Smolder (The Road to Rocktoberfest 2024)

21. Chapter Twenty-one

Chapter Twenty-one

Skyler

River strummed a D-major, C-major, G-major, and then an F-major7 chord, and the crowd quickly quieted. All eyes were on the band. Goldie stood in front of the mic, unmoving and, worst of all, not singing. My biggest worry was happening in slow motion.

River glanced over his shoulder at me, and I held up my index and middle fingers for him to play the chords again, so he did, and then Arlo began playing the intro on the piano as we’d worked it out before I started a soft cymbal swell on the left crash. Thankfully, Goldie snapped out of it and began to sing in his chest voice, not mimicking Jon Bon Jovi but not losing the song’s familiar melody.

We picked up the pace when we got to the verse…and we were off. Accidental Fire was playing their first professional gig, though they weren’t getting paid. Nevertheless, I knew they would remember it for the rest of their lives.

Was using such a famous Bon Jovi song a little arrogant for their first performance? The four of them had gone round and round about it until finally, River had held up his hand. “Look, if we play it well and don’t stray too far from the original melody, I think it shows confidence. Let’s not have anyone introduce us when we take the stage. We’ll sing the first song, then one of us can introduce the rest when—or if—the applause dies down.”

I’d wanted to laugh, but I hadn’t. They needed to work out who would be the leader of their band because it wouldn’t be me. I had a life I wanted to get back to, and unlike my father, I had no desire to live that hard-partying lifestyle. Someone needed to take the helm, which was a detail they needed to figure out for themselves.

After changing the set list five times, a leader had finally surfaced. Arlo had held up his hand one night during rehearsal and said, “Let’s start with Bon Jovi because it’s not too gritty for Goldie, and then we can rock out on ‘Mr. Brightside.’ We’ll end with ‘Bury Me.’ How’s that sound?”

As the last guitar note faded on the breeze, I rolled the cymbal and then quieted it. The audience had grown to a few hundred people, which was surprising, and when they began clapping, Goldie looked back at his bandmates, a huge grin overtaking his face. It was a golden moment.

Arlo stood from the piano bench and moved his mic stand up. “Good afternoon! We’re Accidental Fire! We’d love to play another one for you!”

The crowd hooted and hollered, which was a real thrill, and we moved on from there. We played the set list, and when it came time to start ‘Bury Me,’ I turned to the left to see Sandy with a big grin as he clapped. I winked at him, and he blew me a kiss.

Arlo stood and stepped from behind the piano. “Ladies and gentlemen, let me introduce you to the band. On vocals, Goldie Robbins.” The crowd applauded.

“On lead guitar and vocals, River Ashe.” More applause.

“On bass and vocals, JD Horn. I’m Arlo Timmons on piano, and our special guest drummer is Skyler Ashe. We’re Accidental Fire!” The crowd clapped and cheered.

I didn’t wait for the noise to die down. “One, two, three, four.” I smacked my sticks together to tap out the beat and came down on the crash cymbals as River played a great variation on the intro he’d been practicing. It was even better than he’d played it before.

The kid was confident and even a little cocky, which boosted the music to a new level. That was exactly what River needed to step out of his shell—and out of Regal’s shadow.

People took to the grass in front of the stage, dancing. It was a beautiful moment, and when the song ended, they stopped and clapped. I stepped off the riser and made my way to the front of the stage, where the guys stood, taking River’s and JD’s hands. They followed my lead, and we all held up our hands in solidarity and bowed together.

It was a day I’d remember for the rest of my life, more because I saw the smiles on the faces of the band and how much they were enjoying the attention. I could see they had the showbiz bug. They wanted to live a life I didn’t, but I’d still support them—from afar—as much as I could.

A few people waited for us to come off the stage before they circled around us, wanting autographs and selfies. A few young women wore white T-shirts the guys eagerly signed. Unlike my brother and his friends, I refused to sign the front, so I signed the sleeves or the back. A few folks had paper, which we were happy to sign, and we took pictures until people stopped asking.

