Chapter 2
After finally finishing his last exam for the semester, Ray sits on the carpeted floor of Gene’s bedroom with the man himself at his side.
The afternoon sunlight casts a gentle glow through the orange curtains.
As Gene holds an acoustic guitar in his lap and strums chords that match what’s playing on the record player over on the desk, Ray hums along to the beat.
Coming over to Gene’s every now and then has been something he always looks forward to during the week, getting to jam with who he can now say is one of his closest friends.
After that moment last year at the bus stop, it wasn’t long before Gene phoned Ray to hang out.
And ever since, they’ve been basically inseparable.
It’s become a routine with how they typically meet once a week, usually on the weekends, with Gene picking Ray up to come over to his house since he’s the one with a car.
It’s been easy to connect with him as they’re almost exactly the same age—only a few months apart.
During the semester it’s been better to hang at Gene’s house, despite him still living with his parents.
But they never really bother them unless it’s Gene’s mother offering food, and with Gene being an only child, he has a bedroom all to himself.
Since September, Ray has been living in a college dorm with a roommate he couldn’t care less about.
But at least now that his first year of school is over, he can finally have a breather, having moved back into his childhood home for summer break.
To be honest, Ray would have liked to see Gene more than just once a week, but homework and studying had gotten the best of him, not to mention finding time when Gene wasn’t working his job at Meijer.
Sometimes they’d have to skip seeing each other for the week entirely.
Ray’s been working towards getting an associate’s degree in business—not because he feels like it’s his calling by any means, but more so because his parents and high school teachers thought it was a good career fit for him.
And yes, while he has been getting good grades and appreciates the material he’s been learning, there’s been a strange feeling like something is missing.
Sure, it’s wonderful being at the top of his class, but it doesn’t compare to the sheer magic he feels when he sings the blues, when Gene harmonizes with him and slaps the strings of his guitar.
Music has always played an important role in Ray’s life, one way or another.
Growing up with his younger brother, Mick, they would sing and dance to the radio or various records their parents would buy them, mostly British Invasion but also Chicago blues or Detroit rock.
Ray would sing, trying his best to mimic the greats, and Mick would keep rhythm, drumming his hands on whatever surface he could find.
Ray has always been complimented on his voice—and that flattery keeps his spirits high, continuing to sing with confidence even if just for fun.
But something electric passes through him when he sings and plays with Gene—a spark he cannot deny.
Gene has surely impressed Ray with his guitar skills.
Gene is so meticulous when figuring out a lick, listening to the records and copying with precision on his own instrument.
While Ray has dabbled with acoustic guitar a bit in the past—he does own one, sitting on a stand in the corner—it can’t even compare to the immense mastery he witnesses with Gene.
Having a friend this passionate about music, Ray can’t believe how lucky he is.
A few weeks ago, he and Gene saw a local band play at a dive bar.
They were merely a mediocre cover band, singing songs by Led Zeppelin and the Stones no better than Ray could’ve done, but it gave him an idea.
He’d been wanting to bring it up to Gene, but with exams consuming all of his free time lately, he hadn’t really had the chance.
However, now that the semester is over, it seems like as good a time as any…
“Hey Gene,” he says, and Gene stops his strumming.
“What’s up?”
“I think we really got something here, with us singing and you playing guitar. What if we did something more with it?”
“More? You mean like… playing for other people?”
“Yeah!” He sits up straighter. “What if we rounded up some other people and started a band of our own?”
“A band?” Gene’s eyes widen with curiosity. “Now, while I love the sound of that idea, how would we even round anyone up? I don’t know any cats that play any instruments aside from you… Who would we ask?”
“My brother Mick can play drums; he’s a percussionist in his high school marching band. My parents just bought him a drum kit last Christmas, too.”
“What, really? Hey! How come you’ve never told me this?” Gene smiles, shoving Ray’s shoulder playfully.
“Well!” Ray laughs, making eye contact with his friend.
“When you and I hang out, I’m just thinking about us, and playing together just the two of us.
