Once they were alone in the kitchen, he started to apologise for arriving unannounced. Lori stopped him, “It’s me who should apologise. I was just embarrassed about being caught in my bikini,” she paused then added quietly. “And about the mess on my leg. I’m not good at letting folk see it.”
“Genuinely, I never noticed,” said Grey warmly. “But you’ve got a fabulous figure, Lori.”
“Grey!” she exclaimed flushing scarlet.
“I’m sorry,” he laughed. “Jake’s a lucky guy.”
“I’m getting the lemonades before you say another word.”
“OK, I lied a bit. I did notice your scars but so what?” he said, fetching the glasses off the draining board for her. “It’s only marks on your skin. No worse than some of the ink you see on folk these days.”
“I need to try to stop being so self-conscious about it,” sighed Lori as she lifted the jug of lemonade from the fridge. “But it’s hard.”
“I understand,” sympathised the bass player warmly. “I see the cane’s back. You ok?”
“Just having an off day,” she replied evasively. “It’ll be fine again in a day or two.”
Lori and Grey were sitting out on the deck with a bowl of potato chips between them when Jake finally sauntered through. He was wearing only his pale ripped jeans and the sand burn from his body surfing was plain to see across his well-muscled stomach. The others teased him about body surfing like a big kid then both confessed to being jealous as they couldn’t do it. In the midst of their laughter Grey explained the reason for his visit – he had dropped by to collect the gear he had left behind the day before.
“I need my jeans for work tomorrow,” he confessed. “The thought of going in to work sucks. I just want to be back out on stage.”
“Well, we’ve two weeks before that happens,” said Jake. “And a hell of a lot of work to do to get the new set list ready.”
“We’ll be fine,” assured Grey casually. “We always are.”
“Yeah, but we’ve got Lord Jason watching over us now,” joked Jake only half kidding. “No more jamming and flying by the seat of our pants.”
“No matter how hard we rehearse there will still be plenty of that.”
♪
In the two weeks running up to the Milford radio rock festival Silver Lake worked harder than they ever had before. They pulled together two new sets at the management’s request – a full electric set and a one hour acoustic set. Emails flew backwards and forwards between the band and Jason, setting up various radio station appearances throughout July and August plus an extra gig at the state fair at the end of July. The record company were planning to release the first single from the forthcoming album in time for the Labor Day holiday with the whole album to be out by the middle of October. While the band rehearsed and rehearsed and rehearsed Lori spent her evening’s working on their artwork. During the day when Jake was more likely to be about, she focussed on her other two commissions then at night, after he left, worked on the Silver Lake piece. All three were taking shape on schedule.
Two days before the Milford concert, Jason phoned Rich to say he was sending down someone to act as tour manager and to cover for him as band manager for the foreseeable future. When Rich started to protest that they didn’t need extra help, Jason cut him short, saying it was a done deal and that they already knew the person he had hired. It came as no surprise to learn it was Maddy.
Around the same time Lori got a text message from her friend. “Dinner tonight? M x”
Immediately Lori replied “Where and when? L x”
“Sushi place Rehoboth at 8. Bring the boys. M x”
Shortly after eight Jake and Lori walked into the sushi bar, both scanning the room looking for Maddy. She spotted them before they saw her and came running over to hug Lori.
“You’re looking great!” cried Maddy squeezing her tight. “And no canes!”
“No cane today,” echoed Lori delighted to see her friend. “Some days are steadier than others.”
“And Jake!” squealed Maddy hugging him affectionately. “Looking as hot as ever.”
“Cut it out, Maddison,” he cautioned playfully, kissing her on the cheek. “Are we the first to arrive?”
“Yes,” replied Maddy, leading them over to the table. “Grey called to say he’d be late.”
As they took their seats, a waitress brought over the wine that Maddy had already ordered.
“Can I have a soda instead?” asked Lori. “I’m driving.”
“Of course, honey,” said her friend. “Tonight’s on Jason so have what you want.”
