Chapter 34
thirty-four
“Play that again,” Franco says as he stands and walks around behind me. I do and he lets out a whoop. “That’s un-fucking-real.”
We’re in the studio in Audrey’s basement, and I’m sitting on a stool at the drum kit. We’ve been down here for about an hour playing Jess’s songs and playing around with the songs I’ve been writing. I think Gus’s creative process is a lot like mine, so it’s been fun to throw ideas back and forth.
I’m like a kid in a candy store with all the equipment and instruments. They spared no expense. The space is relatively small, but they have everything you’d ever need.
“You play any instruments?” Gus asks Jess.
“Not like Ev. I can strum a guitar, and I played a little bass years ago.”
“Are you guys set on being an acoustic duo?” Gus looks from Jess to me, and back to Jess.
“That’s the big question, isn’t it?” Jess says. “I’m up for whatever Ev wants.”
“But what do you want?” Gus asks. “This is your band too.”
Jess picks up his beer bottle, takes a swig, and then shrugs.
“Thicker Than Water was purely opportunistic. A distraction to keep my mind occupied. I went through a divorce, moved back to the States with nothing but the clothes on my back, and a friend floated the idea of opening for him on his tour. I thought, What the hell, nothing to lose. I talked Ev into it in a five-minute phone call. He showed up in Texas that night. And two weeks later, we were on the road playing our first gig.”
“Damn,” Franco says, surprised. “Two weeks isn’t much time to put together a set, especially if you hadn’t played together.”
“I would’ve been in way over my head, if not for Ev. He didn’t flinch, just showed up in every way. It’s almost like he was already a pro or something,” Jess says, sarcastically, but then smiles.
“Ben was playing an acoustic set, so it made sense to do the same. We kept it simple, a few covers and a few of Jess’s originals,” I add. “We made it work.”
“I’ll say.” Gus sounds impressed. “Scout and I have spent hours the past few days full-on stalking you guys online like a couple of psychopaths. You’ve amassed a rabid following in a matter of weeks. You don’t just have numbers; your fans are fucking ride or die. This is legit.”
“It’s been wild,” Jess agrees.
“So, you went acoustic out of necessity? The path of least resistance?” Franco asks.
“For me, absolutely. It was the only way to pull it off, given the time constraints,” I say.
“Listen, I’m not the kind to bullshit anyone, so can I be honest?” Gus takes a seat on the arm of the sofa that Keller, Benji, and Stella are sitting on.
Jess says, “Hell yeah,” at the same time I say, “Please do.”
“Your talent’s fucking wasted as an acoustic duo.
” He looks at Jess. “Christ, dude, you’re a natural front man.
Yeah, you can sing, but you have that secret sauce.
You’re entertaining as hell, and you connect with people.
” Gus shrugs. “That’s what music is, connection.
” Gus turns to me. “And you? Fuck me, you can do it all. Play any instrument? Check. Write epic songs? Check. Command a stage and hold the audience in a chokehold? Check. Sing clean highs one second and scream like a fucking demon the next? Check.” He looks at Franco and asks. “Am I wrong?”
Franco shakes his head. “No. I agree. You guys need to do what you need to do, and if continuing down the path you’ve started is what lights you up,” Franco takes a seat and leans back into the fluffy cushion of an upholstered chair in the corner, “go for it. We, as fans, will greedily take what we can get. But if you’re open to change, I say do it.
A full band behind you two? Hell yeah. Go big.
Go heavy. Your voices are different, but they could work so well together. ”
“Two leads?” Gus asks.
Franco shrugs. “Why not? Oasis did it. Linkin Park, Blink, The Beatles, Pink Floyd…”
When he trails off, Jess and I look at each other. He’s smiling, and it’s like everything finally makes sense.
“We’ve never tried that,” I say.
Gus jumps to his feet and rubs his hands together. “There’s a first time for everything. Let’s play, boys.” He turns and looks at Benji. “Any chance you play bass, Benji?”
He shakes his head. “I’m learning the drums, though.”
Gus throws his hands up in the air and mutters, “Another fucking drummer?” before winking and pointing at him. “That’s awesome. Keep it up.”
“I’ll play bass,” I offer.
“You start on bass, and then we’ll trade off,” Gus says.
Gus pulls a bass down from where it’s hanging on the wall and hands it to me.
