23 Aug 2009 @ 4:13 PM 

Chapter 3

Skeet sat cross legged on a small black cushion, which was perched on a larger black cushion.  The light scent of incense filled the room.  He sat facing a small table that had a small statue of the Buddha, a bell and several other spiritual accoutrements.   He sat very straight with his hands resting on the tops of his thighs. His eyes were lowered and his breathing was slower than normal.  Most people never saw this side of Skeet, except for Brian, of course.  But Brian steered clear of him when he meditated.  He didn’t really understand all that stuff and wasn’t sure he wanted to try.

“You’d be lookin’ groovy…In a 60’s movie…Maybe tell the press ya died…”  The music poured out of Skeet’s cell phone.  He knew instantly it was Pat Torpey.  Skeet had a different ring tone for everyone in his cell phone.  Skeet clicked the green answer button.

“Pat!  What’s going on?” Skeet said with a boisterous grin.  Brian wandered in the room.  He often wondered how Skeet couldn’t seem to remember what he had told him 10 minutes before but had his entire phone list memorized by ring tone.

“Same shit, different day.  How’s life in Chi-town?” Pat asked.

“You know man.  Trying to keep busy to stay outta trouble.”

Pat and Skeet knew about trouble.  They had met backing up Belinda Carlisle on her world tour in the mid 80’s and were known for the drunken debauchery they inflicted on the world from the setting a bath house in Japan on fire to driving a motorcycle through the front door of Ed’s Tavern in Conrad, Montana, population 2736, in the middle of winter.  How they had ended up riding double on a motorcycle in northern Montana in January, neither was real sure of.  Nor were they sure how Brain had been able to bail them out of that one, but as usual, he was right there to fix everything.

“I’m gonna be in your neck of the woods tomorrow night.  I thought we might get together, grab a bite and jam, if you aren’t headed back out on the road.”

“Naw, I just put the finishing touches on the solo album.  Dude, I’d love to and I’m free all day tomorrow.  We can go get some BBQ at Fat Willie’s Rib Shack and then hit B.B. Kings place.  Anson and the Rockets are playing and I know he’d love to jam.  We can go all night!”

“That sounds like a blast, but I actually need to call in a favor,” Pat asked, sounding slightly self conscious.

“Anything, Pat.  What do ya need?”

“Well you know we’ve reformed ‘Mr. Big’…me, Ron and Billy.  We aren’t doing anything heavy but we are jamming together some times.  It’s been really cool.”

“Someone told me that.  I don’t remember who.  I didn’t even think you guys were speaking.  Glad it’s working out…but what do you need from me?”  Skeet looked up at Brian and shrugged.  Unfortunately, Brian was only getting half the conversation.

“We’re scheduled to do a gig day after tomorrow at a benefit show in Chicago, but, unfortunately I just got off the phone with Billy and he slipped on some ice on his back steps and sprained his wrist, so he can’t play.”

“You guys are playing American Cancer Society fund raiser?  I’m at that gig too!  Niles Rodgers and I are gonna play some old ‘Chic’ songs from back in the day.”

Pat could tell from the tone of Skeet’s voice that he had completely missed the point so he figured he needed to be a bit more direct.  “So Skeet, would you be willing to play with us too.  Billy’s cool with it.  He loved the idea.  He’s flying in for the gig just to hang out.  So…,” Pat paused, waiting to be interrupted.  “Will you do it?”  There was a slight pause.

“Hell yea!  I mean, if you’re sure Billy’s cool with it.”

“Oh yea…he’s totally cool with it.  And Ron is gonna shit when he finds out you said yes.”  The relief was evident in Pat’s voice.

“I don’t know about that.  Billy’s one of the best around.  I don’t have near the chops he does, but I’m sure we can put something together.  Is everyone flying in tomorrow?  We can do a rehearsal here at the studio and still have time to get some Bar B Que and raise a little hell.”  Skeet could barely contain his excitement at seeing his old friend again.

Skeet grabbed a piece of paper and a pencil and started making some notes on what time Pat and the guys were flying in as well as what time they were playing and some song ideas and a promise to take some time out to write and record together.

Skeet hung up the phone and filled Brian in on his plans.

“It’ll be great to see Pat again.  What’s it been?  A year?” Brian wondered out loud.

“At least!” Skeet said.  “Maybe two.  Man, B.  I can hardly wait.  This is gonna be a hell of a night.”  Skeet jumped up off the floor.  “I’m gonna go hit the bass.  I’m so excited I just gotta play for awhile!”

“Oh, the courier came while you were lounging on your pillow.”  Brian took every opportunity to give Skeet a little dig about his meditation.  “The final cut is heading for Dave’s office.  They should be there in a couple of hours.”

“Cool.  That means we should hear something from him in two years?  I don’t think my music really excites him.  Oh well.  Doesn’t excite me too much anymore, either.  Fans either, for that matter.”

“C’mon Skeet.  You’re the greatest, man.  And the new album is gonna put you over the top.  I just know it.”  Brian tried to inspire a little confidence but he knew that it was a futile effort.  Still, he believed in Skeet and wanted him to believe in himself.

“Well, we’ll see.”


Get Chapter 3 in pdf.

Posted By: Lans
Last Edit: 14 Aug 2009 @ 12:28 AM

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