The echo of the ear shattering drums sent a shiver up Jerome who stood with his bass in perfect stance. He rocked along staying to the beat of the music. He hummed softly to the song without making it audible to anyone else and closed his eyes getting entirely lost in the music.
Without warning, a careening voice broke in sending Jerome out of the world of beautiful music. He knew the voice. It had sheer beauty on the surface but deep down inside, this voice was scratchy and inharmonic.
Jerome missed a couple of chords when Kevin’s voice went higher for the chorus. He stared at the back of Kevin’s head with fury. His short black hair gleamed so brightly Jerome was almost sure he could see his own reflection. If this guy uses any more gel the microphone is sure to slip out of his hand. Kevin’s carefully spiked hair reminded Jerome of a saw blade. But when did Kevin start spiking his hair? The same time he started hanging out with that arrogant jerk, he reminded himself.
He continued to stare at the back of Kevin’s head while playing. When the song finally ended Kevin slid the microphone back onto the stand and arrogantly sat himself on one of the amplifiers.
Kevin looked around the room while he waited for the others to turn off the equipment. Except for a couple dozen posters hanging in the garage, the walls were a plain, dry white that had never been painted. “Chalk walls,” Ricky had once called them.
When Brian had told his parents he was thinking of starting a band his father had been overjoyed. He’d given Brian the garage to practice in and even permitted him to put up posters of any kind.
Formerly being in a band himself, Mr. Ericson understood how difficult it was to find a place to practice. When he had given Brian the garage, he and his wife parked their cars at the front of the house between the yard and the street.
In the beginning, the band was ecstatic to have a place to rehearse. At first all they would talk about was becoming famous and how they would look on stage with their instruments. It wasn’t until weeks later that they did any real rehearsing and songwriting. They pretty much taught each other how to play by experimenting with different beats and chords.
Back then, they were so horrible that Mrs. Ericson threatened to refuse the boys the garage but Mr. Ericson would usually talk her out of it. “How are they going to get good if they don’t practice?” he had said once.
After a couple of months they were able to play a few songs of their own. They were so excited that for weeks, those three songs were all they would play. They wrote more once they grew tired of those ones.
Soon after that, they began playing gigs all over the city. Some of them paid, some of them did not. But they didn’t care. They were happy just playing together and being able to share their music with other people.
“Okay guys,” Brian said after setting down his guitar. “That was all right but we still have stuff to work on.”
“Yeah, like Jerome’s bass playing,” Kevin pointed out. “It was so off I could hardly tell where I was during the song.”
Jerome who was already angry threw him a nasty look. “Do you know how hard it is trying to play an instrument? All you have to do is memorize lyrics. Then all you do is sit on your high horse and crack your whip at us for missing a few chords.”
“Jerome, that was more than a few chords,” he said back. “You weren’t even keeping up with the song.”
“Yeah, I have to admit bro,” Ricky said from behind the drum set. “You were pretty off.”
Jerome turned to face his cousin. Like Jerome, Ricky Kimball was also a member of the band and a friend of Brian. “No,” Jerome said to Ricky. “It’s not my playing that threw the song off. Maybe if some people could keep up to the music it wouldn’t have happened,” he faced forward again to look at Kevin.
“Hey, it wasn’t me who was messing up the song,” Kevin said running his fingers through his hair. “I think anybody here can agree with me,” he added looking into Brian and Ricky’s faces.
Jerome saw the looks on his friends’ faces and turned to Kevin. “Maybe they would,” he said. “But I think everyone here would agree with me that you’re turning into an egotistical moron. And if you ask me, that’s a lot worse than missing a few chords.”
Kevin stifled a laugh. “Just because I’m telling you what you’re doing wrong does not make me egotistical. We have to work like a team if we want to get better. Even if it means giving criticism here and there,” he gestured with his right hand.
“It’s not just that,” Jerome put in. “Lately you’ve been skipping rehearsals like you don’t have a flaw in the world.”
