A big thank you to Randi for not only her hard work. Editing anything I write is hard work... But it goes a long way beyond editing, guidance, encouragement, and story ideas. Thank you doesn't really do it justice.
Fuck... God my back hurt..
Another day digging and moving rocks from my paddock by the house. I had to laugh thinking about it. Who would have ever guessed, little old me, the amateur stone mason. Okay, stone mason was stretching it, but I was getting pretty damn good at making stone walls and fences.
The only problem with my property was the rocks. It was volcanic, really rich soil, but covered in stones. The last two years I had spent clearing the surface ones, then piling them into my broken down old wheelbarrow and wheeling them to my project. The first one had been a fence by the gate. Just a small entrance. That's the problem with all those do-it-yourself programs. Having seen these awesome stone walls and fences, and then looking at my rock strewn paddock, I decided I could do that.
That was the seed; now I had these pretty cool stone fences all over the property.
The plus side was, my paddocks were now looking green and lush.
Yep, I was a fucking genius, if only my back didn't ache. At forty-eight, I guess you have to expect things to be a little harder.
Still, I could look around and I owned it, didn't owe a cent to anybody.
It wasn't always that way.
Glancing at my phone hanging half out of my shirt pocket. I noticed it was nearly six PM. Bugger it, I could use a beer.
Walking into the pub, I was surprised to hear music. I mean it was Saturday, but not something we got a lot of at the local.
"Steinlager please, Geoff." I said to the barman as I leaned back against the bar and looked at the hottie standing in the corner playing guitar and singing.
As he slid my beer across, I asked, "Who's the chick singing?"
"That's Tina, our new barmaid. The boss's giving her a shot. If people like it, she might get a regular gig."
I nodded, taking a long slurp from my beer. Okay, I think she had a great voice, but her guitar playing was ordinary. She spent so much time looking at her fingers on the fret board. That meant her voice suffered, she couldn't actually let her voice go.
She played two more songs, then took a break. As she approached the bar she asked Geoff, "What does it sound like?"
He shrugged. "Sounds good to me, but I know fuck-all about music."
She glanced around the room and this big hairy fucker came over to stand beside her. "Sounds good, babe," he announced proudly as he leaned down and kissed her.
I wanted to say. 'What the fuck?' I'd decided to keep my trap shut, but when she turned to me, she asked, "What do you think?" her voice hopeful, full of expectation.
"Well, the mix is stuffed. Too much bass, we can't hear your voice, it's muddy as hell. You need to kill some of the bass, maybe boost the mids, and definitely lift the tops."
She recoiled a little, not insulted, but curious. The boyfriend, who I now realised had been doing her sound, looked mighty pissed.
"You seem to know a little about it. Could you offer some suggestions?"
Feeling brave after my first beer, I replied, "Buy my next beer and I'll fix it for you?"
"You touch that fucking desk and I'll break your fingers." her dickhead boyfriend snarled viciously. The look he gave me confirmed he wasn't joking.
"Sorry, looks like it's a no go."
She turned to her boyfriend and scowled. "Paul, don't be so silly. What harm could it do? If it doesn't work, we can change it back."
He returned her scowl with one of his own. "Your call, Tina, but if she fucks it up, you won't get another chance."
She turned back to me, held out her hand, and said, "Hi, I'm Tina."
I acknowledged her introduction, shaking her hand. "I'm Lori, do you want me to make those adjustments?"
"Yes please," she said with that hopeful beaming smile making it impossible to say no.
"Okay, let's give it a go now while you're on break. Don't forget my beer."
She followed me over to the little mixing desk. At least it had a built in EQ, so there was room for a little fiddle.
"You go over to the mic, and just sing me a few lines."
She started singing and I started my adjustments. Easy really, five minutes later I had the sound right. I had even found the inbuilt effects processor and added a little reverb and a wee bit of delay. As Tina walked over, she had that big beamy smile going big time.
Holy shit she was a cutie... Mother of god, she looked stunning. "Thanks," she said warmly. "How do you know so much about sound?"
"I've played in a few bands over the years," I replied.
"Do you sing?" she asked, curiosity seeping through her inquiry.
"Yeah, played guitar mostly though."
"Really?" She gasped. "I have a second guitar if you'd like to join in. I'm hopeless on guitar."
"Actually, if you keep the beers rolling in. I wouldn't mind. It's been a while, but yeah. I'd like that."
