Have A Little Faith In Me by Brad Vance

Author:Brad Vance [Vance, Brad]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi, azw
Published: 2015-01-28T05:00:00+00:00

Sam’s roommate was Jet, a big friendly dude whose life consisted of working, sleeping, occasionally going to class, and playing drums.

“So let’s hear you,” Jet challenged Rocky the first time he came to their house. He gave Rocky an electric guitar.

“I’ve never played one of these. I only had an acoustic.”

“Well, okay, hold on.” Jet rumbled out the door to visit the next door neighbors.

“You like him?” Sam asked Rocky.

“Yeah, he’s a nice guy.”

“I mean, like him. I’m just asking because you’re gay, he’s gay, maybe you guys wanna date or fuck or something, so you know, you should get it out of the way before we become a band.”

Rocky laughed. “Is it so obvious I’m gay?”

“No. Well, yeah. I mean, I see you checking out guys at the store. Big, hunky dudes. So I thought maybe…”

Rocky smiled. Jet was a big dude, not unlike Chad Smith from the Peppers – good looking in a friendly, shaggy kind of way. But not…not what pushed Rocky’s button.

“Really? I check out the big hunkies, huh? I grew up with a crush on Chris Cornell, I mean, he’s not big, but he’s tall. Anyway, no, Jet’s not my type.”

“Good,” Sam nodded. “Nothing like interband relationships to fuck shit up.”

“Not a problem.”

Rocky was a little stunned by both Sam’s certainty that they were a band already, and the speed at which it was happening. Maybe he’d thought of forming a band as some kind of long, drawn out process of tentatively feeling out other artists until discovering your creative soul mates. But instead, Sam seemed content to let a happy accident at a record store drive the action.

It was freeing to Rocky, to think this way. Everything in his life had been so regimented, the idea that these things could just be “random,” just…happen impromptu, startled him.

Jet returned with a guitar case in hand, its owner in tow behind him. “Rick here wants to get a look at you before he hands over his baby.”

Rocky nodded, shook Rick’s hand. Jet opened the case and Rocky gasped, suddenly realizing why Rick was being so careful. The Gibson Hummingbird was worth thousands of dollars.

Rocky picked it up reverently. Chris Cornell played one of these. What more did he need to know?

He knew exactly what he wanted to play. How many times had he played this song, how many times had he stretched his voice, discovering his own vocal range. The notes of “Like a Stone” flowed from his fingers in a waterfall, and the words were a flock of birds banking wildly in front of the cascade, flirting with disaster.

He came to the end, the roaring finish, his eyes closed as he sang the epic wave of notes in the last word of the song, “alone.”

He’d only ever played the song when he was alone with Korey, who was no cheerleader. Korey would nod, say, “Good job.” And then tell him where he missed something.

When he was done, he opened his eyes. His new friends were speechless.

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