A Song For Us (Fallen Tuesday Book Two) (A Brothers of Rock Novel) (2 page)

Everyone looked at the band as Luke
stood up. He saw the eyes as they began to realize who he was. It had been a
while since Fallen Tuesday had graced the stage, because Luke was resting his
throat. Unbeknownst to the guys, it had mostly cleared up now. Luke planned on surprising
them at the next recording session, but right now, he had no idea when that
would actually be.

Gray hadn’t just gone to see his
brother. He had simply disappeared.

“We better get moving,” Luke said.

People began to whisper. Luke
walked and nodded to everyone looking at him. The band rushed from the small café
and got into the rental car. Mack grabbed the keys from Luke’s hand and got in
the driver’s seat. Luke sat shotgun and Trent and Jake got in the backseat. By
the time Mack started to drive away, people were outside with their cell phones
snapping pictures.

“Do you know where the hospital
is?” Mack asked.

Luke pointed to a sign at the next
corner.

“My guess is left,” Luke said.

“Smart ass,” Mack muttered.

Mack turned left. Luke touched his
throat and swallowed. It finally didn’t hurt to swallow. The rest and the time
off were starting to really pay off. The fans hadn’t turned their backs on the
band either, which was the one fear Luke had. If anything, they gained fans.
Thanks to the support from the record company and the marketing mind of their
manager, Frank, Fallen Tuesday had stayed in the limelight.

“How’s the throat?” Mack asked.

His voice seemed unforgiving, but he
did have a heart of gold. He cared about those close to him.

“Feels good,” Luke said.

“Telling the truth?”

“Yeah, it’s good Mack,” Luke said.
It still bothered Luke when the band gave him a hard time about his throat, but
he deserved it. After all, Luke almost severely hurt himself while lying to the
band about his condition.

“You know, the more shit happens
around us,” Mack said, “the more I’m wondering if we should take a break from
it all.”

“What does that mean?” Trent called
from the backseat.

“This shit with Gray is scary,”
Mack said. “We can’t just push him to get into a studio and record.”

“That’s not why we’re here,” Trent
said.

“He’s right,” Jake added. “I
personally don’t care about the studio right now.”

“You two haven’t shut up about
music,” Mack said to Trent and Jake.

“I think it’s only fair,” Luke
said. “I mean, I can’t speak for Trent and Jake, but I’m scared to death right
now.”

Mack stopped at a red light and
looked at Luke. “Scared?”

“Scared. I’m scared for Gray. He’s
not calling us because this isn’t just about his brother and a drug problem.
You know that.”

Mack swallowed and nodded. “Yeah, I
guess you’re right.”

“I am right,” Luke said. “I bet you
Gray is trying to solve all the problems of the world right now.”

Mack drove the rest of the way to
hospital without saying a word. When he arrived, he parked but kept the car
running.

“Now what?” he asked.

“I’ll call Gray again,” Luke said.
“Other than that, we wait.”

“How long?”

Luke looked at Mack, then Trent,
and finally Jake. “Gray’s our brother. We wait as long as we need to wait.”

(3)

Carina Lewitt hated the smell of
the elevator in the building. She hated the way the doors seemed loose and she
hated the way the elevator looked like it was falling apart. She wasn’t sure if
a two story fall in an elevator would kill someone, but it was something she
didn’t plan on testing anytime soon. That meant she had to walk the musty
smelling steps. Each step she took felt like someone was stabbing her legs.
Working the closing shift the night before and then having to work the early
shift that morning left Carina feeling like she had been working for twenty-four
hours straight. The restaurant slash nightclub gave Carina the means to survive,
but it also gave her a place to hide.

After coming to Liering to help
with her grandmother, Carina promised herself that it would just be a stepping
stone in her life. She would do anything for her grandmother. She was the only
person in her family that lived close enough to do something. So she had spent
her days more or less just sitting with the aging woman until her body gave up.
Carina never expected to be paid for helping her grandmother, but she certainly
didn’t expect it to cost her so much either. Carina had found a series of letters
on her grandmother’s counter. The underlying message was simple. Her
grandmother’s debt was more than she could afford. Carina had no other choice
then to sell her grandmother’s house and move her into a care center. That’s
when Carina was forced to find a cheap, affordable apartment. By the time her
grandmother passed away, there was nothing left. There were no items to be kept.
There were no physical memories. There was no money. In fact, it actually cost
Carina a couple thousand dollars to lay her grandmother to rest. When all was
said and done, Carina had nowhere to go. She was broke.

