Page 20 of More Than Scars
“Sorry, swallowed down the wrong pipe.”
But even a great lunch couldn’t save us from the rest of today’s tryouts. I hoped like hell tomorrow’s would be better.
“Ready for another fun-filled day of shit-tastic bass playing?”
“Stoli, there isn’t enough caffeine for your smart ass this early in the morning.” Mickey made what I guessed wasn’t his first cup as he rolled his eyes at his friend. “Might end up calling on some of those still waiting in the rain. So far, the ones that got in are no prize.”
And off we went, until Mickey couldn’t take it anymore and took the stage himself.
“How many of you have played in a bands, raise your hands?” Three of ten, not a good ratio. “Of those three, how many are still in those bands?” No hands up was a bad sign. “Here’s a better question: how many of you only tried out for a chance to meet us?” Every. Freaking. Hand shot in the air. “Dismissed.” Teacher Mickey wasn’t fucking around.
He weeded through each group the same way until the finals were down to seven, and at that point, he let them each take the stage. One of them stood out to me but bassist guru, I was not so I’d defer to the group.
“Hey,” Tony nudged me and showed me his list with the same name circled. “This guy.” He turned to Mickey and showed him the same thing. Mickey smiled and winked. I got the feeling we had our bassist.
“Alright, we’d like the following three bassists to stick around for round two. Jett, Devon, and Tibby.” I expected the room to fill with groans and colorful curse words, but instead, they congratulated the top three and even exchanged fist bumps. It is amazing how much smoother it goes when you weed it down to the true professionals.
“Alright, gentlemen,” Mickey addressed them. “Now’s the time to shine, so if you’ve got a favorite song in your back pocket that you can nail, do it. First up, Jett.”
Jett chose Right Now by Korn. Any Korn song is heavy on bass, so he went in the right direction. Too bad nerves got the best of him, and he missed a few key chords.
“Next up, Devon.”
Devon reached for the stars by choosing Run to the Hills from Iron Maiden. He wasn’t too bad, a bit stiff, but given this was the final round, nerves would tend to get the best of you.
“And last but not least, Tibby.”
Tibby shot for the moon when he broke into Metallica’s For Whom the Bell Tolls. We were on the edge of our seats, enthralled by this smiling young man as we watched his nimble fingers flawlessly pluck every correct string. At the end of the song, both Jett and Devon were on their feet clapping, as we were too. That was one tough-ass song to nail, and nail it he did.
“Devon, Jett, it was wonderful to meet you both, and we wish you the best, but we gotta give it to Tibby.” Mickey shook their hands. “Definitely keep in touch, the two of you have mad talent, and you never know what’s next for the Masterson fam.”
Tibby packed his bass up, and as soon as the door shut behind Devon and Jett, he let out a wail sirens would be jealous of.
“Welcome to the team,” Mickey bro hugged him. “Wolf will get the contracts ready for you to sign. Let me introduce you to the rest of the crew. Stoli and Joey, you know, this is your band manager, Pressley. He’ll be your main point of contact, and I’ll be your mentor. The new band you’ll be a part of is called Imminent Danger.”
“Imminent Danger, I freaking love it,” Tibby said, smiling wide.
“Right on, this is Bowie, the lead guitarist, and your singer and frontman, Tony.”
“Dude, this is so surreal,” Tony said as he shook Tibby’s hand. “By the way, where did Tibby come from?”
“Tiberius Franklin Hawthorne the third, at your service,” Tibby bowed. “Thank fuck my mom nicknamed me Tibby. Not that it kept the grade school bullies away, but hey, my real name is a ridiculous mouthful.”
“Tibby it is,” Bowie shook his hand. “Three down, only a drummer to go.”
Jesus, how had it just hit me that the most painful auditions to sit through would be our last?
“Do we have earplugs?” Evidently my question was funny, though it wasn’t meant to be. Guess that was a no on the earplugs…
Chapter Nine
Bowie
Tibby was chill as hell, funny, laid back, and easy to listen to when he contributed to the conversation. I could tell he was in awe of how down-to-earth Stoli, Joey, and Mickey were, despite their level of fame and success. These welcome-to-the-family meals were a nice way of getting to know one another too, and with the private rooms we dined in, there weren’t any gawkers staring our way, which more than put me at ease. I couldn’t fully explainit, but having Pressley see my scars the other night and not pull me aside to tell me that he wasn’t sure it was going to work, having me be a part of the band and up front under the lights, had really started to ease some of the worry and fear that had eaten at me since he’d seen them. As we neared the forty-eight-hour mark, it started to dawn on me that the moment I’d been agonizing over and tormenting myself about wasn’t going to happen, and for the first time, I was really able to relax when he sat beside me at the table that night.
For the most part, he’d seen everything too. Like ripping the band-aid off, he’d gotten the full effect of the damage, minus the scar that curled over my upper thigh, but that one had been minor compared to the rest of the mess. Hell, he hadn’t even approached me with some lame-ass bullshit about rethinking my stage makeup suggestion, which I’d halfway expected too. What I’d never imagined in my wildest dreams was the sad looks he shot me whenever I ducked my head or shied away from him. It was like it hurt him to see me hide and shrink back from everyone whenever they approached me on my damaged side, something I was super conscious of doing with Joey, Mickey, and Stoli, to the point of half-hiding behind Tony anytime the overhead lights were too bright.
Tibby had a couple notebooks full of songs as well, so I’d taken the initiative, before Joey or Stoli had to, to tell him that we’d decided to narrow down what we had to five apiece to go over, once we’d had time to practice some cover songs together. Tony and I each had our lists with us, so we shared them with him, and he circled a bunch that were strong suits of his before adding his list of twenty covers right there at the table. While we might not have intended for it to be a working dinner, Tony and I passed it back and forth, circling the ones we were most comfortable with, and then Tony, who had much better handwriting than I did, created a fresh list of the cover songs the three of us were most comfortable with. We had seventeen before we left the table that night. It would be interesting to see what our drummer added to the list and how that round of auditions was going to go, with Diamond coming in to spearhead them. I was curious to meet him and a little bit terrified too. Dude looked scary as hell on every poster, CD cover, t-shirt, and photo I’d ever seen,like he’d break a motherfucker in half just for looking at him wrong. Would definitely be an eyes-open, mouth-shut kind of day tomorrow.