Wicked Beat

Chapter 18

Waiting for the signal to go onstage, Eric stood behind his drum kit twirling his drumsticks. Rebekah’s soft, yet confident, voice filtered instructions through his earpiece and made him smile.

The woman was too good to be true. It was as if she’d been made especially for him. Things were almost too perfect. He kept waiting for a meteor to fall from the sky and pulverize him to ash. His life had been one train wreck after another. Something this wonderful had to end badly. And when it did, he knew it would destroy him.

“Eric. Eric? Eric!” His name echoed through his head. Rebekah was shouting into his earpiece to gain his attention.

Eric realized the lights had come up, the band was onstage, and he was supposed to be tapping out the intro to “Sever,” but he wasn’t even seated yet. Shit! Daydreaming on the job. Eric rushed to sit on his throne, aka small stool, and tapped a beat on his snare.

A spotlight hit the surface of the white baby grand piano. The piano reflected various colors—blue to red to yellow to green—in time with Jace’s playing. The rest of the band entered the song, and Sed roared that first note over the shouts of a chaotic crowd. Eric got sucked into his zone, letting the music, the beat, sweep him into a place where nothing existed but sound. Arms flailing, legs pumping, he put everything he had into the rhythm. He almost forgot he was supposed to sing the chorus until the time was upon him. While Sed roared, “Sever,” in increasingly loud and lengthy tones, Eric entered with his softer melody. He concentrated on his breathing, his arms and legs carrying the beat with little thought. He loved this song, but it was a bitch to sing live and play the drums simultaneously. Not enough air. By the time the first chorus ended, he was panting and trying to regain his breath. He hoped he’d sounded okay and not like an obscene phone caller. He was glad Rebekah decreased the volume on his mic when he wasn’t actually singing. She did it so it didn’t pick up the drums, but he was gasping for air, and his mic was sure to pick it up.

The playback in his ear suddenly sounded off to his drumming.

Eric stumbled over a beat as he slowed to match the track. Sed entered the song several beats off, while the three guitarists struggled to keep up with Eric’s attempts to regain control of the song.

“Marcus.” He heard Rebekah’s panicked voice in his ear.

“Marcus, the playback is off. Marcus!”

She was right. That was the problem. The band was hearing the echo of the stadium sound rather than what they were actually playing.

“You’re the one who programmed the damned song,” Marcus said. “It’s your fuckup, not mine.”

Sed stopped singing and lowered his microphone, glancing to the side of the stage where Marcus stood with his arms crossed over his chest. The band followed Sed’s cue and stopped playing with a discordant ring of notes. Eric went still, sweating and panting, wondering what the fuck was going on. They’d never had this problem before. Had Rebekah really fucked up? His first instinct was to speak in her defense, but he honestly didn’t know who was at fault.

“That’s bullshit, Marcus,” Rebekah said into the crew’s feed.

“You’re the monitor engineer. You’re supposed to control the playback to the band. It has nothing to do with my program. That’s to control what the crowd hears, not what the band hears. You don’t even use my program.”

“Excuse us, folks,” Sed said to the crowd. “Technical difficulties.

Bear with us until we get it straightened out.” His voice echoed through their feed a half-second later.

“Or you could bare with us,” Trey said, his voice also echoing strangely. Trey lifted the hem of his T-shirt and showed off his belly to a group of fangirls near the front of the stage.

Because of the echo in his earpiece, Eric could tell for sure then that this was a monitor engineer mistake. Rebekah didn’t have anything to do with the band’s feed from the amplifiers. That was Marcus’s job. Did he think they were too stupid to realize that?

“So explain the echo in my ear when Sed and Trey just spoke,” Rebekah said, her voice breathless with anger. “How can you blame that on my program, Marcus? They might not know how this works, but I do. You’re trying to make it look like your intentional error is my fault, so they’ll fire me.”

“Bullshit, little girl,” Marcus growled. “You’re paranoid.”

