Rock Angel (Rock Angel Series Book 1) (7 page)

Dan grinned from ear to ear. He knew what the goose bumps meant. And the goose bumps were never wrong.

Forty-five minutes later, Shan finished her first set. She’d performed the best of her covers, “Sugaree,” “Big Yellow Taxi,” and “Blackbird” among them
,
tossed in some originals, and finished with a modified Bob Marley tune. She went to the bar for a club soda, took a deep breath, and swiveled to face the table.

They were all watching her. Even Quinn.

Her mouth went dry and she could feel her stomach gyrate. She went to the table, suddenly wishing she’d never agreed to this at all. She’d die, absolutely die, if she had to watch that contemptuous look fall over Quinn’s face again, this time in response to her music.

She sat down. The three of them continued to watch her, so she fidgeted and played with a strand of her hair. For a moment, they all just stared at each other across the table.

She couldn’t stand it anymore. “
Well?
”

Quinn was the first one to respond. He brought his elbows up on the table, laced his fingers together, and rested his chin on his hands. Finally, he smiled.

“Angel,” he said, “welcome to Quinntessence.”

Shan was up early the next morning, awakened by a painful cramp. She clenched until it passed, then struggled out of bed. Her eyes were watering and her nose running, the usual symptoms of a morning jones, but her mood was already high as she replayed the events of the previous night in her mind.

They liked her! Dan had beamed with self-congratulation as Ty gushed superlatives and even Quinn, whom she sensed was not effusive with his praise, made a few positive comments.

“You have a strong voice,” he’d said, “and your playing is solid. I can tell you work at it, but you’re going to have to work a lot harder now. It’s a big jump from folk to hard rock and there’s not much time to prepare. Are you up for it?”

“Yes!” Shan insisted. “Absolutely! I like playing folk, but I really want to rock!”

“Well, now’s your chance,” he assured her.

When he went to the bar, Shan had turned to the others. “Did he
really
like me?”

“Honey,” Dan chortled, “you blew him away.”

She looked at Ty. “Really? He’s hard to read.”

“
Really
,” Ty said. “He was transfixed. Don’t expect him to shower you with compliments, though. That’s not the Q-man’s style.”

Well, he didn’t have to. He liked her enough to let her in his band and that was enough for her. Besides, she’d have plenty more opportunities to show him what she could do.

Starting today, at their first practice session.

She reached in her dresser for the bag containing the brown rock and a piece of foil. She chopped off a bit, dropped it onto the foil, then sat down cross-legged on her bed. She lit the candle she kept on her nightstand, held the foil over it, and waited for the heroin to boil. When it did, she pulled out her tooter, then hesitated.

She wanted so badly to quit. She’d come close last time, and she didn’t care about the high. Her new band would be a high all on its own.

She thought about the craving that would dig at her with white-hot pincers. The nausea and the diarrhea and the tremors. The insomnia that would keep her awake for days. Then she thought about trying to play while in that condition.

She lifted the tooter to her mouth and inhaled the smoke.

At precisely eleven o’clock there was a knock at the front door. When she opened it, Shan was greeted by an enormous pile of equipment seeming to sprout arms and legs. “Wow! What can I help with?”

“Just stay out of the way, angel.” Quinn squeezed past with his keyboard, a coil of electrical cables over his shoulder and a crate of microphones under his arm. Dan and Tyrone staggered by next with the drum kit and amplifiers.

“You can grab the rest,” Dan tossed back. Shan retrieved the bass and mic stands from the hallway, then followed them into the living room where they were stacking the gear into an empty corner.

She set down the equipment and watched the pile grow. Quinn untangled the cables from his shoulder, dropped them onto the snare drum, and flung himself into a chair. He was dressed in jeans, sneakers, and a Yes T-shirt. “Danny, next time you hire us a guitar player, make sure she lives on the ground floor.”

Dan collapsed onto the floor pillows, his hair fanning out around him. “It’s a prerequisite.”

“There’s a service elevator at the end of the hall,” Shan said.

“Why didn’t you say something?” Ty demanded amid a chorus of groans. Beads of perspiration dotted his forehead, standing out in sharp relief against his chestnut skin.

“I would have, but I didn’t know you’d be bringing so much stuff.”

