Ashley asked, jerking a finger at a sign identifying the bar they stood outside as Sanitarium. “I read some good reviews about it online.”
Kelsey gave her a sullen look. “Why this place? Are you looking to hook up?”
“No.” It sounded like her sister thought they might be in for some excitement. Then again, she doubted that the club would be jumping so late on a Sunday night.
“What are we doing here, Ash?”
The nickname made her smile. It brought back good memories of their childhood: when Ashley first got her license, her mom asked that she pump gas into their old station wagon and pay the attendant in the gas station. She walked up to the attendant with Kelsey at her side and said, “Hi, I had gas.” Her sister broke out laughing, prompting the attendant to do the same. Of course, Ashley’s cheeks lit up like a Christmas tree. But she had to admit that she’d deserved a little teasing for that line.
Another time, while babysitting Kelsey, they sat on the couch, and Kelsey pitched forward without warning and vomited all over the dog. Ashley urged her sister to rush to the bathroom to use the toilet and Kelsey complied. But she continued barfing all the way to the toilet bowl. By the time she reached it, however, she’d finished. So Ashley had a great time cleaning the carpet and washing off the dog, only to catch that same cold a day later and have her own involuntary sickness spring forth.
For every entertaining story, Ashley had dozens more. And looking at her sister now, for the first time ever, she wondered how her life would have turned out if she’d kept in contact with Kelsey and Alex. Would she have become a better person? More understanding? More relaxed? More comfortable with herself?
Now answering the question that started this trip down memory lane, Ashley said, “I thought you needed a break from worrying about work. Since you don’t have the staff to open either restaurant tomorrow, I thought you’d like to get a drink or two. My treat.”
One More Chance (A Bedford Falls Novel Book 3) Page 15