Chapter 9
It’s nice to be playing a show back in their home of Grand Rapids.
While Gene enjoys the bigger shows in Detroit and meeting stardom, it just feels different with a smaller crowd—one that is there to see the Dusty Brooms. Sure, being openers has its perks with exposing themselves to a new audience, but nothing can beat the feeling when the fans are actually there to see you, not whoever the main act is.
The Brooms finish playing their set at The Intersection club—their usual venue at this point—and wrap up in the backstage greenroom.
Gene throws himself into the middle of a floral-patterned couch after putting away his guitar in his locker.
Ray sits down next to him to his right, offering him a bottle of beer.
“Thanks, man,” Gene tells Ray. He pops the lid off and takes a sip.
“No problem. Feels good after all that adrenaline.” Ray takes a swig from his own bottle.
Gene closes his eyes for a moment. He’s not the biggest fan of beer’s taste, much rather preferring whiskey or vodka, but at least beer has less alcohol content. A good solution for wanting to relax while not getting too tipsy.
When he opens his eyes, Dennis is standing in front of him, along with two other young men who look very, very strangely familiar to him.
The taller of the two mysterious young men bears a striking resemblance to Keith Richards—is that why he looks familiar?
But, no, I recognize this guy from somewhere. Those scars on his face, the long hair…
“I’ve brought backstage this photographer,” Dennis says, “and his friend, since he insisted they come together. The photographer here, Maurice, says he knows you a bit already, Gene. Is that true?”
Maurice? “Um… maybe? Sorry, can you remind me?” he asks genuinely, with a chuckle.
“Sure,” says Maurice, the tall Keith-lookalike. “I’m Maurice Rogers. We went to Kendall together; we took a few of the same painting classes. Um… sorry I didn’t really talk to you during class, but… that’s just shyness, I guess.” He gives a sheepish smile, stretching the scar on his bottom lip.
“Hi, Maurice. I guess you already know my name’s Gene, Gene Hillard.” He smiles, and then—it hits him. He does recognize Maurice from school. “Wait, you’re that one photography student who had those amazing photos hanging in the hall for the student show!”
“Yup, that’s me.” Maurice chuckles. He scratches the back of his head, combing his fingers through his long brown hair that reaches past his shoulders.
His bangs are a bit lighter in color, as if they had been dyed blond but the color has faded over time.
Yeah, I’m pretty sure he used to have highlights.
“And you!” Gene points to the shorter, androgynous young man next to Maurice. “I don’t think we’ve actually met, but I know your face. You were the model who was actually in the photos Maurice took. I saw your face whenever I passed by the art in the hall.”
“Mhmm, that’s me,” the young man says. He has shoulder-length fluffy brown hair and a white eyepatch over his right eye—making him easily recognizable. “I’m Kenneth. We’ve been coming to your local shows here a lot and really dig your music.”
“I’ve been taking a bunch of photos of you guys, too,” Maurice says, putting his hands on the camera hanging around his neck. “I figured you’d wanna see them, whenever I get to developing them.”
“Oh, yes please!” Gene exclaims. “Y’know, I don’t think we’ve really had our photos taken much during shows, being so small still. We went to a studio to get pics for our singles but…”
“Those were good photos, but honestly… it was kinda awkward taking them,” Ray says with a shrug. “Felt too formal. I’d want better ones for whenever we release an album.”
“Maurice’s photos were seriously out of this world,” Gene says to Ray. “What I saw was like something out of a magazine, or even from a billboard.”
“Why, thank you,” Maurice says, flipping his long hair with confidence. “But I’d say the quality of those photos was due to my absolutely beautiful model here, Kenneth.”
“Maurice!” Kenneth’s cheeks turn beet red, and he elbows Maurice hard in his side.
“Wha—hey!” The photographer almost stumbles, laughing. “I was just giving you a compliment. These guys seem cool.”
“Yeah, but still. Anyway!”
“Okay, okay. Anyway!” Maurice says with a chuckle.
They seem like really close friends, Gene thinks.
“I was wondering if, maybe you’d like to work with me?
I currently work at Bradford Photo Studio here in Grand Rapids and, as a new art school grad, I’d love to get some more real-world experience.
I love your guys’ music too, and since I already kinda knew Gene and Santiago, I thought maybe… ”
“Santiago, you say?” Santi says as he walks up to Maurice’s side.
“Yeah, you!” Maurice says with a smile. “Do you recognize me? I went to school with you at Kendall; my name’s Maurice.”