At that moment Rich and Paul arrived to join them and, after more hugs and greetings, they were soon all seated round the table.
“I took the liberty of ordering a selection for us all to share,” explained Maddy as the waiter brought several dishes to the table.
As they ate, they discussed the plans for the weekend’s rock festival. It was quite a small local event running across the whole weekend. Silver Lake were scheduled to play the headline slot on Saturday night, but apart from the set, Maddy had lined up two one hour interview slots for the afternoon. It was going to be a long day for all of them. Apologising profusely for being late, Grey arrived in the middle of the discussion and was quickly brought up to speed.
“Does anyone have any questions?” asked Maddy when she was finished her download.
“Do you have a pass organised for Lori?” asked Jake.
“It’s ok,” interrupted Lori. “I’m not coming. I said I’d watch Becky.”
“Oh,” exclaimed Jake looking surprised. “I had wanted you there.”
“Next time,” countered Lori with a smile. “I promise.”
“State Fair?”
“Definitely,” she promised. “Maddy will arrange passes for that, won’t you?”
Her Goth friend nodded. “State Fair should be a better show. I’m not comfortable with the set up for this weekend, but we’re committed to playing so let’s make the best of it.”
“What’s bothering you about it?” asked Grey curiously.
“Can’t put my finger on it,” muttered Maddy, shaking her head. “Just a gut feeling for now. I’ll be glad when it’s over though.”
By late afternoon on Saturday they were all sharing Maddy’s unease. The two interviews had gone well during the early part of the afternoon. The first had been with the radio station sponsoring the rock weekend. Jake and Rich had taken their acoustic guitars along to the makeshift studio and played three numbers much to the delight of the DJ who was interviewing them. The second interview was for a music magazine who were doing a special on up and coming bands. This time Grey and Paul took a lead in answering the questions. When they were done, the band wandered through the site, stopping at a burger stall to get something to eat. Already the crowd was growing restless. The band on stage were being jeered by a large group down at the front and Jake’s concern grew when he saw two beer bottles fly onto the stage. Feeling more than a little anxious, Silver Lake retreated to the safety of the backstage area, their fears left unspoken among them. They found Maddy pacing restlessly up and down.
“Where were you guys?” she demanded sharply.
“Getting a feel for this place,” replied Grey bluntly.
“And grabbing a bite to eat,” added Paul, sipping on the last of his soda.
“And how does it feel to you?” asked their manager directly, her kohl rimmed eyes boring into them.
“Angry,” stated Jake, his own concerns written clearly all over his face. “That crowd could get ugly later on.”
“They’re ugly now,” muttered Rich under his breath.
“That’s my fear,” sighed Maddy, running her hand through her spiky hair. “Not much we can do at this late stage though. Stay back here till it’s time to go on. I don’t want any of you out of my sight.”
At eight o’clock sharp, the compere announced Silver Lake and the band ran out onto the stage to a resoun
dingly warm cheer from the crowd. As Jake stepped up to his mark, he was relieved to see some extra security personnel had been brought in and there were plenty of them now manning the barrier at the front of the stage. With a nod to Rich they started their set. Three numbers in and Jake paused to talk to the crowd for the first time, “Good evening, Milford!”
A roar went up from the crowd.
“I can’t hear you! I said good evening, Milford!” he bellowed with a grin.
A huge roar came hurtling back at him, making him laugh.
“Looking good out there tonight, folks. We’re going to play something brand new for you now. This is a track off our new album that’s due out in a couple of months. This is “Flyin’ High”!”
After the strong drum opening, Grey and Rich launched into the hard and heavy riff. As Jake began his guitar part, he felt a sharp hot sting at his right knee. The force of it sent him stumbling backwards, but he quickly recovered his balance and his composure to start his vocals on cue. The fiery pain in his knee intensified as he sang. It took all of his concentration to maintain his focus. During his mid-song guitar solo Rich moved over to him and mouthed “You ok?”
“No,” he mouthed back between gritted teeth. He could feel blood running down his calf, hot and sticky and it was pooling in his boot.
