Chapter Eleven
I didn’t hearfrom either man for days. It was only when Cash insisted we get back to rehearsing that they came over to my place, finally.
Things were awkward for all parties. Unless it was directly related to the the music or performing live, no one spoke to each other. They came, they played, they left.
I wanted desperately to ask about Cara. Tate hadn’t brought her over. I was too chicken to call him, so I reached out to Lola. He was bringing the baby to her house to watch while we practiced.
It was on the fourth night of rehearsals that Tate kissed me goodnight before leaving and promised me he’d bring her over. It was a chaste kiss. He pressed his lips to my forehead. I didn’t know what to think of it. The passion in his kisses before had turned into what I could only describe as... obligation.
We did two weeks of rehearsals. They were long, grueling, and I was having to drink hot tea constantly. I was also popping lozenges like candy. Two long weeks of rehearsals before Cash announced that we were ready to start looking for gigs. It didn’t take long to get us booked.
That video we had made together of Cara’s song had blown up. We were a viral sensation. Seeing us all appearing friendly and loving to each other had definitely helped our image. I would almost go as far as to say that we had repaired our reputation. No longer would we be thought of as a liability. We could behave and be trusted to put on a good show without any trouble.
Our first gig was the club we had played at a few months before Cara was born. That had been our first official set as The Homewreckers. My debut as a vocalist. It was a nice place to start. I would be comfortable on that stage, having performed there before.
Those kind of shows were my favorite. I loved revisiting venues. It was like coming home.
While I was hyped to be playing live again, the rest of my band didn’t seem too enthused.
I was trying my hardest to get Ronny and Tate on board, but they were still avoiding me. I even asked for Dallas’ assistance in getting them excited. He was here daily anyways.
Dallas was trying his hardest to casually slip into the lineup. I knew he had been struggling for months now with what to do with his life. His own band, Hip Friction, had dispersed when Vagabond Babies did. The difference was, I still had people to play with. Dallas didn’t.
Music was in our blood. Our parents had started their careers as teenagers and were determined for us to start ours even younger. Some of my earliest memories were of our mom bringing us into her makeshift studio in Michigan and putting instruments in our hands. A guitar for my brother, and drum sticks for me.
I remembered it being a point of contention in that household. Our stepfather, Chris, hated the idea of us learning music. I wasn’t sure if it was the music he hated or the lifestyle that often times came with it. It’s hard to say now. He was dead. But living without music was never an option with our true genes.
We lived and breathed music from the moment we were born, and that wasn’t something you just turned on and off. I sympathized with my brother, truly I did. A rocker with no rock band. And it wasn’t for lack of ability, he was extremely talented. It was his personality that had gotten him blacklisted.
I knew he was desperate when he asked to play with us. While I did want to help him, the idea that he’d be performing on stage alongside me was a struggle. We had for the most part squashed our feud, but it was hard to forget how badly we’d treated each other for so long. Could we really be in a band again together?
Cash brought it up to me one night after rehearsal. Everyone had already left, and he was waiting for Audrey to pick him up.
“Dally pitched himself this morning. He made some good points,” he added when he saw my scowl.
“Yeah? What were they?” I humored him. We had collapsed onto the living room furniture. I had been dancing around for hours and my legs were jelly. I turned my TV on and started trying to find something to watch. I was far too tired to read something tonight.
“Well, another guitarist would sound great. We could do a lot with that. Plus, he’s got a classically trained ear for music. He wrote most of Hip Friction’s music, and lots of the lyrics.”
“Ugh, don’t remind me,” I grimaced. Hip Friction’s songs were all about sex.
“Look, I’m just saying, I think we should give him a shot. Plus, all of his connections.”
I turned my head and shot him a look.
“He’s my twin brother. We literally have the same connections.”
“Jim, come on.”
I sat up straighter and put the remote down.
“His behavior is unpredictable. We’ve already got one time bomb; do we really need another one?”
Cash said nothing in response. There was an awkward silence, and then the memory of Dallas revealing why he hated me so much resurfaced. Guilt washed over me. My stomach rolled. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. He did say that Cash owed him one. I breathed in again and then shook my head.
“Are you sure about this?” I asked.
“No. But I don’t want to live with the ‘What if’. He could be the talent we need to elevate us. Tate and Ronny both agree with me.”