Santiago scratches his chin. “Maurice? No—wait! Yeah, you totally were in class with us. I remember now. How come you didn’t say hi, then?”
“Oh, uh… just awkward, I guess.”
“You can say that again,” Kenneth chuckles.
“Well—” Maurice clears his throat, blush in his cheeks, “Either way, I thought it was neat you guys were in a band but I never knew how to approach you. But since we started coming to your shows, it was Kenneth here who nudged me to finally take the plunge and talk to you all. We tracked your manager down and he brought us back here.”
“I’m glad I did,” Dennis says. “You guys seem like you’re getting along.”
Santiago smiles. “I really admired your work, Maurice. But I guess I never talked to you either, so… Well, that’s on all of us, then. Better late than never, I suppose.”
Better late than never, Gene repeats in his head. Very true. It reminds him of how he’d technically known Ray in elementary school but never really had the courage to talk to him, until they met again on that fateful day at the bus stop only a few years ago. He takes a sip from his beer.
“Exactly. And thanks!” Maurice says. “So, what do you guys think?”
“Well,” Ray says, “If Gene and Santi like your photos, I don’t see why we shouldn’t try you out.”
“For sure,” Gene says.
“Absolutely,” Santi says.
“Then it’s settled,” Dennis says, clapping his hands together. “Maurice, do you have a business card? I’ll schedule something as soon as I’m able to.”
“Ah, yeah! Here…” Maurice fishes out a card from his blazer’s pocket and hands it to Dennis. “Kenneth’s sister made these for me recently. Glad I had it done.”
“For sure,” Kenneth says. “This is exciting, ain’t it? You deserve a big chance like this, to show off your skills. Your photos on an album cover? That’s far-out.”
“Yeah! I’m so glad we came here. This is so groovy,” Maurice says.
He smiles at Kenneth sweetly, a red tint highlighting his cheeks.
The way he looks at his friend strikes Gene as somewhat peculiar—it’s such an endearing gaze, and it stirs up something strange in Gene himself.
Such a feeling is further enhanced by the brush of Ray’s thigh against his own on the couch.
Gene turns his head and, as natural as ever, Ray smiles at him the exact same way.
An adorable, sweet, loving smile. A smile meant just for him.
Butterflies frizz in Gene’s chest, and he smiles back at Ray.
July, 1975
Ray stands in the photo studio next to the rest of the Dusty Brooms, highlighted by hot, broadlight lamps angled in different directions.
A white sheet hangs behind them all from the tall ceiling as a backdrop for their scene.
Stefan and Pat are sitting on a bench in front of Ray, while Gene and Santiago stand beside him.
“Can’t you smile at all? I swear I’ve never seen you smile this entire time,” Pat says to Stefan.
“Why do I need to?” Stefan replies.
“Well, it might look a little weird if everyone else is smiling and you’re not,” Pat says.
“I don’t think everyone is smiling in equal measures,” Stefan counters. “There being a bit of variance in our expressions looks more natural than, say, everyone putting on a huge, fake smile.”
“I have to agree,” Maurice says, standing in front of them all with his camera on a tripod. “You’ve all been doing great. I don’t want any forced smiles. Relax, take a deep breath, and eyes on me.”
“Alright,” Ray says, as if replying for everyone. As the leader of the group, Ray encourages himself to be.
Maurice side-steps and looks through the camera viewfinder.
“Lookin’ good.” He presses the shutter, and it snaps.
Then a second later, he moves his tripod slightly to the left, and he presses the shutter again.
Then to the right. Another snap. “Change up your pose a bit. Lean more into each other or something. Something that shows you guys are all friends with each other.”
“Oh, sure,” Ray says. His first instinct, of course, is to throw his arm around Gene’s shoulders and rest his head against his.
Santiago props his elbow on Ray’s shoulder and Pat leans more toward Stefan, who, unsurprisingly, barely moves.
A pleasant flutter surges through Ray as Gene’s arm comes around his back, grabbing the edge of Ray’s waist and pulling him close in a side-hug.
“I love that,” Maurice says. He shuffles his tripod toward the middle and snaps another shot. Then, he slides the camera off, throwing the strap around his neck. “Actually, I’m gonna get some different, more unique angles. You guys stay put for a few more seconds.”
“Alright,” Ray replies. In the span of a single minute, Maurice kneels, snap, changes location and kneels again, snap, he stands off to the side, snap, to the other side, snap, he brings over a chair and stands on it to get a higher angle, snap, then moves it and stands on it again, with yet another snap.