The next day came all too soon. Heart pounding, Scarlett tuned one of her twelve-string guitars, trying to lose herself in the task like she usually did. This was her dream come true! If she just didn’t blow it. For all her bravado, she was very nervous. Arsen had taught her how to play guitar. Then she’d taught him how to write music. She’d wanted to play with them -- on or off stage, it didn’t matter -- since she’d started touring with the band back when she was just a star-struck teen. More than that, she wanted Seth. Like, for her own.
Scarlett wasn’t under any illusion she’d actually get him, but a girl could wish. The man had women hanging all over him. Definitely not relationship material. Between Seth and her brother, the rest of the band was shit out of luck. OK, that wasn’t exactly true either -- they all had women at their beck and call. She wasn’t going to be one of the groupies. No matter how much she wanted Seth, she absolutely would not be anyone’s “beck-and-call” girl.
“You know, there are devices you can use that will make tuning a twelve-string guitar much easier. And more accurate.” Seth leaned his hip against the doorframe lazily while Scarlett continued to work. “Ever hear of the G-Force Tuning System? Or Gibson Min-ETune? Doing it by ear isn’t going to work. Not if you don’t want it to sound like fucking shit.” There was a scowl on his face. One that said he hated dealing with amateurs. Which just pissed her off. So she ignored him, continuing her task. When he realized she wasn’t going to answer him, he said, “I can see this isn’t going to work. Arsen is just going to have to suck it up for one more concert.”
Instead of rising to his bait, Scarlett gave the guitar a chord progression, adjusting a couple of things, then strummed once more. She reached for a nearby tuning fork, struck it gently on the nearby table, and tested her “A” string once more. She didn’t need the tuning fork; she had perfect pitch. It was all to show Seth he was about to get more than he’d bargained for. Once more, for her own benefit, she ran through the chord progression.
“Sounds just about perfect,” she mused, not looking up.
“Not quite,” Seth challenged. “I’ve been listening to a twelve-string guitar my whole life, and yours doesn’t sound like it should. Can’t put my finger on it but…”
She gave him an “embarrassed-for-you” look before explaining like she might to a child. “That’s because I custom-tune my twelve-string. I don’t always use a standard tuning. It will make the songs I wrote sound like they were supposed to sound in the first place.”
“When Arsen brought them to the band, he made them his songs. SnowFyer’s songs. The crowd expects them to sound a certain way. You’re going to make a mess of things.”
“Arsen and I agree on most things, but he plays his guitar his own way. I play my guitar my way. Some songs I’ll play his way, others I’ll do differently. Arsen is a great guitarist. He taught me everything he knew in the beginning. But, if you ask him, he’ll tell you I learned a few things he wasn’t interested in. SnowFyer has a certain sound, and he’s a big part of that.” She gave him a smug grin. “I, however, am not Arsen. But I can play every song, every single riff the exact same way he does, if the band wants me to.”
“Of course we want that! Are you crazy or just stupid?” Seth looked absolutely livid. Scarlett was headed that way herself, but she couldn’t afford a show of temper. Yet. She was right, and she knew it. She just had to make it through one rehearsal session with the entire band -- Arsen included -- and let them see the error of Seth’s thinking.
She smiled sweetly. “Only when I put up with bullshit from a fucking vocalist trying to tell me how to play my guitar.” When he opened his mouth to speak, she held up her hand. “Tell it to me after rehearsal, mic boy.” There was no anger in her voice, though her words were more than a little bitchy. Instead, she rose gracefully and left the room. Scarlett acted cool and collected, but her heart was pounding. If it hadn’t been for how much she wanted this to work, she’d have smashed her guitar over his handsome head. Instead, she strummed the strings for comfort as she made her way to the stage.
The band sometimes liked to have an hour’s rehearsal in the main venue before sound checks the next day. Scarlett even had it written into the contract, so they could do it as late in the evening as necessary in order to be alone. This was also the best way to reveal Scarlett’s unique sound to everyone. If it was too much of a change, they would tell her and she could, indeed, mimic Arsen’s style. Arsen, of course, already knew and had encouraged her to use her own unique flair. It would definitely work on the songs she’d written for the band. On other songs, she’d use the standard tuning for her double-neck six- and twelve-strings. If this went according to plan, she’d have five guitars set up for the concert, which included her backups and guitars with alternate tunings so she didn’t have to tune on the fly. Not as many as Jimmy Page, but she wasn’t that good. Yet.
