Nashville Syline

Many thanks once again go out to Aaroneous for his hard work and hours put in editing my work.

Nashville Skyline.

"Come on Joe. Stop kidding around. It's booked, right?"

"For the tenth and final time, yes. It's been booked for a month."

"The place we like? The one on Twenty-first Ave.?"

"Yes."

"The old tobacco place, right? The one with the pool?" I hesitated with my answer for longer than I should have. "Please Joe."

"How many times do I..."

"Flights?"

"I swear to God Drew. You're seconds away from being beaten to death."

"Yeah baby! Fuckin Smashville. I didn't want to doubt you Joe, but I'm usually the guy who books all the..."

"Not this time. This time you can relax."

Knowing this was my younger brother's final party weekend while being single didn't ease the pain of having him go over each and every item and detail on my list of things to book. And just to piss me off, he did it multiple times a day.

Andrew or Drew, as he is usually affectionately known, is my brother. He and I work together at our father's cabinetry business in Milwaukee. Drew took over the office end after he finished his business courses at college. Me, Joe Jr., I didn't go to college for business. Instead, I took a more hands on approach by taking woodworking courses. I like the idea of building and creating far more than the numbers aspect of our business. And our father, Joe Brooks Sr., he will spend from June until October at his lake front home just outside of town. But for the other months, he and his new wife can be found floating on his yacht anywhere between Key West and any small island in the Caribbean.

For the most part, what we have works. With 19 full-time employees, we have a good operation going. It's hard work, but at the end of the day, we all earn a very fair living.

Anyway, the reason I bring up working together, is we also live together. It's my condo, but Drew has lived with me for the past two years. But this too, will soon be changing.

This coming weekend, we are going to Nashville to celebrate his upcoming wedding. A bachelor party of sorts. Just a tame drink and golf weekend.

The next week, he and his future wife are required to do a pre-marital getaway retreat, and on the weekend after, it is their big day.

So, a month from now, I will once again have my place all to myself.

*****

"Okay. Okay. I get it. Just run it by me one more time."

My look alone should have scared him away, but there he stood. Looking at me like I was Santa Claus with a bag full of presents.

"We leave here at ten. We board our flight at one. We met up with Noah, Ethan, and our car in Nashville at three. We'll stop at Corkdork's and pick up all the beer and booze we need to hold us over until Monday. If things go as planned, we'll arrive at the 1865 right at four. They'll text me a code. The gates will open, and fifteen minutes later, you'll have a cold beer in your hand, and your dumb ass in the swimming pool."

"The four of us are sharing the place?"

My head was actually starting to hurt.

"No, we are not. I've told you this several times. They are in their own condo. We have a two bed, two bath unit to ourselves.

"Shit, bro! It sounds too good to be true."

"Oh yes it does," I said sarcastically.

"What about the extracurricular activities?"

"It Nashville. There's plenty to do."

"I know, but..."

"We have a triple "A" ball game on Thursday night. Booze bike on Friday afternoon. Our concert at the Ryman Friday night. Saturday is free for you to do whatever you desire and Sunday afternoon, we have a tee off time at Gaylord Springs."

"I'm so freakin pumped."

"Come on? You? Pumped? I would have never guessed."

His right fist landed squarely on my left shoulder.

"Hey. No rough housing. That's how people get hurt on the jobsite. Aren't you guys on the Health and Safety Committee?" our father yelled as he approached us.

Senior put his arms around both of us. His sons. His only two children. Our father was always affectionate when pulled us into him for a hug.

"Dad, why don't you come with us?" Drew asked.

"Ha. Could you imagine us all together down there? The three Brooks boys chewin Smashville a brand-new ass. I'd hate to show the pair of you up. Plus, I ain't braggin', but I don't think you little bastards could keep up to your old man. In my day, I spilled more whiskey down my gullet then I care to remember. Itta be a shitshow for sure."

He was trash talking, chirping and shaking us with his strong arms. Arms built up from years working with his hands.

"Let me tell you boys a few words of wisdom before go you gettin..."

"Dad, stop. You've told us a billion times."

"Well, shut your trap, Drew, so I can make it a billion and one."

Our father, with his infinite wisdom, gave us what he liked to say was a "Weekend Safety Brief". He always told us, "Don't add to the population. Don't subtract from the population. Stay out of the hospital, the newspaper, and jail. If you do go to jail, be sure to establish dominance quickly."

