Travis Starnes
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Fanfare (Country Roads #2) - Chapter 12
🕑 Added 2021-09-06 16:28:04 +0000 UTCAfter the game, Coach kept his admonitions to a minimum, saying we’d talk about it tomorrow like I guessed, and sent us to get cleaned up. It was still pretty early and I’d planned for this ahead of time with Hanna and Kat, who’d been up in the stands watching. They’d ridden together and were waiting for me outside the locker room exit when I got out.
“That could have gone better,” Hanna said as we piled into the car.
“No kidding. We got in our heads and almost blew it.”
“You did okay,” Kat said. “That was a pretty good hit.”
“Yeah, except for that first at-bat, I managed to keep from embarrassing myself.”
“Your friend though, ewww, that was awful,” Kat said, scrunching up her nose.
That did not bode well for David’s chances.
“Just too much food and the nerves from how badly we were tanking the game, it kind of caught up with him. He’s really a good guy. Don’t hold it against him.”
“So what do we want to do? Marcus said some of the guys are gathering at Taco Corner,” Hanna said.
Taco Corner was a fast food place in the little complex just off the freeway that catered to motorists looking for a pit stop more than locals, although it was also where a lot of kids went to get away from their parents on weekends too.
“No, I heard one of Harry’s friends saying they were going and I don’t want to deal with that asshat. He came in the locker room just before the game and started fucking with everyone, getting in their heads.”
“Ohh, I wondered how y'all all ended up so nervous, since you all seemed to be ready and excited for the game before it started,” Kat said.
“I don’t get what he was thinking. These are his teammates. Why would he screw with his own guys?”
“Cause he’s an asshole,” Hanna, who had issues with all of Aaron’s friends, said. “Let’s forget about him and figure out where we’re going. Are y'all hungry?”
Kat shook her head no and I said, “How about we just go hang out at your place until we have to head home. We don’t have all that much time since it’s a school night. Besides, that’s where Kat’s car is.”
“I should probably go home,” Kat said.
She always made sure she got home before her curfew, and the few times she’d cut it close she’d freaked out. Since then we’d made sure to always get her on the way home with enough time to keep from having a panic attack.
“No, you have plenty of time. We’ll make sure you get home in time.”
I could tell she wanted to argue, but she agreed and relaxed, which is what she did every time just gave in to whatever I told her to do. I probably should have said it was fine and go ahead and go home, since there was a good chance I was doing long term damage to her recovery every time I got her to switch from what she wanted to do, but I’d also seen how she was after she’d been at her house for a while. I was still convinced that she was being abused by her dad, or maybe someone connected to him, and that was ultimately the cause of her disorder. There had to be value in spending time away from her abuser doing normal things, although that could also just be me convincing myself I wasn’t asking her to stay because I liked her company.
We got to Hanna’s house and trooped inside, all heading to the kitchen, which was probably something hard wired into our teenage brains. Ms. Phillips must have heard the ruckus because she came from the living room as Hanna handed out sodas and started digging for snacks to take upstairs with us.
“How was the game?” she said, leaning against the door, watching us raid her kitchen.
“Not great. We won, but it was really rough at first.”
“His friend puked on the sidelines,” Kat told her.
Over Christmas, the three of us had spent enough time that Hanna’s mom had ended up on the list of people Kat was comfortable enough to talk around. It’s why I thought coming here was a good idea, since she could let her guard down and just relax for a while, since there wasn’t a chance she’d suddenly run into a stranger.
“I don’t think I need to hear about that, Katherine. You have a lot of games left this year I think. All anyone will remember is that you won by the end of the season.”
“I don’t think Coach Dean will. He was really annoyed we were playing so bad.”
“We’re going to go hang out in my room,” Hanna said.
I actually really liked Mrs. Phillips but Hanna always acted like she was two seconds away from mortally embarrassing her.
“Okay,” she said, turning to go back to whatever she was doing when we walked in. “Remember to leave the door open.”
I guess I could understand her reasoning, being the mother of a teen daughter, but Hanna and I had never shown any kind of interest in each other that way. We’d become really close friends but it was completely platonic.
We trooped upstairs and went to where we normally sat, with me on the floor leaning against her desk while they sat on the bed.
“What’s up with the lawyer?” Hanna asked.
“Nothing yet. After he talked to Mom and got her to back down on her whole idea of just giving in, it’s been kinda quiet. He gave me his card, but since he’s doing it for free, I don’t want to keep calling and bugging him. It’s only been a week and I’m guessing it takes some time to do whatever it is he has to do to sort this mess out.”