Scarlett took her time getting to the stage, needing to compose herself. She had the support of her brother and Ferris. The band would go along with whatever they said -- he and Ferris were the guitar experts -- but if Seth didn’t like it, no matter how much Ferris and Arsen berated him, she would be a no go. Because once she’d committed to doing this her way, there was no way in hell she’d alter her mindset or her belief in the music in order to please a man too stubborn to see her as an equal. And that was what it all came down to. Sure, there were a few women out there who made it into the mostly male club of hard-rocking guitar players, but they were few and far between. This was a man’s world. One they only let women into grudgingly.
“I’m telling you, let her work, Seth.” That was Arsen, ever the peacemaker. Not only that, but this had been his idea. He’d told her to do it her own way and only compromise on the songs she hadn’t written. Even some of those, he’d told her to do her own thing, because if she sounded too much like him there would be speculation it had all been a recording.
“Are you sure she’s up to this? I know a little bit about alternate tunings but this isn’t right for us. Besides, she tries to tune her instrument by ear! That may work for the professionals, but she’s not made it that far.”
“Just go with it. Give her a chance.” He ushered Seth to the side, but Scarlett could still hear him. “I’m your oldest friend. I helped you get this band up and running. It’s as big a part of me as it is you. Do you honestly think I’d lead you wrong in this?”
With an exasperated sigh, Seth capitulated. “Fine. But if she sucks, I’m not going to hesitate to pull her ass.”
“If she is even the least bit off, I’ll pull her myself,” Arsen assured.
No pressure there.
Taking a deep breath, Scarlett strolled out onto the stage as if she hadn’t heard Seth and his tirade. She could do this. She was born to do this.
No one was around other than the band and a minimal crew. The stadium sound engineer had wanted to be there, but Arsen had assured the man they would be in for the scheduled sound check tomorrow and would welcome him and his crew and their technical expertise with open arms. This was their time to get themselves ready for the next evening, and they didn’t need any distractions or an audience. No one was to be let into the stadium for any reason.
Seth glanced her way and stalked over to her, taking the lead mic. “OK, sweetheart,” he said in his most patronizing voice, the sound echoing all around them in the empty arena. “You’ve got your shot.” He jerked his chin at her, cocky smirk in place, as if he just knew she was getting ready to fall flat on her face. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”
Scarlett narrowed her eyes at him, taking another deep, cleansing breath for patience. Then she started playing the haunting ballad she’d written for their latest album.
It started out with arpeggios on the twelve-string in a slow rhythm. The minor key added a note of mystery to it, but the custom tuning of her guitar added a fuller, richer, bigger sound to something so simple. At once, Ferris’s gaze snapped to her, the other man hearing the differences immediately. He stood straighter, actually taking a step toward her before Arsen put a restraining hand on his shoulder.
Scarlett tried to ignore the rest of them as best she could, not needing the added pressure of their professional scrutiny. This “audition” was hard enough. She knew she was good. Had started playing guitar as soon as she was big enough to reach around the neck with her tiny hands. Even before that she’d tried, picking up so much on her own Arsen had taken her under his wing so she didn’t learn bad habits. Now was her moment of truth.
She concentrated on playing the music, anticipating everyone’s moment in the spotlight. It was hard to do, especially for the bass guitar. But she’d written the song. She and Arsen had gone over everything before she’d turned it over to the band to begin with. She knew this music inside and out.
She proved it, leading them all through the soft beginning after the arpeggios, through the rhythm section, to the hard, fuzz-guitar section that brought the song to its climactic ending. It sounded like SnowFyer, but it also sounded like Scarlett. Her own unique abilities shone through yet kept the originality that was the band.
As she let the last note linger, she didn’t let it simply fade out as she would have if she were ending the song. She’d written “Devil’s Heart” to transition seamlessly with “Nightmare in Heaven,” the band’s signature song, so that it blended from eerily beautiful to a riot of heavy metal as, in her mind, the Devil brought sin to Eden. The arpeggio guitar riffs in “Devil’s Heart” were similar to the arpeggios in “Nightmare in Heaven.”
As she continued to play, the rest of the band stopped. Steeling herself mentally, she made the transition from one song to the next, using a few bars to change one note at a time in the riff until the harder, quicker beat became clear. Once it was obvious what she’d done, Titan picked up with the heavy drums. Scarlett switched from the twelve-string electric to that hard, buzzing sound of heavy-metal guitars on her double-neck using the same riff. Ferris gave a rebel yell of triumph as he picked up his part, and Ra and Garrick dove in behind them.
Again, she led the band through the subtle changes she’d made as seamlessly as if they’d been doing this together for years. Her backup vocals -- where Arsen would have picked up had he been playing with them -- blended seamlessly with Seth’s, the contrasts in their voices complementing each other the way only male and female voices could. Even Seth picked up his part with a vigor and enthusiasm she hadn’t seen from him in years. It was as if the song were suddenly new to them, like they were hearing a song they knew would be their anthem for years to come for the very first time.