When the song ended, he signalled to Rich to keep things going as he hobbled to the side of the stage looking for first aid help. Maddy was standing there white as a sheet.
“What happened?” she asked, staring at the blood soaking through his jeans.
“Not sure,” admitted Jake shakily. “Feels like I’ve been shot.”
“I think you were,” said a roadie bluntly.
“I’m ok,” insisted Jake. “I just need something to put on it.”
“Here,” said the roadie, tossing him a roll of gaffer tape. Jake smiled and nodded to the guy as he tore off a length and wrapped it as tightly as he could round his thigh, to act as a tourniquet.
As he turned to go back out on stage, Maddy yelled, “Jake! You can’t go back on!”
“Yes, I can,” he growled as he hobbled back out to join the rest of the band.
Miraculously Rich and Grey had held the set together with an impromptu guitar duel. Seeing Jake return to the stage, they slickly launched into the next number on the set list. The roadie, who had given Jake the tape, ran out with a bar stool before the end of the song. Gratefully, Jake sat down, as a second roadie brought out his acoustic guitar, and lowered the mic stand. From his vantage point, he could see the security guards handing a young guy over to two police officers. The kid looked vaguely familiar.
“Ok, Milford,” called Jake, trying to ignore the fire burning at his knee. “We’re going to slow this down a bit. This is for the representatives of the local police department.”
Appropriately Silver Lake played an acoustic version of Bon Jovi’s “Wanted Dead or Alive”, much to the crowd’s amusement. With their cheers still ringing in his ears Jake followed it up with “Lady Butterfly.” His pain was clear for all to see, but he sang the acoustic number with his usual calm passion for the song.
With the two acoustic numbers completed, Rich stepped forward and said simply, “Last one. No arguing.”
Jake nodded and accepted his electric guitar back from the roadie. He remained seated, not trusting that he wouldn’t faint if he tried to stand up.
“Folks, this is the last one for the night before we hit the emergency room. We’ll leave you with “Highway to Hell.”
The second they hit the last note, Maddy ordered the lights to be killed. In the darkness Rich and Grey, guitars slung over their backs, rushed over to help Jake down from the stool and off the stage. In the background they could hear the crowd cheering and crying for more.
“What happened?” asked Grey as they sat Jake down on a transportation case at the side of the stage.
“Some bastard took a shot at me!” replied Jake, suddenly feeling very light headed and nauseous.
“Let’s get you to the emergency room,” declared Maddy shrilly. “Will I call 911?”
“I’ll drive him there,” stated Grey, handing his bass to Rich. “You guys pack up the gear. I’ll call you when I get him to the hospital.”
“I’m coming with you,” said Maddy, “Someone call Lori.”
“No,” said Jake sharply. “Don’t worry her. I’ll be fine. I’ll call her myself from the hospital.”
Heavy traffic leaving the festival site slowed their progress and it eventually took Grey almost half an hour to make the short journey to the medical centre. Climbing up into Grey’s truck had aggravated the wound and, as they drove down the highway, Jake could feel the blood oozing down his leg into his boot. The adrenaline rush from being on stage was wearing off and the reality of what had actually happened was beginning to hit home. He began to sweat and to shake uncontrollably. As they had been leaving the site, two police officers had approached them, but Maddy had suggested they follow them to the emergency room and speak to Jake there. The police car had followed Grey throughout the entire journey. When they finally reached the hospital, Grey abandoned the truck as near to the front door as he could then ran round to help Jake down from the cab. With Maddy charging on ahead of them, he half carried his bleeding friend into the waiting area. At the desk Maddy was already giving the nurse Jake’s personal details. Seeing Grey struggling with the weight of his friend, two orderlies came over with a gurney and soon they had whisked the injured guitarist through to a cubicle. Both Grey and Maddy made to follow them, but the nurse called them back.
“I’ll let you know when you can go through,” she said firmly. “I suggest you take a seat or grab a coffee from the machine down the hall.”
