“Hi,” he said, flashing her a “Power” smile. “How much for a Dead Mice shirt?”
“Twenty bucks,” she replied without looking up from her cell.
“And a CD?”
“Ten,” she said, finally taking her eyes off the phone. “Shit! You’re him! Rob wasn’t joking!”
“Sh,” said Jake, not wanting to draw too much attention to himself. “I’ll take a shirt in an XL and a CD.”
“Sure. Thirty bucks,” she said, looking and sounding star struck.
Handing over the cash, Jake said, “Can you let Rob know Garrett and I are here? We’re standing over there.”
“He’ll be stoked that you came. He’s not stopped talking about you for the last two days.”
“Looking forward to their set,” said Jake with a smile. “Tell him I’ll buy him a beer later.”
“Sure,” said the girl, reaching for her phone.
Shortly after ten, Three Dead Mice stepped out onto the small stage to loud cheers and whistles from the crowd. With a smile, Jake noted that Rob was playing the black SG. He kept his eyes on the young musician, noting his playing style and vocal delivery. There was a surprising amount of talent in the youngster with a good balance of confidence without an ounce of arrogance.
“Kid’s got talent,” commented Garrett with a nod of approval. “I’m pleasantly surprised.”
“Kid’s got a lot of talent,” agreed Jake, before downing the remains of his beer.
While Garett headed back to the bar for more beers, Jake edged closer to the front of the venue. Three Dead Mice were playing the third song of their set and he soon found his head nodding in appreciation of their pounding hard rock.
“New York, how the hell are you tonight?” screamed Rob at the end of the song.
A loud cheer surged back at him.
“We’re living a fucking dream this week,” continued Rob, gazing straight towards where Jake was standing. “I owe a huge debt of gratitude to a great guy this week. He made one of my dreams come true. It’s an honour that he’s here tonight to see this second dream come true. We have sold this place out tonight! Our first ever sell-out show, folks!”
A thunderous roar rattled round the jam-packed venue.
“There is one more thing that would make this week absolutely fucking perfect,” began Rob, looking straight at Jake. “And that would be if the guy who helped me out with this guitar would step up here and join us.”
Returning at that moment with their beers, Garrett nudged Jake and said, “Well you heard the kid. Get up there. Make his week!”
With a grin, Jake made his way towards the stage. He had to squeeze his way through the Dead Mice fans in front of the stage but, when they realised who was in their midst, they moved aside for him. Eventually, he muscled his way to the front and hoisted himself up onto the small stage.
“Never let it be said that I stood in the way of someone’s dreams coming true,” joked Jake as he stood beside Rob.
“Wow! Just fucking wow!” gasped the younger musician, suddenly star-struck and lost for words.
“Folks, give it up for Three Dead Mice!” bellowed Jake. “Now, is this a rock show? What we playing up here, guys?”
The band’s only crew member handed Jake the spare guitar that the band had. He smiled as he slipped the strap of the beat-up Epiphone Les Paul over his shoulder.
“Who wants to hear a Silver Lake song?” asked Rob, regaining his composure.
Inclining his head towards him, Jake asked, “Any one in particular?”
“Engine Room?” suggested Rob with a nod to the band’s bass player and drummer.
Turning to the fans, Jake said, “Totally unrehearsed this is Engine Room!”
With a nod to the band around him, Jake began the pounding intro to the Silver Lake anthem. Either side of him, Rob and Three Dead Mice’s bass player kept up, following his lead. A glance and a nod from Rob were enough to communicate to Jake that he was to take the lead on the vocals. Conscious that he hadn’t warmed up, Jake initially held back a bit with his vocal but, by the end of the first verse, as he encouraged Rob to join in, he was in full flow.
Relishing being on stage with a musical icon, Three Dead Mice played their hearts out, nailing the complex Silver Lake song. Graciously, Jake stepped back and allowed Rob his time in the spotlight with the short but intricate mid-song solo. The two vocalists came together for the final verse and chorus, ending the song amid deafening cheers and whistles from the small but passionate crowd.
“Thank you,” said Jake with a grin. “Pleasure to be playing up here with these guys.”
“Who wants Jake to play one more?” roared Rob with a wink.
Judging by the crowd’s responding roar, the music fans wanted Jake to play on. Amid a frenzy of foot-stomping from the crowd, Jake said, “Ok. OK. One more.”
Turning to the members of Three Dead Mice, he said, “What’ll it be, boys?”
“Your choice,” replied the band’s bass player.
“You guys know Mysteries?” asked Jake hopefully.
Much to his relief, Rob nodded.
“OK, folks. Mysteries!” declared Jake to the audience then quietly as he turned towards Rob, “I’ll start, you take the next verse then trade verse about.”
“Got you,” nodded Rob as the band prepared to play.
Two more songs and twenty minutes later, Jake took off the borrowed guitar and calmly said to the audience, “You guys paid to hear Three Dead Mice so I’m going to jump off stage and grab a beer and enjoy the rest of the show. Give it up for Three Dead Mice, New York!”
With the cheers ringing