Seth seemed to catch himself three-quarters of the way through the song and toned it down. But the damage was done, so to speak. There was no way any of them could deny she had the right to be there.
Elation swept through Scarlett. She’d done it. She’d passed their test. Now, she just had to pass the fans’ test. Scarlett would be the lead guitarist for SnowFyer in their final show of this tour. It wasn’t official, and she was sure Seth would make some kind of token protest, but, as she looked around now, breathing easier now that the ice had been broken, she could see on every face around her there was no way they’d deny her.
The song ended as it usually did; no major changes other than the intro. Ra and Garrick were the first two to make it to her, whooping and hollering all the way.
“Girl, that was so there! You killed it!”
“What the fuck, Scarlett? You couldn’t have come to us with this sooner?”
Titan, ever the gentleman -- for a drummer, anyway -- snapped, “Watch your fucking mouth, Ra! No swearing.” As if the rules only applied to others. Not to him. Which was generally true, in most cases.
“We can now,” Ferris said, setting his own guitar aside. “Cause she’s motherfucking lead guitar for a fucking rock band!”
Titan bared his teeth threateningly but said nothing else on the subject as they all congregated around Scarlett. All but Seth.
Arsen took her instrument and set it in the stand along with the other guitars they’d already brought out. “Told you guys this would work. Didn’t I tell you?”
“Maybe,” Seth said as he crossed his arms over his chest. Standing there in nicely fitting jeans and a T-shirt that was a couple sizes too small, he looked more like a physique model than a rock star. Sweat glistened over his arms and across his brow and upper lip, even from the short set. “But I’m still not sure about this. I’ll admit she can play, but we’ve only rehearsed two songs.”
“And you saw how she led you through any changes. I know it’s not ideal, but we’re in a fix.” Arsen tried to reason with Seth. If anyone could, it would be Arsen. The two had been best friends for as long as Scarlett could remember. “My hand goes numb all the way to my fingertips.” Arsen gave Seth a look that said he’d had enough. He crossed his arms over his chest. “It’s either this, or we cancel. Your choice.”
He and Seth locked gazes for a long moment. Scarlett could almost imagine they were communicating silently. In a way, she supposed they were. They’d been together so long they could read each other simply by looking at their body language. Right now, Arsen’s was saying this was it.
“Fine,” Seth capitulated. “But you stay in the wings, ready to pick up if she falls on her face.”
“Can’t play a full show, bro,” Arsen said, shaking his head. “Not even an option. I have very little feeling in my first two fingers. I made it halfway through this last show before I started losing feeling, but if the swelling doesn’t go down… Well, I can’t play a full show with numb fingers. I just can’t.”
“This isn’t going to work.” Seth scrubbed a hand over his face in agitation.
“Uh, excuse me?” Scarlett said, losing her patience. “I’m right here.”
“Yes,” Seth said. “You are. I still don’t think you’re up to this, and you’re going to have to do a hell of a lot more than just stand there in the corner like a fucking robot and play your little guitar. But I’m willing to give it a try because Arsen thinks you’re ready. Personally, I think maybe his judgment’s clouded.”
“And yours isn’t?” That was it. Scarlett had hit her limit. “Listen up, because I’m only going to say this once.” She stalked over to him, getting as much in his face as she could, given the top of her head came to about his chin. “I’m the lead guitarist. You’re lead vocals.” Seth could play guitar as well as Arsen, but he chose to only do it with the band during acoustic sessions. She could sing lead if she chose, but her passion had always been with the guitar. “You don’t tell me how to tune my instrument or how to play it or how to perform for a crowd, and I won’t tell you how to hold your little microphone or shake your ass.” She jabbed him in the chest with her finger. Hard. “I have no idea why you hate me so much. I’ve never done anything to you! I’m sorry my being with the band cramped your style all these years, but I’ve always tried to stay out of your way and just do my job with promotion and make sure you guys get where you’re supposed to be for the next gig! What the fuck, Seth? You should be grateful I’m even willing to do this on such short notice! It’s one night for SnowFyer! If it goes bad, you’ll have an off end to this tour, but you’ll be back bigger and better with the next album! If I blow this, I’ll never get another chance! It’s my entire career!”
“Shake my…” Seth looked at her like she’d grown two heads. More, he looked like he was about to do violence. Which really shouldn’t have turned her on.
“Just go to hell, Seth,” she snapped, and stomped off back to the bus. She had to find her calm again. If not, she was very much afraid she might either start crying or jump Seth and fuck him up.
Or maybe just fuck him.
Either would work for her at the moment.