“Is this Jamie’s?” I ask, as I adjust the strap to lengthen it. Jamie is Rook’s bassist, and he’s phenomenal.
Gus slings the strap of his guitar over his head and grimaces. “Yeah. Don’t tell him we used it or he’ll lose his shit.”
I immediately grip the strap to remove it.
“Just kidding.” Gus laughs. “It is his, but Jamie won’t care. In fact,” he pulls his cell from his back pocket and holds it up in my direction, “flash me the middle finger.”
I do and then say, “That felt deeply wrong on so many levels.”
Gus is typing on his phone but laughs. “You just need some more time with us. Our love language is insults. Plus, Jamie loves you. He’ll probably retire that bass because you played it.”
Gus’s phone dings before he can put it back in his pocket. He taps the screen and turns up the volume.
“Gus, are you fucking with me? Is that really Raven? Playing my bass?”
“It’s him. Bet you wish you didn’t take that vacation now?” He must be sending him a voice message in return.
“Holy shit. Tell him I said hey. And send me some video.” Jamie must be in his early thirties, but he sounds so young over the phone.
“Will do. Have fun and tell Gabriela we said hey.”
“Love you, dipshit!” Franco shouts so he can be heard.
“Yeah, love you, dipshit,” Gus sings into the phone, before sending the message and handing it to Keller. “You mind getting some video for us?”
Keller takes it and says, “Sure. What are you gonna play?”
Gus looks at us and asks, “Ideas?”
Jess is standing next to me behind a mic stand. “‘Killing the Sun’?” he suggests.
Keller whistles his approval, and Stella cheers, “Do it, Uncle Gus.”
I look at Jess like he’s lost his goddamn mind. “Are you for real right now? You want us to sing Gus Hawthorne to Gus Hawthorne?”
He looks relaxed. “Yeah. We all know the song.”
I blow out a breath and tease, “You’ve got bigger balls than I do, Jess.”
“You can do it, Ever,” Benji says, and when I look at him, he nods once at me in solidarity. God, I love this kid.
Gus points at Jess. “First verse.” Then points at me. “Second verse. You both sing the chorus, and then I’ll join in for the bridge and the final chorus. Sound good?”
Jess nods and I say, “Yeah, sounds good. I’m going off memory, but the bassline is fairly repetitive, right?”
Gus nods. “Yeah. You wanna play through with me alone first?”
We do, and Gus talks me through it. Within minutes, we’re ready to go.
I look at Keller. “If this is a disaster, promise me you’ll delete the evidence.”
He laughs. “No chance it’ll be a disaster.”
My nerves fade the second the song begins.
It’s usually that way, but this feels different.
Yes, we’re in a studio with musicians I’ve looked up to for years, but for the first time in my career, I’m in a studio with people who want to collaborate and try new things.
There’s no formula to follow or deadline to meet.
There’s freedom to experiment and see what works.
To share ideas and be heard. The elephant that’s been sitting on my chest for the past two years has finally gone.
That pressure had been lessening little by little the past month, but, at least tonight, I don’t feel it at all.
There’s not a lot of room to move around, so Jess is forced to stand behind the mic stand.
He belts out the song like he’s singing to a crowd of thirty thousand, not three.
Stella dances and reaches down to grab Benji’s hand and pull him up with her.
He joins in like he’s known her for years, not hours, and I make a mental note to tell Soph and Lola about this.
Franco’s punishing the drums. Some drummers play with efficiency, limiting movement to what’s necessary to produce sound.
Franco’s the opposite. He’s fueled by emotion, and it’s fun to watch.
And then there’s Gus, who’s always made playing the guitar look not only effortless, but incredibly cool. In person, it’s even better.
How is this my life? I’ve played to sold-out stadium crowds and headlined festivals, but tonight is quickly climbing to the top of my career favorite moments list. It’s going to be hard to top playing with my idols.
As the thought pops into my head, I join Jess for the first chorus. I sing harmony, and Franco was right, we sound good.
Keller whistles again, and when I lead into the second verse, he’s smiling ear-to-ear and nodding his head along in time with the drums.
“Get it!” Jess yells to cheer me on.
My body is humming. This has only happened a few times over the years when the stars align, and the audience, the venue, and the song create such a buzz that it resonates like a tuning fork internally. It’s a high like nothing else.
