“I’ll say.” Gus sounds impressed. “Scout and I have spent hours the past few days full-on stalking you guys online like a couple of psychopaths. You’ve amassed a rabid following in a matter of weeks. You don’t just have numbers; your fans are fucking ride or die. This is legit.”
“It’s been wild,” Jess agrees.
“So, you went acoustic out of necessity? The path of least resistance?” Franco asks.
“For me, absolutely. It was the only way to pull it off, given the time constraints,” I say.
“Listen, I’m not the kind to bullshit anyone, so can I be honest?” Gus takes a seat on the arm of the sofa that Keller, Benji, and Stella are sitting on.
Jess says, “Hell yeah,” at the same time I say, “Please do.”
“Your talent’s fucking wasted as an acoustic duo.” He looks at Jess. “Christ, dude, you’re a natural front man. Yeah, you cansing, but you have that secret sauce. You’re entertaining as hell, and you connect with people.” Gus shrugs. “That’s what music is, connection.” Gus turns to me. “And you?Fuck me, you can do it all.Play any instrument? Check. Write epic songs? Check. Command a stage and hold the audience in a chokehold? Check. Sing clean highs one second and scream like a fucking demon the next? Check.” He looks at Franco and asks. “Am I wrong?”
Franco shakes his head. “No. I agree. You guys need to do what you need to do, and if continuing down the path you’ve started is what lights you up,” Franco takes a seat and leans back into the fluffy cushion of an upholstered chair in the corner, “go for it. We, as fans, will greedily take what we can get. But if you’re open to change, I say do it. A full band behind you two?Hell yeah. Go big. Go heavy. Your voices are different, but they could work so well together.”
“Two leads?” Gus asks.
Franco shrugs. “Why not? Oasis did it. Linkin Park, Blink, The Beatles, Pink Floyd…”
When he trails off, Jess and I look at each other. He’s smiling, and it’s like everything finally makes sense.
“We’ve never tried that,” I say.
Gus jumps to his feet and rubs his hands together. “There’s a first time for everything. Let’s play, boys.” He turns and looks at Benji. “Any chance you play bass, Benji?”
He shakes his head. “I’m learning the drums, though.”
Gus throws his hands up in the air and mutters, “Another fucking drummer?” before winking and pointing at him. “That’s awesome. Keep it up.”
“I’ll play bass,” I offer.
“You start on bass, and then we’ll trade off,” Gus says.
Gus pulls a bass down from where it’s hanging on the wall and hands it to me.
“Is this Jamie’s?” I ask, as I adjust the strap to lengthen it. Jamie is Rook’s bassist, and he’s phenomenal.
Gus slings the strap of his guitar over his head and grimaces. “Yeah. Don’t tell him we used it or he’ll lose his shit.”
I immediately grip the strap to remove it.
“Just kidding.” Gus laughs. “It is his, but Jamie won’t care. In fact,” he pulls his cell from his back pocket and holds it up in my direction, “flash me the middle finger.”
I do and then say, “That felt deeply wrong on so many levels.”
Gus is typing on his phone but laughs. “You just need some more time with us. Our love language is insults. Plus, Jamie loves you. He’ll probably retire that bass because you played it.”
Gus’s phone dings before he can put it back in his pocket. He taps the screen and turns up the volume.
“Gus, are you fucking with me? Is that really Raven? Playing my bass?”
“It’s him. Bet you wish you didn’t take that vacation now?” He must be sending him a voice message in return.
“Holy shit. Tell him I said hey. And send me some video.” Jamie must be in his early thirties, but he sounds so young over the phone.
“Will do. Have fun and tell Gabriela we said hey.”
“Love you, dipshit!” Franco shouts so he can be heard.