“Hey,” Kevin said defensively holding up his hands. “It’s you guys that need the practice. I’m just the lead singer. Why should I have to be here every day?”
“See.” Jerome gestured at him with his hand. “You say we have to work as a team and then you go and ditch us for your new found friend.”
Kevin shrugged. “So, I’m shooting hoops with Corey. What’s the big deal?”
“The big deal is,” Brian spoke up. “That you’re supposed to be showing up at rehearsal every time. Not sipping martini’s with pretty boy.”
“You even blow us off at school to hang out with him,” Ricky interjected.
Kevin turned back to face Brian and Jerome. “Corey’s my new friend. You guys can’t expect me to hang out with you all the time.”
“But you don’t hang out with us because you’re embarrassed,” Jerome retorted. “Whenever we try to talk to you, you pretend not to see us.”
“No, I don’t.”
“Yes you do,” Jerome protested. “You think our style is skuzzy,” he said remembering the way Kevin had said the word in math earlier that day. He looked at the other band members hoping to get some agreement. They slowly started to nod their heads.
Kevin stared at each of them in disbelief. For a moment he didn’t say anything. “Fine,” he finally said. “If that’s what you want, then yeah. I think you’re all a bunch of skuzzy losers. Buying your clothes at thrift stores and what not.” He said the last part under his breath but Jerome caught it.
“Then why do you want to even play with us?” Brian asked eyeing his outfit, which consisted of long baggy jeans and a bright blue t-shirt that read, “Hurley” across the top. Brian remembered a time when Kevin wouldn’t have been caught dead in preppy clothes. But when Corey and the others started showing interest in him, all of that changed. Suddenly, all he wanted and cared about was popularity.
“I don’t know,” he replied narrowing his eyes. “Staying in this band hasn’t exactly done anything to improve my reputation.”
“If we humiliate you so much, why don’t you do yourself a favor and leave,” Jerome bit out.
“No problem,” he fired back walking out of the open garage door and into the empty driveway. They all watched him gradually disappear down the street. For a moment or two nobody said anything.
Then Ricky said, “How are we going to play next week’s gig without a singer?”
Without warning, a careening voice broke in sending Jerome out of the world of beautiful music. He knew the voice. It had sheer beauty on the surface but deep down inside, this voice was scratchy and inharmonic.
Jerome missed a couple of chords when Kevin’s voice went higher for the chorus. He stared at the back of Kevin’s head with fury. His short black hair gleamed so brightly Jerome was almost sure he could see his own reflection. If this guy uses any more gel the microphone is sure to slip out of his hand. Kevin’s carefully spiked hair reminded Jerome of a saw blade. But when did Kevin start spiking his hair? The same time he started hanging out with that arrogant jerk, he reminded himself.
He continued to stare at the back of Kevin’s head while playing. When the song finally ended Kevin slid the microphone back onto the stand and arrogantly sat himself on one of the amplifiers.
Kevin looked around the room while he waited for the others to turn off the equipment. Except for a couple dozen posters hanging in the garage, the walls were a plain, dry white that had never been painted. “Chalk walls,” Ricky had once called them.
When Brian had told his parents he was thinking of starting a band his father had been overjoyed. He’d given Brian the garage to practice in and even permitted him to put up posters of any kind.
Formerly being in a band himself, Mr. Ericson understood how difficult it was to find a place to practice. When he had given Brian the garage, he and his wife parked their cars at the front of the house between the yard and the street.
In the beginning, the band was ecstatic to have a place to rehearse. At first all they would talk about was becoming famous and how they would look on stage with their instruments. It wasn’t until weeks later that they did any real rehearsing and songwriting. They pretty much taught each other how to play by experimenting with different beats and chords.
Back then, they were so horrible that Mrs. Ericson threatened to refuse the boys the garage but Mr. Ericson would usually talk her out of it. “How are they going to get good if they don’t practice?” he had said once.
After a couple of months they were able to play a few songs of their own. They were so excited that for weeks, those three songs were all they would play. They wrote more once they grew tired of those ones.