“This isn’t about us, you jerk. This is about the band, the music, and the ten thousand people who paid to be entertained,” Rebekah continued. “Get your self-important head out of your ass, and do your fucking job. If you have a problem with me, we’ll take it up after the show.”

“Damn, baby,” Eric said to himself, “I love it when you exert your authority. Makes me all hard.”

The crowd broke into raucous laughter. Sed turned and quirked an eyebrow. Eric’s face fell.

“Shit, I forgot I have a live mic,” Eric said.

The crowd laughed again.

“I see the problem,” Marcus said into the feed going through everyone’s earpieces. At least the crowd couldn’t hear him or Rebekah’s hot little tirade. Marcus’s voice was significantly more humble when he asked, “Do you want to start from the top?”

“They’ve got it fixed now,” Sed told the crowd.

Jace struggled to remove his bass and get back to the piano. Jon was beaming when he returned to the stage with his bass. He got to play twice tonight instead of just once.

“Whenever you’re ready,” Rebekah said into their feed. “‘Sever’ from the top.”

The rest of the show went over without a hitch. Afterward, Eric grabbed a bottle of water and waited for the crowd to clear out of the arena before going in search of Rebekah. She was probably still upset about what had happened at the beginning of the show, and he had the powerful need to comfort her. And then to dress her up like a naughty cop so she could exert her authority over him.

He finally found her backstage cringing beside Marcus. Sed had them both cornered and was in berate mode. Eric had suffered under Sed’s wrath more than once. It wasn’t fun.

When Rebekah tried to speak in her own defense, Sed raised a hand. “I don’t give a shit whose fault it is. This isn’t going to happen again. Do you understand?”

Rebekah bit her lip, struggling to maintain her composure.

“Don’t yell at her,” Eric said to Sed.

Sed glanced over his shoulder. “I’m not yelling.”

Eric lifted an eyebrow. “Sounds like yelling to me.”

“Touring is hard enough without a feud going on between my soundboard operators.”

“It won’t happen again,” Marcus said. “I found the problem and fixed it.”

“If the two of you break into an argument during a show again, you’re both fired. Capisce?” Sed continued.

Rebekah nodded sullenly.

Marcus flung his hands out, his palms at chest level facing the ceiling. “Sed, I’ve been with this crew for four years. You can’t—”

“Marcus, I wouldn’t care if you were my own father. You fuck up another Sinners’ show, by neglect or on purpose, you’re out of here. End of story. No argument. Out of here.”

“This is fucking bullshit.” Marcus glared at Rebekah before storming off.

“Way to defuse a bomb, Sed,” Eric said.

“Do you have a better idea?” he asked.

“Yeah, don’t drag Rebekah into this when you know she had nothing to do with it.” Eric wrapped an arm around her back and tugged her closer.

“Then Marcus would think I was singling him out, and he’d get even more pissed at her.”

Eric glanced at Rebekah, and she nodded in agreement.

“Sed’s right.”

Eric sighed loudly and shook his head. “Sed’s always right.”

Sed grinned like a shark. “Well, we’re all in agreement on that.”

“I’ve got to tear down the equipment,” Rebekah said, squirming out of Eric’s sweaty grasp.

“Will you dress up as a cop for me later?” he asked.

She glanced at Sed and flushed, then turned her gaze to Eric and said, “You have the right to remain silent.”

He chuckled. “I think I want to waive that right.”

“I know a great soon-to-be attorney,” Sed said. His fiancée Jessica was in her final year of law school.

“If Jessica wants to participate in our scenario, I would not object,” Eric quipped. It earned him a thump in the forehead from Sed.

Rebekah tilted her head back for a kiss, which Eric gave eagerly.

When they drew apart, she patted his butt before returning to work.

He watched her until she was out of sight and then turned to find Sed grinning.

“What?”

“Nothing. Just happy for you.” Sed clapped him on the shoulder and directed him toward the tour bus.

