Page 2 of All Right No

“What are you doing? You’re all over the fucking place.”

Luthor hadn’t done a damn thing wrong, and Paul knew it. They all knew it. Hell anyone who’d been listening knew it was him who’d fucked up, not Xane’s new squeeze.

Luthor muttered something under his breath.

“What’s that?” Paul demanded.

“I said, I was keeping time with Ash.”

“Don’t start laying the blame on him.”

They ought to. He’d been the one at fault.

“Let’s start over,” Spook suggested, diplomatic as ever. At least it put an end to the dirty looks being exchanged.

Xane counted them in. For two bars Ash was fine, then bam, needles lanced down his arm into his fingers and a wholesale fireworks display went off in his hand. “Jeezus, fucking Christ!” The guitar slid from his grasp as his fingers curled and locked.

There was no making like that was Luthor’s fault, though a shit ton of hoo hah erupted as Rock Giant attempted to suggest it was. Ash bit his lower lip hard while Xane and Paul butted heads, and Spook got sucked into separating them. Luthor remained safely behind the drum kit, though he did throw Ash some serious side-eyes.

Well shit, yeah, he’d love to sort this all out, but right now he was just trying to smother the flames in his hand. His knuckles were ready to pop, and massaging them just seemed to cause him even more motherfucking pain. Stinging tears threatened to wipe out his vision too.

“Again. We do it over.” Rock Giant’s booted foot hit the floor making the ground shake. “And we keep doing it until it’s fucking right. We should not be stumbling over this, guys.”

They weren’t. He was the issue here, and only him. He might once have been a shit hot guitarist with a flair for dramatic licking, but now he couldn’t even manage a few basic chord changes without ballsing it up.

“Paul,” Spook’s soothing voice cut through the noise, commanding silence. “That’s not a good idea.” Was he looking at Ash? Yeah, he was looking straight at him. “Tomorrow, okay. You need to remember that some of us have had it rougher than others recently. You got sun-burn, Ash got—”

“Fucked. Ash got fucked,” Ash snarled. He awkwardly removed the guitar from around his shoulders with his left hand. The explosions had stopped, but his right hand remained clawed and the pain wasn’t really easing that much. “Sorry… It’s not happening. I can’t…”

He dropped the white guitar, which hit the carpet with enough of a thud to make them collectively wince.

Paul was right there in front of him immediately, blocking his route to the stairs. “What are you talking about? You’re not the problem. Luthor is.”

“Luthor isn’t.”

Yeah, sure it was sweet to see Paul leaping to his defence, but what was the point in pretending? Those fine motor skills the doctors had claimed he’d regained—sure, he could fasten a shirt button and tie shoelaces—they weren’t there when it came to the one skill that truly mattered.

“Don’t blame him. It was me. I was the problem. You all know it, so don’t pretend. I’m sorry to break it to you guys, but you’re gonna have to find yourself another lead guitarist, because your current one is fucked.”

“What’s the issue exactly?” Spook asked calmly, despite Ash’s gunshot delivery.

“The issue?” He raised his clawed hand. “This. This is the fucking issue. No control. Can’t fucking straighten them. Can’t keep the pace. Can’t do anything.” He knew there was no sense in growling at them, but the frustration and resentment he’d experienced during his hospital stay were desperate for an outlet. Apparently, being discharged didn’t mean he was better, just not ill enough to require constant monitoring.

“We’re not going to replace you,” Xane insisted.

He said that now, but…

Spook picked up the white guitar and deposited it on an empty stand. “You know it’s only been a few weeks. I’m sure if you give it a few more—”

“It’ll what? Magically heal. I’ve been discharged. I’m supposed to be well. Well, here’s the truth guys; I can’t play, and that’s unlikely to change in time for us to record the new album.”

The remainder of theirRequiem for the Damned Tourhad been pushed back six months, so the band’s focus had shifted onto producing new material.

“You can be involved with that without needing to play. Xane or I can stand in for you on the recordings,” Spook said.

Shit, yeah! ’Cause that made him feel so much better.

Spook reached out and gave Ash’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze. Only it felt like a brush off.