Page 1 of All Right No
-1-
July 17thSpook’s Place, Sweden.
“We’re going to jam, right?”
Delight over the sheer possibility shot tingles through Ash’s tired limbs, providing him with a second wind of energy. So maybe this was actually his third or fourth wind of the day. It had been a long day. After three weeks more or less confined to a bed, the change of pace was taking its toll. There’d been scads of fans waiting for him as he left the hospital, all desperate to make certain he was okay, and all desperate for a minute of his time. He’d given them as many as he could, but talking to people was still massively draining, and there’d been a helicopter waiting to fly him south. Still, it was good to be back in his regular clothes instead of the hideous pinstriped granddad pyjamas his mum had sent him. He thought the guys might have coughed up for a pair of Danger Mouse PJs, or even just something touristy with trolls on it, but nada, and actually, after the first 72 hours of his extended stay, only Spook had even bothered to visit. Well, Spook and Ginny. There was no getting rid of her, thank heavens. Glancing around at Spook’s newly installed home recording studio, it was discomforting not to find her lurking in a corner, or curled up on one of the springy couches. He missed her presence now that she was no longer standing by his shoulder.
“Are you sure you’re up to playing?” Spook muttered, a frown tugging at his handsome mug.
“Course I am.” Ash wasn’t merely up for it. He needed it. Music was what had been achingly missing from his life over the last couple of weeks. His jailors—nurses—didn’t understand when he’d said he needed music. They thought he was asking them to turn on the radio, not that he desperately craved an outlet for what was roiling away inside of him. He and Iain had been friends a long time, and while as with any relationship they’d had their ups and downs, Ash had never anticipated being betrayed on such a grand scale. He still hadn’t quite wrapped his head around the fact Iain had damn near put him in the ground. Friends weren’t supposed to hurt you.
“I’m up for it,” Paul ‘Rock Giant’ Reed hollered from three feet away. “Someone pass me my bass.”
“Get it yourself, lazy butt.” Xane slapped him on the arse, as he moved past him to set up the mic stand.
Watching the guys plug stuff in and tune up brought back memories of their early days, before they had a road crew to do all the schlepping for them. He’d forgotten how much bonding they’d done while being their own roadies. How much it had grown their friendship and trust in one another. Maybe they needed to get back to being more hands on again to ensure the band’s future. He had only to glance around the room to see that things still weren’t as they ought to be. Elspeth was missing, and their new drummer, Luthor, was hiding his far too pretty face behind a curtain of blond hair as if he hoped they’d all forget he was here. To be fair, he had a right to be nervous considering how things had turned out with his two predecessors, one of whom had wound up dead, and the other banged up on attempted murder charges.
“Are you just going to stand there, or are you joining in?” Rock Giant slapped Ash across the back, knocking the breath right out of him. “It’s good to have you back. Let’s put this new guy through his paces.”
Luthor had already proved himself more than up to the task, so it was completely unnecessary to drill him, but as they’d only played the one stage gig together, it did make sense to get a proper feel for one another’s playing styles in a more forgiving environment.
Their fans were ace, but they could also be cruel and demanding sons of bitches.
“Is there something around for me to play?” Ash’s favourite Gibson Les Paul had bitten the dust when he’d fallen on it after his nosedive back in Karlstad, but Spook probably had a score of instruments sitting around.
“I think one of the crew picked up something,” Spook said, pointing to a case in the corner behind where Luthor was assembling his Hi-hat.
“Cool, anyone know what?” He wasn’t expecting anything awesome, just a decent off the rack model. He unclipped the case, and flung back the lid. “White!” It was a classic model, with decent humbuckers, and a nice weight to it, but… white. “Who thought this was a good colour? Did they forget who they were buying it for?” Black was his colour. Seriously, black anything and you wouldn’t go wrong. This was like the anti-goth guitar. “I look like I’ve just joined a Christian rock band.”
“Damn, did you not get the note about the change of direction,” Xane deadpanned. “We all saw the light after you took your dive.”
“The fuck you did.” Xane was an atheist to his core. Rock Giant was some kind of Anarcho-syndicalist Zoroastrian Buddhist, and Spook… Well, Spook probably worshipped trolls, or Odin, or Hel, or whoever.
“Mate, it was probably the only one in the shop,” Paul consoled him. “We’re in the arse end of nowhere, there aren’t many music stores.”
“You can internet shop for something new,” Spook added.
At least it was mostly in tune. Just needed a few little tweaks to get it the way he liked it. It’d do. He settled the strap comfortably over his shoulders.
Shit, that felt good. A spontaneous smile tugged his lips into a grin. He hadn’t felt this alive since the last time he’d had an instrument in his hands. He tried a couple of chords. Oh yeah! The vibrations flowed through his body, creating a welcome buzz. It hadn’t occurred to him just how essential music was to his well-being until it had been ripped away. Playing it, creating it, those things were as important to his survival as breathing. Speaking of which, he was getting a little out of breath from excitement. Three weeks in bed, and his fitness was shockingly poor. Ginny wasn’t going to be impressed with his stamina next time he got her under him. That was his priority, right after making some music with the guys. He hadn’t had the pleasure of licking his lady in far too long. Apparently that sort of behaviour was frowned upon while in the hospital.
Actually, he was still kind of amazed she hadn’t bailed on him the moment she realised how fucked up being spiked had left him.
“Hole,” someone proposed. It was a fan favourite and one of the band’s biggest hits, even if it wasn’t one of Ash’s personal faves. He’d always preferred the more complicated finger movements required for songs likeLilith Licked.Still,Holewould serve well as a warm up.
Chances were, he wasn’t the only one who’d been slacking off over the last few weeks. He was just the only one with a valid excuse.
For the first few bars, everything progressed perfectly. They hit all the tempo changes. There wasn’t a note out of place. It was as they approached the chorus that the trouble began. Switches that he should have been able to perform half-cut were beyond him. His fingers were sluggish to respond to what his brain was telling them to do. Ash frowned at each wrong note, until that frown became a full-on grimace, and he couldn’t pretend his ineptitude was simply a side-effect of inactivity. Everyone knew that if you didn’t use a muscle, it got a little flabby. Well, his muscles weren’t flabby; they’d headed off on a luxury cruise to Andromeda.
There’d been issues with his right hand ever since the incident, but they’d barely been a problem over the last week. He’d been doing a heap of physio, as well as working with a speech therapist over the little issue he’d been having with his words, but they’d discharged him. That meant he was fixed. None of this should be happening.
The band came to a deafening silence.
No one looked at him, even though they had to know he was the issue.
“What the fuck was that?” Rock Giant bellowed.
Ash winced, only for the big guy to march over to the drum kit and smash his palm against the top of Luthor’s snare.
