The Biker's Fate Chapter 479

Train

An incoming call interrupted my morning workout. I didn't recognize the number but picked up anyway in case it was Melody.

"This is Train."

"Hey, Train. This is Vick Weathers. I'm Melody's MD."

The Musical Director or MD, as they're known in the business, oversees the band. Everything from running rehearsals to giving live cues.

"Oh, hey. How's it goin'?"

"Better now that I know we have a lead guitarist on board," Vick replied. "How are you feeling?"

"Nervous, excited, scared shitless," I replied.

Vick chuckled. "It doesn't matter how many tours I've done, I'm a bag of nerves before every single one of them. I drive my wife fucking nuts for two weeks leading up to the first show."

"I'm sure I'll feel a lot better once I get to actually play with the band."

"I'm glad to hear you say that. I was hoping you'd be willing to come to the venue a couple hours early to run through the set a couple of times. The crew always sets up a tuning room for us somewhere at the venue. It gives us a chance to warm up, play through the songs, and knock off any rough edges before soundcheck with Melody."

"Man, that would be great," I said, breathing a sigh of relief.

I'd been on a steady diet of Melody's music since my first conversation with Harmony and knew the material forward and backward but knew everything would feel totally different when playing with the band. The more time I could spend playing with them before showtime the better.

"Your guitar tech will bring a van around to pick up you and your gear tomorrow at 10:00am. I've got a guy from a local shop that'll be here with a selection of guitars, amps, pedals, and anything else you need us to rent for the tour. Don't be shy. Whatever you need, we've got you covered."

"Wow, thanks. I've never had someone so much as help carry my amp before."

"Welcome to the big league, baby."

The next morning, a rail-thin, pasty young man covered in tattoos showed up on my doorstep precisely at 10:00am and introduced himself as "Ant," my guitar tech. Of course, I never could have known that Anthony "Ant" Palermo would end up being one of the most sought-after techs in the industry, but also one of my best friends.

"Nice to meet you Ant, I'm Train."

"This everything?" he asked, pointing to the modest array of gear I'd assembled. Two electric guitars, my favorite acoustic, a VOX AC30 amplifier, and a small pedal board. The same gear I'd used for years.

 "That's it. Except for my suitcase, and my bike," I said.

"Cool. How about I load your gear and luggage into the van, and you follow me to the venue on your bike?"

I gave Ant a hand loading the van, locked up, and before I knew it, we'd arrived at the loading docks of Portland's famous Rose Quarter Sports and Entertainment District.

The Rose Quarter, home of the Portland Trailblazers, featured a nineteen-thousand seat arena, originally named the Rose Garden, but has since been rebranded the MODA Center. Of course, to us locals, it will always be the Rose Garden, and to every local musician, a dream venue to one day play. I could barely process that today was that day for me.

Ant led me to the loading docks, passing through several security checkpoints along the way. Once we arrived, I was introduced to Rick, the fleet captain of the truckers. He found a safe and secure spot on one of the trucks to put my bike that still allowed me access to it whenever needed.

Once my bike was taken care of, Ant and I shuttled my gear through the underground labyrinth of the Rose Quarter until finally reaching the large multi-purpose room turned rehearsal space where I found Vick setting up his array of keyboards. Apart from a few techs, he appeared to be the only one there.

"You found the place!" he exclaimed, waving me over to his station.

"Hey, Vick. Nice to meet you face-to-face," I said, shaking his hand.

"Thanks again for jumping in on such short notice," he said. "The rest of the guys should be here soon. Go ahead and set up next to me so I can give you cues as we run through the set."

"Alright, sounds good," I said, and Ant got busy unpacking my gear.

Pulling my Les Paul out of its case, Ant hissed.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

"May as well keep this one in the case," he replied.

I frowned. "Why? What's wrong with it?"

"Nothing as far as I'm concerned. It's beautiful but the boss has a strict 'no white guitars' policy."

"What?"

"It's true," Vick interjected. "If she so much as sees a white guitar, she'll fly into a total rage."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah, man."

I shrugged. "Well, my Strat's tobacco sunburst, but it's the only other electric guitar I've got. I don't have a backup or anything."

"No worries," Vick said. "Play the Strat for now, and when Jerry from Centaur Guitars gets here, we'll get you set up with whatever you need."

Just then, Rod Archer, Melody's drummer, walked through the door dressed to the nines. He wore a slim fit tailored suit and what looked to me like very expensive shoes and sunglasses.

"What the fuck are you all dressed up for? The show doesn't start for hours. Or doesn't your fancy watch keep good time?" Vick asked.

"Don't you dare talk about the anniversary present your mother got me," Rod fired back.

"Oh, wait." Vick waved his finger toward him. "You're a drummer in a suit. That can only mean you just got back from your appointed court date."

"First of all, fuck you. I look damn good, and you know it. And if you must know, I came straight here from a photo shoot," Rod fired back.

"Thank you," Vick said. "You just reminded me that it's time to renew my subscription to Shithead's Digest. Good for you for landing the cover this time."