“A new used cab. Understood. But can we just get this one on the road for now?” Melvin rubbed his hands together in anticipation, looking at me like I was some kind of magician of music rigs.
I crouched back down and pressed my palm against the side panel. The cabinet shifted under the weight, the split along the bottom seam widening enough to show where the joint had given up. It was old, that was for sure, and probably survived on stubbornness alone.
“Don’t plug it in again,” I said. “You’ll tear it wider.”
Ramona nodded and reached for the cable snaking across the alley floor, coiling it up and tossing it onto an overturned milk crate. Sage stayed where she was, arms folded, watching me assess the damage as if she was trying to read the result before I said it out loud.
“Give me five,” I muttered, already standing.
The alley opened toward the street, and I jogged over to where I’d parked. The bed of my truck wasn’t organized in any way that would impress a contractor, but there was always something useful back there. A small tool bag lived behind the passenger seat, a box of random screws rolled around in a plastic container,and there was a clamp I’d forgotten to return to the shop last week.
I grabbed the bag, popped it open against the tailgate, and checked what I had. Hammer. Multi-bit screwdriver. A handful of wood screws that might work. No glue. No proper braces. I reached deeper into the bed and came up with a short length of scrap two-by-four that had been sliding around back here for months.
“They’re just gonna have to take it,” I said to no one.
The band cleared space when they saw what I was carrying, and Sage dragged a folding chair out of the way to give me more room. The cabinet lay on its back now, grille facing the sky, back panel hanging loose on one side.
“Looks like you found some tools,” she said, and there was a shyness about her that wasn’t there when I’d arrived.
I didn’t know what the hell to do with that, but filed it away to process later. For now, there was a gig that needed saving.
“Chalk it up to my lack of organization skills,” I replied. “Nothing’s ever in its place, so there’s always something hitching a ride with me.”
I set the tool bag down beside the cab and removed the back panel completely, easing it off so I could see inside. The internal brace had separated from the side wall. The lower corner block was cracked straight through. Years of vibration had done their work.
Sage crouched across from me, staying out of the way but close enough that I could feel her attention. “Is it bad?”
“It’s tired,” I said, tapping the loose brace with the handle of the screwdriver. “They’ve been asking a lot from it.”
Melvin gave a wicked grin. “That’s what she said.”
Ramona swatted his arm without looking away from what I was doing.
I measured the gap with my thumb and cut the scrap wood down using the small hand saw tucked in the bag. It took longer than I wanted, and the alley filled with the dry scrape of blade through wood. Once it fit snug between the bottom and side panel, I wedged it in place and drove two screws through the existing brace into the new block. The cabinet steadied under my hand.
“Okay,” I said, shifting to the split seam along the base. “This won’t be pretty.”
“Exactly our brand,” Ramona offered.
I aligned the separated joint as best I could and drove screws through the underside, angling them to pull the panels together. The wood protested, but the gap narrowed with each turn. When I pressed against the side again, it held firm.
“Flip it up,” I told Melvin.
He grabbed one side while I took the other, and we righted the cabinet onto its base. The weight settled evenly this time. No give. No wobble.
I reattached the back panel, tightening the screws until it sat flush against the frame. “We’re taking a chance without glue, but it should behave for one set. As long as you’re gentle.”
“That should be easy. For today, at least.” The others laughed along with Melvin.
“Plug it in,” I said. “Let’s see if it worked.”
Ramona hustled to reconnect the cable. Melvin flicked the amp on and strummed a chord. The sound that rolled out into the alley was full, steady. No rattling from the base. No vibration through the side panel.
Melvin hit another chord and smiled at me like I’d just scored a tie-breaking goal in the dying minutes.
“You’re kidding,” he said. “It sounds better than before.”
“Just don’t push it.”
