I sat on my bed, idly skimming MyStable on my phone for anything interesting to take my mind off the boredom.
Sure, that whole thing with the…what did Starlight call her? A Changeling? The whole episode had been frightening and weird, but it was also interesting! And the wings! I mean, after a few face plants, I had gotten a pretty good handle of the whole flight thing.
But it was only good for a few hours. The Rainbooms were out of town for a gig and Zap stuck at work, I didn’t have anyone to take to the clouds with. And it sucked! I sighed and put my phone down and turned so I was laying on my back with my head hanging over the bed.
“I wonder if Sunny is available,” I whispered, kicking my feet in a rhythm. The phone starting ringing, startling me out of my daze. I grabbed it and placed it to my ear.
“Speak to me,” I answered, and after a moment or two of silence, a smooth voice responded.
“Yeah,” the man on the other end replied. “I’m calling about the ad you had in the local newsletter?”
I blinked for a moment, not knowing what he was talking about for a moment. “Oh!” I exclaimed a little excited. “Yes, how can I help?”
“I was wondering if you’d be available this afternoon for an audition?”
I was already on my way down the stairs, stuffing my wallet in my stick bag as I went.
“You got a kit for me to use?”
I made some adjustments to the placement of the snare before reaching out and testing the reach to the crash. I grunted and nodded, going through a short test of all the parts of the relatively well-maintained kit. I liked the feel of it, though the toms and kick drum could use a little tuning. I liked keeping my kick and toms in a chordal structure, made the whole thing a little more musical than a series of bangs and crashes.
“So,” the blue-haired guitarist asked as he stood with the bassist and keyboard player. “You ready?”
I nodded, double thumping the kick drum.
“Ok,” he said. “We’ll start playing, and you join in when you get a feel for the song. If you’ve heard it before, that’s a plus. If not, no big deal, just try to keep up the beat.”
“Lead on, slick,” I said, giving one of my sticks a flick that sent it twirling around the edge of my hand before catching it again.
As the song began, it sounded familiar. Something in the changes sparked a memory, and I started out by going on open hat, clicking it closed in time. Then as I saw the bassist move to a spot on her neck, I gave a hard hit to the floor tom, snare, and kick drum, the single note fill timed just before the rest of the band joined in. I followed the song fairly well, a grin splitting my face and nodding my head along with my playing, putting fills in where I could manage them. It was old-school rock, and you couldn’t beat some of those tunes. I used to go to the woodshed with bands like this and listen to riffs for hours to match the way they played.
“Not bad,” the guitarist said after he signaled for a stop. “But we play more than just that style, so we’ve got a few others to test you with.”
I pointed a stick at him and winked. “Hit me with your best shot, slick,” I said.
“Actually, it’s Flash,” he said, a little color rising to his cheeks as he turned quickly and readied his guitar.
It was a slower song this time, and after listening I flipped the stick in my left hand around, giving rim clicks with the butt of the stick. I had found it gave a more stable and audible sound when playing with amplified instruments. Back when I had time to play, before Abacus Cinch had decided to do away with some of the extracurricular clubs.
The song continued and slowly it turned into what felt like a samba, causing me to mix up my playing. I wasn’t overly familiar with this style, but I think I faked it pretty good.
The audition was almost like a rehearsal. They tested me on rock, blues, swing, R&B, even a New Orleans street shuffle.
“Ok, final tune,” Flash said. Following a nod from their leader, the band started playing a song and I paled. There was no central beat to follow. The guitar sounded like it was in four, the bass in nine, and the keys were somewhere on their own, and I couldn’t find a good spot to slide in.
I closed my eyes and listened, and slowly I detected a pattern to the keys. They were sliding back and forth between the two parts, and I followed the song for a moment and realized that it wasn’t random. It was a deliberate ratio of beats.
I began following the guitar rhythm with my ride cymbal, giving rim clicks every couple of beats, right foot teasing the kick in time with the bass. Hemiola’s like this were hard to keep up for me, but I was having too much fun to care. Near the end, we were all just playing our hearts out, my hair flying around as I tossed my head back and forth in enjoyment. Sweat was starting to bead on my brow when the blue-haired man signaled a halt.
“Not bad,” he said, putting his guitar on a stand. “You’re the first drummer we auditioned that could keep up with all the songs. You’re a pretty hot hand on the stick.”