Reluctantly, they took a seat. The bass player sat hunched forward with his head in his hands; Maddy sat fidgeting with her nails and then her earrings.
“I hate hospitals,” muttered Grey without shifting his gaze from the tiled floor.
“Same here,” agreed Maddy with a long sigh. “They remind me too much of Lori’s accident.”
“You were there?” asked Grey, looking up for a moment.
“After they brought her in. She had me listed as an emergency contact in her wallet. I was home for the holidays,” began Maddy shuddering at the memory of the phone call that had informed her that Lori had been badly injured in a road traffic accident. “Rough time for all of us.”
“I’m sure Jake’ll be ok,” reassured Grey quietly. “He was kind of pale when they took him through.”
“Tough guy for keeping on playing,” Maddy observed. “Oh, here’s the police coming.”
The same two police officers from the festival site were walking down the hallway towards them. They questioned Grey and Maddy for a few minutes, but, as neither of them had seen what had happened on stage, they were of little help. The officers confirmed that a teenage boy had been arrested at the scene and that he had been in possession of an unauthorised firearm.
“I’m going to get a soda,” declared Grey getting to his feet as the two officers left. “Want anything?”
“Coffee, please. Black. No Sugar,” replied Maddy.
They had just finished their drinks when a young nurse came over to say they could see Jake. She led them down the corridor, past several curtained off cubicles to the second last one from the end. Holding the edge of the blue curtain back, she allowed Maddy and Grey to enter. Jake was sitting propped up on the narrow bed, his leg elevated on a pillow.
“You ok?” asked Grey, clapping his friend on the shoulder.
“Yeah,” replied Jake sounding a bit groggy. “I’ve been lucky. The bullet’s gone right through. It’s just a flesh wound. It’s ugly.”
“So what are they planning to do to you?” quizzed Maddy anxiously.
“They need to x-ray my knee to make sure there’s no fragments inside and no bone damage,” Jake explained. “Then they’ll stitch me up and I should be good to go.”
“What a relief!” sighed the band’s manager, sinking down onto the hard plastic chair beside the bed.
“Have the police been in?” asked Grey.
Jake nodded, “I couldn’t tell them much. I never saw anything. I just felt a sting at my knee as we started to play “Flyin’ High”. Hurt like hell.”
“I’ll bet” sympathised his friend, relieved that Jake was alright. “Do you want me to call Lori?”
Jake shook his head, “Not yet. She’s not expecting us for a couple of hours yet. We should be clear of here before then. If we get held up, I’ll call her.”
“Your shout,” acknowledged the bass player. “I’d better call Rich though.”
“OK,” agreed Jake with a grimace, as a fiery bolt of pain shot through his knee. “Can you ask him to take my truck back to my place?”
“Sure.”
“Mr Power,” called the nurse cheerfully as she entered the cubicle. “Time to take you through to radiology.”
She helped Jake down from the bed and into a wheelchair. Seeing his friend in a hospital gown with his boxers on display brought a smile to Grey’s face. Noticing it, Jake cautioned, “No photos of this look!”
“Not even one?” laughed Grey, reaching for his phone.
“No!” stated Jake sharply before adding, “Do you have any spare jeans in your truck? They’ve destroyed mine cutting them off?”
“I’ll check. They’ll be too big for you though.”
“Beats going out of here in my shorts,” laughed Jake as the nurse wheeled him away.
It was after midnight before they finally left the hospital. Jake had been issued with a set of crutches and advised not to put any weight on his injured knee for a few days. The x-ray had shown there were no bullet fragments, but that there was a small chip out of the top of his tibia, just below his kneecap. The doctor informed him he had been incredibly lucky that the injury hadn’t been more serious. A few millimetres over and it would have shattered the whole knee joint. He had sat calmly while the triage nurse had put in six stitches to close the ragged flesh wound and had then been discharged, armed with a course of antibiotics and painkillers. Fortunately Grey had found a pair of shorts in the truck and a belt so Jake was at least able to leave with his modesty intact.
Stronger Within (The Silver Lake Series Book 1) Page 25