Stronger Within (The Silver Lake Series Book 1)

by McCallum, Coral

  As the two musicians were getting into the truck, Brad’s mother came running out of the building after them.

  “Mr Power,” she called, tears in her eyes.

  Jake was sitting in the passenger seat and was just about to pull the door closed when he heard his name being called.

  “Mrs Green,” he greeted the woman warmly.

  “Thank you,” she gasped, a sob catching her voice. “I know what he did was so very wrong, but Brad’s not a bad kid at heart. He’s just wired up a bit wrong. I am so so sorry.”

  “I know he’s not a bad kid. I actually kind of followed his logic. Everyone deserves a second chance,” replied Jake, aware of Rich’s stare boring into him. “I meant what I said. I expect to see him in my classes next semester.”

  “I don’t know how to thank you enough.”

  “Let’s draw a line under this,” suggested Jake generously. “However, if Brad ever decides to come and see the band play live again, please tell me first so I can have him at the side of the stage where I can keep an eye on him.”

  “Thank you,” she repeated. “I’d better go back in. The police are talking to my husband about the gun not being locked up safely.”

  Jake nodded and reached to pull the door closed, “Tell Brad I’ll see him in class.”

  “Thank you, Mr Power.”

  “It’s Jake, Mrs Green.”

  “Thank you, Jake.”

  As Rich pulled out of the parking lot, Jake swallowed another couple of painkillers, then sat back in the seat with his eyes closed. Mentally, he was drained; physically he was in agony. They were on the Coastal Highway heading out of town before either of them spoke. It was Rich who finally broke the silence, “You did the right thing back there. I didn’t think so at first, but I think you made the right judgement call.”

  “So do I,” agreed Jake, screwing up his face as a hot fiery spike of pain shot through his knee. “He’s a very mixed up kid, but he knows it. His logic is seriously flawed, but, in a warped way, I could see where he was coming from.”

  “And where was that?” asked Rich curiously.

  “That stays between Brad and I,” replied Jake quietly. “The matter’s closed as far as I’m concerned. Time to move on.”

  “If you say so,” said Rich shaking his head. “You never cease to amaze me, Mr Power.”

  With a smile, Jake settled back in the seat and closed his eyes, silently praying that the painkillers would kick in before they reached the radio station.

  It was cramped in the radio studio with the presenter, his producer and all four members of Silver Lake present. Both Rich and Jake were set up with their acoustic guitars. Rich was jammed right in the corner, perched on a tall stool while Jake had been given a lower, softer seat. His injured leg was resting on an upturned plastic crate with a folded up sweatshirt on top as a makeshift cushion. The pain meds had finally kicked in but there was still a hot throb in his knee. All four of them sat silently waiting for their cue while they listened to the hourly news bulletin followed by a classic Weigh Station track dating back to Jake’s teenage years.

  “Now ladies and gents, we have some surprise guests in the studio for you,” began the DJ. “Silver Lake have stopped by. These guys headlined for us last Saturday night and were literally blown off stage mid set when a shot was fired from the crowd injuring vocalist Jake Power.”

  The band exchanged glances and Jake could feel the urge to giggle mounting inside them all. He stared down at his guitar strings trying to maintain his composure.

  “Good afternoon, boys. And an extra special welcome to Jake. How’s the leg?”

  “It’s ok I guess,” said Jake suddenly tongue tied at being the centre of attention. “I was incredibly lucky. It’s only a flesh wound with a little bit of bone damage.”

  “So tell the listeners what happened out there on Saturday night.”

  “Well, we’d just started our fourth number, a new one for us, and I felt a hot stinging pain in my right leg around my knee. I kind of reeled backwards a bit, but didn’t realise I’d been shot. Not at first anyway.”

  “But the incredible thing is that you tried to play on,” the presenter prompted.

  “I did my best, but had to surrender after three numbers. My boot was filling with blood and I wasn’t feeling so great.”

  “Now Rich,” said the DJ. “You were right beside Jake when the shot was fired. Did you see anything?”