It was fun, but it only confirmed that it wasn’t up my alley. By the time I got to Sandy, he was grinning from ear to ear.

“Well, what did you think?” I had a funny feeling in the pit of my stomach that I hadn’t expected. Whether I liked it or not, Sandy’s opinion meant a lot to me.

Sandy wrapped his strong arms around me and hugged me tightly. “You done good, teach.”

That was the best compliment of the day right there. It warmed me inside to see his sincere smile and feel his lips touch my forehead. I wondered how we could create a relationship when we lived so far apart.

We decided to walk around the festival grounds and grab a bite to eat before we started for Vegas. I really wasn’t surprised when I noticed River, JD, Goldie, and Arlo had picked up a few groupies, who followed them as though they had bacon in their pockets.

Sandy and I discreetly laughed as we kept an eye on them. They would totally fall in love with groupies who hung on their every word, so I made a mental note to give them a little pep talk about being safe, both emotionally and physically.

I hoped to have Dusty talk to them about his experiences touring because he’d already gone down that road and was more than familiar with what they would be facing. There would be pitfalls to avoid—and Regal’s terrible life choices should be a cautionary tale for everyone.

After we ate and the guys said goodbye to the girls and one really cute young guy who had been in the group, we headed toward the Yukon and the van to load our equipment. Marsh had hired one of the guys who worked at the resort to watch the equipment while we ate, and I could have sworn Marsh slipped the guy a business card when they said goodbye.

We loaded the equipment, including my old drum kit, and I headed to one of the portable toilets situated around the venue because I’d drank a gallon of water to quench my thirst after playing in the afternoon sun.

I came out and headed straight to the large trough with soap and water to wash my hands. After rinsing, I splashed water on my face to try to rid myself of the salty grime from sweating during the performance.

The top of my hair was long enough that I’d pulled it back in the smallest ponytail known to man. It probably looked stupid, but it was out of my face, which was all I cared about when I did it.

“Hey there. You guys rocked the crowd.”

I turned to see a man in a vintage Rolling Stones tongue T-shirt and well-worn jeans. He had dark hair that was artfully slicked back, a scruffy chin, and aviator sunglasses.

“Sorry, I’m hogging the water, man. Thanks.” I stepped out of his way, thinking he wanted to wash his hands.

“No, uh, have you guys been playing together very long? You sounded great together. You have a great voice, as well as skills behind the kit.”

I was a bit stunned, but I grinned anyway. “Um, thanks. I appreciate the compliment. I’m not a professional drummer or singer. I’m a band teacher. I’m just sitting in with my brother’s band until they can find a permanent drummer.”

The guy took off the sunglasses and slid the earpiece into the collar of his shirt. “I’m Michael Cruz. I’m working as a talent booker for Masterson Management, the promoters of Rocktoberfest 2024, and you guys could tear up a stage, I’m sure. Do you have an agent?”

“Yes, they do! I’m Marshall Kensington with CEA in Los Angeles. You are?”

Marsh stepped forward and extended his hand so the guy politely shook it. “Michael Cruz. I’m booking bands for Rocktoberfest in Black Rock. I’d like to submit your band for a spot on one of the side stages. Up-and-coming bands are my specialty, and I think you guys have a great sound. I love what they did with the songs, but I’m guessing they don’t have original music yet. That From the Ashes song was fantastic. Your take on it was magnificent.”

I was speechless. I didn’t know this guy or who Masterson Management was, but even I had heard of Rocktoberfest. The expression on Marshall’s face was one of awe. Being cloistered in my little world in West Peoria had left me unprepared for something of this magnitude. Playing Rocktoberfest?

“Accidental Fire playing Rocktoberfest?” Marsh’s eyebrows were in his hairline.

