Page 8 of More Than Scars
“Fuck this shit!” Tony, Bowie’s friend, nearly knocked his seat over to get up on the makeshift stage. “Dude, do you even know what metal is? You’re butchering this fucking song. Have you ever in your life so much as listened to a single Korn song?”
Something told me that as the band manager I should stop him, but curiosity got the best of me, and I wanted to see what Tony was up to. Either that or it was the fact that I was so over listening to these horrible auditions and was just thankful someone stopped the pain. We were at like fifty tryouts so far today. Many didn’t make it to the first chorus before Wolf told them they were done. It was well past dinner time, and I was in need of food and one strong-ass fucking drink. Screw that, I’m putting a straw in a bottle of vodka and sucking the whole thing down. Maybe that’ll get rid of the banshee howls bouncing through my skull.
“Bowie, get up here and take the growls on Y’all Want a Single.” I fully expected Bowie to decline and stay hidden in the corner he was perched in, but much to my surprise, he grabbed a second mic and joined his friend.
Korn was one of my favorite bands, and to hear these two belt out JD a cappella was nothing short of eye-opening, and it appeared I wasn’t the only one who thought so.
“This is what we’re talking about,” Stoli bellowed. “Auditions are over, Tony, you’re in.”
Tony blinked a couple of times, then a wide grin spread across his face as the other applicants bitched as they funneled from the room. “Am I being punked?”
Joey laughed. “No, I agree with my husband. Your voice is a bit rough, but I can totally work with you on that, and the deep growls, though having Bowie back you up on them, is a sick combo. You two play well off each other, and it’s clear you’re comfortable working together. Being the frontmen for a band, it’s crucial that the lead guitarist and singer not only get along but for your interactions to be spot-on while onstage.”
Bowie and Tony howled and hugged each other. This was the first time I’d seen Bowie smile.
“Are you two a couple?” Stoli asked. Bowie and Tony dropped their arms like they were on fire.
“Nah, man,” Tony said. “He’s hot and all, but he’s my best friend. Been there for me through thick and thin.”
“Ditto, man, on the whole been there for me part,” Bowie agreed. “Not that you’re not good-looking…”
“Dude, let it go, let it goooo!” Tony broke into the infamous song and sent the rest of us rolling, laughing so hard at him. Not only did he have a great sense of humor, but I could see what a positive influence he was for Bowie. His presence would be good for the surly guitarist.
“Well, that cancels the rest of this week,” Wolf said. “We literally had so many singers signed up to audition that we had three days’ worth on the schedule.”
“Thank fuck, that noise is over—literally,” Stoli clapped his hands. “Let’s get Tony signed, NDA and all that happy horseshit Easton requires, and get some fucking food in our bellies.”
“Having the rest of the week off will give Bowie and me time to get our shit packed and moved to Seattle,” Tony pointed out. A forward thinker was a welcome addition to any team.
“Speaking of which, Easton has your information from the forms you filled out for the guitarist audition, Tony,” Wolf said, staring down at his phone, “and will have your contracts over in a few minutes. He wants to know what size truck he should tell the movers to meet you at your house with this weekend. He’d like you guys to be here for next week’s bassist and drummer auditions.”
“Bowie and I live in the same building, and our places came furnished. I don’t have much.”
“I’ve got a few guitars, clothes, an Xbox, and a TV. Stuff like that, so probably a super small one?” Bowie added. “Not sure we even need movers really, just someone who has a truck.”
Me: They don’t have much, no furniture just needs a small truck.
Easton: Let me see what I can work out. I’ll book a hotel room for them here.
Me: I’m willing to drive down to Portland and help them, and they can stay in my spare rooms until they find a place here.
Easton: Are you sure? We’d never ask that of you.
Me: I know, but I also know how Masterson operates, and I’m sure I’m not the first person to make such an offer. Besides, I have a really good feeling about these two, and it would be one way to get to know them better.
Easton: Keep your eyes and ears open and make sure to turn in your expense report on Monday.
Me: Aye, aye, captain!
Easton: Contract has been sent. Take them out for a nice celebration meal.
Me: Thanks, bossman.
“Okay, per Easton, contracts are here for Wolf to print and Tony to sign. I’ll meet you guys in Portland on Saturday with my truck, and you’ll both be camping out in my spare bedrooms until you find a place.” I’m sure living in Portland they were well aware of the housing market challenges that came with Seattle and how expensive it can be.
Wolf wandered off to the office area to take care of business. I was beyond excited, having half my band ready to roll. Recalling some of my earlier conversations with River, I decided to take a stab at our social media. It wasn’tnew to me by any means, but the band accounts were, and I was ready to blast these guys out there.
“Why don’t you both pose with Joey and Stoli so I can take your picture to share across our social media accounts?”