No Holding Back (2 page)

Wade sighed as his head fell back into his chair but no matter how many times he shifted in his seat, he just couldn’t get comfortable. While holed up in the small auditorium, he stared at the cobwebbed ceiling for as long as possible before he had to look back at the guy who just auditioned. He was good, but not great.

For the past eight days, he was certain his gut of his forced him to make the worst call in his life.  Now, the clock was ticking down to Heretic
’s promise of finding a replacement.  In his shortest conversation ever with his agent, Mike made it very clear that they had less than two weeks to prepare or they’d never recover in any aspect of their career. He explained to Wade that he pulled all his favors and did a few other things he wasn’t proud of and managed to sweet talk the other bands into allowing Heretic to pick up right where they left off. Wade was ecstatic at first, but that went away after their three hundred and eighty-seventh audition.

Now
, frustrated and beyond tired, it was all Wade could do to keep his patience as they listened to one drummer after another. Many did have talent, but they were far from Hess’ genius.  Wade begged for more time but Mike was ruthless.

“Anaheim, California.  You have the date and time and Pe
te knows where to go.  Be there
with
your new drummer or not at all.”

Wade was left reeling at this news and who could blame him? Find a new drummer that
’s worth a damn in less than two weeks, get them trained up with all of Heretic’s songs, and be ready to go over halfway across the U.S.?

Sure. No problem.

Wade rubbed his forehead trying to tame a headache in the making.

“Thanks, uhm…we
’ll call you,” he managed to say with a straight face.

“You guys are awesome!”
said the most recent prospect as he fisted his hand at Wade.

Wade weakly responded in kind with a fist of his own, but as soon as he went off stage,
he rolled his eyes and palmed his face. While it appeared that the guy had some innate grasp of the drums, Wade knew he wouldn’t be the right fit for the group.  He appeared to have little more talent than a high school band teacher.

He looked
over at his brother who sat next to him, also on the verge of exhaustion.

“Os!” Wade barked
.

His brother jumped in mild alarm at Wade
’s voice and the clipboard that he’d been holding all this time fell to the floor noisily.

“Huh?  Wha?” he
asked, yawning and scratching his bald head.

“
Cross him off the list. He’s no good.”

Os blinked heavily a few
times and forced himself to make the note next to the guys’ name. He gave up days ago trying to argue with his brother about which ones were better than what Wade made them out to be, but his younger kid brother turned down every one of them.

“What time is it?” Wade asked.

Os strained his eyes at his phone.

“Fuck me, man.  I
t’s two a.m.,” Os answered, scribbling on his board.

Wade
looked out the corner of his eye at the list of people who had come and gone over the past week, but he didn’t need to.  He already knew that they had less than a handful of drummers that were hardly worth a damn. A feeling of utter despair swept over him, his heart sank, and a knotted feeling came into this stomach. And it was then that he began to seriously doubt if they’d find someone in time, but more importantly, someone as good as Hess. In fact, he was beginning to believe it was downright impossible.

Wade
looked back two rows behind him and found Joe nodding off again – his head bobbing up and down in short spurts of sleep.  Wade couldn’t blame him though, not when he felt the same way.

“Man, you sure
this is good idea?” Os started, but Wade was in no mood for it. “I mean, this looks seriously fucked up, y’know? Whoring ourselves out like this?”

“I already told you, Os-.
”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.  But are you sure you called
everyone
?  What about Black Blood? Don’t they have any leads?”

“They only decent drummer they knew they
hooked up with someone else,” Wade said, staring blankly at the empty stage.

The entire place was roach dive
and reeked of dust and mildew but Wade knew it was the best that Mike could do on such short notice.  So he didn’t say a word even as the ugly yellow glow of the flickering stage lights made him want to gag. But the best part was, it was on the edge of the city, far away from the prying eyes of news crews.

“What about EOP?" Os went on
desperately. "Strife? Dark Water for fuck’s sake, man!”

“No. No. And do you really think I
’d ask someone who’d no sooner piss on us than help us out? Jesus, Os!” Wade snatched the board from Os making his older brother jump in surprise. “Look, I’m only showin’ one more guy on this list tonight then we can get the hell outta here. We’ll just have to keep lookin’.”

But Wade
’s heart sunk even lower at hearing his own words. He knew that if he couldn’t find a drummer worthy of taking Hess’ place in Heretic soon, any future they had in the music industry would be gone forever.

“BRING
‘EM IN!” Wade hollered into the empty auditorium. But not even his volume caused Joe to stir in his seat.

Soon, the double-doors opened reveal
ing Mike talking on the phone while he pushed in Heretic’s next victim. Wade waved at him just before the doors closed but his agent ignored him completely.  He knew Mike was hard at work putting out all of the media fires he created.

As Wade studied
their next prospect, he remarked that he looked like a homeless bum but mostly the same as the hundred or so wanabees that Wade had already been subjected to. 

But
then, Wade’s gut gave him an odd feeling as he watched the guy stride confidently across the stage. He strained his eyes to see the face he kept hidden too well beneath a stained hoodie.

Wade
’s intuition became sensitive at once as he studied him, but on the surface, he looked no different than a punk kid. Right away, he doubted his gut as Mike had done in the past and tried to pull it off as stress. But the kid hardly noticed Wade’s studying gaze – still too perturbed that he was so rudely pushed by a stranger. But when he approached the drum set, he reached for the sticks on the seat and sat down, waiting for his queue to go.

