A Voice to Love (Fallen Tuesday Book One) (A Brothers of Rock Novel) (2 page)

“Amy? Amy, I need you.”

Amy stepped from the
office and saw one of her sous chefs, Madison Norvak. Madison was young,
beautiful, a hell of a chef, but so nervous and on edge all the time. It
bothered Amy.

“What’s wrong?”

“We’re out of tails,”
Madison said.

“Out of tails? As in
lobster tails?”

“That’s right.”

“We can’t be,” Amy said.

“There’s none in the
kitchen.”

“Did you check the
basement?”

Madison’s jaw dropped.
“Oh… yeah…”

Amy smiled and touched Madison’s
shoulders. “We have beautiful storage in the basement. It cost tens of
thousands of dollars to build. I could be driving a fancy sports car right now,
but instead my car is in the shop getting fixed. Do you know why?”

“So we can have storage
in the basement,” Madison said.

“That’s right. Calm down
and take a breath. I know we’re busy, Madison, but it’s all under control.”

“Okay. Sorry.”

Madison hurried away and
smashed her hip off a counter as she cut a corner too tight. She let out a cry
and grabbed her hip but didn’t stop moving. Amy laughed and shook her head. She
couldn’t remember if she was ever that excited in her early twenties like
Madison. That felt like a lifetime ago. A lifetime when she had a lot of fun, a
little romance, and not much responsibility. Now she had to deal with the
break-in on her car that occurred two nights ago. Someone had smashed the
driver’s window and trashed her car. Nothing was stolen and it seemed like a
random break-in more than anything else. Her car was getting repaired and while
she knew she could ask to borrow one of Uncle Tom’s cars, she had been walking
to and from work the past couple days and nights. It didn’t bother her, she
enjoyed walking. The walk through town gave her human interaction. Stuck in a
kitchen all day, everyday, sometimes made Amy wonder what she was actually
doing with her life. She created menus and cooked food that people wanted, but
she never got to see the absolute best part, which was to see a customer eat her
food. Hear their reaction. Know if they spoke about the meal after they left
the restaurant.

Lately, Amy had grown a
small obsession with baking. She had always handled the dessert menu for Tommy
Two’s. That was her first big time job when she turned eighteen. Uncle Tom had
been ordering in frozen desserts that were simply terrible. Amy’s first
attempts at desserts weren’t much better but they were at least fresh. She had
perfected a few recipes that satisfied people, but now she had been adding more
and more. Just for fun. Because she had nothing else to really do.

Amy didn’t want to think
about it. She walked through the kitchen and kept a close eye on her team as
they worked fast and efficient. She took her spot behind the grill and studied
the tickets, then the grill, making sure everything was cooking properly and on
time. She trusted everyone around her and that was the most important thing.

The murmur of
conversation continued with everyone discussing orders, timing, what needed to
be done, what was coming up next. It was like music to her ears.

She saw Uncle Tom walking
through the restaurant, always available for customers needs. If someone needed
a refill or had a question, Uncle Tom was there to answer and help. He never
made a table wait for their server, he took care of it. He didn’t just have the
appearance of the owner, he had the appearance of a guy who loved the restaurant.

Uncle Tom walked toward
the kitchen and came in. He looked at Amy with his big, brown eyes and then
motioned for the office.

“Just two,” he called
out.

That was his famous line
-
just two
. It meant he wanted two minutes of your time. It was how the
restaurant got its name - Tommy Two’s. When Uncle Tom started his stand,
everyone knew him as the guy shouting
just two!
from behind the grill.
Everything in his life was based around two minutes.

Amy looked to one of her
chefs, Jeff, and said, “I’ll be back in a few. You know his two minutes.”

Jeff laughed. “I know.”

“Make sure that scampi is
ready when the filet is. Don’t forget the order of extra shrimp, too.”

“Got it. I can read the
tickets.” Jeff winked. A subtle way of telling Amy to calm down and walk away.
For every ounce of Uncle Tom that didn’t want to control the entire restaurant
as his own, Amy had the exact opposite. Thanks to the years of turnover and
untrustworthy employees, she had developed sometimes thicker than needed skin.
But her team now understood it and knew how to deal with her.

