Backstage is a buzz of confusion and excitement. Dr. Palmer is doing his best impersonation of a tour manager, adjusting bowling shirt collars and calming nerves. Slinky and I tune-up our guitars. Benny’s tapping out a rhythm on a seat cushion. Dust escapes the worn fabric with every crack of his sticks. Mr. Wellington, Jesus, and Olga are just kind of taking up space and adding to the chaos. Windsor studies his look in a cracked mirror hanging on the wall. He twists his crown until it’s just right, with a recently applied plastic ruby on the front. His kingly lid, fully blinged-out for the show.
Evie’s in the corner of the room, doing some kind of combination of meditating and dancing. Tammy is watching her, amused by all of the twirling. Entertained, but not distracted from her appetite. She’s sucking on discarded chicken bones that should have been thrown out an hour ago. She downs a cup of ranch dressing like a shot of whiskey. The only thing this circus is missing is an elephant and a guy getting shot out of a cannon. But the night is young.
Windsor unites the room full of clowns, freaks, and acrobats. “Everyone put their hands in. It’s show time, people!” We all stack our hands on top of his. “Please join me in a prayer.” He dips his head. “Higher energy of life and sonic sounds, please unite the torn unity of our existence. One with each other, the supernova, and of the cosmos! On the count of three, yell King Astro and the Love Command! One. Two. Three!”
Everyone yells something different. This whole scene makes me laugh. What is the name of our band today? It’s all good.
Tammy holds her hands up. Something rips in the back of her shirt. “Thank you, baby beluga Jesus!”
We play a game of follow-the-leader past the gawking, tightly packed beer drinkers.
I’m the last to walk out on the stage. I drag my hand across the giant red velvet curtain. The lights are dimmed, but I can see all the faces pointed up at our stage. A few of them yell out. They seem ready for a show. My heart flutters as I search the stage floor for my guitar cord. The nine of us fit better than I thought we would up here. I plug in my guitar and check out my band. Not patients and staff. Not us and them. Just an unlikely rock ’n’ roll band with a name that’s impossible to remember or pronounce.
Amps are switched on. They warm to life with a dull hum.
As rehearsed, Mr. Wellington and Olga approach the center microphone. A red spotlight shines on them. The crowd erupts with cheers and some laughter.
Red Radish is held in front of the microphone. When the stuffed dog doesn’t speak, Mr. Wellington helps him out. “Hello there!” The microphone feeds back. The high-pitched squealing stabs at my ear drums. “We have a great show for you tonight. Please welcome, from the planet Mars and beyond . . .” He hands the mic to Olga. She snarls out a sinister-sounding laugh. “Sacramento Commandoooo!”
Close enough.
Benny clicks his sticks together. “One, two, three, four!”
A three-chord stick of dynamite explodes from the stage. I’ve never heard my guitar so loud. Rainbows of color dance all around the stage, reflecting off my guitar. Evie steps up to the microphone and sings the first line of “Cherry Bomb.” The Runaways would be proud. She sings with a confidence I didn’t know she had. The crowd reacts. Hands go up in the air. Everyone is bouncing to the beat of the drums, singing along with the chorus. “Ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-ch Cherry Bomb!”
I knew this song would be perfect for her.
Tammy struts up next to Evie and blows a killer harmonica solo. The sound is deafening, but I still manage to hear a familiar shriek. “Salem! Your mommy’s here!” I spot her and the captain. I wave, and then notice they’re doing some kind of old person sex-grind dance. It’s disturbing and gross. The last time I look in that direction.
Lights bounce off of Olga’s aluminum foil headband as she does karate moves across the stage. Someone holds up a plastic cup full of beer. She grabs it, drinks it down, and tosses the cup back into the sea of hands. This gets a huge reaction. Especially from Dr. Palmer. The crowd’s eyes are darting all over the place. I can tell they’re not sure where to look. I see only one set of eyes fixed on me. Karen’s. She’s got the biggest smile on her face. In this light, she looks a little bit like . . . Emma Watson. With glasses.
