Road Rash Read Online Free PDF Page B

switch, so I needed to make some decisions.…
    I turned to Kimber as I drove. “Hey, do you mind making a stop on the way home?”
    “Sure, where are we going?”
    “Land of Lights.”

5
“Falling Slowly”
    As we pulled into the parking lot at Land of Lights, Kimber asked, “Are we here because Kyle and the guys are playing here this summer? Not to play psychiatrist, but it seems like you’re going out of your way to make yourself feel bad tonight.”
    “No, Doc. In this case, a cigar is just a cigar. We’re here to kill that bad taste with some good music. That’s all.” I knew who was playing tonight but I’d learned my lesson—there was no way I was going to tell anyone else about the offer from Glenn Taylor.
    And from the moment we walked in, it was apparent that Bad Habit wasn’t going to make a liar out of me—they were rocking. The dance floor was already pretty full, and the people sitting around were getting into it, too. There was a raised section behind the dance floor, so we grabbed a table up there and I went and got us cokes.
    “Sorry, they were fresh out of little umbrellas,” I said as I sat down. “But I managed to talk them out of a couple of lime wedges, to give you that south-of-the-border feeling.”
    “Why, thank you.”
    As she took a drink, I had to ask. “So, what does
this
taste like? Cabo, too?”
    She took another sip, deep in concentration. “No … it tastes like Bora-Bora, in Tahiti. In one of those huts raised on stilts out over the water. Sitting on the little deck at sunset, catching our dinner with a fishing line. And three more weeks of nothing to do.” She looked up at me from her drink and slowly smiled.
    “Whoa … I think you’re a future Hemingway, li’l sis. I don’t have a clue about Tahiti, but I like the way you paint a picture.”
    Just then the band launched into a pile-driver groove of wildly distorted guitar and pounding drums. People started pouring onto the dance floor as Bad Habit went into their own twisted update of “Are You Gonna Go My Way?”
    Kimber gave me the look. I know the look, trust me. And as nice as it feels to be asked, it’s better to show a little sack and step up.
    I stood up. “C’mon, let’s dance.”
    She gave me a big smile, practically yelling to be heard over the music. “Sounds great!”
    Dancing with Kimber was sorta weird but also a good time, if that makes any sense. The floor was packed and the band was totally slammin’ and we danced our asses off. GT took a couple of extended solos, and unlike Justin, he absolutely rocked. And he wasn’t just shredding at top speed. That guy could play with feeling, stretching out a note until it howled like some demented coyote.
    By the end of the song Kimber had a big sweaty smile on her face. “That was fun!” she said. “Let’s stay for the next one.…”
    So we did, and it was another good dance tune. And then they brought it way down, and I recognized the slow opening chords of “Landlocked Blues,” by Bright Eyes. Kimber was still giving me the look, but I played dumb
—that
would have been too totally weird. “Uh, I’m thirsty,” I said, nodding toward our table. “Let’s go get a drink.”
    And actually, I was glad for the break. It gave me a chance to sit back and really listen to the band. Which was why I was there … right? They sounded more pro than we—I mean the Sock Monkeys—ever did. There was no getting around that. And I might have thought their equipment had something to do with it, but we’d just witnessed a graphic demonstration that gear does not make the band.
    Okay, they did have five players—including a girl on keyboards who really filled out their sound. And their lead singer also played rhythm guitar on some songs.
    But there was more to it than just numbers
or
gear.
    Their lead singer had a really good voice and
huge
stage presence to go along with it. When he was singing, everyone was watching him … including the