“Well, it’s good. It’ll be easier to load in and out,” Quinn said. “We brought all the stuff,” he told Shan, “because I thought it should live here. I’d like to make this the official practice pad.”

“There’s only me here, though,” Shan said. “All three of you are at Dan’s.”

“Not for long. I found a sublet. I move in on the first, if I can make it that long. Another week on Dan’s couch and I may be permanently disabled.”

“What about you?” Shan asked Ty.

“I’m staying with Dan. I get enough of Quinn during the school year and it’ll almost be like living alone, since Dan’s over here half the time.”

Quinn shot Dan a contemptuous look.
Pussy whipped
, he mouthed.

Dan ignored him. “Did you get a chance to look over the schedule?” he asked Shan.

She nodded. “I can’t believe you’re already booked three nights a week.”

“We are right now,” Quinn said, “but by next month it’ll be more.”

Shan was skeptical. She’d never been able to get work more than two or three nights a week on a consistent basis, no matter how much she lobbied. “What makes you so sure?”

“There’s a lot more work for a band than there is for a solo,” Quinn pointed out. “Don’t even question it—it’ll happen. You don’t have other commitments, do you?”

“A few. I play the Jubilee every other Thursday, and there’s the Wonder Café.”

“Cancel them,” he said.

“All of them?” She was rattled. “What about the Grotto? I’m booked every Sunday.”

“Cancel. You don’t have a day job, do you?” She shook her head.

“Good.” Quinn’s eyes narrowed. “I want to make sure you understand that this is a full-time commitment. It’ll be to your advantage. You’ll probably make more money over the next three months than you usually do in a year.”

“How do you manage to get so much work?”

“We’ve had quite a bit of radio play,” Tyrone explained. “Most of the places we played last year jumped to get us again. Quinn does most of the booking. He’s a good negotiator.”

“How long have you all been together?” Shan asked.

“Q and I have known each other since we were kids,” Dan said. “We went to the same music school, then we played in bands together right through high school.”

“Right,” Quinn said, “until Dan absconded.”

“I didn’t abscond,” Dan said and rolled his eyes. “I went away to college.”

“Whatever,” Quinn said. “Eventually I wound up at Berklee, which is where I met Ty, and that’s how Quinntessence was formed. There have been a couple of other guys that came and went for various reasons, but the three of us have been together for almost four years now.”

“But you only play together during the summers?” Shan said. “You must hate that.”

“I do. That’s Dan, too,” Quinn said, shooting him an annoyed look. “We tried to talk him into moving to Boston when he graduated, but he wouldn’t.”

“No, and I still won’t,” Dan said. “Denise can’t go anywhere until she finishes school next year and I’m not moving three and a half hours away from her. Not even for you, dude.”

“Whatever,” Quinn said again and Shan could tell this was a sore subject. “This is a good time to go over the ground rules. They’re simple. We never turn down a reasonable gig. We practice three days a week for three to four hours a day. It’s cool with your roommates to do it here?”

“It’s fine,” Shan said, “and there won’t be any problems with the neighbors, either. There are four other musicians in the building. One of them plays the trombone,” she added, wrinkling her nose.

“Great.” Quinn nodded. “There’s just one more thing. You.” He pointed at Shan. “No drinking on a gig. No drugging on a gig. Ever. And I mean
never
. Understood?”

Shan froze. She stared silently at Quinn for a moment, then found her voice. “So what if I drink or do drugs? I mean, what’s it to you?”

“Nothing.” Quinn shrugged. “I don’t give a fuck what you do on your own time. It’s none of my business. But when we’re gigging, you’re on
our
time. And you,” he pointed at her again, “are underage. You get caught partying when you’re with us,
we
get it in the neck.”

“But I’m sure you drink when you play…” she began.

“That’s different. Ty is twenty-six. Dan and I are twenty-five. We’re legal but even so, none of us ever gets fucked up while we’re gigging. That’s another ground rule. It’s unprofessional. And definitely no drugs. I’ve had enough of that bullshit in this band.”

“But—”

“This isn’t open for negotiation,” he informed her. “It’s a condition. Take it or leave it.”

She hesitated for a moment, then nodded.

“Good,” Quinn said curtly. “You remember that. Because if one of us catches you partying at a gig, you’re fired.”

Her temper flared. “Don’t talk down to me. I don’t need to worry about Big Brother watching my every move. I can take care of myself.”