Soon after that, they began playing gigs all over the city. Some of them paid, some of them did not. But they didn’t care. They were happy just playing together and being able to share their music with other people.
“Okay guys,” Brian said after setting down his guitar. “That was all right but we still have stuff to work on.”
“Yeah, like Jerome’s bass playing,” Kevin pointed out. “It was so off I could hardly tell where I was during the song.”
Jerome who was already angry threw him a nasty look. “Do you know how hard it is trying to play an instrument? All you have to do is memorize lyrics. Then all you do is sit on your high horse and crack your whip at us for missing a few chords.”
“Jerome, that was more than a few chords,” he said back. “You weren’t even keeping up with the song.”
“Yeah, I have to admit bro,” Ricky said from behind the drum set. “You were pretty off.”
Jerome turned to face his cousin. Like Jerome, Ricky Kimball was also a member of the band and a friend of Brian. “No,” Jerome said to Ricky. “It’s not my playing that threw the song off. Maybe if some people could keep up to the music it wouldn’t have happened,” he faced forward again to look at Kevin.
“Hey, it wasn’t me who was messing up the song,” Kevin said running his fingers through his hair. “I think anybody here can agree with me,” he added looking into Brian and Ricky’s faces.
Jerome saw the looks on his friends’ faces and turned to Kevin. “Maybe they would,” he said. “But I think everyone here would agree with me that you’re turning into an egotistical moron. And if you ask me, that’s a lot worse than missing a few chords.”
Kevin stifled a laugh. “Just because I’m telling you what you’re doing wrong does not make me egotistical. We have to work like a team if we want to get better. Even if it means giving criticism here and there,” he gestured with his right hand.
“It’s not just that,” Jerome put in. “Lately you’ve been skipping rehearsals like you don’t have a flaw in the world.”
“Hey,” Kevin said defensively holding up his hands. “It’s you guys that need the practice. I’m just the lead singer. Why should I have to be here every day?”
“See.” Jerome gestured at him with his hand. “You say we have to work as a team and then you go and ditch us for your new found friend.”
Kevin shrugged. “So, I’m shooting hoops with Corey. What’s the big deal?”
“The big deal is,” Brian spoke up. “That you’re supposed to be showing up at rehearsal every time. Not sipping martini’s with pretty boy.”
“You even blow us off at school to hang out with him,” Ricky interjected.
Kevin turned back to face Brian and Jerome. “Corey’s my new friend. You guys can’t expect me to hang out with you all the time.”
“But you don’t hang out with us because you’re embarrassed,” Jerome retorted. “Whenever we try to talk to you, you pretend not to see us.”
“No, I don’t.”
“Yes you do,” Jerome protested. “You think our style is skuzzy,” he said remembering the way Kevin had said the word in math earlier that day. He looked at the other band members hoping to get some agreement. They slowly started to nod their heads.
Kevin stared at each of them in disbelief. For a moment he didn’t say anything. “Fine,” he finally said. “If that’s what you want, then yeah. I think you’re all a bunch of skuzzy losers. Buying your clothes at thrift stores and what not.” He said the last part under his breath but Jerome caught it.
“Then why do you want to even play with us?” Brian asked eyeing his outfit, which consisted of long baggy jeans and a bright blue t-shirt that read, “Hurley” across the top. Brian remembered a time when Kevin wouldn’t have been caught dead in preppy clothes. But when Corey and the others started showing interest in him, all of that changed. Suddenly, all he wanted and cared about was popularity.
“I don’t know,” he replied narrowing his eyes. “Staying in this band hasn’t exactly done anything to improve my reputation.”
“If we humiliate you so much, why don’t you do yourself a favor and leave,” Jerome bit out.
“No problem,” he fired back walking out of the open garage door and into the empty driveway. They all watched him gradually disappear down the street. For a moment or two nobody said anything.
Then Ricky said, “How are we going to play next week’s gig without a singer?”