“And you have to learn how to play guitar. I’m tired of singing louder to cover your sour notes.”
Paul flicked a guitar pick and it bounced off JT’s temple. “Direct hit. Wanker,” JT laughed out.
“I was aiming for your big mouth,” Paul said as he lined up another shot.
“Ten seconds left of the song, guys,” I said, feeling like the substitute teacher in a John Hughes movie.
Jen had left her headphones behind; JT grabbed them up and held a can over one ear. “Just say when.” He was still chuckling.
I slid my own phones on and held up a finger. “That was Bon Jovi with ‘Runaway.’ We have a couple of special guests in this morning—I won’t tell you who. See if you can guess.” I flipped my finger to point at JT as he switched his microphone on.
“Good morning, Las Vegas. Traffic is a nightmare. Every major freeway is clogged with accidents, and the surface streets are a snarled-up mess. We have a sinkhole that’s swallowed up several casinos, and aliens broke out of Area 51, taking the entire city of Henderson hostage until the breakfast buffet at the Tropicana is ninety-nine cents again. Stay home where it’s safe, put on some music, and tell the boss to piss off.”
I barked out a completely unprofessional laugh as Paul strummed out a quick flamenco flourish.
“Well, it seems that Tack is incoherent right now, so I’ll just make the introductions. I’m JT Blackwood, and the noisy git on the guitar is Paul Ross. We’re two-fifths of Slanker Knox, and we dropped by this morning to annoy you all with a brief, unplugged concert.”
Through the closed door, we heard a smattering of applause from the slacking employees hanging out in the hall.
They started with one of their older acoustic ballads, and as JT’s lyrics about love and loss washed over me, I got anxious all over again. Where in this godforsaken building was Jensen, and what was taking her so long?
I peeked out through the slot window next to the door, and, peering around the gathered folks out in the hall, didn’t see her coming yet.
Additionally, much as their presence annoyed me, why was the group hanging around outside the door so small? Normally, most of the building would be out there at this point during an in-studio performance.
The second that thought flitted through my head, the crowd increased as if I’d conjured them. I guess KLVR hadn’t been the station playing on the overheads this morning.
I’ll bet it was now.
The duo launched into ‘Love Will Win’ and still, Jensen was not here.
They finished the song, and though the minor mob in hall clapped and cheered, the person for whom the mini-concert was intended had still not shown her face.
What the everloving hell?
“We’d like to remind everyone that that last song, ‘Love Will Win,’ will be forever available as a single for download at your favorite music e-tailer, because every last penny that you pay for it goes to support the Earthling Rights Foundation. So if you don’t have it, get it. And if you do have it,” JT chuckled, “download it again from somewhere else.”
He looked at me, brows raised, as if I’d know what was going on with Jensen. All I could do was shrug.
“I think we have time for just one more tune. You have a favorite, Tack?”
JT’s question was meant as a time-filling stall, as we’d already discussed which songs they would play this morning. I played along. At this point, the dramatic impact was lost, and all I could hope for was that she’d make it for at least one song.
“How about ‘Heartbeats?’”
“Ah, the song everyone almost didn’t get to hear. I’ll give you a little trivia tidbit about that one—our bass player, Rafe, wrote that song as a wedding gift to me and Kori, and he was adamant that we never record it commercially.”
“But?” JT had shared this story with me when he’d sent me the MP3 of the rough version. He wanted my opinion on its commercial viability, he’d said. I’d laughed at his email; the man was never uncertain about anything. He’d just been fishing for compliments. And the song deserved them.
“But I’d recorded it when he played it at our reception, then added strings, a heavier bass line, some background vocal loops, and stuck my voice over his like we were singing a duet. I sent it to him and threatened to release my version. He, of course, had a conniption, so we all went in-studio to do it up right. And that’s how the single, as you hear it now, came about.”
Paul had turned away from the mic, softly strumming the intro since I’d mentioned the song title, background music to JT’s little flash of history. He spun back so the notes were louder over the airwaves, and JT joined in on rhythm.