Jesus shakes his tambourine and taps it on his saintly hips. With his free hand, he motions the sign of the cross in the air, blessing his devoted flock. The crowd approves. They are loving our band, reaching out for a Tammy high five and screaming their lungs out. I bounce over to Jace’s side of the stage. We share a quick high five of our own when the first song ends. I look over at Slinky. I think he might be the only person in the entire club that isn’t having a good time. He looks terrified. He’s playing all of his parts, but he’s staring at the curtain behind us. I don’t think he’s looked at the audience yet.
I check on him. “You okay, man?”
The crowd is screaming, ready for our next song.
Slinky shakes his head. “No. No way. This is too much for me!”
Shit. He has to sing the third song. “You okay to stay up here? You can split if you need to.”
He consults his hand. “I can play, but I can’t sing. I won’t!”
Fucking disaster! “No worries. Just do what you can.”
Windsor takes his microphone. His turn to sing one of his original songs. He plays trippy cosmic sounds on his keyboard.
“Attention citizens of planet GROG!
We have ascended the Astrophonic Love Commandos stature!
We are now King Astro and the Love Command!
King Astro commands your love!
We were sent here to colonize your planet and blast you into orbit!”
I giggle, thinking that might be something Shockbot 2000 would say. The crowd goes nuts. They have no idea that he’s serious. “This song is dedicated to the extraordinary creatures of the Rock ’n’ Roll Manor.”
Benny hammers on his floor tom and snare. Windsor chants, “Universal peace! Universal peace!” Everyone in the room joins him. So many voices. It’s powerful, no matter how nutty the message is. Only, maybe it’s not? Windsor puts a new cosmic spin on his song every time he sings it.
“Cosmic rays are healing me. Interstellar monopoly.
Build the ships so easily. Martian treasure currency.
Universal peace!
Peace in the universe!”
The crowd loves it. I don’t think it would matter if he was singing about unicorns (which he might in the second verse). We are 100 percent entertaining these people. It feels amazing! This is the greatest moment of my—
What the hell? I spot Grey and Marty in the crowd. I shoot a look at Jace. He’s seen them, too.
A harmonica solo has the audience captivated. Marty points at me, then throws up his middle finger. Wait, Marty? I thought he got sent back to Colonel Sam’s School for Bad Boys. I try to ignore him, but he puts his arm around Karen. Oh, fuck no! More chants of “Universal peace!” fill the bar. Slinky plays his guitar solo while I have fantasies of my guitar landing on Marty’s head. She throws his arm off of her. He screams something, holding up two middle fingers this time. He’s wobbling like he’s pretty drunk. He tries to hug Karen, eyeing me the entire time. This guy’s asking for it. I want to dive off the stage and rip his head off. I can’t, though. Not with Andy watching. No Hulking out. I have to be a better example than that.
Just as the song is about to end, I see the most amazing thing going on in the crowd. They’re all starting to step aside . . . for Windsor. He’s parting the audience like a Burger King Moses. He stops when he reaches Karen and Marty. He must have seen what was happening between us. He puts his arm around Marty’s neck, smiles, and waves to me.
The song ends.
I bow to the man with the paper crown and reach for a microphone. “Let’s hear it for King Astro!” The crowd screams. “Showing us what universal peace really looks like.”
Dr. Palmer takes over for our keyboard player so he can join us for our last song. Slinky is shaking his head at me. It looks like his hand is telling him that singing is dangerous. There’s only one thing to do.
I’ll sing the song.
I take off my guitar and lean it on the drum riser. I walk to the center microphone. I feel so naked without my guitar. The applause never dies down. “Thanks, everyone! We want to thank Liquid for having us start the show. This is a real dream come true for us.”
Tammy grabs a microphone. “And Elvis. We should thank the bloated King of Memphis Tennessee Tuxedo.”
Laughter ripples all the way to the bar. For the first time since I’ve been up here, I slow down my breathing long enough to take in some more of the faces in the jam-packed room. There are so many bright eyes and smiles. The Waldos are making the most noise and don’t seem to mind being squished from every direction.