“Are you going to have to go to court?”
“I have no idea. I hope not, because I think that makes it more expensive, and I don’t know how far this pro bono thing goes. He said that ultimately we could win and he thought the main reason Aaron’s dad was doing this was to drive up the costs on us. We didn’t talk about what happens if it really drags out and since I’m a minor he’s mostly only talks to Mom now. Considering how freaked out she got when she started looking at how much this would cost I didn’t want to put the idea in her head, since it could just send her back to the idea of giving up and declaring bankruptcy.”
“That sucks. Have you asked her about what’s happening with it?”
“Not really, mostly for the same reason. I will eventually, but I want to give it enough time that it’s worth bringing up. You have no idea how freaked out she’s been since this started. She might be doing better now but I don’t want to risk it until I have to. So what’s up with you and Marcus?” I asked, changing the subject.
“Nothing’s up. We’re still doing good, although we both know we’re just counting times until we break up and go our separate ways.”
One of the reasons it’d been so hard to get her to start dating again after the bad experiences she’d had her junior year was because she didn’t want to end up in a long-distance relationship. She’d made it clear to Marcus that she didn’t want to follow him to college and didn’t want to try making it work. Marcus, for his part, seemed okay with it. I guess he wasn’t worried, since he was probably going to end up playing ball at college, he’d have prospects. Both of them took their relationship as just having fun until they went on to the next phase of their lives.
“I know, but you’d been going to parties with him before the break. If he’s out with people tonight, why didn’t you want to go with him?”
“It wasn’t really a party. They were just blowing off steam before heading home. Sitting around the parking lot of Taco Corner watching a bunch of boys trying to one-up each other on who could be the biggest idiot wasn’t my idea of a good time. Had it been an actual party I might have gone. Besides, half the people going are assholes I didn’t want to see.”
I knew she meant Aaron and his crowd, which included the head cheerleader Karen Brooks, who she loathed. I couldn’t blame her; both of them surrounded themselves with assholes, which is why I hadn’t wanted to go either.
“So, Kat. What did you think of my friend David?”
“He was okay, although it'd be better if I didn’t have to see him throw up again.”
I just hung my head. I was trying to go to bat for the guy, but he hadn’t done himself any favors.
“I don’t think that will happen again. It was just too much food and nerves getting the best of him. What about before then, when we were out to eat?”
“Like I said, he was okay. Why?” She asked, suspicious.
I could see where her thoughts were going. When she’d dated Aaron he’d occasionally tell her to go out with one of his friends as some kind of sick reward for them. It made me nauseous just thinking about how he’d treated her, but that was over now, at least. I knew she didn’t think I’d do the same thing, but I also knew it would be hard for her to put those experiences behind her completely, and didn’t fault her concern.
“When we were walking back to school after we ate, he mentioned that he thought you were pretty great and wanted to know if you’d have any interested in going out with him.”
“I don’t think so,” she said, without hesitation.
“If not, that’s totally okay, but I wanted to at least put in a good word for him. He’s a really good guy and switched classes so I’d have a conditioning partner even though he didn’t know me that well. I thought you two might hit it off if you gave him a chance.”
“No, I don’t want to go out with anyone,” she said, her voicing pitching up like it did when she started becoming anxious.
“It’s okay, don’t worry about it. We hadn’t really talked about it before. I get it if he’s not your type. I just didn’t want you holding his little … uhh … incident at the game against him.”
“It’s not that,” Kat said, refusing to make eye contact. “I’m just not looking for a new boyfriend or anything.”
“Okay. I’ll try to let the guy down gently for you.”
It made sense that Kat wouldn’t want to date anyone. It had only been a few months since she finally broke away from Aaron, but it would also be like her to try and find another way to say no, since she continued to have issues expressing her opinions, despite my reassurances. Either way, it wouldn’t help to push her anymore. Hopefully, she’d decide she was looking to date at some point and we could help her then.
The next day at practice Coach Dean didn’t yell at us, although his review of the game did focus mostly on those first few disastrous innings. Instead, he said the best way he knew to get over a difficult game was to sweat the nerves out. I’m not sure I felt any better about what happened than I did before we started running, but I did know I didn’t want to let it happen again as I dry heaved on the side of the track.
The only other change was a noticeable increase in animosity between varsity and junior varsity. While it was our fault we let him get in our heads, everyone was pissed that he’d purposefully sabotage us so badly. It didn’t help that he spent a lot of the next day loudly pointing how much worse junior varsity had done and why we didn’t deserve to play on the same team as him. He did abruptly stop by the end of the day and it was a good bet that someone, probably either Charlie Hum the varsity captain or Coach Dean, had pulled him aside for an attitude adjustment. The damage was done though and things were a lot more tense when both teams were around each other.
