Logan's Story: A Sand & Clay Prequel (2 page)

Dylan was putting their instruments into cases when Logan walked back onto the stage and other band members were loading amps onto a cart to take them out to their van.  Logan picked up the tip jar at the edge of the stage and looked inside to see three crumpled dollar bills and some coins.  He tightened his jaw, his mind flooding with stress as he thought of the bills he needed to pay.  

“How did we make out?” Dylan called out to him.

“We might be able to all split a beer?”  Logan called back, emptying the contents of the jar into a bank envelope to be distributed later along with the fifty dollars that the bar owner paid them for the night.

A few of the band members sighed and Dylan looked frustrated but no one said anything.  They were artists, it wasn’t supposed to be about the money.  And the truth was that it wasn’t about that at all, but they all still had bills to pay and Logan was more familiar with that than any of them knew.  He handed the envelope to Dylan and grabbed his guitar case that had already been packed securely with his red electric guitar inside.

“I’m going to head out, guys.  See you Friday at McGinny’s? We go on at nine, right?”  He pulled on his jacket and swung the guitar case strap over his head.

“Yup, but try to get there early for sound check, Logan.  We need to be on our game Friday.  That scout from New York New Music is going to be there!”  Dylan jumped in, looking around at all the band mates.  Logan turned and looked quizzically at him.

“I thought he wasn’t coming?”  Logan asked.

“I know!  Me neither, but apparently his daughter is a fan of our band.”  Dylan grinned at Logan, nodding his head excitedly.

“Really?” Logan’s eyebrows shot up eagerly.

“Alright, you caught me, she is mainly a fan of yours. But hell, we are there too.” Dylan tossed up his arms and looked at the two other band mates, Rock and Charlie, who joined in laughing at Logan.  

They were all used to young women fanning over the lead singer. Logan grinned at them, waving them away and ignoring their jokes.  Dylan grabbed his drum sticks and smacked his drums, doing a rim shot to highlight his joke.

Charlie threw an empty water bottle at Dylan and everyone rolled their eyes at the band comedian. The men continued to laugh and joke with one another as they packed away the remainder of the instruments and loaded them into Rock’s van, which was pretty much the band’s van at this point.  

~*~*~*~*~*~

Logan’s car took quite a few turns of the key before it finally churned over and started with a deafening roar.  He quickly looked around at the houses whose windows were all completely black, hoping that he hadn’t awoken any of his neighbors in the dead of night.  Tossing the gears into reverse, Logan looked behind him as he slid out of the driveway onto the street and took off toward his second job.  

Keeping his eyes on the road, he leaned over and opened the glove box and pulled out a CD.  Glancing at it, he deemed it acceptable and pushed it into the stereo, needing something to pump up his energy as he headed to work.  He had only just gotten home from the bar gig with his band, where he only had time to change into some more comfortable clothes and shovel a few peanut butter and jelly sandwiches down his throat.  

He smacked the power button and waited for the music to start playing as he drummed his fingers against the steering wheel, only to be met with a screeching and scratching sound from his dashboard.  The music was suddenly just radio static.  
“Are you fucking kidding me right now?”  Logan smacked the dashboard as if that would make the ruined CD suddenly repair itself.  Irritation built up in his stomach and rose through his chest as he smacked his hand against the steering wheel several times in anger.  He hit the gas and floored it, not planning on wasting another minute in his piece of shit car.  

Logan’s mind was clouded with anger and self-pity.  He wanted to just turn around and go home, fall into bed, and not get back out, but that wasn’t an option anymore. The bills were closing in, like a boa constrictor wrapping its way around his body and slowly squeezing the life out of him. They weren’t even his, yet somehow he felt the responsibility rested all on his shoulders.  

  He was still feeling sorry for himself when he pulled into the employee parking spot behind a large warehouse and grabbed his back brace off the passenger seat, wrapping it around his waist and pulling the straps over his shoulders for support.  The sky was dark, but the warehouse was bustling as his co-workers were loading boxes onto eighteen wheelers for deliveries that day.  Everyone was wearing a brace similar to his, along with hats and gloves, and orange vests with reflector tape.  

