Rhythm in Blue (15 page)

His position made his back tighten and sent tendrils of pain to his brain. Erin was in charge of his pain pills, and he knew he wouldn’t be able to talk her out of another one for at least an hour. For now, the energy brought on by his pursuit of the melody made the pain less noticeable, and he knew it would have to do.

Occasionally, his fingers would cramp up, so he’d stop to flex them, and then continue on his quest. He hummed along. It seemed to make the sound easier to find, and gradually, words replaced the humming.

He lost all sense of time, his focus on finding the song was so intense, and eventually, he had a beginning, middle, and an end. The emotion and the energy of the song were so strong, he didn’t need to make any notes or write down any of the lyrics. They etched themselves into his brain. He sang and played the song over and over, each time feeling more alive and energized, and each time, without realizing it, he sang more loudly. He was so fixated on the song, that he didn’t notice he had an audience until his audience began to applaud.

Startled, he turned to find Erin and Morgan standing in the doorway.

“Bugger, you sound as though you’ve been possessed,” Morgan said.

“Ricky, that was beautiful. Is it one of the songs from the new album?” Erin came into the room and sat beside him on the couch.

“No. No, it’s not. It’s just a tune I was playing with to kill some time.”

“You had us a little worried, it was just suddenly so loud, and here I thought you were sleeping. Are you feeling okay?”

“I feel,” he hesitated, “I feel amazing.”

“So you’re saying you just came up with that song? It’s not one of Randy’s?” Erin asked.

“If it was Randy’s, you’d know,” he said. “I’ll never be able to compete with him, at least not on my first try.” He winked at Erin and leaned the guitar against the side of the couch. The change in motion brought his pain back to the forefront of his mind. “Erin, can I please have a pill? It’s really starting to hurt.”

She squeezed his knee as she rose. “Of course you can. You should have had one by now, but like I said, I thought you were sleeping.” Before she left the room, she stopped and looked back. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you sing a better song, not by Randy, not by anyone.”

Rick smiled, encouraged and embarrassed by the praise. To him, the song had special meaning, and he felt so strongly about it that it was difficult to look at it with any objectivity. He wanted to play it again, but Morgan was still standing a few feet away, as though she expected something from him. He raised his brow to her, hoping she would come out with whatever she wanted to say.

Finally, she approached him and offered her hand. “Do you need some help up?”

He took her hand and slowly rose to his feet, surrendering to the notion that his time alone had ended. She picked up his cane from where it lay on the floor, forgotten in his enthusiasm for the guitar, and handed it to him.

“Erin has some chili ready if you’re hungry. Best not let that pill land on an empty stomach.” She turned and headed toward the door. Rick followed, but at a much slower pace.

~

Morgan poured herself and Erin another glass of wine, but set the bottle down without offering Rick any. He stuck his bottom lip out when she settled back in her seat.

“You’ve already had a glass, and you’re not supposed to mix alcohol with those pain pills.”

“That’s right, doctor’s orders,” Erin said.

“Give me a break. I’m pretty sure I can handle another glass of wine. If anything’s gonna kill me, it’ll be all this goddamn Mexican food I’ve had to eat for the last six weeks. Don’t you know how to cook anything else girl? I mean, seriously.” Rick reached across the table, grabbed the bottle, and poured himself another glass.

Erin shook her head at him, “Beggars can’t be choosers, so quit your whining. I’m sorry if I love Mexican food, but I have to get my fill before I go back. You can’t make this stuff in Greece.” She stood and began to gather up the dishes, but stopped when the doorbell rang. Setting the stack of bowls down, she hurried out of the kitchen to answer the door. Morgan followed her.

When they both left the room, Rick stood and shuffled over to the sink and opened the drawer beside it. He removed the bottle of pills, made a quick check of the door, shook three pills into his hand, put the lid on, and threw the bottle back in the drawer. Erin’s voice neared the kitchen. He popped one pill into his mouth and slipped the other four into his pocket. Stumbling across the floor, he made it back into his chair before the door opened.

As Erin pushed through, Rick just had time to take a gulp of his wine to wash it down.

“You didn’t get any more wine while I was gone, did you?” Erin asked suspiciously.