We had heard it enough times we no longer laughed, but he always howled at his own words.

"Don't worry about us dad. Or at least not me. I'm in the clear either way. Junior's in charge, so if I end up in any trouble, it's all on him."

"I like your thinkin Drew. Always shovel the shit onto someone else's plate."

"Of course, you do. You're both cut from the same cloth. And neither of you take responsibility for your actions. The pair of you make me wish I was adopted," I told my father and brother.

"Come on Joe, you should try and remember what dad always says."

"Yeah, I remember everything he says. I also remember he doesn't use logic or common sense. That's why his current wife is younger than us."

"Damn, Junior. That's funny. True, but funny. And I'll let you in on something about your new step-mama. She's about two years away from me having to find a younger one."

"Damn dad. I wished you would have said something earlier. Maybe I would have held off asking Hillary to marry me and went after Tiff. At least I know she'll have money when you guys get divorced. Hell, with her shares and mine, I'll own half this company instead of a third," My brother teased our father.

"Sorry to break it to you boys, especially you Andrew, you little shit. But marrying Tiff won't make you rich. A hundred grand and a two-year-old BMW is all she gets. That's why old guys like me pay big bucks to have lawyers cover our asses. Prenup, prenup, prenup. I like my fat wallet and I want it to stay that way."

Drew and I looked at him and shook our heads. We were sure he was kidding. We knew how well our mother lived from her share of the divorce.

"Look, you guys need to misbehave a bit. It's good for you once and a while. Cast your line into some unknown waters. Troll for some big ole trophy girl. Hook her. Reel her in and stuff her. Get it? Hook her. Stuff her. You know, 'hooker'." Senior again roared at his own words. "Junior, you find yourself a little sweety to snuggle up with and give me a call if she has a sister. But most important, you keep dick weed here outta trouble."

Releasing his grip, he took what in "his world", was his most fatherly stance and tone.

"You boys have some extra cash put aside in case you need bail money? If not, tell Jennifer to give you a couple grand from petty cash." He was actually serious.

"We're good."

"You never know boys. You never know. It's called Smashville for a reason."

As bad as he could be, he was a good, no, he was a great father. He always had our backs without question. But behind closed doors, when as he said, "the chips are on the table", he could be stern and all business. Other than his women problems, our father had brought us up well.

*****

True to my word, we headed to the airport at 11:00am. Drew was practically vibrating in the passenger seat. He was so excited, I'm sure if we were traveling on an international flight, he wouldn't have made it past the TSA.

Our cousin Noah and Drew's buddy from college, Ethan, were waiting at the Hertz lot. We had prebooked an SUV, but there wasn't much need for one other than sightseeing, because everyone was going to be drinking. And, for good reason, I was the only one registered to drive. When they saw us coming, the screaming officially started.

"Bring you daughters home, cuz the big man is in town."

"You know it brother," my brother shouted.

Drew handed out a round of hugs. He loved and tried to live up to his college reputation of being a ladies' man.

Unplanned, our entourage of groom and groom's men showed up at the 1865 condo complex a bit after 5:00pm. Normally we would have been on time, but being in a strange state, our liquor store shopping stop took us way past the allotted time.

"I'd like to make a toast. Thanks for the honor of the invite and the privilege of being in your wedding party. It is a very special occasion."

It was a nice toast by the pool and normally I would have had words to reply with, but my brother beat me to it.

"Ethan, my life is one big special occasion."

He wasn't lying.

Nudging my little brother in the side, I tried to give him some brotherly advice. Advice I knew he didn't want to hear.

"It's long weekend pal. Slow and steady wins the race."

"Slow and steady, my ass. It's fast and furious for me this weekend, or it's nothing at all."

"Nothing at all for a few hours a day, sounds like a good plan."

"Big brother, you know I only drink once and a while, but when I do...it's like I'm Bradley Cooper in the Hangover."

"And you're proud of it?"

"A bit."

"You should be," piped in Noah. "Bro, we're gonna get you so laid this weekend. For sure."

Both he and Ethan were smiling like idiots.

"Boys, he's getting married. We're here to celebrate his wedding. Not get him 'laid'. He can do as much of that as he wants with his wife."

"Booooooooo. Debbie "Fuckin" Downer," Drew chirped.