I spot our dinner’s benefactor, Harley. He’s standing right next to Joey D. In what could possibly be the most surreal part of this night, Joey is pointing at me and giving me a thumbs-up. I grab the microphone and try out my best lead singer impersonation. “Thank you! Anyone out there having fun tonight?” A unified, blasted response assures me that they are. “We have time for one more song before Liquid comes up here and kicks all of your asses.” More cheers. The pulsing stage lights reveal a sea of beer bottles and fists thrusting toward the stage. A pure rock ’n’ roll salute. “This one’s for you, Andy!” I point at my buddy and wave. “Hit it!”
Benny pounds out the intro to our version of a Slade classic.
My turn to get the crowd chanting. “Ma Mama we’re all crazee now!”
Fists pump into the air. They echo every word. “Ma Mama we’re all crazee now!”
The crowd is whipped into a frenzy. I’m thinking I’m awesome when I realize their excitement is about Mr. Wellington. He’s left his chair and is doing pelvic thrusts to the beat. What a rock star! Big thumbs-up from me. I start to sing the first verse. God knows how I remember the words, but I’m doing it! It feels ah-mazing! Way more fun than guitar. This must be how naked skydiving feels.
I’m slapping hands with the audience, waving at people and singing my heart out. I have no clue what’s going on behind me. I hear a second guitar screeching. My guitar? I look over my shoulder. Tammy has it in her hands and is putting the strap around her neck. I panic for a second, but then I hear the audience. Louder than ever. They love Tammy and are super excited by her new choice of instrument. I’m not gonna kill this buzz. I sing my final lines and yell at her to take a solo.
Tammy takes center stage and beats the shit out of my strings. It hurts to watch, but it is pure, raw rock ’n’ roll. That, or property destruction. Is there a difference? The band keeps the song going. Tammy decides to treat the crowd to a slick Chuck Berry move. She lifts one leg and hops across the stage, slamming her fingers across the strings with each stage-shaking bounce. On the fourth hop, she loses balance and tumbles face-first onto the stage. My guitar is somewhere beneath her. My heart drops.
The crowd detonates.
Evie and I help our rockin’ She-Hulk to her knees. Two sad pieces of guitar connected by six strings mark ground zero. Tammy looks deeply sorry and more than a little scared. Her lips are quivering. I think she might start to cry. I can be devastated later. Right now . . . “Tammy. Don’t worry! Get up and take a bow! They love you!”
She smiles, throws her arms up in victory, and takes her bow. We all do.
As the rest of the band takes off their guitars, I can hear that the audience hasn’t had enough. A few are chanting, “One more song! One more song!” We might give them one if we knew another. Oh well. Always leave them wanting more, right?
We all line up at the front of the stage, put our arms around each other, and take a final bow. Van Halen’s got nothing on us.
The band retreats to the tiny room reserved for us. We’re all so happy and excited. High fives and smiles are shared. I make it a point to congratulate everyone. As I make my way around the room, I notice Jace didn’t make it back here yet. Dr. Palmer catches me and apologizes for Tammy destroying my guitar. I’m so amped up, I nearly forgot that it happened. He promises that the Manor will pay for the repairs. That might take a team of surgeons and mechanical engineers, but I appreciate the offer.
Windsor corners me next. Sweat dripping down his face. His crown, sparkling almost as much as his eyes. He salutes me with the biggest smile. “I only have a second. They need me to load up my keyboards. I just want to thank you. This was the greatest night of my life.”
I salute back. “Mine, too. Hey! Thanks for dealing with that asshole in the crowd.”
“Aw, that was fun for me! And it was the least I could do for you.”
“You’re a good friend, Windsor. I’ll see you on Monday.”
He nods and darts back out onto the stage. I put my Tammified guitar into its case and head out into the club. I want to thank my mom for the sex-dance in the middle of our set. Not distracting or disturbing at all. Strangers greet me with pats on the back, high fives, and reports about how much they dug the show. People offer to buy me beers. It feels awesome. I can get used to this. I feel like . . . someone.