“Nope, same glass, I promise.”

Randy and Morgan followed her through the door. As Morgan let the door swing shut behind her, they all heard a loud thump followed by a yelp.

Morgan opened the door to reveal Keith holding his nose. “Oh my God – I am so sorry, are you okay? I thought you had it.”

Keith shook his head as he pushed at his nose with his left hand and then with his right. A loud, cracking noise accompanied each push. Morgan shrieked in horror, covering her mouth with her hands to prevent the shriek from sounding any louder.

Erin’s eyes looked like they might pop out of their sockets, and she ran for the freezer, screaming, “Ice! Ice! I’ll get you some ice!”

Randy and Keith burst out laughing, and Rick slammed his hand on the table and joined in. Morgan, while still appearing shocked, looked back and forth between the two in confusion. 

Halting mid-stride, Erin’s eyes went from bulging to skinny daggers as she observed Keith’s toothy grin.

“That was too funny,” Randy wiped tears from his eyes and asked, “Really, have neither of you ever seen him do that?”

“No,” Erin said in disgust.

Keith did it again, but this time showed his thumbs inside his mouth, his thumbnails snapping away from his teeth.

Morgan just shook her head, unable to speak, not having caught the breath she lost in her shock.

“Well, I was going to offer you some chili, but just for that, you can’t have any,” Erin said as she resumed her task of clearing the table.

“That’s okay, we grabbed something on the way over,” Randy said, putting his arm around Morgan and rolling his eyes at Rick. “We weren’t really in the mood for Mexican tonight.”

“Yeah, me either, but I’m a captive and have no choice. Next time, bring me something, will ya?” With that, Erin swatted him on the head with a dishtowel.

“Just be thankful I feed you at all. What are you gonna do after Thursday? Huh?”

“Eat something besides Mexican I hope. I
can
cook you know.”

“Yeah, Ramen and macaroni and cheese,” Erin said.

“I can do a little better than that, give me some credit.” He poured himself another glass of wine, and noted that between the wine and the extra pill, he was no longer in pain, its warm, blissful effects now cradling his senses. Erin’s back was turned as she loaded the dishwasher, so he was safe from her scolding.

Randy opened the cupboard and removed two glasses. Handing one to Keith, he took the other to the table, filled it with wine, and handed the bottle to Keith. He sat beside Morgan, who had finally managed to compose herself. “So, Ricky, why you keeping your door locked all of the sudden? Is there an escaped lunatic on the loose?”

“That’s me,” Morgan said. “Don’t you watch the news? America is a dangerous country.”

Randy gave her a squeeze. “Don’t worry, babe. No one’s gonna get you on my watch.” He took a sip of wine. “So, what did you guys do all day?”

“We watched TV for the most part,” said Morgan. “Ricky got bored with our girlie movies and took a nap, but then he snuck off on his own and wrote himself a song.”

Randy laughed. “You wrote a song?”

“Yeah, I was bored and just messing around, it’s not even really a song.” He tried to downplay the accomplishment, not wanting to face the scrutiny of the great Randy Young.

“Don’t be so modest,” Erin said. “It’s a wonderful song, one of the best I’ve ever heard.”

“Really?” Randy’s asked in surprise. “What kind of song?”

Without giving Rick a chance to reply, Erin answered, “I guess you’d call it a ballad, right Ricky?” He nodded and she continued, “It’s about love, how it can change who a person is, and how the loss of that love is so devastating. It’s really quite haunting, it stays with you. In fact, he even has a line in it about haunted dreams…or something haunting. God, I get goose bumps just thinking about it.” She shook her body to make her point.

“Well let’s hear it then,” Randy said.

“Another time, if I move from this room, it’ll be to go to bed and nothing else.”

“You don’t have to move,” Erin said as she dashed toward the door. “I’ll get your guitar, and you can play it right here.”

As she disappeared, Rick felt his palms getting sweaty and his face turning red. He had to question whether he would even be able to play at this point, as the second pill had fully kicked in, and he couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Why are you so nervous?” Randy asked in surprise. “It’s just us, and I promise we’re not gonna boo or anything.”