When Carina opened the door to her
apartment, she stopped for a second and looked both ways. She called out, “Hey!
I’m home!” and went inside. She shut the door and locked it three different
ways. Once the three locks were engaged, she twisted the handle to make sure it
wouldn’t move. Then she looked through the peephole, making sure nobody had
followed her.

Nobody was in the hallway. The door
was locked. Carina was safe.

Her paranoia stemmed from a break
in a few months ago and this was her new routine to help calm her shaken nerves.
The apartment had been trashed and her secret shoebox of cash had been emptied.
It made Carina sick to think of the amount of money that was stolen and there
was nothing police could do about it. The burglar was most likely some guy on
drugs just looking for money for his next high. Nothing came of the situation
other than Carina’s new fear of her apartment. She tried to move on. She
rearranged. She bought locks for all the rooms. She even bought an actual safe
to use instead of a shoe box. The safe was hidden better than under her bed. But
nothing worked. The break in had done more damage to Carina on the inside. It
was the epitome of her life falling apart around her. Yet she carried on. She got
up everyday in the same apartment and she went to work. She paid the rent once
a month and she survived.

She opened her bedroom door and saw
the keyboard in the corner. She smiled. The keyboard had been knocked over
during the robbery, but luckily it hadn’t broken. Carina took the clip out of
her hair and let her hair fall down. She ran her fingers through the thick
knots and winced in pain as she forced the knots to open. She sat down at the
keyboard. Her fingers touched the keys, but they made no sound as the power
hadn’t been turned on yet. A faded purple notebook stood closed on top of the
keyboard. That was where Carina wrote her ideas, notes, music, and lyrics. In
her heart, she pictured it being the next biggest hit on the radio, sung by the
most popular singer in the world. But her mind believed it was just dumb
drivel.

Carina turned the keyboard on and
began to gently play. She played random chords and notes, but it worked for
her. It was music. Compared to some of the musical ‘talent’ she had seen come
through her work, pounding the same chord for three minutes on the keyboard
sounded better.

Carina opened her notebook to a
song she had been working on for some time now. In fact, she hadn’t written a
new song since the apartment had been robbed. She had developed a block. As she
read the lyrics, her fingers started to play the music written to it. It began
nice and slow and then became more accurate and louder. She took a deep breath
and nodded her head. She looked down to the keyboard and watched her fingers
move. She could play without thinking, without really trying. Her mind and her
fingers just knew what to do.

She ran through half the song and
then stopped. Her hands were shaking, but that was a good thing. No, it was a
great thing. Her heart raced and she wanted more.

When she played the song again, she
licked her lips and started to sing. The first line of lyrics was shy and
hoarse. Carina continued to play, continued to sing. She moved to the first
chorus in her song, ready to give it all she could, when under her feet, she
heard a loud
pop!
She gasped and stopped playing. She froze in place, convinced
that a gun had just gone off. Someone had been shot. Right in the apartment
building. Or maybe the burglar was back to finish the job in Carina’s
apartment.

As she exhaled a breath, her
fingers came down on the keyboard. She yelped and then the
pop!
came
again and again and again.

It was directly under Carina.

She slid back and looked down.

The noise sounded three more times.

Carina closed her eyes and sighed.

It was not a gunshot.

It was the neighbor below her, Mr.
Hendrics, probably hitting the ceiling with a broom handle. Carina looked at
the clock and remembered that she had worked the early shift at work. Carina
turned the keyboard off and stood up. She took one step before the sound came
again.

“I’m done!” she shouted and stomped
her foot.

He hit his ceiling four more times.

Carina lifted her foot to stomp
again but stopped herself. What was the use of getting into a
stomping-broom-handle-hitting contest with an eighty-year old man?

Before Carina could answer her own
question, her cell phone began to ring. Carina found her phone in her bag on
the bed and answered it.

“Miss me already?” Carina joked.

“Very funny,” Chuck said. “Listen,
there’s a problem for tonight.”

Carina closed her eyes. She didn’t
want to work tonight. But she knew that if her boss asked, she would work. “A
problem?”

