The Road to L.A. (4 page)

Carly nodded at this and followed Jake to the parking lot, struggling to keep up with his long strides.  When they finally reached his truck, he opened the door for her, and she climbed in.  As he drove out of the lot, a sport utility vehicle pulled up next to them.  It was filled with a rowdy group of football players still donning most of their football gear.  As soon as they caught sight of Jake, they shouted, “Harmon!  Party at Taylor’s Friday night!  Be there!”

Several of them spotted Carly in the passenger seat and amended the invitation with frenzied shouts and hollers.

              “Cabrerra, you come too!”

              “We’re gonna beat those Westhill fuckers!” Chad roared from the driver’s seat.  He then revved up the vehicle and sped off, tires squealing loudly.  The roaring whoops and hollers could still be heard. 

              “Wow.  Are they hyping themselves up for the game this Friday?” Carly asked, flabbergasted.   Jake just laughed in response. 

              “Boys,” Carly sighed in exasperation, shaking her head. 

              “Hey!” Jake exclaimed, grinning. 

Carly laughed and said, “You’re different.”  She eyed him affectionately, a warm smile gracing her lips. 

              “You’re not like them.  You’re…different,” she reiterated. 

She continued to eye him until she felt an awkward tension building inside the cab, compelling her to avert her gaze out the passenger-side window.  He must have felt it, too, for he nervously cleared his throat and affixed his gaze on the road ahead. 

Thankfully, they pulled in front of Amanda’s house only minutes later.  Carly eagerly volunteered to go and get the twin.  Amanda immediately answered Carly’s knock.  It was as if she had been anticipating their arrival.

              “Let’s go,” she said excitedly, closing the door behind her.

Moments later they arrived at the recording studio.  Jake knocked hard on the wooden door of the brick building and waited.  He was nervously shifting his weight from one foot to the other when a darkly-clad young man finally opened the door and let them in. They followed the young man into a small room furnished only with a red suede sofa, a cherry-wood coffee table, and a few folding chairs backed against the far wall.  The young man motioned for the trio to sit down on the sofa and then disappeared through a door marked “Studio.”  After a few moments, the young man reappeared, along with Garrett and three other young men that Jake assumed were Flaming Dogs band members. 

              “Glad to see you, Jake,” Garrett greeted the new guitarist, then turned to Amanda and the pretty girl with the long, dark hair. 

“Amanda, good to see you too.”  He then turned to acknowledge Carly.  There was a strange glint in Garrett's eyes as he stretched out his hand to Carly and said simply, “Hey.”

              “Hi,” Carly returned. She sat down on the sofa and caught Garrett eyeing her as she crossed her legs.  Thankfully, the awkward stare lasted only seconds.               

“Fellas, this is the guy I was telling you about.  He’s one badass guitarist.” 

Jake thanked Garrett for the generous compliment and shook hands with the three band members, all of whom seemed to regard Jake with skepticism.   

“How do we know you ain’t just choking our chain on this guy.  He looks like he’d be too young to be any good,” Sid said in front of Jake. 

              “Yeah,” John concurred.  “Plus, he looks like more of a jock than a musician.” 

              “Actually, I do play varsity football,” Jake conceded.

              “Yeah, I know about you,” Sid said.  “You’re the quarterback for the Panthers.  Didn’t your dad play in the NFL?”

              “He did.  Until he injured himself.”

              “What team did he play for?” John asked, genuinely interested. 

              “Guys, we’re getting off track here,” Garrett cut in.  John seemed a bit disappointed at the change of subject but decided to go with it.   

              “Okay, this guy can play football, but can he play the guitar?” John asked. 

Sid, the Flaming Dogs’ drummer, concurred. “Yeah, we haven’t even heard him play yet.” 

Jake took his guitar out of its case and some papers with notes scribbled on them.  He readied himself and set the papers out in front of him.  He strummed a few warm up notes, then said, “I wrote this one a few days ago.  It’s not really finished yet.  But I’ll play a few notes anyway.”