Jess leans in to join me for the chorus.
When our eyes lock, he nods at me, and like we rehearsed it, I take the lead and he sings harmony.
Because this song has become an anthem over the years, Gus takes liberties with the chorus when he performs it live.
I do the same. The scream comes from the pit of me as I fall into the bridge with Gus and Jess.
I can hear the rumble of approving laughter and a faint, “Fuck yeah,” before Gus takes the final chorus.
I usually don’t smile when I sing, but as the guitar fades out, I find that I am.
When I look around the room, everyone else is too.
Franco stomps his bass drum once and shakes his head. “Whose idea was it for you two to sing together? Because he’s a fucking genius.”
“God, I hate it when you’re right. It’s so fucking annoying,” Gus says.
Franco nods. “It worked, though,” he says, and he’s uncharacteristically serious.
“Oh, it worked,” Gus agrees. He looks at us. “How did it feel?”
Jess is still bouncing on the balls of his feet and looking at the ground when he says, “That was insane,” like he’s lost in his thoughts. But when he looks at me, he grins and says, “We can’t go back to what we were doing. This feels right. Right?”
Without a doubt. “This feels right.”
Gus walks toward Keller, shifting his guitar to his back. Keller holds out his cell and says, “Goose bumps.”
Gus brushes his hand over the back of Keller’s forearm and laughs. “Holy shit, you do. You’ve officially passed the test, boys.”
Keller hands off the phone. “That’s lightning in a bottle.”
Gus is typing on his phone, but says, “Franco, remember when we recorded ‘Redemption’?”
Franco nods. “Yup, that’s exactly what it felt like.”
“Can you send me that video?” I ask.
“On it,” he says, and my phone vibrates in my pocket.
“Gus, you think Joe would let you guys play tomorrow night? Just a short set, unannounced?” Keller asks.
Gus glances up from his phone. “That would give the girls a chance to see them live in front of a crowd.”
Keller nods.
Gus looks over at us and tips his head in Keller’s direction. “That’s why he’s a professor with a PhD. He’s the smart one.”
Franco adds, “Joe never has live bands on Wednesdays, so the schedule should be open.”
“You guys up for playing a few songs with us tomorrow night at a little dive bar nearby? It’s where we got our start a century ago, and the owner is an old friend. I can give him a call now and set it up,” Gus offers.
I look at Jess and say, “I’m in,” without hesitation.
He nods. “Definitely.”
Gus makes a quick call, and in under a minute, we’re committed to playing a gig with Gus and Franco in less than twenty-four hours.
“I guess we’d better put a setlist together. What’s next?” Franco asks, twirling the stick in his right hand.
“You guys mind if I do one on my own? For Soph?” I ask.
“What are you thinking?” Franco asks.
When I tell them, Gus looks at Franco. “Scout fucking loves that song.” Then he looks at me. “I see you, Everton.”
Jess corrects him, “Evermore.”
Gus’s head draws back comically in surprise, and his eyes widen. “You’re shitting me? Your name’s Evermore?”
“Yeah.”
“Christ, that’s a great name,” Franco says.
“Raven. Nevermore. Evermore. That can’t be a coincidence?” Keller asks. I like him. He’s quiet and curious.
I smile. “Nope.”
He smiles too. “I love Poe.”
Stella’s eyes light up. “‘The Raven’?”
Her dad and I both nod.
“I see you, Evermore,” Gus revises, “determined to make the entire place swoon.”
I shrug. “Just Soph. If I’m lucky. She loves the song too.” I pause and then ask, “You wanna play it as a duet? You can’t let Scout down.”
He shifts his guitar back in place. “Joe does have an old upright piano. You think we could make it work with an acoustic guitar and piano?”
I nod. “Yeah, I think so.”
He smiles. “It’s so on. You want piano or guitar?”
“Guitar,” I say. I know Gus is a classically trained pianist, so if anyone can pull off a song that wasn’t written for the instrument, he can.
“Jesus Christ, now you two pretty boys are just showing off. Fuck me, do you believe this shit, Jesse?” Franco’s trying his best to sound serious, but he can’t help but laugh halfway through.
Jess laughs too, but then says, sincerely, “Soph’ll love it.”
We play for almost three hours.
By the end, we’ve run through a dozen songs and decided on five.
And it didn’t feel like work.
It felt like a rite of passage.