Eric was happy for himself as well. There was still one thing that continually ate away at him though. It was past time that he spilled his guts to Sed. Sure, Sed would be pissed for a while. He might even hit him, but it had to be better than this constant cloud of darkness hanging over his subconscious for almost three years.

“Sed?”

“Yeah?”

“Sed, there’s something I need to tell you about me and Jon.”

Sed’s head swiveled, and his eyes were the size of saucers. “You and Jon? No fucking way.”

It took Eric a few seconds to realize why Sed was so shocked.

“Ew. No, not that. Shit, where did that come from?”

Sed released a long breath through pursed lips. “Sorry. Now that I’m not getting it on with three or four different girls a night, I’ve been noticing Trey’s activities more. That guy will fuck anyone.”

Eric laughed. “You’re just now noticing that? He actually has excellent taste and a lot to choose from on both teams.”

They paused in the corridor that led to the stadium exit. “So now that my mind is out of the gutter, what were you actually trying to tell me?” Sed asked.

“Do you remember when the old bus broke down outside Phoenix and the cash that we kept in the lockbox for emergencies was sort of missing?”

“How can I fucking forget that? Jon used every penny we had to buy drugs. That was the last straw. We had no choice but to fire him.”

Eric winced. “Well…” Eric was starting to reconsider this confession. Maybe it was better to let Jon take the blame.

“Well, what?”

“There was this lady at a gas station near Tucson. She laid this sob story on me about running out of gas and having no food for her two little kids. They were in her van all sweaty and hot because it was frickin’ almost a hundred degrees that day. Crying that they were thirsty and hungry. So…” Eric sighed. “I didn’t have much cash on me. So I gave her the money out of our lockbox.”

“All of it?”

“Yeah. I figured she needed it more than we did. We were almost home. We had some great gigs lined up. I knew we’d make the money back in no time. And then the bus broke down, and we were stuck without a dime. I was going to tell you, but Jon said you were already pissed at him, a little more wouldn’t hurt. Next thing I knew, Jon was out of the band, and we were stuck without a tour bus. We had to cancel a bunch of shows. Lay off some of the crew. It kept snowballing from there.”

“Jessica dumped me.”

Eric winced. “Yeah.”

“At least, I thought that’s why she dumped me. Turned out it was really because I was a conceited ass, but at the time, I blamed Jon for wasting all our money, so I couldn’t pay her law school tuition.”

“I’m really sorry. If I’d have known, I wouldn’t have given that lady the whole five hundred dollars. I just felt bad for her, and her kids were so cute.” Eric peeked at Sed through one eye. “Did I mention they were hungry and thirsty?”

“You gave some stranger five hundred dollars?”

“Yeah, I know. She could have gotten gas and food and stuff for a lot less. I probably should have given her a hundred bucks or so.

I’m just…”

“A generous sucker. Yeah, I realize that.” Sed wiped a hand over his face. “There wasn’t five hundred dollars in that lockbox, Eric.

There was eight thousand.”

Eric stuck his finger in his ear and wiggled it around. “I don’t think I heard you right. I know there was only five hundred in there.

I took it. Emptied the whole thing.”

“Which was a fuckin’ bonehead move.” Sed slapped him in the arm. Not even hard enough to hurt. Shouldn’t he be more pissed?

Maybe it was because so much time had passed, and everything had turned out al right. Eventually. “Ever wonder why Jon was so willing to take the fall for you?”

“He was my best friend.”

Sed shook his head. “He didn’t want you to know that he’d spent seventy-five hundred dollars on his drug habit. He’d just gotten out of rehab, remember?”

Eric nodded.

“Remember what landed him there?”

“He took the band’s ATM card and cleared out the checking account to pay for one of his weekend benders.”

“And all of the crew’s paychecks bounced.”

“Yeah, that was a mess.”

“So I had to start paying everyone with cash.”