I was happy when it finally hit the weekend and I could get some stage time in, putting the high school drama behind me for a little while. We were still filling up every weekend and I’d started working in more of my own music, trying to watch for audience reactions like Mr. French had said, seeing what worked and didn’t work.
We’d finished practicing on Saturday, where Dwight had given me some good ideas on the newest song I was trying to work out, when Willie pulled me aside.
“What’s up?” I asked, taking my case with me so I could pack up as we talked.
“I got a call from Eugene Russell at the Wild Cat yesterday. You remember him, right?”
“Yeah, it was the first place we played on your last tour. The two-story place that curves around the stage.”
After the Blue Ridge, it was the best place I’d played and the Blue Ridge only won out because it’s where I started and felt like home to me. As an actual venue, it was much better set up for music than the Blue Ridge, with a much larger stage and more room for an audience, all of whom could see the stage simultaneously.
“That’s it. The guys he booked next weekend had to pull out and he’s having trouble fillin’ the spot. He called me to see if I could do it, but I just haven’t been feelin’ too well and ain’t up to travelin’ right now, but I had another idea.”
“Are you okay?”
Willie had been dragging the last few weekends. I’d asked him about it last weekend and he said he was just tired, but if he was turning down gigs I started to think it might be a sign that something more was wrong. Willie was seventy and had been the one to really get me from just playing music as a hobby to thinking it could be something I could do as an actual career and the idea of losing him made me really anxious.
“I’m just getting up there in years and I’m a little tired. I can’t keep up the pace I did when I was a young man, ya know. I’m not sure how many more years of this I have, but here at least I can go home and rest without much trouble.”
“Don’t say that, Willie. You’re going to outlive us all.”
“Ha, the confidence of youth. You don’t need to start countin’ me out yet, but I’m not up to travelin' ‘cept for the one time a year. He knows that, which says how desperate he is that he called me.”
“I wouldn’t think it’d be that hard to find a band that wants to play a gig.”
“It’s not, but Eugene’s particular. He prefers acts he knows can deliver for most nights, which is why he gets such good crowds, 'cause they know they’ll see a good show no matter when they go. The only time he tries out new acts is on his open mic nights, which he lets people know are comin’, so they know what they’re getting into.”
“So what was your idea?”
“I suggested that you do it.”
“Me? I can’t go play there. I’m still getting my feet under me here, and half the crowd knows me. I only played out of town once, and that was as your backup. I’m not ready for my own gigs.”
“Charlie, that’s just fear talkin’. I know you feel comfortable here, but you’ve got real talent and you’ll never be able to reach what you’re capable of here. The Ridge is great, but it’s too small for really getting your stage legs under you and you need to try your stuff with different audiences. We have mostly the same people every weekend, so you’re not hearin’ different responses.”
“But I practice with these guys all the time. What am I supposed to play and how do I practice with whoever he brings in to back me up? Also, I’ve only got three songs that are more or less complete, and they’re all still missing something.”
“Son, you’ll always be able to find reasons to not do something. It’s still doin’ the thing that separates those who’ll make it from those who won’t. It’s good to bring up things you’re worried about, but only if you plan on solvin’ them. Otherwise, you’re just listin’ excuses.”
He was right. I was comfortable at the Blue Ridge and I was just coming up with excuses for why I wasn’t ready. I’d been with him when I’d played on other stages, which made those experiences just an extension of the Blue Ridge. I really did want to do this as a career, and I couldn’t make that happen just staying here. Besides, I knew Eugene, or at least had met him and had played at the Wild Cat once before, so it wouldn’t be completely alien.
I paused and took a deep breath before saying, “Okay. So how does it work with the house band?”
“They’re professionals. Send 'em the music for your stuff and just the names of any covers you’re plannin’ on doing and they’ll go over them in their own practice. They play with visiting musicians all the time, and they’ll follow your lead on the song. It won’t be the same as if you had your own band, of course, but it’ll work. Just get out of your own head and jam with ‘em. You’ll start havin’ fun and nothin’ else’ll matter.”
“Okay. Should I do covers? People here are used to it, but if I’m being paid to be the main entertainment, I’d think people’d want something extra.”
“Well, one or two covers should be alright, especially later in the set. If it’s only a few, it’s a fun change o’ pace and not just a lounge act. For now, pick the songs that you like best from our sets and mix em up with your stuff and a few covers and you’ll be alright.”