I love Mick, of course, but I didn’t want to spoil how much fun our little jam sessions have been by bringing someone else in, y’know. Maybe that’s a poor excuse, I dunno.”
Strangely, he notices Gene’s cheeks color to an adorable shade of red. “No, that—that makes sense. I like it when it’s just us, too. You were keeping me all to yourself then, weren’t you, eh?” He gives him a teasing smirk.
Ray laughs even harder at that. “Maybe I was? Either way, what I’m saying is—I love playing music with you, and we sound fantastic. I think if we brought some other people in, we could make something out of it. Like, our own songs.”
So far, Ray and Gene haven’t tried composing any original material for themselves, just playing covers in the bedroom.
There hasn’t really been time for anything else.
But with the wonderful way they gel together, he can feel the potential of something greater.
Ray has tried writing poetry in the past, but he knows now that anything he could’ve come up with would’ve sounded much better paired with music.
If he had a songwriting partner, someone to add some riffs, someone as into it as he is himself…
Someone like Gene.
Besides, how are they to know what can happen if they never try?
“That sounds groovy, man,” Gene says with a grin. “What are you thinking? Playing at parties or something? Bars? Clubs? Or are you dreaming of something huge—bigger than the Stones?”
“Go hard or go home, right?” Ray chuckles. “Wouldn’t that be nuts, performing for thousands and thousands of people?” He looks up at the ceiling.
“It would be nuts. I don’t think I’ve ever performed for more than two or three people.”
“Would you be nervous?” He gazes back at Gene.
“Wouldn’t you?”
“Well, I suppose for the first few shows. But even those guys at the top had to start somewhere. It’s not like they were big right out of the gate. You start small and build your way up, so it won’t be so bad.”
“That’s true.” Gene lifts his hand off the guitar and scratches his chin.
“What about college, though? I’m gonna be starting art school this fall, y’know.
I’ve been working on saving up money for it and don’t wanna just drop it before I’ve even started.
And you’ve still got another year, too. This is a lot to think about… ”
“No one has to drop anything.” Ray puts a reassuring hand on Gene’s shoulder.
“It’s just an idea. All that stuff about contracts and record deals is still quite a ways away, y’know?
And who’s to say we even would make it big?
If we’d even get a record deal? It would be nice, but it shouldn’t be the reason why we do this.
I brought up the idea because… well, I just like playing with you. And wanted to know what you thought.”
Gene smiles at that. “For sure. I really do like the idea. Maybe we should just try, ask your brother if he wants to join, and see how it goes from there.” He nods. “It would be cool to do something with this.”
“You’re amazing at guitar too, Gene. Way better than those guys we saw at the bar. If they can form a band, then we definitely could too, right?”
Gene’s cheeks flush to a darker shade again. “Yeah. And thanks… You’re a much better singer than those cats, too. Your voice is seriously something else. I mean it. You’re right up there in talent with the likes of Jim Morrison and Roger Daltrey. The rest of the world just doesn’t know it, yet.”
Now it’s Ray who feels his cheeks grow hotter, blushing like mad.
Gene has certainly complimented his voice before, but for some reason, right now it feels even more special.
With the prospect of a band on the horizon, Gene’s words ignite a spark in his chest that flares deep within his soul.
A burning motivation that only grows bigger the more he thinks about it.
They are amazing musicians. The world just has yet to hear them.
June, 1973
“What do you think of this?” Gene asks Ray, strumming a chord on his acoustic guitar and singing the next words: “She flies me up like a plane, higher and higher.”
“That’s good, that’s good.” Ray nods his head, slapping his knee on the downbeat.
Last month, Ray had proposed to Gene the idea of forming a band, and the very next day, he’d asked his brother Mick if he wanted to join.
Much to their relief, he accepted the position, thinking it would be a fun way to explore his interest in music and make friends.
Mick is still in high school—his senior year starting in the fall and he’ll be turning eighteen come September—so he told the two he’d love to help where he could.
Gene understood, especially with his own schooling on the horizon and knowing how Ray still has a whole ’nother year of intense studying coming up as well.