“Thanks, Jeff,” Amy said.

She walked to the office
and leaned against the doorframe.

“You called for me?”

Uncle Tom put up two
fingers. “Just two, okay?”

“I’m right here. What’s
going on?”

“Come in. Sit down.”

Amy stepped into the
office and shut the door. “This is serious. You’re either firing me or giving
me the restaurant.”

Uncle Tom chuckled. “Nah.
If I was going to fire you, I would have when you threw that burger at the one
waitress years ago.”

Amy blushed. Uncle Tom
always brought that up. It had been a bad day and night, and the waitress in
question had come forward to say she had been sleeping with Amy’s boyfriend at
the time. Amy was barely twenty-two and she lost her cool for a second. Since she
couldn’t get to the waitress’s hair through the food window, she improvised.
She threw a partially cooked burger at the waitress.

Whoops.

“And I’m not giving you
the restaurant either,” Uncle Tom said. “Hell, I’d sell it before I gave it
away.”

“You know I couldn’t
afford to buy this place.”

“Perfect,” Uncle Tom said
and smiled.

“Maybe I need a raise,”
Amy teased.

Uncle Tom scoffed. He put
his hand on a bunch of paperwork on the desk. This would be the time when he’d
begin to lecture Amy on the costs of running a restaurant. How a three hundred dollar
check didn’t mean he put three hundred dollars in his pocket. Amy had been
listening to the same speech since she was twenty.

“I’m playing around,” Amy
said. “What do you need from me?”

"Hope you don't get
mad at me..."

Amy opened her mouth to
ask what her Uncle Tom could have possibly done to make her mad when he stood
and reached into his pocket. He pulled out a dark purple cell phone and tossed
it to the desk. Amy's eyes widened as she casually touched her pockets and
found that her pockets were empty. She had left her cell phone out front,
again. Uncle Tom had a few pet peeves, Amy leaving her cell phone around the
restaurant being one of them.

"I'm sorry,"
Amy said. "I was in a hurry."

She reached for her phone
and Uncle Tom put his hand on hers. "I don't care about that. Well,
actually, I do. But that's not what I'm worried about right now."

"You're worried?
About what?"

"I didn't mean to
look," Uncle Tom said, "but when the damn thing kept going off, I
wasn't sure if someone was hurt or what."

"It kept going
off?" Amy asked.

"Someone named
Denny," Uncle Tom.

His eyes squinted and his
lips puckered. She swallowed and looked down to her uncle's aging hand. He
still had all his strength.

"Denny," Amy
said.

"Yeah, Denny. Is
that..."

"Yeah," Amy
whispered. "That's the one."

Or who Amy thought was
the
one
for a little while. The relationship wasn't built on love or even lust.
It was built on Denny being a bad boy and Amy being a good girl. They balanced
each other out until they didn't. Denny couldn't keep his hands off other women
and Amy couldn't imagine her life without Denny. Things had ended a couple months
ago when Uncle Tom had to physically throw a drunk Denny out of the restaurant.
Since then, Amy received a random text here and there. Nothing threatening,
just typical Denny stuff, written with dark context.

"Let me ask you
something," Uncle Tom said, "are you sure your car wasn't broken into
by someone you know?"

The question caught Amy
off guard. "Let me see my phone."

Uncle Tom moved his hand
and Amy looked down at it. She pressed a button and then opened her messages.
There were five in total from Denny.

Need a ride, baby?

Don't forget what's
broken can be replaced... and broken again...

Those were the two that
scared Amy the most. She tried to smile through it, but her pale face said
otherwise.

"I should have
knocked the guy out," Uncle Tom said.

"It's okay,"
Amy said. "He's all talk. Just ignore him."

"And you expect to
walk home tonight from here?"

Amy touched her uncle's
shoulder.

"I'll be fine,"
Amy said. "I can take care of myself."

However, the fear that raced
through her body said…
no, I can't.

(3)

Luke sat on the sidewalk
shielding himself with the tour bus while every passing car slowed down to see
what had happened and who would be in such a large bus like that. Plenty of
people honked their horns when they saw one of the guys from Falling Tuesday
pacing around or near the bus.