“You’re late, mick.” Joey growled from behind the warehouse counter where he was marking packing slips as he glanced up at Logan.  

“Sorry, boss.  Gig ran late.” Logan ignored the ethnic slur and grabbed his time card, punching it through the slot, and then replacing it on the rack.  

“Like I haven’t heard that from your sorry ass before.”  Joey grumbled, not directly calling him out but making it clear he was irritated with Logan’s multitasking lifestyle. Logan just put his head down and walked out of the office and into the larger part of the warehouse, nodding to some of the guys on his way over to the last loading dock.  He hopped into a forklift and shifted the gears, picking up a pallet and taking it toward the truck.  

The job was tedious and Logan hated it, but the paycheck was good since very few people eagerly worked twelve hour shifts beginning at three in the morning.  He was used to starting his days this early now and then taking an afternoon nap before he headed out for a gig or band practice. On his rare day off, he would sleep longer and then practice on his guitar. It was the only thing that soothed the exhaustion in his body and soul. Music was everything in his life and even as he hauled pallets onto a giant truck, he hummed songs in his head to remind himself of who he was.... or who he was going to be.  

CHAPTER TWO

“Dad, wake up.  It’s almost dinner time.” Logan shook his father who was slumped over in his favorite chair in the living room, fast asleep.  Logan didn’t normally see him this tired, but his mother had been having a tough week and it took a serious toll on his father.  

“Yeah, yeah, I’m up. What’s for dinner? You cooking?”  Mickey Clay asked his son as he yawned and achingly pulled his body out of the chair.  

“Already made, but I only have a few minutes to eat with you guys before I need to leave for the bar.  We have a scout coming to see us tonight from New York New Music so I want to get there early for sound check.”  Logan said over his shoulder as he walked back into the kitchen and pulled the pasta off the stove.  

He spilled it into the strainer sitting in the sink and shook off the excess water before pouring the noodles back into the empty pot.  Cracking open a can of diced tomatoes and some pasta sauce, he mixed them all together and threw on a bit of seasoning.  He put it out on the table and then pulled the garlic bread he had made earlier out of the oven where it was staying warm.  He sliced it up and threw some pieces in a bowl, placing it next to the pasta.  A few minutes later, the dinner table was neatly, yet humbly, set for three people and Logan could hear his parents heading out of the bedroom and toward him.  

He stifled a yawn and decided to add a little caffeine to his meal, pulling a can of soda out of the fridge and cracking it open as his father walked by.  Logan glanced at him as he carried Logan’s mother, Laura Clay, in his arms and sat her gently in a special chair at the table.  It had been exactly twenty years since his mother had been in a car accident and lost all function below her waist.  

The paralysis was only one of the resulting medical problems that the accident left her with and his father had been forced to quit his job in order to take care of her full time. Trips to dialysis and doctors filled his parent’s days and the doctor bills continued to fill their mailbox. Since there was no insurance or enough money to pay for a nurse, Mickey stayed home to take care of Laura and Logan worked to pay the bills. It wasn’t the average life for a twenty-five year old, but his parents were everything to Logan, he owed it to them.  

He sighed quietly to himself as he went to join them at the table and pushed those thoughts out of his mind. He really wanted to stop having these pity parties, but over the last few days it had been a very tempting rut to hide in.  His nerves were on turbo drive due to tonight’s gig at McGinny’s Bar.  

“Logan? Your hand, son?”  His mother asked him and he blinked back to attention. She was sitting beside him, holding out her hand to him.  His father was as well since they were preparing to say grace.  He quickly took both of their hands and bowed his head.

“Dear Heavenly Father, we thank you for the food our boy has prepared for us tonight and pray that you watch over him tonight during his audition.  We pray you bring healing to my wife and thank you for all you have done for our family.  In Jesus’ name, Amen.”  Mickey spoke solemnly, his eyes closed and his head down.  Logan and his mother echoed their amens and then picked up their forks, hungrily devouring their food.  

It wasn’t an audition tonight, but Logan didn’t bother to correct his father.  They didn’t understand his love of music and all the time that he put into it, but they were supportive anyway. His family was Irish Catholic and adhered to a strict way of life.  Even with all their values and beliefs, the trio were bonded with such strong love and nothing was ever going to change that.