As Jake played, everyone in the room fell silent, seduced by the hypnotic melody of the tune.  Garrett sat on the armrest of the sofa, subtly nodding his head to the rhythm of the music, while Sid tapped on the coffee table, finding the song’s beat.  Everyone else leaned back, tapping their feet or humming along with the tune.  Carly just smiled to herself.  She felt so proud of Jake and almost wanted to yell to everyone in the room how wrong their initial assumptions had been.    

              “Man, that was great,” Jerry, the young man clad in black, said after Jake had finished. 

              “Why don’t you perform a quick solo?” Garrett suggested. “Show them what else you can do.”

Jake nodded and proceeded to play the best guitar solo he’d ever played.  He started slowly and softly, the electric notes seeming to flow from beneath his gifted hand like the gentle current of a mild river.  Then he began to increase the intensity, like the torrents of a tempest and continued up to the raging crescendo, after which he began his melodic descent.  When Jake hit his last note, Carly gasped with delight.  She couldn’t help but marvel at his musical genius.  She had never known that about him, as if he had kept it a hidden secret from everyone. 

              “I told you guys.  He’s awesome,” Garrett said, grinning broadly and stretching his hands behind his head.

              “You played amazingly well, dude,” Emi stated from the far corner of the room.  Emi had introduced himself earlier as the band’s keyboardist and had seemed a bit standoffish toward Jake, as if doubting he could be any good at all.  But now his attitude had completely transformed into one of pure respect. Emi approached Jake and shook his hand hard, all the while smiling at the newcomer. 

              “So, when’s our next practice before this gig at the Gypsy Lounge?” Sid asked Garrett.  “’Cause we need to get this guy up to speed before the show.”

              “Looks like you’re in, man,” Garrett said, still grinning broadly. 

Chapter Four

              Jake’s days were filled with practice both on the football field and in the B&G Recording Studio.  The late night practices with the Flaming Dogs were taking somewhat of a toll on Jake’s performance on the practice field.  Thursday afternoon’s football practice session was an attestation to that.  The play called was a handoff to Roy.  However, before Roy had a chance to get control of the ball, Jake let go, causing a fumble.  Coach Harmon had blown up at the mistake and had stomped up to Jake and pushed him hard in the chest, all the while screaming into his face.  But Jake didn’t care if his performance on the field was compromised by his late night practice sessions with the Flaming Dogs.  His father didn’t seem to notice when Jake would leave the house late at night with his guitar case in hand.  In Jake’s eyes, his father always seemed too distant to notice Jake’s comings and goings anyway.  He was either deep in thought about an upcoming game and what plays would be utilized or he just wouldn’t be home at all.  Jake sometimes wished his father would be more approachable, just like Carly’s father.  Many times he had wondered why he wasn’t able to engage in father-son activities with his father, or just have a normal father-son relationship.  But as long as he was Coach Harmon’s son, the only way to spend some time with his father was to play football.  Even through all the yelling, shouting, and insults, just being on the field with his father made him feel like he was loved and appreciated by the coach. 

Following that Thursday practice, Coach Harmon reminded the boys about the game next day. 

“We have a game tomorrow night against Westhill High School.” 

Harmon paused and glared at each of his players, his eyes seeming to pierce right though them, as if he could see all of their anxieties, doubts, and hidden fears.  Jake could hear Chad swallow hard behind him as the silence was prolonged. 

              “You’re leaders of this school.  Heck, you’re leaders of this whole damn community.  Everyone is expecting you to play a good game.  And not just a good game…a winning game.” 

Coach Harmon continued to glare at them all. 

“I expect nothing less than perfection out on that field tomorrow night.  Is that understood?”              

              “Yes,” the Panthers responded in fatigued unison.

              “Is that understood?” Harmon shouted.

              “Yes!” the Panthers shouted back with equal zeal.