"Fuck you, with your boo. I want to have as good a time as anyone. I just don't want to be trying to set you up with a girl when you have one waiting for you at home."

"Come on Joe. We'll take him downtown to one of the chick bars. The kind with five girls to every guy. He picks the one he wants and does the nasty. Get in, get on, get off, get out. No one knows what hit um."

"No one but us. Look, we should be trying to protect him, not put crazy ideas in his head."

"Calm down. Bro, I'm old enough to make my own decisions. I have plenty of plans for this weekend, and fuckin around on Hilary isn't one of them, so just chill."

For some strange reason, all I could think was getting laid may not be preplanned, but it was on his agenda.

"I'll calm down when I get your sorry ass back to work on Tuesday. Look, I want to have as much fun as the next guy, but..."

"But nothing. Who wants another beer?"

I put my hand in the air and dunked my head under the water. Letting go of control was going to be tough, but maybe it's what needed to be done.

*****

We would have liked to get Predator tickets, or tickets for the Titans, but in June, they don't play, so when our Uber dropped us off at the stadium, we were off to see the Nashville Sounds. It's really good baseball, and lots of guys who play make it to the big leagues. So, good ball, coupled with more cold beer is always a good time. Plus, the three hours at the ballpark was a great distraction from partying downtown.

Exiting the stadium, we chose to walk to Broadway. It was a long enough trek, but 3

rd

Ave was straight to the point and there would be some bars along the way.

"I don't care how bad you have to piss. Hold it till we get to Kid Rock's. There's no way I'm having my first beer downtown anywhere else." Drew's weekend, Drew's rules.

The closer we got the more amped our gang of four got. We started to smell the smells. Hear the music. And see the lights. We were in Nashville.

Nashville is truly like no other party city I've been to. So many bars, with so many musicians. Each trying to earn a living. Some playing their own style and using their own sounds. Some copying the sounds that have earned other's millions. Either way, every single one of them were working hard and trying to make a name for themselves. From country to rock, it was all there. So many of the greats have, and still do play there.

Eating in town was also never a problem. I've had better BBQ, but lots of the smaller joints did a fine job smokin' and grillin' up meat. Brisket, ribs and chicken, with all the sides you can imagine. There never seems to be a shortage of places to go.

But the main reason for a group of guys my age to visit was the party. There is something about dusk on Broadway that can't be beat.

This time of year, with the heat coming off the street. The bright glow of neon trying its best to hide the dirt. The sounds of music oozing out the pores of every open window of every restaurant, bar and saloon. Women in all shapes and sizes. Wearing the most or on some occasions, the least they possibly can.

And the smells. The smell of stale beer is everywhere. And if you get close enough to an alley, or the street, it is often accompanied by the smell of urine and vomit permeating the many homeless looking for a handout.

Some things about the city were good. Others were bad. And some were downright ugly. But whatever it is, people who want to party are drawn to Nashville like a bug to a blue light.

*****

Standing on the corner beside Ole Red, we looked across the street at the home of the American Badass. Music was thumping and stomping. Every level of the bar was rockin.

When the light changed, we moved toward it. Drawn toward it. A magnetic pull.

The four of us stopped mid street. Hands to cheeks like Kevin did in Home Alone, we let out a yell. It was a sign from above, or in this case, from below.

The band on stage was doing a not bad rendition of AC/DC's Highway to Hell. It couldn't have been any more fitting.

Grabbing an empty booth with an open window facing Third St., we could see the bar, the band, and the street. Even for a Thursday, the street was alive with people. One guy outside was holding a sign asking for money. "I'll punch Joe Biden for $1." Noah handed him a buck.

"What can I get yah?"

The small waitress had on a torn Kid Rock concert T-shirt and black spandex shorts. She looked tired, and she probably still had five hours of shift time.

"Four Woodford Reverse, and four Tennessee Lager's"

"Wanna start a tab?"

"No thanks."

She was gone and back before the band finished one of their "original" tunes.

"Oh, oh, oh, can I make the toast? Drew...To big tits. Big butts. And tight little puss..." Noah jumped in.

"No...you fucker, stop. You make a toast when you buy the round." Ethan gave Noah a punch for trying to steal someone else's glory.

"I don't care who says the toast. But I do care what is said." I lifted my glass in the air. "To my baby brother. Wishing nothing but happiness for you, for your entire life."