“Scheduling conflict.”

“Did I mess something up with the
schedule?” Carina asked.

“For us? No. We’re good. I’m not
asking you to work.”

Carina smiled. “Okay. Then what’s
wrong?”

“We had three bands scheduled to
play,” Chuck said. “The bassist from one of the bands just called us. Their
guitarist and drummer are in jail.”

“Rockstars,” Carina laughed.

“Yeah, go ahead and laugh. We’re
short a band now.”

“For tonight?”

“For tonight. So, I was thinking…”

Chuck trailed off for a moment.
Carina glanced at her keyboard.
No way.
There was no way Carina could
play a set. Everyone knew that she could dabble, which was the word she used,
but she had never played a set in her life. Not at a venue, not in public. She especially
couldn’t do this at work, in front of the people she worked with.

“You play piano or something,
right?” Chuck asked.

“I, uh, yeah. I mean, a little.
Yeah.”

“Good. I need a favor.”

“Favor?”

Carina grew nervous.

“I’m sure you know other
musicians,” Chuck said. “Anyway can you make a couple phone calls for me? I
need someone, even just to play two or three songs.”

“You want me to find a
replacement?” Carina asked.

“If you could,” Chuck said. “It’s
not a big deal if you don’t, it would just be nice to have the stage busy
tonight. You know?”

“Sure. I can send a couple texts
out, see what happens.”

“Perfect. Thank you, Carina. Hey,
listen, I’ve got to run now. Just shoot me a text if you get anything.”

Chuck hung up without saying
goodbye. Carina looked at the keyboard.
Why didn’t I offer to take the set?
He only wanted a song or two…

She went through her phone and sent
a message to her best friend, Angie, who played guitar and sang in a folk band.
They were always looking for gigs. They had no desire to become rich and famous;
they just enjoyed getting together and playing shows.

Within ten minutes, Carina had the
spot filled. She texted Chuck and Chuck replied with a
thank u
and that
was it.

Ten minutes after that, Carina
decided she didn’t want to be in the apartment anymore. She found her excuse to
leave when she opened the fridge and found that she was out of milk, orange
juice, and coffee creamer.

Carina left the apartment, and as
always, she imagined what it would be like to never return.

*

Gray sat in his car in the back
parking lot of a gas station. The cheap burger and soft, dry fries he just ate
weren’t agreeing very well in his stomach. It was the best meal he could think
of for the moment. He washed it down with a soda and now just chilled as he
listened to the radio. When a Fallen Tuesday song came on, he closed his eyes
and smiled. It amazed him how the fans stuck by the band. They wanted more
music and more shows. They flooded the web site and social networking accounts
with messages of good health for Luke and wanted to know when there would be
new music.

But it came with a cost.

Gray thought about Peter and
wondered why he hadn’t been given a chance at something. Why did he have to
steer down that road of addiction? Gray has been immersed in that world for a
long time now, but it did nothing for him. Living in the smallest of garages,
playing even smaller shows, hanging with other bands, there had been enough
opportunities to tempt the strongest of men, but the appeal didn’t click with
Gray. He remembered playing a show so drunk once that he forgot how to play
guitar. Ten minutes into the set his hands and mind froze. It killed the song
and Fallen Tuesday was booed off the stage. That was a long time ago though and
the guys could laugh about it now.

After the Fallen Tuesday song
ended, Gray reached for his cell. The band had been trying to get in contact
with him for days now. He had no interest in getting into it with them. The
fact that they called and sent messages told him that they cared. Not that he
doubted them caring about him. Gray just preferred to deal with all this on his
own. He would rather have the rest of Fallen Tuesday in the studio doing what
they do best. He could step in anytime and pick up where the rest of the band left
off. His mind hadn’t been much interested in playing music. It was in his
blood, but his thoughts were stuck on Peter.

Gray looked at the screen of his
cell. He thought about calling Luke real quick. Just to let him know he was
fine and that Peter was still in the hospital. The screen turned off and Gray
tossed the phone to the passenger seat.

He didn’t feel like calling. He
didn’t feel like hearing the sad voice on the other end of the line. Or the
sound of guitars and drums. Or the questions. Right now, Gray preferred to be
alone.

And he wanted to get into that damn
apartment.