  “Not a thing,” began Rich honestly. “I saw him stagger back, but my first thought was that he’d tripped. He made it through the vocals, but when I managed to ask him if he was ok, he said no. Grey and I held it together with an impromptu guitar and bass duel while Jake went off stage for treatment.”

  “Was there a first aider there?”

  “No,” laughed Jake. “A roadie threw me a roll of gaffer tape. My jeans were soaked in blood. I wrapped a length of tape round my thigh as a tourniquet and hobbled back out there.”

  “Security had pulled the guy out of the crowd by this point,” added Grey. “And the police took it from there.”

  “So will you be out of action for long, Jake?”

  “We’ll be back out there at the State Fair a week from Saturday. I should be good by then and at least have ditched the crutches,” answered Jake. “Worst case scenario I’ll sit it out on a stool. I feel bad for letting the fans down on Saturday, so we want to make it up to them as soon as possible.”

  “Now you’ve brought your guitars into our humble studio and I believe you’re going to play two tracks from your forthcoming album. When’s the album out?”

  “We’re hoping for late September,” said Paul, speaking up for the first time. ”The first single from it will be out for Labor Day weekend.”

  “And is that one of the songs you’re going to play for us this afternoon?”

  “No,” said Jake. “We’re keeping it under wraps for another week or so.”

  “So what will you be playing for us?”

  “Flyin’ High,” began Rich, “Which is the song we were playing when Jake got shot then we’ll do Lady Butterfly.”

  “Ok folks, you’re listening to 103.6 and this is Silver Lake, acoustic style!”

  Playing the two numbers in the compact studio was a bit like playing in someone’s bedroom, but, ever the professionals, Rich and Jake carried it off. Playing seated with his leg up on a box felt all wrong, but Jake put thoughts of his personal discomfort to one side, playing and singing to perfection. As the last notes faded out, the DJ said, “A huge thank you to Silver Lake for coming in today. We wish Jake a speedy recovery and we’ll see and hear the boys at the State Fair a week from Saturday.”

  ♪

  There were thunder clouds rolling overhead as they drove north towards Harrington. Sitting in the passenger seat of Lori’s Mercedes, Jake began to fidget. It had been a long hard two week run up to the State Fair. There had been several radio appearances up and down the Delaware coast, plus another interview and photo shoot for a magazine. All those calls and emails Maddy had fired off following the incident in Milford were beginning to pay dividends and people were starting to sit up and take note of Silver Lake. Before the end of the first week, despite the advice from his doctor to the contrary, Jake had dumped the crutches. The stitches had been removed a few days later and the scar didn’t look too bad, all things considered. His knee still felt stiff and was more swollen than usual, causing him to limp, as Brad had intended. Before they had left the house he had strapped it up and was praying he would make it through the show. At the final rehearsal the night before, the band had amended the running order, taken out two of their harder, heavier numbers and bulked the acoustic interlude up to four songs. If Jake sat down for those four songs, it should give him enough of a rest period to make it through the final four demanding numbers.

  “You’re kind of quiet,” observed Lori. “You ok, rock star?”

  “I suppose,” he sighed, staring out of the window at a passing tru
ck.

  “Talk to me, Jake,” she said, glancing over at him. “Something’s eating at you?”

  “I’m scared,” he confessed quietly, without looking at her.

  She had suspected as much and was relieved to hear him confess it. The feelings were wholly understandable.

  “Security will be far tighter here than at Milford. Maddy’s seen to that,” began Lori calmly. “You’ll be perfectly safe.”

  “Christ, I hope so,” he sighed, running his hand nervously through his hair. “What if I freeze up out there? What if I can’t do it?”

  “Don’t talk like that,” she scolded softly. “You belong on stage, Jake. You come alive out there.”

  “I’ve never felt under pressure like this before a gig. Never felt so scared.”

  Their conversation was interrupted by a call coming through on his cell phone. Hauling the handset out of his pocket, he caught the call just as it was about to cut to voicemail.

  “Good morning, boss,” he greeted, feigning cheerfulness.

  From the driver’s seat Lori could hear her friend ask if they were on their way yet.

