Treat Me (One Night with Sole Regret #8)(81)

"So I say we give him a chance to prove himself," Shade said. "What's your name?"

"Wes."

"Give Adam's guitar to Wes," Shade said to Adam's technician. "Let's see what he's got."

They put the kid through his paces. Riffs. Solos. Wes wasn't as skilled as Adam-no one was as skilled as Adam-but the talented kid would do in a bind.

"You don't get stage fright, do you?" Shade asked.

"I don't think so," Wes said uncertainly.

Well, it wasn't as if they had other options banging down their door.

"Are we all onboard with this idea?" Shade asked everyone who'd congregated to watch the spectacle. Bandmates, crew, and manager all nodded their approval.

"All right, kid, here's your chance to be a rock star for a night," Shade said. "Don't blow it."

Wes beamed at him and shook the devil horns he'd formed on one hand.

Shade returned to the stage and smiled down at the anxiously waiting and restless crowd.

"Well, he's no Adam Taylor, but he's going to do his best to pretend. Tonight we have Wes on lead guitar."

Wes jogged across the stage to stand at Shade's side and lifted both hands in the air triumphantly. Some of the audience members cheered, but most just stared up at them crossly.

Shade knew how to work a crowd. Undaunted, he'd have them all excited about this idea in no time.

"How many of you have dreamed of being a rock star?" he called to the crowd. "Where are my aspiring vocalists?" He scowled at the pitiful response he received. "For a bunch of future rock singers, you aren't very loud," he complained. That evoked the response he wanted from them. "Okay, where are my rock stars who like to bang?" He placed a hand on his forehead as if shading his eyes so he could see all the wannabe drummers in the crowd. The audience exploded with cheers, and he noticed that some of the fans who had left earlier were filtering back in through the exit doors. "Force, get out here. Seems over half the audience wants to be like you."

Gabe jogged across the stage, waving at the crowd as he found a microphone. "I think they misunderstood your question," he said. "They don't want to waste their time on drums. They just want to bang." 

Whistles of appreciation, whoops of delight, and loud catcalls filled the stadium.

"Anyone like to do it low and slow?" Shade asked. "Who out there always dreamed of being a famous bass player?"

Even though lots of people cheered, Shade had to tease Owen. "Anyone? No one wants to be Tags when they grow up?"

Owen entered the stage, which elicited more screams of excitement. He found a microphone. "Bassists never get any love."

"I love you, Tags!" several women yelled.

"So I guess the rest of you play air guitar in your underwear and dream of soloing in the spotlight," Shade said.

At least half the audience began playing air guitar. A few moments later, Kellen entered the stage and accompanied them on his real guitar. After several measures, Wes found the courage to join in. The crowd loved it.

"Now Wes here has the opportunity to do what most people only dream of doing-he gets to be a rock star for a night. So show him some love!" Shade shouted over the wailing guitars. Now that he had the crowd amped up and behind Wes, the kid had better not fuck this up.

Shade wrapped an arm around Wes's shoulders and showed him a paper taped to the floor. "This is the set list," he told him. "If there are any songs on there you don't know, just tell us; we'll work around it."

Wes's eyes scanned the list, and then he looked at Shade. "I know them all. Hey, is Adam okay?"

Shade wasn't sure why, but Wes's concern for Adam sent a spike of rage through him. "I'm sure he's fucking peachy," he said before dropping his arm and addressing the crowd. "It's time to get darker."

Usually Owen entered the stage first, extending the opening bass line of "Darker" by several measures to build up the song and the crowd's anticipation, but as the show was already off to an unusual start, the entire band started the song on Jacob's signal. Wes watched his fingers, working so hard at getting the notes right that he didn't seem to notice the crowd cheering him on. Kellen and Owen tried to coax him into enjoying himself, but their antics made him stumble over a riff, so they left him alone and worked extra hard to engage the crowd themselves.

When the song ended with one final reverberating wail of the lead guitar, Wes lifted his head and looked at Shade for approval.

"Not bad, Wes. Not bad at all. With a little more practice you could fill Adam Taylor's shoes." And Shade wasn't just saying that. He was more than ready to find someone to take the undependable lead guitarist's spot. And the longer he watched Wes-sounding almost like Adam in his first attempt-the more he thought a new guitarist would be the best solution for the band. Unfortunately, if they replaced Adam, they'd lose his songwriting skills. But if the only way he could compose was when his life was falling apart and he was dragging the rest of them down with him, Sole Regret was better off relying on those who wrote songs for a living. They could easily pay professionals to write their songs. So why not?