“Wild ride, huh?” Mack
approached Luke and then sat next to him.

“That was a little
scary,” Luke said. “I never had a tire blow out like that…”

“It’s a big tire, man,”
Mack said.

“I don’t know how we
didn’t end up flipping.”

“Luck,” Mack said.
“That’s what life is made up of. Good luck. Bad luck. Dumb luck. Shit luck.
It’s always luck.”

“Yeah, well, what are we
going to do about that radio thing?” Luke asked. “Seems like bad luck for those
involved there.”

“Did you talk to Frank
yet?”

Luke nodded. “I called.
He panicked. He’s working on something for us.”

“Well, boys, looks like
we’re in a little bit of trouble,” Gray said as he came walking from the front
of the bus.

“What kind of trouble?”
Luke asked.

“Don’t think it’s just a
simple tire change,” Gray said.

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know. The bus
driver is up there complaining. The tow truck guy is looking at things and
doesn’t seem too positive about it. Looks like this bad boy is getting hauled
out of here.”

“Oh, shit,” Luke said.

“I guess we’re
hitchhiking,” Mack laughed. “Just like the old days.”

“I better call Frank
again,” Luke said.

“You sit, relax,” Mack
said. “I’ll call him.”

“Why?”

“Well…” Mack looked up at
Gray, then back down to Luke. “Your voice sounds scratchy right now. I think
you did something to it.”

“What are you talking
about?” Luke snapped.

He heard it then. His
voice growled for a second. It hurt, too, but he hid it.

“It’s cool,” Gray said.
“You were starting to sing when the tire blew out. Probably just scared
yourself for a second. You need water and you’ll be fine.”

“That’s right,” Luke
said.

Mack slowly stood and
reached for his phone. Luke felt bad for snapping at his bandmates but he
didn’t anything about it. Gray stood for a few seconds and then casually
started to step back and slip away. Luke put his elbows on his knees and stared
at the tour bus. What the hell were the odds of blowing a tire like that? How
dangerous was it? Luke exhaled a deep breath and watched his breath dance in front
of him. It was cold outside. Each breath he took in reminded him of how raw his
throat felt. Swallowing the cold air didn’t help much either. The first few
minutes after the bus came to a skidding stop, Luke ran on adrenaline. He made
sure everyone was okay on the bus and then got everyone off. The located the
busted tire and by then the driver had already been on the phone for help.

Luke cupped his hands and
blew warm air into his palms. There was nothing he could do now except wait. Each
second that went by was a second his body could stop and rest. The show the
night before had been absolutely crazy. The fans were like nothing he’d ever
seen in his life. Each show grew bigger and wilder than the show before. Thanks
to cell phones, fans were able to see pictures and videos of Fallen Tuesday. They
knew what to expect and knew how to react when Luke would appear on stage, or
in the middle of the crowd, walking through the fans, singing and having fun.
In the heat of the moment during a show, there was nothing Luke could do to
control himself. That was the passion for music that continuously burned inside
his body since he was a little kid.

Just thinking about the
show had Luke’s heart racing. He loved the energy of the fans. The power of the
music. The reality that they were the headlining band. They were
the
band right then thanks to Chasing Cross stepping away from the tour and disappearing
into their own lives. Everything was centered around Fallen Tuesday. Luke
couldn’t be the one to stop that.

“Okay, good news and bad
news,” Mack called out as he walked toward Luke.

He had the rest of the
band with him. They stood around Luke, forcing Luke to look up at them. For a
second, Luke thought he was in the middle of an intervention.

“What’s the good news?”
Jake asked.

“Good news is that we get
to shack up in a hotel about ten minutes from here,” Mack said. “Top floor.
Couple rooms. Awesome.”

“Bad news?” Luke asked.

“We’re not going to make
the live interview and gig,” Mack said. “There’s no way they’d get all the
equipment out there on time.”

“Where the hell are we?”
Trent asked.

“Ten minutes outside
Syracuse,” Mack said.

“Where’s the radio
station?”

Mack looked at Trent,
shaking his head. “I just said there’s no way they’d get the equipment there on
time. We were in a tour bus accident, okay? Frank already talked to whoever he
had to talk to. Frank’s going to call us when we’re settled in the hotel and
we’ll do the interview from there.”