"How very prolific. It's a wasted toast if you ask me. We down an expensive shot of bourbon and you make a toast straight out of a Hallmark card."

"Well, Noah. No one did ask you."

More than 90 minutes passed as we had a couple more rounds. The band left the stage and the music changed to another group who seemed to like country-rock, and the crowd also changed as people came and went. Finally, it was our turn to once again hit the streets.

Making it no further than Jason Aldean's, Drew stopped dead in his tracks.

"Man. I wanna get on that son-of-a-bitch, right now," he said as he looked at the street in front of us.

An old Army issue personal carrier named, Hell on Wheels, was passing by. Stopping for traffic, it was directly in front of us. The rig was filled with, by my quick count, seven ladies. Like us, the group appeared to be in town to celebrate an upcoming marriage. Yeah, they were a bridal party for sure, with the lead girl wearing a t-shirt with a printed picture of Godzilla in a wedding dress, and the name "Bridezilla" printed on the back.

All of the girls looked hot in their "Getting Hitched" costumes, and they weren't nearly as slutty as some we had already seen. The ones who wear the thin silk camisoles and nothing else. But who knows? These girls might have been off to a slow start. It was only Thursday after all.

When we heard, "show us your tits", Drew and I immediately assumed it was our asshole cousin, but surprisingly, it wasn't. Nashville is a busy place, and one of the many street people had made the call.

"Pig" yelled back one of the girls.

Knowing they weren't about to flash any parts of their bodies, Drew tried something different. A more subtle approach.

"Hey, ladies. That asshole isn't with us. Can we hop on that truck with you?"

"Sorry baby. No bad ole boys allowed," Bridezilla yelled to him.

"Come on darlin'," he pleaded. "We'll even buy the next round of shots."

"Awe...that's sweet, cutie. Come see us later, we'll be at..."

Drew put on a pouty face as the Army truck pulled away. The loud diesel engine was drowning out her voice as she told him where they'd be.

Hitting anything and everything with beer taps, we made our way up Broadway. Noah, Drew and I were doing fine, but Ethan started drinking water. The east coaster was slowing down his game.

Dierks Bentley's Whiskey Row was hopping when we went in, but we found a table in the back and ordered up some chicken wings.

Trying to slow the pace, we didn't do any shots. Instead, we opted for garlic bread, wings, and Lite beer. In our confused minds, we thought Lite beer would help.

After finishing our wings, we moved on to the next bar. We had to move forward because Drew needed to get closer to the action. There were plenty of things to keep us entertained in Dierks, but we hit the street again.

"What the fuck. You hear that?" Ethan asked.

"Fuckin, Smashville," Drew screamed. "Anything and everything, goes."

Eminem, or at least someone, was in the first few words of, "Lose Yourself". It was coming from inside The Lucky Bastard Saloon.

The stage is directly in the corner, by the street. And with the windows flung wide open, like they were tonight, a large crowd gathered to watch from the street.

Fake Eminem danced and moved his hands like he was the real deal. Hopping from window to window, he worked the crowd. With the mike covered by both of his hands, he belted out the song, along with his band. In our booze afflicted state, we thought they were doing a really good job covering the tune.

"Fuck Drew. Look inside. Aren't those the girls from the truck?"

Apparently, Ethan had sobered up enough to spot the girls from earlier. He pointed inside, and sure enough, Bridezilla was in the center of the dance floor rocking out to the tune that had caused a stir.

"I'm going in."

Giving off a huge Rebel yell, my brother surged forward like a moth, headed toward the ever-dangerous blue flame. There was no stopping him as he raced away from us.

*****

A stand-up table near the side bar was perfect. It put us in close proximity to Bridezilla's entourage of girls. We ordered another round of drinks and watched as the group took turns taking pictures under a huge set of wings painted on the wall with the words, "Honky Tonk Angels", painted over them.

Soon enough, I noticed the girls were eyeing the boys just as much as the boys were eyeing the girls. As good as it felt, it wasn't an optimum situation. Two groups out partying to celebrate upcoming weddings, meeting in a bar, was good. But I had a bad feeling. A feeling that only got worse as the group seemed to meld together.

A tray of tequila shots hit the table and it was all over. The Mexican gold was all it took. Our two groups were now one. Ethan and Noah were gone. Off to the dance floor with girls I hadn't even noticed.