Page 68 of All Right No
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Ash couldn’t recall the last time he’d felt this nervous. Maybe the day he met his adoptive parents. Nah, his guts had never chewed themselves into knots like these, not even right before his degree finals.
When they reached the studio, he drew out unfolding the staff paper and lyrics sheet and separating them from one another in order to place them on the music stand for so long that Xane started grinning at him and shaking his head.
“You didn’t miss out on anything, while we were away.”
“Is that right?”
“Australia’s a bloody long way to go for an interview. Paul and Spook didn’t even get a look in. They got introduced and that was it. The rest was all trash talk about the line-up changes. Willows, my relationship—” He drew air commas. “—with Steve and Elspeth, and how they both left the band. Honestly, the way the interviewer talked, you’d think Steve planned to check out on us, yet no one has gathered that was Elspeth’s actual exit strategy.”
Thank God slitting her wrists hadn’t actually worked. Ash might not have been her biggest fan, but she wasn’t nearly high enough on his shit list to want her dead. Iain Willows on the other hand… That two faced bastard had come close to destroying him. He’d gladly tie him a noose, or load him a pistol.
“What is the official line then, re: Elspeth?” he asked, seizing the opportunity to delay his performance a bit longer. His limbs were quaking so much, he had to hang onto one of the stools for support.
Xane scratched his head. “She’s taking a break. Plenty of bands shake up their line-up every six to eighteen months. I guess we left it open.”
“As long as we’re not actually contemplating welcoming her back. I’m up to here with drama.” Ash raised his hand to his eyebrow. It only shook a little.
Xane made a disgusted face that twisted his lips into a scowl. “Not happening. I’m not sure Paul would even get behind that idea at this stage. She’s barking, from what he’s said about his visits. Look, are you set, or what, ’cause I’m dead on my feet after that flight. Soon as I’ve heard this masterpiece, I’m hitting the sack.”
Bile welled up Ash’s throat, leaving an acrid taste in his mouth. It wasn’t a masterpiece, and he was half tempted to send Xane to bed now without hearing it. Except, he wasn’t a chicken. “We need a guitar.”
Xane fetched Ash’s new Les Paul.
“You realise I’m still rusty as fuck,” Ash warned. He flexed his fingers a couple of times to ensure he got his point across. Although he wasn’t suffering any cramps at the moment, the last nerve flare-ups in his arm were still recent enough for him to expect it to happen at any point. Also, playing this was a major step up from teaching Ginny the intro to Smoke on the Water.
Xane settled himself on the sofa, while Ash perched on the stool he’d been hanging on to, only to change his mind and stand. He always performed standing, guitar low in what Ginny described as his Mr. Tickle pose.
All right, enough delaying. “It’s calledLockdown.”
He played the opening notes, stopped, then began again.
“You know I can’t sing.”
Xane raised his hands and lifted his chin so that his gaze was towards the ceiling. His mouth opened around a groan. “Ash, just play the fucking thing. I don’t care if you screech like a cat. Trust me to be able to see past that. Come on, just give me it.”
That was his cue to stop farting about. Ash rubbed the lucky stocking he had in his pocket. Yes, he was a sad bastard, and he’d stolen one. Then he went for it. His voice was about as pleasing as listening to someone gargle gravel, but he lost himself in the emotion of what he was saying. Allowed the frustrations that had weighed him down for months to flow. Not once did he look at Xane, but kept his focus firmly on the strings. And at least his fingers cooperated and saw him through to the end.
He got a single clap at the end. That was it. He raised his head, convinced he was going to find Xane all pursed lipped and chewing over methods of being tactful. Instead, he discovered Xane was already out of his seat and hurrying towards him. His friend snatched the score off the stand and peered at it like a myopic professor.
“You wrote this?”
“Just say so if you think it’s shit.”
A laugh burst from Xane’s throat. “It’s fucking awesome, dipshit!” He fanned the pages in front of Ash’s face. “We need to get Spook over here to listen to this. Do you have rhythm and drums written, to go with the melody?”
“I’ve not really had practice with those things.”
“But you can hear them, right?” Xane tapped his fingers against the side of Ash’s head. “Please tell me you can.”
“I’m… Yeah.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I guess.”
Xane pounded him across the back. “It’s good, Ash. Better than that. It’s bloody brilliant. I love…love that second verse. By God, they’re not easy lyrics, but you’ve nailed the emotions.” He kept hitting his palm against his fist to emphasise his point. “All the feels are there, the angst, the heartbreak. All with such dynamic precision.”
Ash scratched at his neck again, as he gave way to a goofy grin. “I have no idea what you’re saying.” But, whatever it was, sounded very much like approval.
“A shit load of bollocks probably, but this,” Xane replied. He tightened his grip on the score again. “This is good and needs to be heard.” He passed the pages back to Ash. “Stay here. I’m going to get Spook. I’ll be right back as soon as I’ve dragged his sleepy arse out of bed. You, make copies.”