              “You’ll play to win!” Harmon shouted, the spittle flying from his mouth.

              “We play to win!” the players shouted with a fierce unity similar to that of an army preparing for battle.

              “What’s our creed, gentlemen?” Harmon yelled, pacing back and forth.

              “Show no mercy!  Show no weakness!  Crush and conquer, then send 'em home!” the Panthers shouted. 

              “Good.  Now go shower and head out.  No laps tonight,” Harmon instructed the boys.  He then added, “And no acting like fools.  Save the partying for Friday night after we win the game.   I need to have strong and alert players out on that field tomorrow.”

              Friday night came more quickly than Jake had anticipated.  The night was fueled by an intense excitement emanating from the animated crowds that gathered in the stands. A news truck had parked behind the back entrance to the stadium, and a news crew was seen lugging in heavy equipment onto the sidelines.  A news reporter was smoothing the folds of her skirt while an assistant worked to control a few flyaway strands of her golden mane.  Carly checked out the gathering crowds in the bleachers above and felt a surge of electricity.  She looked at the brightly-lit field and waved at the Panthers’ mascot, who was getting ready to perform a few somersaults in front of a crowd of young children with red P’s painted on their cheeks. 

              “Come on, girls!” Susan piped, prompting the cheerleaders to hype up the crowd with a new cheer they had been working on for the past few weeks.  Carly readied herself and released a torrent of loud, stressed incantations which sent the crowd into an even further ecstatic frenzy.  She felt that same electricity surge through her again.  She relished the excitement of these games.  They made her feel so alive.  She felt almost like a celebrity amid the cheering crowds, the adoring fans, the pounding music from the school band, the flickering camera flashes, and the many reporters from the local newspaper and local news channels.  Carly gazed upward and noticed Amanda and Aaron among the crowd of people.  The twins were seated next to her own parents, who waved at their daughter.  Carly couldn’t help but smile when she noticed the book on Aaron’s lap.  She shook her head at him to let him know she had seen the book, and he shrugged sheepishly in response.  She placed her hands to her mouth and shouted at him, “When are you going to learn to leave those things at home, Aaron?  You’re supposed to be paying attention to the game!” 

Aaron shrugged again. 

Just then Susan yelled, “Here they come, girls!  Let’s support our guys!” 

The crowds’ shouts and cheers nearly drowned out the cheerleaders’ own roars of support as the Panthers jogged onto the field, the commentator announcing their arrival.   Carly immediately knew which player was Jake.  Not because of the number on his jersey, but because he was usually one of the tallest players out there.  Roy was never too far away, and she found him almost instantly.  As usual, he seemed almost too relaxed and calm, as if the football field was his home.  

              “He is so gorgeous,” Susan whispered next to Carly.  Her eyes were transfixed on the Panthers’ tall quarterback.  “Do I look okay?” she asked, adjusting her short skirt. 

              “You’re fine, Susan,” Carly retorted.

              “Have you talked to Jake for me?” Susan asked. 

              “Not yet,” Carly answered curtly.  “I’m still working on it.”

Just then the Westhill Wildcats emerged.  The Panthers’ loyal crowd erupted fiercely with condemnations against the opposing team. 

The Lakeview High cheerleaders performed another cheer to get the crowds ready for the pending game and then disappeared behind the sidelines as the game proceeded.  The Panthers performed well in the first and second quarters.  Roy ran the ball well so that by the end of the second quarter the Panthers were leading the Wildcats by a margin of two touchdowns.  The Lakeview High School drill team stepped out onto the field to perform the halftime show.  Thereafter, the Panthers bounded back onto the field for the start of the third quarter, prompting a roar from the crowds.  Jake caught a glimpse of Carly on the sidelines and waved at her, to which she smiled and waved back.  She wondered if the heat suffusing her cheeks was a result of the physical exertion of their cheers and accompanying stunts or because of Jake’s friendly acknowledgement.  She hoped it was the former.