“Masterson Management has taken over sponsorship and promotion of the festival. They have their headliners mostly settled, but they hired me to look for new bands who deserve a shot. I like your guys, Marshall. I’d like to send a sample to Easton Masterson for his consideration to play the festival if you have one.”

Marshall turned to look at me, and I smirked in return. “I’m not in the band, Marsh. You need to talk to them about this.”

“Wait… You’re not going to play with the band if they’re invited to Rocktoberfest?” Mr. Cruz studied me, his eyes as big as saucers. “Are you sure?” He raised an eyebrow in what I perceived as a challenge.

“Like I said, I’m filling in until they get a permanent drummer, and then I go back to my job that I love very much. Trust me, those guys are very talented. They’ll find the perfect drummer, and I know they’ll go places. I’m just a music teacher who happens to play the drums.”

I wanted to distance myself from the discussion because I didn’t want to get roped into playing with both bands for any reason—as I had been roped into service when I rewrote ‘Bury Me.’ I wouldn’t let guilt work a second time.

Marsh, however, was not to be deterred. “Sky, here, is actually Regal Ashe’s son. As is River.” He pointed to Riv, who waved and returned to talking to the cute young guy who’d been following us around with the gaggle of groupies.

“Man! No wonder you were able to make that song sound so damn impressive. Now that I look at you, I can see the resemblance. How’s your father doing? I saw in a trade rag that he’d had a heart attack. Is he gonna be okay?”

Mr. Cruz’s attention was on me, but Marsh was a true agent. “Actually, From the Ashes will be doing a mini-tour in Cali this summer. Skyler is going to play with them, and Accidental Fire will be their opening act.”

“We will?” River asked as he stepped up next to me. Marsh shot him a look that should have killed its target, so Riv stepped behind me, the coward.

“We’ll need a little time to consider the offer if that’s okay,” I responded since Marsh was too busy staring at the guy’s handsome face. Someone had to speak up. River wasn’t saying a word because he was a teenager and wasn’t sure of anything.

“Oh, of course. The festival is in October, as I’m sure you know. I need to speak with Easton as well, so I won’t make any promises, but I’m very interested. Let’s stay in touch, shall we?” Michael produced a business card, directing it toward me. Marsh snatched it out of his grasp before I could blink.

“Will do. Nice to meet you, Michael. Enjoy the rest of your day.” Marshall then ushered us to the Yukon and the van.

Sandy was already behind the wheel with the air-conditioning blasting. He turned to me as I got into the front passenger seat. “What took so long? Who was that guy?”

I noticed he’d repositioned the Yukon’s passenger-side mirror so he could see where we’d been standing as we talked with Mr. Cruz. That’s interesting.

“He’s a talent scout for a big festival in Nevada later in the year, and he’s interested in the guys playing on one of the stages. I told him they needed a few days.” I buckled my seatbelt and waited for the others to join us.

“Did he ask you out? Is he your type?”

The slight tremor in Sandy’s voice told me he wasn’t as sure of himself as he wanted me to believe. I wanted to tell him I loved him, but something held me back. I wasn’t sure why, but something told me to wait.

“No. He didn’t ask me out. He gave his card to your brother. He only talked about business with me.” It wasn’t a lie.

“A guy like that interest you?”

I didn’t know how to answer him. I mean, the guy was hot, but I wasn’t that damn easy. “I’m not looking, but if I met him in a bar, I might consider letting him buy me a drink.”

After that, there was no more talking between us during the drive from Lee Canyon to The Strip. We pulled into the driveway of the Intercontinental Resort and Casino. It was a beautiful property—nothing I’d ever seen before because I didn’t have the money to go to Vegas, nor did I have anyone to go with.

As we drove past massive resorts and casinos, there were hordes of people walking on both sides of Las Vegas Boulevard, and everyone appeared to be having a lot of fun. When I glanced to my left, I could see Sandy Kensington was an exception to the excitement running through the pedestrians we passed.