Loose End, or I Just Really Wanted Them To Be In A Garage Band
by saabira
The ad for a drummer had been
running in the local trade paper for almost a month, and JC's band had
received a total of 6 calls, and one of them had been a wrong number. The
other 5 had been some of the most talent-less people JC had ever encountered
in is career as a musician.
That night over a midnight snack at Waffle House, he lamented with AJ and
Chris.
"What if we just forgot the drummer? There have been some very successful
bands that didn't have a drummer. Two guitars and a bass can work."
Chris scoffed. "Name one successful band that didn't have a drummer."
JC pretended to contemplate this, but only half-heartedly. He already knew he
wouldn't be able to come up with anything. He frowned at Chris.
AJ cut in. "JC, the drummer is the heartbeat of the band. You can't survive
without a heartbeat," he said, gesturing with a fork dripping with maple
syrup.
JC sighed. "I know. It's just taking so long to find a replacement. I really
wanted that kid, Nick Carter, but his band's already laying down their demo.
He wouldn't even consider quitting."
Chris laughed. "I can't believe you asked him!"
JC smiled at Chris's amusement. "I had to try."
AJ finished the last of his milk before adding, "I still want to kick Joey's
ass for quitting on us. He's so fucking pussy-whipped. If Kel asked him to
kill himself, he'd probably consider it." It was an oft-stated gripe, so there
was hardly any venom in his voice.
JC just shook his head. "Man, there's no use being mad about it now. He won't
come back." He thought for a moment. "Maybe we can try that Dan guy again. His
audition wasn't that bad. Was it?"
"He couldn't have kept the beat if it were stapled to him," Chris exclaimed,
his mouth full of hash browns.
"Ugh, Chris. Swallow before you speak, dude."
Chris made a big production of chewing and swallowing his potatoes. "We'll
find a guy-"
"Or a girl," AJ interjected.
Chris nodded. "We'll find the right *person*. Don't worry about it."
*
The good news was that 15 people showed up for the next audition. The bad news
was that after the 15 departed, they still didn’t have a drummer.
JC lay on the couch that sat against one wall of his garage with a groan.
“This sucks,” he moaned.
“I’m still not worried,” Chris said, ever optimistic. “I know we’ll find who
we’re looking for.”
“Either way, we still need to get on with our practice. But first we should
eat. Chris and I will go for food, and when we get back we can remind
ourselves why we started this band in the first place,” AJ said as he pulled
Chris to the side door, ignoring Chris’s half-hearted protests.
When he heard AJ’s car rumble away, JC got up to open the garage door to let
in the cooler night air before taking his place on a stool near the recording
equipment. He began plucking at the strings, trying to shake loose one of the
melodies that were always looping through his mind. He was so engaged in his
task that it took the noise of a fist banging on the side of the house to get
his attention.
JC looked up to find a short Latino man with dark-brown messy curls standing
at the entrance, drum sticks in hand. JC took in his denim shorts and
long-sleeved tee-shirt, and thought ‘cute’.
“Hey. You here to audition?” JC asked as he jogged over to the stranger,
extending his hand.
“If I’m not too late. I’m Howie,” he said, as he clasped JC’s hand. JC could
feel the familiar drummer’s calluses and he registered the musical timbre of
Howie’s voice.
JC didn’t like to get his hopes up, but he already had a good feeling about
this guy.
“You’re definitely not too late,” JC told him. “We haven’t been having much
luck with the auditioning.”
“Well, I’m happy to give it a try.”
JC directed Howie toward the drum kit set up in one corner of the room. Howie
sat down, and immediately began adjusting the height of the drums and cymbals.
JC swung his guitar back around as he pulled a pick from his pocket. “We
should probably wait until the other guys get back, but I think we’re gonna go
ahead and start. Do you know any Dave Matthews?”
Howie smiled, confidence evident, counted in, and began with the recognizable
thump of “Ants Marching”. JC grinned as they moved into the body of the song.
Howie maintained eye contact as JC sang, and after the first chorus, JC was
pleasantly surprised when Howie joined him for the second verse, his voice
rising above JC’s, their tones weaving together perfectly. JC was impressed
with Howie’s ability to play so well without once looking down, as well as
with the beautiful warm brown of Howie’s shining eyes. They played, and JC
felt joy swirling through his body.
When they brought the song to a close, JC heard Chris and AJ erupt with
applause and cheering, and he turned, startled to find them standing there.
“I knew we’d find the right guy,” Chris said, as AJ grinned in agreement. JC
felt his own face split with his grin.
JC turned back to find Howie smiling shyly at them. Unable to curtail his
exuberance, he went over, and grasping Howie’s hand, pulled him up into a hug.
“Welcome to the band, Howie.”
Howie’s laughing acquiescence rang in his ears.
[Fin. July 2003.]