  “We’re about twenty minutes away from Harrington. A half hour at the most.”

  Lori didn’t catch what her friend said next.

  “We’ll be there well before the sound check at two,” he promised. “Yes, I’ve got the parking pass. Yes, I’ve taken my pain meds. Yes, I’ve strapped my knee up. And yes, I’ve got my guitars. Anything else on your Jake checklist?”

  Lori giggled at his obvious frustration at being mothered by the band’s manager.

  “Yes, Lori is driving,” he continued. “And before you ask, she’s had her pain meds too. Oh, and we’re both wearing clean underwear and we brushed our teeth before we left the house.”

  Lori could clearly hear the string of expletives her friend was yelling down the phone.

  “See you soon, Maddison,” he growled, as he cut the call. “Christ, she’s worse than my mom was.”

  “Don’t be too hard on her,” giggled Lori. “She’s just trying to get this right and to look out for you all.”

  “Well, she’s trying too hard,” he muttered sourly, before smiling quietly to himself at the memory of the tirade of abuse he’d just taken.

  As they approached Harrington, the venue for the State Fair ground was remarkably well sign posted. Turning off the road onto a dirt track, an event organiser stopped them to check their passes, then directed them to the “artiste parking lot” which to both Jake and Lori looked like a cornfield. As Lori parked the car at the end of a row, Jake messaged Rich to say they had arrived. The guitarist came straight back to say he was on his way to help Jake with his gear. As both of them climbed stiffly out of the car, they exchanged glances and started to laugh. Grabbing her cane out of the back, Lori limped round to open the trunk.

  “What are you two laughing at?” called Rich as he ran towards them.

  “Ourselves,” giggled Lori. “At the state of us trying to get moving after sitting in the car for an hour.”

  “I always thought you made the perfect pair,” joked Rich. “Now you limp as a pair.”

  “Very funny,” grumbled Jake, echoes of Brad’s warped logic filling his head. “Here, take these,” he added, passing two guitar cases to his friend.

  “How is the knee today?”

  “Stiff but I think it’ll hold out,” said Jake, lifting his acoustic guitar out of the car.

  Lori handed him his backpack, lifted out her own tote bag, then locked up the car. “Don’t worry about me, boys,” she teased playfully. “I’ll just limp along quietly at the back here.”

  “Sorry, Lori,” apologised Rich, giving her a hug. “Are you ok today?”

  “Thanks for asking. I’m fine,” she replied, flashing him a mischievous smile. “One small flesh wound and he gets all the attention.”

  “She’s right,” called back Jake. “I’ve no right to complain here.”

  “I guess not,” agreed Rich. “Let’s go. Maddy’s stressing because you guys are late.”

  “Hey, we’re not late. She brought the time forward by an hour and never told me.”

  “Yeah, sorry about that,” confessed Rich blushing. “I was meant to call you and I forgot.”

  Rich led them through a maze of motor homes, buses and trucks to the motorhome Maddy had hired for the occasion. She had been adamant that they needed some private space for the day and the band hadn’t argued with her. When they finally reached it, Grey and Paul were in the middle of an interview with a local journalist. Upon seeing Rich and Jake arrive the journalist, ever the opportunist, directed his next question to Jake, “And how do you feel about getting back out there?”

  “A bit nervous, but the show has to go on. There’s fans expecting a whole Silver Lake set and I’m not about to let them down again,” he replied, suddenly feeling very exposed.

  “Will you last the pace tonight? I see you’re still limping a bit.”

  “I hope so. We’ve tweaked the set a bit to make it easier on me physically, but we’re here to play a rock show and that’s what we intend to deliver.”

  “Thanks for your time, guys. Have a great night,” said the journalist, wrapping things up quickly as he saw the band’s manager approaching with a thunderous look on her face.

  “See you out there,” called Rich as they watched the journalist scurry away behind the adjacent motorhome.

  Staggering slightly as her spike heels tangled in the grass underfoot, Maddy called shrilly, “Nice of you to finally get here! Sound check’s in half an hour!”

  “Plenty of time,” stated Grey calmly. “Stop stressing, woman. You’re making me nervous!”