I grinned and tilted my head in a bow. “Why thank you,” I said. “You’re not so bad on the eyes yourself.”
He paused with his mouth open as his bassist snickered under her breath. He cleared his throat nervously and rubbed the back of his neck.
“Yeah, well,” he stammered. “We’ll let you know, so…”
“Uh uh,” I said. “The spot is mine.”
“Little sure of yourself, Miss Zest?”
“Lemon, or Zesty, please,” I said. “I got enough of that Miss Zest crap at CPA.”
The room chilled suddenly, making me shiver.
“You’re from Crystal Prep?” the bassist said.
“Recently graduated and nowhere to go,” I said, sliding my sticks back into my bag. “Besides, I thought we were all past that rivalry thing by now.”
Flash patted the air with his hands. “Now, now, Tessi,” he said. “We didn’t give you a hard time when you moved in from Baltimare. Give her some credit, I saw her help out at the Games.”
“Plus, she’s not a normal girl anymore,” a cold voice came from behind us. I turned and grinned as the woman with blue hair that had once been in pigtails walked forward from the doorway, wearing a pair of studded jeans and a battered green vest over her plain black tee.
“Heya, Aria,” I said. “Fancy seeing you here.”
“This is the band I sing in,” she returned with a smile. “I’m guessing you just finished auditioning?”
“And I’ve got it in the bag,” I said. “I’m sure there isn’t another unattached drummer as awesome as I am.”
The Siren grinned. “Face it, you all,” she intoned. “Trying to stop this one would be like trying to stop my girlfriend from baking.”
Laughter filtered all around. Flash held up his hands and surrendered to my indomitable will.
“All right,” he said. “You got the gig if you want it. It was either you or some guy from Trottingham that couldn’t keep pace in a four.”
I gave him the small grin I kept reserved. “Great then,” I said. “So, when’s the first rehearsal?”
He turned to the bassist, who consulted the back of her bass. “Next one is in three weeks,” she said. “Lots of family trips coming up, so it’ll mostly be personal woodshedding until then.”
Flash looked at me. “You have a kit to practice on?”
I nodded. It was packed up in my parent’s basement, but I could easily unpack it. I’m fairly sure Dad had finished soundproofing the place.
“Ok then,” he said. “Hang around for a moment and I’ll get your info so I can send you roughs and demos of our set list.”
After being handed a slip of paper with a link on it, I couldn’t stand it anymore.
“So, what’s up with you and that Tessi girl?” I asked. My inner drummer was sated, but the inner gossip hound never was.
“Tessi? Nothing I’m aware of,” he said. “She’s just a friend. She’s too fixated on getting a guy from back home to notice her for anyone around here.” He glanced away. “Story of my life, it seems.”
I patted him on the shoulder. “Buck up, kid,” I said. “Things will turn up. After all, you did land a pretty solid drummer today by pure luck.”
He nodded, a small smile returning. “I guess I did,” he chuckled.
“Anyway, it was a blast, Mr…”
“Sentry,” he returned. “Flash Sentry.”
“See ya around, Flash,” I said as I slipped out the door. I hadn’t been home more than ten minutes when my phone rang again, the same number from earlier.
“Speak to me,” I said, suppressing a giggle.
“Hey, it’s me,” Flash’s voice came over the speaker.
“Hi me,” I said. “What’s up?”
“I was wondering if you wanted to get together sometime?” He sounded nervous. “Go over some of the tunes, maybe look over any you’ve got?”
“Hmm…” I said. “This wouldn’t be just because I have a solid confirmation as your drummer, would it?”
I heard a slight scuff and Aria’s voice came over the phone. “Just say yes, Lemon,” she said. “He’s not good with subtext.”
I smiled as I heard the faint shout of protest. “Tell him Tudors, seven o’clock,” I said, kicking my well worn sneakers off.
“And wear a jacket.” Hanging up the phone, I went to go grab a quick shower. I may not have gotten any gossip today, but I did score a spot as drummer for sounded like a pretty killer band.
Not a bad day’s work.
Author's Note
Flash Drive 2.0 lineup
Flash Sentry- Guitar and vocals.
Aria Blaze - Vocals.
Tessitura - Bass.
Golden String - Keys.
Lemon Zest - Drums and backing vocals.
The first test song was “Message in a Bottle” by The Police if anyone was curious.