“Playing your songs is still a cover, Willie.”
“Nah. Sure I play there once a year, but they don’t know me from nothin’. They won’t treat that and popular covers as bein’ the same thing. Hell, you could play some classic blues and they wouldn’t think twice about it either. People only notice if you do nothin’ but top forties.”
“All right. Will you look over my setlist before I send it to the house band? Actually, I’m not sure how to send it to them.”
“Yes, and I’ll help you with that, too.”
“All right, then tell them I’d love to do it.”
“Good. Trust me, Charlie, this’ll do you good.
Willie had a few small suggestions about the setlist I gave him, but overall he didn’t think I needed to change much. I’d expected some kind of process for how to send everything over, but it really was as simple as emailing the setlist to Eugene. I always thought of Willie as some old-school singer so it was weird having him tell me to scan my sheet music using Chef’s computer so I could email everything over. I guess the twenty-first century had caught up with everyone.
It was handwritten with a lot of scribbles, but Willie said that was okay. A lot of musicians worked on new songs as they toured and it wouldn’t be weird for a house band that was backing the headliner to get something like that.
****
I had another surprise in store on Sunday when I showed up for training with Chef. He was already out back when I got there, but he wasn’t alone. There was another guy not that much older than me outside with him. He was black, although his skin tone was on the light side, with a curly goatee and dark eyes and a little shorter but significantly bulkier than me. To say he was bulky didn’t mean he was fat in any way. He was probably what people thought of when they said someone was big-boned. I couldn’t really gauge his age, maybe somewhere in his late twenties. He was a lot younger than Chef, but I was pretty sure he was older than Vinney.
“Charlie, I’d like for you to meet Victor Baptiste. Vic trained with me several years ago before abandoning us and moving down to Raleigh for work. I wanted to continue working on training you for dealing with multiple opponents, but we needed someone who had some training themselves. Vic also participated in the same competition we talked about, so I thought he could give you some pointers.”
“Good to meet you,” Victor said, sticking out his hand.
From what Chef had just said, I’d thought he must have grown up in this area, so I was surprised by the thick accent I couldn’t place. I must have shown it on my face, because he broke into a grin.
“Chef’s bad about telling people I’m from around here, and neglects to mention that I didn’t actually grow up here until I give myself away by speaking.”
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude, I just couldn’t figure out where your accent was from.”
“I grew up in Trinidad before moving here. Chef signed up to house refugees after a pretty bad hurricane, so I did live around here, but I’m not from here. He’s bad about explaining that part, however.”
“You trained with Chef?”
“I sure did. I was … let’s say difficult when I first came here. My parents didn’t make it through the storm and I was mad at the world. Chef thought it would help channel my anger into something.”
“Ohh, that’s good,” I said stupidly, not sure how to respond to that.
“He’s done good for himself since spreading his wings though. Became a citizen, got a degree as a medical records technician, and found a good job in Raleigh. I joke about him abandoning us. Vic’s done really great.”
“Stop, you’ll make me blush,” Victor said, which must have been an inside joke, because they both started laughing.
“Okay, enough of the getting to know you stuff, let’s get down to business. Vic’s going to run you through warm-ups and a little conditioning and then we’ll get started.”
I could tell Victor had trained with Chef as soon as we started. The order he did things was slightly different and he added in a few changes, but mostly it was the same kind of thing Chef had me do every time. He was in phenomenal shape. By the time we finished and were ready to start real training, I was drenched in sweat and he was just slightly glistening with sweat, not really breathing all that hard.
“Okay, first I want to try a little sparring between just you two, so you can get used to each other. Then we’ll work on some of the stuff I had planned for today.”
What Chef called a little sparring seemed a lot closer to me getting my ass kicked. I was on the ground being squeezed like a grape before I could even process what was happening. For being as big as he was, Victor was crazy fast. We kept at it for almost thirty minutes and, while I started doing a little better than the first nearly instantaneous fall, I was never able to get him once.
Chef was that good, of course, but he taught, more than anything else, and I’d never really sparred against him. The times we sort of did, he more played with me like a cat would play with a toy. I’d started feeling good about myself from how well I’d been able to deal with Aaron and his friends, but facing off against someone with actual training, showed me how far I really had to go.
“If you’re the kind of opponent I’m going to have to face, I might want to skip going to that competition this year.“
“You’re doing pretty good,” Victor said, helping me off the ground. “You forget I trained with Chef off and on for years and I’ve kept my hand in it since moving away. For a rookie, you’re actually not that bad. They won’t put you in the same division as someone with my experience anyways. I think you could probably hold your own against guys who’d be in your division.”