  She shot him a dark look and was about to snap but then thought the better of it. Instead, she hugged Lori and muttered, “Maybe you can keep them under control better than me.”

  “Unlikely,” admitted Lori. “But you do seem a bit on edge. Is everything ok?”

  “Jason’s arriving in time for the show. I just want it to be right. Spot on,” she explained. “He’s bringing someone with him but wouldn’t say who.”

  “Relax, Maddy,” said Lori softly. “The boys won’t let you down. Now show me where we’ve to put our things.”

  “In here,” replied her friend, stepping up into the motorhome. “Do you want a coffee?”

  “Sounds good,” called Lori, negotiating the steep steps carefully.

  Between the sound check and interviews, the hours vanished, leaving the band little time to get nervous. Thunder clouds still lurked overhead, but the storm looked to be moving west and the local radio station forecast a dry evening for the State Fair with temperatures in the mid-seventies Fahrenheit. Just after five, as arranged, a buffet was delivered to the Silver Lake motorhome and, while the band and crew were helping themselves, Jason arrived on site. His early arrival almost tipped Maddy’s stress levels off the scale, especially when she saw that his “guest” was the female lead singer from the west coast band Molton that Lori had completed art work for recently. The Englishman casually introduced her as “Tori” and left her to help herself to a plate of food while he had a quick catch up with Maddy outside.

  “Hi, Lori,” purred Tori as she sat next to her on the narrow couch. “Long time no see, honey.”

  “It’s been a while,” agreed Lori. “I thought you guys were on the road out west?”

  “We have been but we had a few unplanned days off. Jason rescheduled some of the shows till next week. Promoter issues or something. He’s been talking non-stop about these guys though, so I grabbed the chance to check them out for myself.”

  “You’ll not be disappointed,” promised Lori with a smile.

  At that moment Jake hobbled over to join them, not instantly recognising Tori. As he sat down opposite the girls, he realised who she was and was suddenly struck dumb.

  “You must be Jake,” said Tori warmly, reaching out to shake his hand. “Jason told me what happened. You ok to go out t
here tonight?”

  “Ready as I’ll ever be,” spluttered Jake nervously. “Just hope I make it through the set.”

  “Go for the sympathy vote,” she suggested. “It’ll get the crowd on your side and they’ll cut you some slack.”

  “We’ll see.”

  “Want a loan of my cane?” joked Lori, offering him her walking cane that had been lying discretely at her feet.

  “You’re good, li’l lady” he said with a smile. “Besides, you need it more than me.”

  “I guess,” she laughed.

  “Oh, I heard about your accident, Lori!” gushed Tori. “I hadn’t realised you were still in recovery.”

  “Well, it’s been seven months, so this might be as good as it gets.”

  “That’s a rough deal,” sympathised the singer awkwardly. “Oh, Jason’s looking for me. Need to go. See you back stage.”

  Completely star struck, Jake watched Tori glide out of the motorhome with Jason on her arm.

  “Enjoying the view?” teased Lori, nudging him in the ribs.

  “I can’t believe I just met her!” he exclaimed. “I downloaded their album last week. She’s got an incredible voice.”

  “She has,” agreed Lori. “Among other assets.”

  Jake laughed, then declared it was time for him to get changed for the show. Grabbing his back pack from the floor, he went to the bedroom at the back of the motorhome to change. He had decided to go for a black look for the night, but it was a struggle to get his tight black jeans over the strapping on his knee. Leaving his shirt unbuttoned for now, he slipped two painkillers into his pocket as a precaution. If he started to struggle out there he could take them at the start of the acoustic interlude and hope they would kick in by the end of it. Swallowing two more, he went back out to join the others. As it got closer to show time, he began to pace nervously. Grey had gone off to find a quiet corner to call Becky, who was staying with his mom for the night. Rich and Paul had wandered off, when Maddy wasn’t looking, to check out the size of the crowd. Shortly after seven thirty Maddy rounded them all up and herded them towards the backstage area. Lori had been all set to go and join Jason and Tori in the VIP enclosure when Jake reached out to stop her.