Eric glanced at Sed, trying to reconstruct past events with this new information. “He took all the payroll money?”

“Good morning, Eric. Glad you’re finally waking up.”

“So all this time, he’s been making me feel like shit to hide what he did and—”

“Keep you under his thumb.”

“That asshole!”

“I’ve been trying to make you see what he’s really like for years.

You’re so blind when it comes to those you care about. You’ve always been as faithful as an abused dog.”

It was true. Eric couldn’t deny it. He wasn’t sure he appreciated being compared to a dog, but he’d been called worse. “So why did you let Jon fill in for Jace? Why is he on tour with us now?”

“Because you wanted him to be.”

“Since when does anyone listen to me?”

Sed chuckled. “All the time, Eric. Where would Sinners be without you? Not where we are today, that’s for sure.”

Eric stared at him. What did he mean? Most of the time the other guys tolerated his eccentricities, but he was unquestionably the least celebrated member of this band.

“You’re the creative genius behind our music, Eric. That little bit of gray matter floating around in your skull is what makes us great. Always has been. Always will be.”

“So why do you always boss me around? And take charge?

And act like the leader of this band? And take all the credit for our success?”

“Do you think I like all of this responsibility?” Sed paused and grinned sheepishly, both dimples showing. “Okay, I do. But you’d hate it. Your heart’s too big, Eric. People would take advantage of you. You’d have to deal with a whole lot of logistical bullshit, and it would stifle your creative energy.”

Eric snarled. “Why are you always fucking right about everything? Do you know how annoying that is?”

“Nope.” Sed wrapped an arm around Eric’s shoulders and walked him toward the tour bus. “Do you feel better now that you got that big secret off your chest?”

“Sorta.” Eric sighed remorsefully. “So what do we do about Jon?”

“I’m going to leave that up to you.”

Oh sure, the one time Eric actually wanted Sed to be in command, he hands over the controls. When they passed one of the open dressing rooms backstage, Eric caught sight of Jon sniffing something off the side of his hand. Jon’s eyelids fluttered as he held one nostril shut and then he covertly handed something to one of their temporary roadies. Very temporary. Sed shook his head in disgust and followed the guy back to the stage area where he was supposed to help with teardown. Eric was glad he didn’t have to fire him. He hated to admit it, but Sed did make a better bandleader than he ever would.

Jon spotted Eric standing in the doorway. He beamed a bright smile and hurried over to Eric. “I have this great idea on how to prank Sed,” Jon said. “We can tie a stuffed rat to a string and hide it inside the refrigerator. When Sed opens it to get a beer, the rat will fly out and scare the piss out of him. What do you think? It will work. I know it will. We just have to make sure he’s the one who opens the refrigerator.”

Eric had really wanted to wait to collect his thoughts before he confronted Jon. But if he did that, Eric knew he’d start to feel sorry for Jon and make excuses for him again. Enable him. “I know about the lockbox.”

“I didn’t take anything,” Jon said nervously. “I don’t even know the new combination.”

Eric shook his head. “But you tried, didn’t you?”

“Prove it.”

Dealing with this guy made Eric tired. He knew his life would be a whole lot easier without Jon in it. “I wasn’t talking about the current lockbox. I was talking about the old one. The one I supposedly emptied out, and you claimed to take the fall for me. The incident you’ve been holding over my head for years. Ringing any bells?”

“I did take the fall for you.”

“Sed told me that there was eight thousand dollars in there, not five hundred. You took the rest of that money for what? For drugs?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Jon said. “I didn’t take any money out of the lockbox.”

Eric hesitated. “You didn’t?”

“No. You should get your facts straight before you start accusing people of things.”

Jon shook his head and stormed away, his hands shoved deep in the pockets of his jeans.

Eric watched Jon stalk off down the corridor. Maybe Jon hadn’t taken the money. Maybe Sed was wrong.

Or maybe Jon was lying.

“Fuck my life,” Eric muttered under his breath.