“Thanks, although it’s good to be humbled by someone other than Chef every once and a while.”
“Your biggest issue is you overthink everything. When you’re really in it, it’s all about reaction and muscle memory. You don’t have time to think through what move is best.”
“Chef has said that a bunch of times, and I am trying. It’s just hard to react to block or counter something right away, 'cause there’s so many different options depending on what the other person does. I’ve ended up in a fight like a month ago and I did okay, but when Chef’s trying to show me what I’m doing or just now, I can’t seem to react fast enough.”
“It’ll be easier when you’re against someone without any kind of training since they tend to telegraph their moves and go for something simple like trying to punch you in the face. Against a pro, that kind of thing is used for probing attacks to get a sense of the other fighter or once you have them locked up. Don’t worry about it too much. From what Chef said you haven’t been training all that long and it takes time to develop the instincts to just react.”
“Okay, enough of the heart to heart. Let’s get on to some actual training. I’ve got stuff to do today.”
Chef, who’d been standing aside listening for most of this, came over and started walking me through more techniques for dealing with multiple opponents. He’d first explain a concept, then have us do it at half speed several times until I seemed to understand, and finally cranking it up to full speed, which half the time landed me on the ground.
As with the last time, it was mostly focused on ways of quickly disabling one of the attackers, taking them out of the fight long enough to properly deal with the other attacker. There were two main choices when first getting into this kind of fight. Strike first before they could all move in against you or hold to a more defensive posture until an opportunity presented itself to take out one of the attackers. It made sense in theory but even with Victor purposely leaving openings, he was incredibly fast and it was hard to exploit them in time. I hoped he was right about eventually developing the instincts to react as soon as I recognized the openings, because if I faced off against anyone with training now, I’d be put down hard.
I really enjoyed training with Victor. It was weird that he was a student of Chef’s, since they were so different in their approaches. Chef was very no-nonsense, straight to the point. While I knew he cared, he didn’t have time to coddle anyone. He was the same way in the kitchen as he was in training. Victor, however, was a lot more personable and friendly as he gave pointers and advice on what I was doing wrong. I was learning a lot from him. Chef didn’t seem to disapprove of his methods and if he decided to teach I didn’t have any doubt he’d be really good at it.
By the time we finished, I was drenched in sweat and my head was swimming from all of the advice and pointers they’d given me. I was also pretty sure I’d be sporting some nice bruises along my side where I’d been too slow to react and Victor had helpfully pointed out where I needed to get faster.
“It’s been fun,” Victor said, grabbing my hand and shaking it. “I don’t get to train as much as I like and it’s a trip being back here working out again.”
“You’ve gotten slow,” Chef said, giving Victor an appraising look.
“Yeah, I lost my last workout partner and it’s not the same training by myself.”
“I know a few people in the area. I’ll make some calls and see if I can’t find someone for you.”
“Thanks, Chef.”
“If you’re in the area, you can always spar with me some more. I feel like I learned a lot today,” I said, grabbing my towel out of my bag and starting to wipe the sweat and dirt off.
“I’m not out here that much but if I do swing through I’ll give Chef a call and have him set it up.”
“Are you headed back right away?”
“Later tonight. Chef promised to make me dinner before I went back and I couldn’t turn that down.”
“If you can hang out a little longer I’m playing the first set tonight. I don’t know how you feel about pop music, but you’re welcome to stay and listen.”
“Chef mentioned you were some kind of rock star or something. He said you’re pretty good.”
“That’s quite a stretch. I do okay, but I’m still new at it. I’ve been playing with Willie since the end of the summer and they’ve let me have my own sets now. I just thought I’d mentioned it.”
“Man, I’d love to, but it’s a long drive back to Raleigh and I’ve got work in the morning.”
“Understandable. Don’t worry about it,” I said.
He must have heard the disappointment in my voice, because he said, “If you’re ever doing a show out in Raleigh, give me a call and I’ll come and check it out. Chef can give you my number.”
“I don’t know if I’ll ever get that kind of gig, but if I do I absolutely will.”
“Hey, if you’re picking that up as fast as you’re learning out here, I’m sure you’ll be touring on your own in no time. Now, about this dinner I was promised,” he said to Chef, rubbing his hands together.
They went inside talking while I went up to Chef’s apartment to take a shower. It was too bad Victor didn’t live out here. It’d be nice to have someone to train with, since Chef only gave instruction and pointers and didn’t spar himself. Putting everything he’d taught me into practice was a different experience and one I think could really improve my skills by quite a lot.
It had been a good way to end the weekend.