Quinn shrugged. “I’m not questioning that. You seem pretty together for a sixteen-year-old. We wouldn’t take you on otherwise.”

“Almost seventeen,” she corrected him, slightly mollified. He turned away, but not before she saw his grin. She flushed and turned to Ty.

“I’m surprised you’re not all living together,” she remarked, just to change the subject. “It’d be a lot cheaper.”

Quinn turned back. “I told you we’re going to be rolling in dough. Don’t you believe me?” She nodded, but still looked doubtful. “We get top dollar for a bar band. Now you, you’re used to gigging solo and getting the door. The cover’s three or four bucks and you pull maybe a hundred and fifty on a good night?”

“A
really
good night,” she said ruefully.

Quinn’s smile was openly patronizing. “Well, the cover is seven to ten bucks for Quinntessence, depending on what night of the week it is, and we play a lot bigger venues. A good Friday or Saturday for us is around fifteen hundred. Minus the sound man and split four ways, you’re talking about three or four hundred bucks.
Each
,” he emphasized, as Shan’s jaw dropped.

“Yeah, but the door is shit, Quinn, remember?” Ty jeered.

“I’d still rather have a set fee going in, then get anything over a predetermined door take as a bonus. You can get screwed.” Quinn looked back at Shan. “Cat got your tongue, angel?”

“I wasn’t expecting that much money,” she said, shaken. “Do I get a full share?”

They all stared at her in astonishment. “Of course,” Dan said. “Did you think it was slave labor, since we have a resident slave driver?” Quinn gave him the finger, lips twisting sardonically.

“But I’m new,” she said, “and I don’t have as much experience as the rest of you.”

“Better start catching up, then.” Quinn snatched up the coil of cables and tossed it to her. “Time to learn how a big-time rock band sets up.”

Forty-five minutes later he surveyed the loft. Cables crisscrossed the floor and Dan’s drums filled an entire corner. His keyboard had a choice spot in front of the window. “Excellent spot for the Kur,” he said.

Dan grinned. “Better than my kitchen table, hey?”

“You bet,” he agreed and turned to Shan. “This place doesn’t seem so big now, does it?”

Shan pushed an errant curl out of her eyes. Her hands, covered with grime from the cables, left a smear of black across her face. “We do this every time?”

“Yep.” Quinn grimaced. “Then we have to break it all down again at the end of the night. My most immediate career goal is to be able to afford roadies so we won’t have to do it ourselves.”

“I’m used to hauling just a guitar and an amp.” When she gathered her hair into her hands and lifted it, Quinn again noticed the bruise under her jaw. Now it was a mottled purple-black. Then he saw two more marks on the back of her neck. They looked like fingerprints.

When Shan caught him staring at her, she dropped her hair. “Shouldn’t we get started?”

“Yup.” Quinn looked away as she went into the bathroom to wash the grime off her hands. Maybe she had a boyfriend who was into bondage, although it didn’t seem likely. She was a little too young and wide-eyed to be the whips-and-chains type.

Too young to be on her own, too. He wondered briefly what her story was, then pushed the thought away as Shan came back into the room. It was none of his business.

She took up her guitar. “What’ll we start with?”

Dan settled behind his drums, rapping a ska beat on the ride cymbal. “Let’s do something you feel comfortable with,” he said to Shan. “You’re the new kid.”

“Not for long,” Quinn said pointedly, “but we can start with a Dead tune. I assume you know ‘Friend of the Devil’?”

“Doesn’t everyone?” she laughed, picking out the opening guitar riff.

“Okay. I’ll sing lead. You and Ty shoot for three-part harmony on the chorus. I want to hear how you do with it.”

Shan went into the opening chords. When Quinn began to sing, his voice was strong and mellifluous. He used it like an instrument, easy and flowing. Shan paid close attention and joined in on the chorus, struggling to blend her voice with Ty’s deep baritone.

“Stop,” Quinn directed after a minute, holding up his hand. The music jangled to a halt. “You haven’t sung much with other people,” he said to Shan. It wasn’t a question.

She shook her head.

“Okay. Be quiet on the next verse. Danny, take the third vocal. I want her to hear how it’s supposed to sound.” They did another chorus, Dan’s voice merging easily with Quinn’s and Ty’s.