“From a hotel, huh?” Gray
asked with a big smile on his face.

“It’s been a while since
we stayed in a hotel,” Luke said.

“It’s only one night,”
Mack said. “By the time we play our Syracuse show, the tour bus will be fixed
and we’ll back on the road. That’s not my problem though.”

“That’s Frank’s problem,”
Luke said.

“It better be for what he
collects off us,” Jake scoffed.

The band laughed and Mack
put a hand out for Luke. Luke took it and stood up.

“It’s damn cold out
here,” Gray said.

“We’ll be warm soon
enough,” Luke said. “In the comfort of a hotel.”

“I can’t wait,” Mack
said. “Too bad we won’t have instruments, you know? We could sit around and keep
working on that song.”

Luke looked at the tour
bus.
Yeah… too bad…

“We could call someone,
can’t we?” Gray asked. He looked over his shoulder. “Or better yet…”

Gary ran at the bus.

“Whoa!” Jake yelled.

The rest of the band
tried to protest but Gray was already inside the bus. Luke knew the move couldn’t
have been smart or safe, but he wasn’t in any position to scream, or tell
someone about smart or safe actions. If Luke was smart and safe, he’d be
resting somewhere letting his throat heal.

“What the hell is he
doing?” Trent asked.

Luke looked at the
bassist. “What do you think? Taking a piss?”

Mack busted out laughing.
“I like this side of Luke. Throat scratchy. Attitude on edge. Maybe this is a
new look for the band. We can be grungy.”

“Shut up, Mack,” Luke
said. “I hope Gray doesn't hurt someone in there.”

“He’s fine,” Mack said.

Gray appeared a few
seconds later with two guitar cases in his hands. He put them down, gave a
thumbs up, and then went back into the bus.

“Hope he grabs the
booze,” Mack said. “Or else the charge on the hotel room is going to be
killer.”

“That’s all you think
about,” Luke said. “Drinking and writing music.”

“Just until we’re done
with the tour and I get to my bike,” Mack said. He slapped Luke on the back and
smiled. “Let me go get those guitars out of the way.”

Mack got two guitars as
Gray came out with three more guitars. They weren’t in cases, but Gray managed
to carry two in one hand by their necks.

“What are you doing?” a
voice yelled.

It was a short, round man
with a look of rage on his face.

“Getting my guitars,”
Gray said.

“Christ,” the man said.
“The goddamn bus is jacked up right now. I’m trying to find a way to get it
working and you’re on the damn thing. You know how dangerous that is?”

“No,” Mack said. “Why
don’t you tell me how dangerous it is.”

“That can’t be good,”
Trent whispered to Luke.

“No, not at all,” Luke
said.

He rushed to break up the
scene, getting between an angry tow truck driver and an annoyed Mack.

“Hold up,” Luke said.

“Hold up?” the man said.
“What the hell does that mean? Hold up. You know what I’m trying to do for you?”

“You’ll get paid,” Luke
said. “I’m sorry about the band here. We needed our guitars.”

“You could’ve said
something!” the man shouted.

“Mack, Gray,” Luke said.
“We done?”

“We’re done,” Mack said.

Luke gave a nod and the
drummer and guitarist lifted the guitars and walked away. Luke looked at the
tow truck driver, nodding again. “I’m sorry about that,” Luke said. “Kind of
hard to take musicians away from their instruments. We’ll stay off the bus
now.”

The man shook his head
and rubbed his face. “Look, I’m sorry. I was just under the bus and I saw it
moving. I thought the damn thing was going to fall on me.”

“Not a problem,” Luke
said.

“Hey, I gotta ask while
I’m here,” the man said. “My daughter is a big fan…”

Luke laughed. “Of course.
Hope you have a pen and paper, I’m not allowed on the bus.”

“Smart ass,” the man
said. He pulled pen and paper from his pocket and gave it to Luke.