"Sweet," she gushed, heading for the back of the stage. She returned carrying a pretty beat up old Takamine. "Sorry, it's pretty rough, but it plays fine."
Strapping it on, I tuned up. It sounded bloody nice. Typical Tak, age only makes them better. I plugged into the desk, no separate amp. It didn't take me long to find a nice sound.
Tina turned up with a couple of beers. We clinked bottles, and she asked, "Ready?"
"As I'll ever be."
"Do you need chord charts? I've got some for most of the songs. I think I can remember them."
"Nah, we'll be all good sweetie. You concentrate on singing. I'll fit in where I can."
Looking around the room, it was now filling up with the usual dinner crowd. There were a few fingers pointing, and some stifled giggles.
Tina started her first song after the break and I sensed her unease. Thankfully, she chose an old Kiwi favourite: "Dominion Road." I knew it well, and was able to come in, adding the main riff over her vocals. She turned, shocked. The smile she gave me lit up the room.
She followed it up with "Victoria, Victoria," then "Blue Lady," "Why Does Love Do This to Me," and a few other really popular songs. It was perfect for me. I even got close enough so I could sing harmony for her.
There we were, standing close enough we were almost cheek to cheek, sharing the same mic. Having me play guitar gave her the freedom to really let loose. Her whole persona changed. She was fucking hot.
The crowd loved her, and there were a few oldies dancing. As the night wore on, the dance floor stayed full as the younger crowd filed in.
Dave the publican kept bringing beers, so I guessed he was happy. In fact, the only person who didn't look happy was her dickhead boyfriend, Paul. I mean what was his problem? He was clearly the jealous controlling type, but give me a break. I'm a forty-eight-year-old woman. I hardly looked like I was gonna give him any problems. I wasn't getting a vibe that Tina was any way interested in experimenting.
After the publican called "Time," Tina and I sat down to have a chat. She had just moved to town, and had picked up the job as barmaid. It took her a month to convince Dave to give her a shot at performing.
It wasn't something I had seen in the two years I had lived in Pio Pio: I had never seen live music. The social life of the town centred around the rugby club and the bowling club. It was a small, typically Kiwi town, population measured in the hundreds, not thousands, buried in the heart of the King Country. It was archetypal Kiwi.
My little three acre lot was twenty minutes out of town. When I got out of prison, I searched the whole country for a place to buy where I could get away from everything and just chill out and recover.
Yep, you heard it right. Recover. I had been locked up for fraud and drug possession. The only problem was there were more drugs on the inside than there were on the outside.
Yeah, you had to lick a lot of pussy to get it, but they were there. The bloody screws were the biggest dealers. I got my fair share of beatings. Call me clueless, but I wasn't going to be forced into eating out all the screws just for a fix. Most of my adult life had vanished in a heroin haze.
Somehow, I was getting out of prison free from the ties that bind. Heroin was no longer going to be my captor. If I got nothing else from my incarceration, it was going to be clean.
I tried, I fucking tried hard, but it's a hard habit to break. I didn't mind the sexual coercion. It was the intimidating threatening bullying that I hated. A couple of the screws were pretty nice. If I was going to be somebody's bitch, then Analise was my choice. She got me the drugs, and she was a good fuck. She at least reciprocated, and I got off as well.
Getting out, I had nothing. I scraped together what remained of my royalty checks and for ninety thousand bucks, I brought a run down little farmlet. It was isolated and I locked myself away for nearly two months. Cold turkey sucks, and the withdrawal... fuck that was brutal.
Slowly though, I emerged clean, barely. It was the work on the house that got me through. I focused everything I had on making my little slice of paradise liveable. When I moved in, it didn't even have electricity.
"So what bands did you play in?" Tina asked.
"Oh a few here and there. Nothing special." I had a little laugh; at one time I had three songs in the top twenty. I was recognised everywhere, and lived the high life. Celebrities in New Zealand lived a pretty good life.
"Would you be interested in doing this regularly?" Tina asked.
"Yeah, I'd be up for that. How often do you reckon they'll wear?"
"Maybe once a month, but I was just talking to a bloke named Thomas from the rugby club, and they're enthusiastic as well. Even all Maude from the bowling club mentioned they'd be keen."
"What sort of money are we talking?"
The flinch gave it away. "Not much, maybe three, four hundred."
"Sounds about right. There's never been much money in it."
