Page 106 of Rock Out Together
An hour after the infusion,sweat oozed from every pore and I stared bleary eyed while I strutted across the stage. Like a machine, I pushed past the scratchy notes that my tired vocal cords could still reach, while Kit Masterson, my band’s drummer, did everything possible in his power to cover the notes I could barely reach by drowning them out.
No one on my team could accuse me of not doing my best when I sang my heart out in honor of the fans who had traveled and paid good, hard-earned money to come to see me perform. “Want me to jump in and sing this next one with you? Maybe strip it back to an acoustic number… maybe do that slower, lower version we did in the remix back at your house?” Davy asked. The look of concern in his eyes warned me that I was nearing my limit.
The ‘next one’ in question was a high ranging, rockpower ballad. Given how much I’d struggled with a couple of other songs in the set, we both knew that the next number would be a bridge too far with my sore, swollen tonsils. “Perfect,” I muttered, nodding back.
I stared out at the crowd, and if they’d thought I wasn’t at my best, they never let on because they were still as rowdy as ever. Taking to the mic, I held up a hand and silence fell in the arena.
“You guys are the best,” I muttered into the mic. An instant roar filled the space, which had an instant dual effect on me. It warmed my heart, but it also filled me with disappointment that they weren’t experiencing the best of me. “Davy here and I were messing around the other day,” I said, pulling my lead guitarist beside me. “And we’d like to share a stripped back acoustic remix of one of our most famous songs. Would you guys like to hear it?”
The huge roar of support that came from the audience reminded me how diehard my followers were, and when I scanned the happy, smiling faces, all hanging on every word I said, my chest squeezed with emotion that they had willingly trusted me to bring a new slant to a song that they’d likely been waiting to hear.
When I say my followers, it’s because it wasn’t my band who were famous by name, it was just me… Harry Carluke. Sometimes, I envied my band’s anonymity because they got to do what they loved, earned a great living, traveled the world, and had all the perks of being part of a rock n’ roll band without having to pay the price of doing ordinary things.
When they weren’t with me, they moved around mostly unnoticed. So, in short—to my fans they were my band. But to me, the guys that supported the work that I did were priceless. A small circle of trusted buddies who I knew would have my back no matter what.
“She should have cancelled. I can see how hard you’re trying tonight, but you shouldn’t have had to be here,” Davy muttered. He handed me my acoustic guitar, clearly annoyed that Klarissa had pushed me into performing while I was so sick.
“Nah, she’s right, look at them. I’d have hated to disappoint them, especially since it’s the last night of the tour. I just need to get through this, then I’ll be able get out of here and take care of myself.” Barny, our bass guitarist, grabbed a stool from the wings and set it in front of me. “Thanks,” I said as I slid my ass onto the seat.
“Alright, guys, here we go, I hope you like it. Another eruption of cheers rang around the auditorium before I’d even struck a note, but once I’d played the intro to “Will I Be The One Loving You Tonight” a song I’d written about not having someone to share my life with, the fans went ballistic.
Davy sang his heart out, again taking the notes he instinctively thought might be too punishing on my throat, and by the second verse, the audience sang along so well that we only accompanied with the music for the song.
When the last note rang out, I stood, held the guitar above my head, and let the note of the tune die in the air. Davy and I were rewarded with a roar of gratitude that rangthrough the venue which told us Davy had made the right call.
I smiled at my loyal friend. “Thanks, Davy,” I said, patting his back. I turned and as we walked back to our spots on the floor to start the last song, my head suddenly began to swim. Somehow, I managed to blindly stagger into the wings before I hit the floor and the last thing I remembered was Davy asking Klarissa, “Happy now?”
three
. . .
“Harry, can you hear me?”The voice calling me had a strange accent… and a peculiar echo that made her sound like she was in a tunnel or something. I tried to concentrate but brain fog and tiredness began to pull me under again. Someone gave me a rough shove, then shook both sides of my body near my shoulders. “Can you open your eyes for me, Harry?” a soft female, Scottish accent asked. The voice sounded gentle and comforting and I felt myself smile until I heard a ringing noise in my ear and an annoying machine alarmed somewhere in the distance.
“Jesus Christ, is he still unconscious?” My heart sped up at the sound of a voice I recognized. No one could have accused Klarissa Stark of having a soothing voice when nails on a chalkboard was more apt. “Do something,” she ordered.
“Do something? The guy’s in here because you pushed him too far. This is on you and your money-grabbing nature.We all knew he was struggling during these past two days. He should have been ordered to rest then. And now look… he’s in the fucking hospital.”
“He made it to the end of the tour, didn’t he?” she muttered, sounding smug.
“No thanks to you. If you were my manager, I’d ditch you,” Davy argued. I’d never heard the guy sound so emotional.
“And I’ll remind you that Harry’s the talent. Any more of your lip and you’ll be replaced.”
“Yeah? And you think getting rid of me is gonna fly with Harry? If I were him, it would be a new manager I’d be chasing.”
“Look! You two need to get a handle on things and take this outside. Bickering isn’t going to bring Harry round. And the last thing he needs is a stressful or hostile environment once he does wake up,” the once soft Scottish lilt I’d first heard had all but gone, and in its place was an aggressive, don’t fuck with me Scottish tone that would have made anyone sit up and take notice.
“Do you know what’s wrong with him?” Klarissa asked, ignoring the Scottish female.
“We have an idea, but that’ll be discussed with Harry. It’ll be up to him if he chooses to discuss it with you,” the Scottish woman replied. “Now if you’d move back into the waiting area, the doctor should be here any minute, and then he can begin to treat your rock star.”
My eyes blinked rapidly, slowly opened and quickly closed again. I winced at how bright the room was. “Ah, soyou’ve decided to join us,” the Scottish voice I’d heard before muttered, sounding a little amused but mostly relieved.
“I had to see who the sassy Scottish woman was, that saw off my tyrannical manager.” I was disappointed when I addressed her back since she wasn’t facing me, busying hanging an intravenous infusion bag and feeding the clear tube through a machine. Dressed in flower print scrubs she looked shapeless from the back, and apart from a thick blonde ponytail, I couldn’t see much else.
“Who? That witch?” she asked with a note of distain in her tone. “She’s your manager? Big star like you? Surely you could afford someone better. It’s none of my business, but if I were you, I’d toss that one to the curb. Not once in the past ten minutes since you came in, has she shown any real concern about you. She even threatened the lad that came in with you that he’s replaceable.”
“I heard,” I muttered, “Davy’s going nowhere.” I tried to sit up, but the room began to swim. “Bowl, quick,” I blurted the second I realized the nausea I felt was about to turn into a spray of vomit.