Luke took the paper to
the band and they all signed it for the tow truck driver. Everyone signed with
smiles on their faces, amazed at how their day turned out. By then they should
have been at the radio station, greeting fans, taking pictures, laughing and
joking, enjoying the highlights of being the hottest rock band going. Instead,
they were stranded on the side of the road, cold, signing a piece of paper that
smelled of grease for a tow truck driver that was going to take their bus away.

A few minutes later
Luke’s cell phone rang and it was Frank calling.

“Frank, talk to me,” Luke
said.

“Where are you?”

“On the side of the road.
Where are you?”

“I’m at the radio station
still,” Frank said. “We’re working on different dates to bring you guys back
here to for the live gig.”

“They can’t wait it out?”
Luke asked. He felt his heart jump. Should he have suggested such a thing?

“They probably could,”
Frank said. “But I’d hate to do that to the fans for a few songs. You’ll be on
the radio for an interview. I hate to say this, but it’s kind of building some
buzz that you were in a bus crash.”

“Buzz? It’s building
buzz? I’m standing on the side of a road, Frank. I just had to sign an
autograph for the tow truck driver. We’re freezing our asses off.”

“The limo will be there
in a few minutes,” Frank said. “I promise.”

“You got a limo?”

“Yes. And I got the top
floor of the hotel. You won’t be bothered.”

Mack stepped in front of
Luke, put his thumb to his lips, and tilted his head back a few times. His eyes
were wide and he smiled.

“Frank, the boys want to
know about the drink situation at the hotel,” Luke said.

Mack gave a thumbs up.

“There’s plenty to
drink,” Frank said. “Just don’t get into trouble, Luke.”

“Frank…”

“I’m serious,” Frank said.
“I’m not there to babysit you guys tonight. Go there. Have a few drinks. Relax.
Enjoy the night off.”

“Don’t worry,” Luke said,
“Gray went back on the bus and got our guitars.”

“Perfect then,” Frank
said.

Luke hung up the phone
and before he could say a word to the band, a vehicle started to pull to the
side of the road. It was a black limo, just as Frank had said.

“Our ride is here,” Luke pointed
out.

They each grabbed a
guitar. Everyone, except Luke, walked to the limo. He hung back and saw the
driver of the tour bus, Tim, standing near the front of the bus, smoking a
cigarette.

“We’re going to a hotel,”
Luke said. “You can join us. Food. Booze. A place to sleep.”

“I’m good,” Tim said.
“Can’t leave my bus.”

“Are you sure? Can I get
you anything, Tim? I’ll call Frank…”

“It’s good,” Tim said.
“Thanks.”

“Thank you, Tim, for
keeping this thing standing when that tire blew.”

“Everyone gets their
chance to be a hero,” Tim said. “Just have to take advantage of it when it
happens.”

Luke smiled and thought
about those words for a second. It amazed him how a guy like Tim could be so
dedicated to something like driving a tour bus. But it saved Luke’s life, and
the rest of the band. Luke turned and watched the rest of Fallen Tuesday climb
into the limo. He watched Jake and Trent climb in first. Then as Gary bent to
get in, Mack give him a kick in the ass. Mack threw his head back, laughing.

Luke laughed too.

He loved his band.

**

Mack slammed the door and
locked it. He looked at Fallen Tuesday, minus their lead singer, and snapped
his fingers at Gray, calling for his attention.

“Hey, listen to me,” Mack
said.

“What’s wrong?”

“What’s going on with
Luke?”

“What do you mean?”

“You see him tonight?”
Mack asked. “He looked lost. Distant from us.”

“Bus accident will do
that, I guess,” Gray said.

“Screw that,” Mack said.
“We busted a tire.”

“We could have flipped.
We could have died.”

“I could fall down the
stairs at the hotel and break my neck,” Mack said. “Does that mean I should be
distant and in fear?”

“Point taken. What do you
think is wrong with him?”

“I don’t know,” Mack
said. “His voice sounded different.”

“Can’t judge on that,”
Gray said. “Going from a warm tour bus to standing in the cold air for almost
an hour. My throat is sore right now from that air.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Mack
said. He rubbed his face. Something about it just didn’t feel right. “What
about on the bus?”

“What about?”

“I don’t know, he seemed
like he was afraid to sing.”

“Maybe he just didn’t
have the right lyrics to sing,” Gray said.