Wade rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and battled the urge to tell the guy to come back tomorrow, but he dismissed it.  Instead, he
’d give his gut one more shot before throwing in the towel for the night.

“Alright,
man. Listen up. We’re tired. We’re hungry. And we’ve been listening to retards for the past several days whom I’m amazed can even wipe their ass,” Wade said.

Wade fell back
into his chair again and didn’t bother hiding his long, drawn-out sigh while Os snickered at his commentary.

“You have five minute
s to impress the hell outta me,” he said ominously.

Despite Wade
’s ultimatum, Heretic’s next prospect appeared undaunted and even shook his arms and hands a few times to loosen himself up. As he held his sticks over the toms preparing to go, Wade yelled out one last time.

“Oh and hey, man!
Don’t hold anything back!”

Despite the fact that Wade couldn
’t see his face very well, he could still make out what he thought was a small grin from beneath his hoodie.

Remarkably, Wade watched as he twirled his drumsticks professionally in the air several times before they came crashing down on the cymbals and toms.

The sudden noise roused Joe into waking and after a few minutes, it became apparent that he was clearly a professional.  Wade even laughed through his nose and shook his head ever so slightly at his skill at playing one of their own songs - Psychotic Episode.  In fact, it wouldn’t have surprised Wade one bit if he had told them that he’d been to every one of Heretic’s concerts.

Becoming more awake with each passing moment, Joe got up from his seat and joined Os and Wade closer to the front.  Soon, the guy finished the drum solo on notes Wade was sure he
’d miss, but he didn’t.  Then, he crashed down one last time on the cymbal signaling the end of the song and looked up at the rest of Heretic.  Wade saw his chest puffing slightly from the exercise when the last echoing note died off, the auditorium became eerily quiet.

Wade continued to sit stone-cold in his seat while Os and Joe stared at ea
ch other, both unwilling to believe the masterpiece they had just heard.

Although Wade was impressed
with such obvious talent, he wanted to push him further, to see what he was truly capable of and to finally quiet the alarm bells going off in his gut.

“Not bad,” Wade said,
breaking the silence. “So, can you play any of our songs? Off any album?”

“Pick one," he cussed back.

Unable to stop the smile that crept into the side of his mouth, Wade hoped that his next choice would not only prove if he found Heretic’s next drummer, but also if they could easily pick up where they left off.

“Fine.  Then I
’m sure you won’t have a problem playing Live Dead for us.”

Instantly, Os interrupted, trying to hide his disagreement behind harsh whispers.

“Dude! What the fuck’er you doin’?! Hess was a fuckin’ genius and it
still
took him year to get that shit! There’s no way some guy’s gonna walk in here and blow it away!”

But Wade was hardly interested in what his brother had to say.
To him, this one had talent: plain and simple.  And as he tried staring at him with his X-ray vision, the drummer quickly averted his own gaze elsewhere.

Becoming irritated with his brother, Wade raised his fist for silence and clenched his jaw. Immediately, Os
sighed aloud and became silent at once knowing Wade’s universal sign for ‘shut the hell up.’

When the auditorium became silent again
, Wade unfurled his fist and motioned to the drummer who, during Os’ tantrum, waited patiently.

“I
’m waiting.”

Without pause, the drummer twirled his drumsticks once again and for the next five minutes, that small auditorium was ablaze with
crashing cymbals and thundering drums. The power with which he slammed down onto the percussions seemed to reverberate through the stage and vibrate their seats. And when it became abundantly clear to Wade that the mysterious drummer who took center stage hadn’t missed a single beat, Joe and Os jumped up and down excitedly while they hugged one another.

Even when he
finished executing Heretic’s most difficult song without so much as flinching, Wade only continued to stare at him as if trying to unearth some hidden secret.

“Are you guys done?”  Wade asked
in response to his bandmates’ idiotic jumping.

“What the hells
’ gotten in to you, man!?  That was damn good!” 

Os
yelled in excitement and it wasn’t long before Joe caught on – bouncing and pulling at his dreads in disbelief.

“Yeah. Too good,” he
uttered to himself.

Wade gradually came to his feet
and eyed the stranger whose chest was huffing slightly from the exercise. He studied him carefully, wondering if he had indeed found Hess’ replacement.

“What
’s your name?” Wade asked, leaning over the chair in front of him for support.

He cleared his throat before answering, “Chris.”

“Chris,” Wade repeated. “That’s some of the best drum play I’ve ever seen. How old are you?"

It was clear to Wade that his questioning made the guy nervous when he cleared his throat again and answered back in an overly deep tone.

“Twenty-three.”

“Damn,”
he genuinely remarked. “You’re too young to be that gifted. Where the hell did you learn to play like that?”

He shrugged his shoulders.
“Been doin’ it since I could crawl.”

Wade nodded, taking in the few words he said.  But while Chris
’ performance was no less than a shock to Os and Joe, it was miracle as far as Wade was concerned.  In the eyes of Heretic’s fans, Hess was the best. Now, Wade’s gut came through for him once again.

“Right on. You uh…
wear that stuff all the time or are you gonna show us what you look like?” Wade asked, gesturing to Chris’ hoodie.

“What
’d’you care?” he asked defensively.

“I don
’t,” Wade fired back. “I’d just like to see the face of the drummer who’s probably gonna save our ass.”

With some hesitation, he
finally removed his hoodie but kept his gaze firmly away from Wade’s penetrating stare.