The Biker's Fate Chapter 481

"Can I ask you something?" I asked Vick, lowering my voice.

"Sure. Anything. What's up?"

"What's she like? You know. To work with?"

"The Boss?" Vick smiled wide. "She's great."

"Really? Because…you know. All the shit in the tabloids."

"You don't have to worry about that bullshit. That's all in her rear-view mirror. She's grown up and has her head on straight."

"You sure?" I pressed.

"Well, she's an artist, so there's the normal amount of crazy we all have to deal with, but she's got a good heart and she's loyal as hell. You gotta remember that this all started before she can even remember. I can't even imagine how hard that must have been to deal with."

"You been with her a while?" I asked.

"I did my first tour with her as a keyboardist ten years ago and then she offered me the MD gig. Rod's been with her longer than any of us. He can tell you exactly how much working with Melody has changed over the years."

I cleared my throat. "Yeah. I'm not so sure Rod's excited about my being here."

"He's super tight with the boss, and he's protective of her. That's all. Give it some time. He'll warm up to you."

"Or set my bunk on fire," I said.

He smiled. "We're all still pretty charged up about everything that went down with Gill, so try not to take anything personally."

"I get it. Thanks, man."

"My office door is always open," Vick said, pointing to his keyboards.

The first half of the setlist was made up of songs from the early part of Melody's career, which consisted of mostly straightforward pop tunes. Running through the second half of the set was a bit trickier as it contained newer, more sophisticated songs. As we played the whole set, I could see how much her writing and arranging had matured over the years.

During our first meeting, Melody had explained her vision of this tour, and now playing through the setlist for the first time, I was beginning to understand. For this tour, the setlist was in chronological order. Starting with the first song on her first album, all the way to her latest single.

We were in between songs, discussing whether we'd jumped to the bridge of the last song a measure too early when Melody walked in with Brandy and a member of her security team.

"How's is goin' in here, fellas?" she asked cheerily, taking off her Jackie O shades. She wore gray sweatpants, a black tank top, and her hair was piled on her head in a messy bun. She was undoubtedly the sexiest woman I'd ever seen, and for the first time, I doubted if I should have ever taken this job.

So far, I'd been too hyper-focused about the music or scared shitless about the show to think about what it was going to be like to stand on stage with a goddess night after night. Of course, I already knew Melody was impossibly beautiful before I'd met her, but I'd always assumed she was some vapid pop-tart. But now that I'd met her and her band, I knew she was a woman of substance, which made her far more attractive to me.

"They givin' you a hard time?" she asked me, motioning to her bandmates.

"Perfect gentlemen," I replied.

She chuckled. "Now I know you're lying."

"Can't remember the last time I saw you in the tuning room, Melody," Vick said. "Everything good?"

"Yeah. Just thought I'd check up on the new guy. Make sure you hadn't scared him away."

"D'you hire Mr. Muscles here to make us all look bad?" Puddin' cried out.

"Says the man time forgot," Melody said. "When was your last birthday, anyway? Twenty years ago?"

"It's the clean livin', love. One beautiful day at a time," Puddin' replied.

"That's our boy," Melody said in a way that conveyed a deep connection between the two of them. "So, you feeling okay?" she asked, turning back to me. "Nervous at all?"

"I feel like I'm about to be shot out of a cannon. Does that count?"

"You'll be great. Besides, our show is nothing like that," she said.

"No?"

"No," she said with a smirk. "The cannon guys use safety nets."

I laughed.

Melody waved the man she walked in with over to us. "Train, this is Chip Robertson. My head of security."

He shook my hand. "Pleased to meet you, Train. I understand, you're to serve as extra security at Ms. Morgan's request."

"I'm not here to step on your toes, sir. This is your show. I'm happy to help wherever I'm needed."

"I appreciate that, son," Chip said, before handing me a security badge. "Keep that with you at all times. Are you licensed to carry a firearm?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good," Chip said. "Now, the last thing to do is assign your code name."

"Code name?" I looked to Melody.

"This tour we're the Marx brothers," she replied. "Vick is Groucho, Rod is Chico, Puddin' is Harpo—"

"And you're Gummo," Chip said.

"Gummo? Who the hell is Gummo?" I asked.

"He was the least known of the Marx Brothers," Chip said. "He was drafted into the war."

"Sounds like our Train," Melody said.

"Why can't I be Zeppo?"

"Because Gill was Zeppo," Melody said. Disgust dripping from her voice.

"Gummo it is," I said.

"I should get going and let you boys get back to work," Melody said, turning to leave.

"You wanna sit in on a number before you go, boss?" Vick asked.

"Sure, but none of the Melody Morgan shit," she said, and Vick handed her a microphone.

"How about we do one that's a wee bit dirty, eh?" Melody asked, mimicking Orange Salad's late great lead singer Dennis Moore's intro to "She's a Thief," and Puddin' counted us off.

"One, two, free, four!"

What happened next can only be described as an out of body experience. I was playing one of the first songs I ever figured out how to play with Puddin' Daily himself and Melody Morgan on vocals. I swear to God an asteroid could have broken through Earth's atmosphere, crashed into the Rose Garden, and hit me square in the nut sack and I wouldn't have felt a thing. I was both hyper present, but also completely disconnected from myself. By the time we played through the second chorus I was floating.

"Come on new guy, let's go!" Puddin' shouted into his mic, cuing the guitar solo.

I moved my hand to the correct position on the fretboard and then it happened. My mind went completely blank. No guitar solo, no nothin'.

Guitar? What's a guitar? I was drowning in sea of darkness for what felt like five minutes, but in truth was only a nano-second. But by the time my fingers were on the strings, the notes flooded back to my memory in an instant, and I began to play like my life depended on it. It was both terrifying and exhilarating.