Page 30 of Songbird: Black Kite
Hawk
Nine Years Ago
“Hello?”
“Yeah,” I said into the phone, staring out the window as the city of Omaha sped by. “Is this Jeff Travers?”
“Who’s asking?” came the suspicious voice down the line.
“The Jeff Travers who sings forSavage Donkey?” I cringed just saying it out loud. It was a stupid name, but it wasn’t the worst one I’d ever heard, so there was that.
“Yeah. What’s up, man?” he sounded tired, and the noises coming from down the line suggested he was working somewhere loud, like a warehouse or a machine shop.
“Listen, Jeff. This is Hawk Jameson ofBlack Kite. We’re doing a show in town tonight and we’ve run into a bit of a snag. I was hoping you and your boys could come down and help us out by opening the show for us. Really warm up the crowd and shit, you know?”
I could hear him breathing, the noise around him not enough to drown out his heavy breaths, but he didn’t speak for a full minute.
“Very funny, Leroy,” he said, forcing a laugh. “You don’t even sound like Hawk. Quit being a dick, or I’ll tell your girl about that stripper who gave you a lap dance last summer.”
I choked out a laugh of my own.
“I don’t know anyone named Leroy, Jeff, and I can assure you, I am Hawk. I’ll prove it to you any way you want.”
“Whatever, Leroy. Play the long con. How the hell would Hawk Jameson even get my number?”
“I reached out to the owner ofDevolve Bar. He had it from your show there two months ago.” Jeff was quiet, and I could practically hear him thinking, trying to convince himself that this was real while also not allowing himself to get his hopes up. “I know this is sudden, and I get if you’re unavailable, but I could really use a hand tonight, Jeff. You’ll have a thirty-minute slot to open, but only if you can get your guys and be at the venue in”—I pulled the phone away from my ear, checking the time— “less than ninety minutes. Can you guys make that happen?”
“Wait a fucking minute,” he breathed, and I smiled. “This is really Hawk Jameson? Like, for real, for real?”
“Yeah, my man. It’s me.”
The shout that came down the line was insane, and I hoped he wasn’t going to trash his throat before he even hit the stage. I gave him his moment, though, remembering how great it had felt the first time we had gotten a shot.
Fuck, what I wouldn’t give to have some of those feelings back again. Now, everything just felt tired, worn out, and repetitive.
I hated how much I hated this life I’d been lucky enough to have been given, especially when I knew guys like Jeff would have given their left nut to be where I was.
I was such a sorry fuck.
When Jeff came back on the line, he babbled a bunch of thanks, telling me how much he loved our music and what an honor it was to have the opportunity.
I let him talk, then gave him directions to the venue and where to meet me.
Just over an hour later, Jeff was there, guitar slung over his back and a wide-eyed look on his face as he and the rest of his band followed me and Charlie around backstage.
“You guys can drop your stuff here,” I said, pointing to the empty greenroom that used to belong to our previous opening act. They had been with us for the first dozen shows on this tour, but out of fucking nowhere today, the band had some sort of meltdown, and the lead singer had packed his shit and stormed off, leaving the rest of his crew in a fucking lurch.
Pussy. That was no way to treat your friends. Of course, you were gonna have issues, disagreements and fights and maybe even throw hands once or twice.
But you worked that shit out; you didn’t quit and throw away a lifetime of effort just because you got your fuckin’ panties in a bunch.
“Whoa.” The guys let out a chorus of appreciative noises, fawning over the tiny room like it was the Ritz Carlton or some shit.
“You don’t have a ton of time, so warm up or whatever. We did sound check earlier, so if you can work with our settings, we’ll just stick with those. Our crew is pretty fuckin’ awesome, so they’ll cover you where you need it.” I pointed to the drummer, a kid with long hair and the remnants of his teenage acne still dusting his cheeks. “I know you didn’t get to bring your own rig, but Gavin said he’s happy to let you use his secondary kit. The crew is setting it up now.”
They looked at me, faces displaying shock and awe and just a little bit of fear.
Okay. More than a little.