“You sure you want to go out tonight, Logan?  You look so tired.”  His mother glanced up at him with her big, round eyes full of concern.  

“Don’t worry about me, momma.  I’m fine. Hell, I’m excited!” Logan grabbed his mother’s hand and squeezed it lovingly.

“Watch your mouth around your mother.”  Mickey grunted at his son as he shoveled a piece of bread into his mouth.  

“Sorry, momma.” Logan immediately corrected himself, knowing to never curse in front of his mother.  His father had always been traditional with his rules, but his mother just rolled her eyes and smacked his shoulder softly.

“I’m not a porcelain doll, Mickey.  Logan’s all grown up.”  She turned to her son, motherly pride beaming through her glimmering blue eyes that she had passed down to Logan.   

Logan grinned back at her and then ducked his head down to scoop another forkful of pasta into his mouth.  His dad glared between the two of them, grumbling beneath his breath.  Mickey was perpetually angry, but in truth, it was just a rough exterior.  He was a teddy bear inside with a gruff outer shell that liked to stomp around and be irritated even when he wasn’t. Although in truth, he was angry at his life, so maybe his gruff persona was based on an internal struggle.  Logan always wondered about this, but hoped his father wasn’t as unhappy as he appeared.

~*~*~*~*~*~

When Logan got to McGinny’s, he realized that he was the first in the band to arrive.  Since he was waiting on Rock and Charlie to bring the van, he camped out at the bar and decided to order a drink to soothe his nerves first.  They had never had a scout coming to see them before and he knew that tonight could change his life.  He didn’t want to sound melodramatic or over think things, but he knew in the back of his mind, he couldn’t screw this up.  He wanted to be famous and live out the dreams of a musician, but more than any of that, his family needed him to succeed. His mother needed him to succeed.

“Seriously? An Irish man drinking a Guinness?  Wow, you’re a real rebel, huh?”  Logan turned his head to see the owner of the sultry voice that was simultaneously dripping with sarcasm. A tall, thin rail of a woman was staring back at him with emerald green eyes squinting at him while she leaned against the bar, supporting all of her weight on one leg and sticking out her hip.  Her hand was propped on her hip in an aggressive manner, yet somehow she still came across very nonthreatening; which was strange, because everything about her individually was combative, but as a whole she seemed gentle and soft.

“What’s it to you?”  Logan grunted at her and went back to his drink, turning his head away.  He didn’t have time for the distractions like groupies and this girl’s eyes were only saying one thing to him.  He cleared his throat at the thought and took another sip of his beer while the girl pulled up a bar stool from a few feet over.  

She slid onto it and crossed her legs, leaning them against the outside of his thigh as she angled her body to face him.  Her eyes never left him even though he continued to stare straight ahead and ignore her.  She had no idea where this sudden courage was coming from, it was completely unlike her, and yet she could not stop herself from walking up to this man in the thick leather jacket, leaning on the bar.  

Deciding to throw caution to the wind, Gina reached across him and grabbed his glass.  Slowly and purposefully, she sipped his beer while he stared at her with a face full of emotions ranging from anger to bewilderment to attraction.  She finished off the rest of his beer completely, tipping her head back and exposing her long neck.  Her straight black hair fell past her shoulders, revealing streaks of neon colors underneath.  There were highlights of pink, orange, green, and blue underneath the black curtain that were so bright, they almost made Logan squint.

She leaned forward, pressing her chest together with her arms and whispered in his ear.  

“Thanks for the drink.” Then she winked at him, a faint grin on her face, teasing him as she stood up and started to walk toward the door.  Logan’s jaw fell open as he tried to understand what just happened and why he wanted nothing more than to follow her out of the bar.  

Logan glanced up at the clock, he still had a little time before the band would get here to set up.  He quickly stood up and pulled a few bills out of his pocket, tossing them onto the bar, then walked swiftly in the direction that she had gone.  He swung the bar doors open fast and looked for her, finally spotting her rounding the corner of the building.  Boosting to a jog, he went after her hoping not to lose her around the corner.