Rick grinned sheepishly as Erin returned with his guitar. She handed it to him, and he laid it across his lap. As he wrapped his hand around the neck, he noticed he was shaking. “I’d better have a smoke first,” he said, reaching for his pack on the table.

“No, just play it – now.” Randy took the pack from his hand.

Rick took a deep breath and cleared his throat. He chuckled again and began to pick at the strings to loosen up. Finally, he felt like he might be able to play after all, so he took another deep breath and unleashed the melody. As soon as he started, he felt himself, once again, carried away by emotion. He poured his soul into the performance, and forgot who his audience was. It was a struggle to hit all the higher notes, but he managed as best he could and made it through to the end.

When he was done, Keith shook his head, and Randy seemed deep in thought.

“Play it again,” Randy finally said with a tic of his head. Rick started to refuse, but Randy cut him off and repeated himself with a little more force. “Play it again.” So Rick did.

At the end, Randy smiled and struggled for something to say.

“I told you, didn’t I?” Erin said. “It’s amazing.”

“That it is, to say the least,” Keith agreed.

“He’s a gifted bloke, no doubt about it,” Morgan nodded.

Randy was still speechless, and just sat, smiling, and shaking his head. Now Rick was nervous as he waited for judgment. At last, Randy reached across the table, picked up Rick’s cigarettes, and shook two out of the pack. He took one and handed the other to Rick.

“I think we both need a smoke after that.” He lit Rick’s cigarette and then his own. “Ricky, I don’t know what to say. You’ve blown me away.” He leaned back in his chair.

Anxiously, Rick asked, “But do you like it? Is it any good?”

“Ricky, it’s one of the best I’ve ever heard. I just can’t even believe it. I’m stunned, you’ve stunned me.”

Rick smiled in relief. Randy’s opinion of the song was the one that meant the most to him. He didn’t trust his own judgment – he felt too close, too emotional about it.

“Maybe you guys can add it to the new album,” Morgan said.

Keith shook his head, “No, it’s too late for this one, but the next one for sure.”

“No,” Randy said. “We’re gonna get it on this one, and I know when Devon hears it, he’ll feel the same way,” Randy extended his hand and Rick slapped it with his own. “I knew there was a reason we didn’t trade you in for Todd. My boy here’s got more talent than anyone knew.”

Rick felt a sense of accomplishment he’d never known. Randy’s praise verified what he already knew, deep down. It made him feel like part of the group again, and an important part at that. Carried away by his emotions, he stood and excused himself. He had a strong desire to be alone and bask in his happiness.

Chapter Eighteen

While it wasn’t the way he planned it, or even wanted, Rick found himself back in the studio working on the new album,
Slave to the Night
. He knew he wasn’t physically ready, but Erin left and Rick was now in control of the pill bottle. He took what he needed to make it through a long day in the studio, and Devon made sure he got breaks as often as he needed. When he went home at night, he took as much as he wanted to escape to his euphoric world.

Everyone worked together to perfect Rick’s song. Randy had been right, as soon as Devon heard it, he put the brakes on the album to include it. Between the four of them, they added and subtracted different instruments and elements to give the song the life it demanded. All that was left was getting the vocals right.

Rick struggled with the higher notes. His voice cracked slightly at the peaks and his exhaustion showed through, but rather than over-dubbing it, Devon insisted they leave it. He thought it made it more personal and added emotion.

Rick argued the preference, “I think it just makes me sound like I can’t sing for shit.”

“No. Listen to the playback again. With the harmonies just below it, and the way your voice is so raw, it adds…I don’t know, a truthfulness. We need to keep it that way.”

“I agree,” Randy said. “Play it back, Jay.”

Their producer cued up the song from the beginning and nodded his head in time as the track played.

“Yep,” Jay said, “those little imperfections make it…perfect.”

“Yeah, just like that, perfect. Have you come up with a name for your creation yet?” Devon nudged Rick with his elbow.

“No, everything sounds lame.”

“Well, you need to figure out something soon, so we can be done with it.”

Randy started vigorously tapping his pen on the board.

“I know, I know. I’ll come up with something by the end of the day, okay?”

“No, that’s not it. I was just thinking. Jay? Pull up
Back Of My Mind
for a sec.”