wake Erica, though?”
“Erica will wake up under two circumstances: when Erica feels like waking up or when someone crashes the bus.”
Lily nodded along with Blake’s words in confirmation.
“Well all right.”
* * *
B lake was used to picking banjo on a rolling bus, but Cal took a few minutes to warm to it. He kept shifting his guitar on his lap, frowning down at it as if it had wronged him somehow. Privately, Blake enjoyed this a great deal.
After a rummage in the back, he’d found a spare set list, which he and Cal were now running through, marking down which songs Cal knew and which ones he didn’t. He knew about a third of the material, which was promising.
“Only issue I see is this,” Cal said. “I know the lead guitar parts. You have a new lead guitarist.”
“Yeah,” Blake said. “But he kind of does his own thing. He plays very different from how you used to, sort of takes the songs in his own direction.”
Blake wondered if his irritation shone through. Privately, he felt as though Rhett had hijacked the band’s sound and made it into something a little too mass-produced for Blake’s taste. But then again, those songs sold.
“So just play lead on the songs I know?”
“Exactly. Lead with some variation. I’m sure you can figure it out.”
“And the rest of these songs, do they have an actual rhythm guitar part?”
“Nope.”
Blake laughed, mostly because of the look of sheer dismay on Cal’s face.
He couldn’t believe Cal was worried. Unless Cal had sustained a brain injury or something in the last few years, he was a master at improvising on the guitar. Half the shows they’d played together back in the day had random “songs” on the set list that were just glorified jam sessions or extended reprises of their own work. Cal had played a few shows at the Celtic Festival with no prior training in Celtic music, just to see if he could.
Blake pursed his lips together, watching Cal work over the set list and fuss with his guitar.
The Cal that could be coaxed into silly, risky shit had to be down in there, somewhere. A few years working in a bar wouldn’t have changed that. Even his father’s fight with cancer wouldn’t have changed that.
Cal could do it. Blake had absolute faith in him. At least as a musician. Hell, he was paying Cal out of his own royalties for coming on the tour, just so the rest of the band didn’t get their panties in a twist. That was endorsement enough, wasn’t it?
“I’ve got an idea,” Lily said from her couch, sitting up and leaving her book draped on the cushions. “If there’s any songs you aren’t sure about, I can show you the sheet music for my parts. You can work something out around those. It might be easier than using a tab or something.”
Cal paused, guitar in his lap. When he spoke up, his voice was quieter than before.
“Great idea. That’s real sweet of you.”
It was great to see them working together. Blake hadn’t been sure how the others had felt about him inviting Cal along for a few shows. Apart from the fact that nobody had outright vetoed it. Lily and Carlo had been the ones he’d worried most about, given that they’d been there for the initial breakup.
And what an explosive breakup it was.
But Lily was a pragmatic type. She’d simply shrugged and said that if Blake could forgive Cal, she could too. Because it was Blake who’d suffered the most from it.
Blake watched in silence, a small smile working up his mouth, as Lily and Cal settled down with the fiddle score. Watching Cal pore over the sheet music tweaked something inside Blake that he’d been trying to ignore. Some small trigger of fondness. The intense concentration Cal always put into his craft was endearing and captivating in a way that Blake couldn’t quite pinpoint.
Cal took things so slowly, so methodically. Cal always proceeded with care. It was a trait Blake both admired and envied. That tendency toward caution and thinking things
“Erica will wake up under two circumstances: when Erica feels like waking up or when someone crashes the bus.”
Lily nodded along with Blake’s words in confirmation.
“Well all right.”
* * *
B lake was used to picking banjo on a rolling bus, but Cal took a few minutes to warm to it. He kept shifting his guitar on his lap, frowning down at it as if it had wronged him somehow. Privately, Blake enjoyed this a great deal.
After a rummage in the back, he’d found a spare set list, which he and Cal were now running through, marking down which songs Cal knew and which ones he didn’t. He knew about a third of the material, which was promising.
“Only issue I see is this,” Cal said. “I know the lead guitar parts. You have a new lead guitarist.”
“Yeah,” Blake said. “But he kind of does his own thing. He plays very different from how you used to, sort of takes the songs in his own direction.”
Blake wondered if his irritation shone through. Privately, he felt as though Rhett had hijacked the band’s sound and made it into something a little too mass-produced for Blake’s taste. But then again, those songs sold.
“So just play lead on the songs I know?”
“Exactly. Lead with some variation. I’m sure you can figure it out.”
“And the rest of these songs, do they have an actual rhythm guitar part?”
“Nope.”
Blake laughed, mostly because of the look of sheer dismay on Cal’s face.
He couldn’t believe Cal was worried. Unless Cal had sustained a brain injury or something in the last few years, he was a master at improvising on the guitar. Half the shows they’d played together back in the day had random “songs” on the set list that were just glorified jam sessions or extended reprises of their own work. Cal had played a few shows at the Celtic Festival with no prior training in Celtic music, just to see if he could.
Blake pursed his lips together, watching Cal work over the set list and fuss with his guitar.
The Cal that could be coaxed into silly, risky shit had to be down in there, somewhere. A few years working in a bar wouldn’t have changed that. Even his father’s fight with cancer wouldn’t have changed that.
Cal could do it. Blake had absolute faith in him. At least as a musician. Hell, he was paying Cal out of his own royalties for coming on the tour, just so the rest of the band didn’t get their panties in a twist. That was endorsement enough, wasn’t it?
“I’ve got an idea,” Lily said from her couch, sitting up and leaving her book draped on the cushions. “If there’s any songs you aren’t sure about, I can show you the sheet music for my parts. You can work something out around those. It might be easier than using a tab or something.”
Cal paused, guitar in his lap. When he spoke up, his voice was quieter than before.
“Great idea. That’s real sweet of you.”
It was great to see them working together. Blake hadn’t been sure how the others had felt about him inviting Cal along for a few shows. Apart from the fact that nobody had outright vetoed it. Lily and Carlo had been the ones he’d worried most about, given that they’d been there for the initial breakup.
And what an explosive breakup it was.
But Lily was a pragmatic type. She’d simply shrugged and said that if Blake could forgive Cal, she could too. Because it was Blake who’d suffered the most from it.
Blake watched in silence, a small smile working up his mouth, as Lily and Cal settled down with the fiddle score. Watching Cal pore over the sheet music tweaked something inside Blake that he’d been trying to ignore. Some small trigger of fondness. The intense concentration Cal always put into his craft was endearing and captivating in a way that Blake couldn’t quite pinpoint.
Cal took things so slowly, so methodically. Cal always proceeded with care. It was a trait Blake both admired and envied. That tendency toward caution and thinking things
Similar Books
