Chapter 1

I've been a posting maniac today, huh?

Anyway, I figured since it was "done," I'd post up Chapter 1 and see if anybody had any kind or brutal words for me in the morning. Again, don't say I didn't warn you. This one is quite a bit longer, obviously.

Chapter 1

2007

Drumming his fingers on the table, Jason looked again towards the diner door, and again at his watch. He had been there, nursing his coffee, for nearly thirty minutes. He hated tardiness, especially when he wasn’t thrilled about the meeting in the first place. He’d done few interviews these ten years, and mostly for local papers when he’d play or sponsor at local charity festivals. But this was for a national music publication, and worse yet, for one of those pithy “Where Are They Now?” pieces.

However, his wife had fielded the call from the writer, and she thought it was a wonderful idea. So at the table he sat, sipping at lukewarm sub par coffee. He was thinking of leaving and conducting the interview over the phone later when his cell phone rang. Figuring it was probably the reporter calling to give him a lame excuse, he opened it up without looking at the Caller ID, and said his name, his usual greeting.

“Jas! It’s Bri!” Jason shifted the phone to his other hand, and leaned back in his chair.

“Heya, Bri. What’s up?” Jason saw what had to be the reporter come in, with a camera bag. “I can’t really talk long, I’m about to give an interview.”

“Wow, an interview already? Cool, cool, call me back when you’re done,” and with a rustle, Jason realized Brian had hung up. Jason had enough time to wonder what he meant by already, when the reporter apprehensively came up to the table.

“Jason Henneman?” the reporter asked, as Jason stood up, and extended his hand.

“Yeah, that’s me. I know, I look a lot different. Short hair, no beard, that can really change a person’s look.” The reporter shook his hands, and Jason noted that this guy’s hand was clammy.

“I’m Dave Greenberg, from Massive Music, we spoke briefly.”

“Yes, of course.” Jason gestured at the seat across from him, and waved at the waitress. “Would you like some coffee? It’s really quite putrid.” The reporter chuckled and began to pull out a notepad and a tape recorder.

“Naw. Water is fine by me. I buck stereotypes that way,” he said, as the waitress came over. He then repeated the water request for her benefit, and added a bagel and cream cheese. Jason got a burger and fries, and as the waitress wandered to the kitchen, he started the interview with the very open ended “tell us what you’ve been doing these ten years?”

The interview lasted about half an hour, which surprised Jason. He figured it’d be a five minute talk, tops, considering he hadn’t really done all that much, but the reporter knew how to flesh out a story, apparently. Greenberg went off on tangents that Jason never thought they’d cover in a million years. They talked his family, they talked about how he and Brian had stayed close, all the different charity functions he’d helped out with. Every few minutes, though, Jason’s cell phone went off. He let all of them go to voicemail. The first number he didn’t recognize. The second was his wife, as was the third. Then Brian again. Finally, at the end of the interview, Greenberg led Jason outside to take photos for the magazine article. Jason gave him a boring pose, leaning against his car and smiling. Greenberg then thanked Jason, and with a handshake, they parted ways. Jason went back in to finish his fries, and pulled his cell out.

He debated who to call first, and decided to call Brian, who picked up before the first ring was even over. “Jas! So, are you in?”

“Do you mean done? Yeah, the reporter left a moment ago. What’s so important?”

“No, man, the reunion! Are you in? Did you make it official with that interview?”

Jason had a fry halfway to his mouth, and dropped it. “What reunion? What are you babbling about, Brian?”

“Um,” Brian fumbled for a second, “uh, didn’t Bobby call you?” With a flash of insight, Jason flashed back to the first caller, the number he hadn’t recognized.

“Bri, I’ll call you right back. Hold tight.” He unceremoniously pressed the end button, and keyed his voicemail up. He entered the passcode when prompted, and heard he had three messages. He keyed in to play the messages, and mentally prepared himself.

“Yeah, Jason? This is Bobby…uh, Paige. You know, from the band? Um, yeah, man, how are you doing? Listen, me and Doug, you remember Doug, right? Drummer? Well, me and Doug have been talking, and we want to pull Morning Star back together, for a tour, you know? If that goes well, then who knows. We’ve put out feelers and this could be huge. But we don’t want to do it unless we do it right, you know? Brian’s in. You’re the only one who we haven’t talked to. So, call me back at this number.”

The phone fell out of Jason’s hands and bounced off the table, as he simply stared straight ahead. As he heard his wife telling him that Bobby Paige had called looking for him and that she gave him his cell number coming from his phone, he slowly gained control of his wits. By the time he completely came around, Brian’s voice was chirping at him to hurry up and call him back. He snapped the phone shut, and sunk his head in to his hands.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

“It’s an incredible opportunity, Jason,” Ann said. “You know how many people would love to see you guys back together?”

Jason looked across the kitchen table to his wife, and shook his head. “That’s beyond the point, though. We broke up for a reason. I’ve barely spoken to Bobby in ten years, and he calls up, on basically a lark, and wants to reform the band? And what the hell is Brian thinking? He’s got way more reason to be upset at Bobby. I bet you this has more to do with Bobby’s latest solo album tanking more than anything else.”

“I’m sure he has his reasons. But does that really factor in to why you wouldn’t want to do it?” she asked, with that look she gave him whenever she wanted to read him like a book. Jason took a sip of his beer, and was about to protest, when he realized she had a point. He stood up, and started to pace.

“I’m not sure I have a tour in me, anymore. I’ve been off that scene for ten years. Different city every day, cramped tour busses, Bobby’s ego for months. What about you and Alex? What are you going to do while I’m off gallivanting? Who’s going to take care of Alex while you’re at work? It’d be entirely selfish to do this. With little real reward.” He drank the rest of his beer, and walked to the refrigerator to get another. When he turned around, Ann was standing right there.

“Stop making excuses, Jason. We’ve got the money for a babysitter, and that’s when my mom wouldn’t be available to watch Alex. You haven’t done anything completely for yourself, not like this, since I’ve known you,” she said, stepping closer and hugging him, putting her head against his chest. “You’ve been stagnating for awhile, honey. Don’t argue, it’s true. You need to stretch a bit, and this is perfect. You don’t have to get along with Bobby, you only need to work with him.”

Jason wrapped his arms around her, making her jump slightly when the cold beer bottle touched an exposed piece of skin on her arm. “You aren’t going to let me simply forget this ever came up, are you?” he asked her.

“Not likely, no. This would be great for you, I think. You grumble and complain when anybody mentions Morning Star, but I know you too well. You miss those days, maybe not all of it, but a lot of that time.” She leaned back to look him in the eyes. “You need to call Bobby.”

“Well,” Jason said, disentangling from Ann’s arms, “I guess it wouldn’t hurt to just talk to him, find out what the general plan is.” He tried not to look at her self satisfied smile as he scrolled through the missed calls on his cell phone. He found Bobby’s number, and hit dial.

“Bobby, it’s Jason…”