It’s hard to move. This place is so packed. I’m making my way through a sea of people when Grey stops me.
He looks excited to see me. “That was awesome, man! What a great show. You’ve been busy.”
“Yeah, we have. It was super fun up there. Your buddy Marty tried pretty hard to ruin it.”
He shakes his head. “Yeah. I wanted to say sorry about that. He’s pretty drunk tonight. He’s moving back to Virginia tomorrow.”
“They can have him.”
“Listen, I want to talk to you and Jace about getting the band back together. Do you think we can do that soon? Talk about it, I mean?”
I wipe away a bead of sweat. Sweat from being center stage and having the most fun I’ve ever had in my entire life. I want more. “We started a new band called Mud Dragon. I’m the singer. You’re welcome to try out on guitar if you like?”
“You’re the singer?” He shakes his head and walks away. I guess he didn’t like that very much.
Across the bar, I see something that makes this perfect night even better. Jace is sitting at a small round table. Across from him is a boy who could easily pass for a vampire. Black hair and skin that looks like it’s never seen daylight. They look good together. I want to wave. Give him a thumbs-up. I decide it’s best to just give him some space. Let this moment be the most special . . . “Oh shit!”
I see my mother stumbling toward him. She’s past tipsy, well on her way to sloshed. I’m rattled that she’ll say something that will ruin everything for Jace. I fight my way through the crowd to stop her. I swear everything starts moving in slow motion. I feel like a secret service agent trying to save the president from an assassin’s bullet. I bounce off one person after another. Drinks are spilling all around me. She’s getting closer, the captain trailing behind her. She gets to his table before I do. I don’t know what she’s saying, but I’m sure her words are slurred and possibly insulting.
I yell out, “Mom! No!”
It’s too late. Someone bumps into her and the contents of her drink goes flying. It soaks Jace’s shirt. The captain apologizes and escorts her away to find some napkins.
I get to the table as they disappear back into the crowd. “Jace! I am so sorry!” I take off my bowling shirt and start to dry him off. “I can’t believe her!”
He looks dazed and confused. “Did your mother just throw a drink at me?” He starts to laugh. Luckily, so does the boy. “Salem, this is Tristan. Tristan, this is my best friend, Salem.”
Tristan is laughing so hard, he has to wipe a tear away. “That woman is your mother?”
I shake his hand. “Do I have to answer that question? I’m really sorry. She’s having way too much fun tonight.”
Jace tosses my shirt back to me. “And so are we.”
I take the hint. “Nice to meet you, Tristan. I’ve got to go find . . . a thing.”
Not my smoothest exit, but at least those two are back to getting to know each other. I realize that my ride home is now on a date. That complicates things. What are my other options? My mother? Safer to walk. I can’t ask Grey now. Awkward. Drive back with the patients? I’m not ready to leave yet. Maybe I’ll ask Karen if she . . .
I feel a tap on my shoulder. It’s Joey D.! “Hey, man!” He holds up a fist for me to bump, so we connect fists. I shake my fingers and make an explosion sound. He doesn’t. Doh! Guess I haven’t taught him our secret handshake yet. “I just wanted to tell you that you guys kicked some serious ass up there. That was the most fun show I’ve seen in a long time.”
“Thanks! It was fun. That was the first time I ever sang. I think I’m hooked.”
“Yeah. There’s nothing like it. Being a singer is the best job in the world. You gonna stick around for our show?”
“I’d love to. I just . . . my ride home just sort of fell apart. I’m not sure when I’m leaving now.”
He points at my t-shirt “You live in Chardon?”
He noticed my stupid shirt. “Yes.”
“Our bass player lives there. Right at Park and Tildon. We have to drop off our gear there after the show tonight. If you want, you can hitch a ride home with us.”
Say what? Liquid is going to drive me home? Best. Night. Ever! Play it cool, Salem. “Sure. That can work. Thanks, bro man.”
Bro man? Why do I open my mouth?