Shattered Hearts Page 10

  “The English journalist that you guys get along with. Debbie,” revealed Jethro. “She’s in New York this week to cover When The Chips Are Down’s anniversary show at Madison Square Garden. I spoke to her earlier. Floated the idea past her. She’s free on Wednesday. The plan is to drive down here to meet you for an hour or so in the afternoon. Time we came clean to the fans out there. Time they heard the truth and it’ll sound better coming straight from you.”

  “Do I have any say in this?”

  “No,” stated Jethro bluntly. “I’ll let you know where and when on Tuesday.”

  “Fine,” sighed Jake, running his hand anxiously through his hair. “Try to make it somewhere like the Turtle. Not here. Not JJL either.”

  “Ok, son. Leave it with me.”

  The second official heatwave of the summer had Rehoboth firmly in its clutches as Jake walked along the boardwalk towards the coffee shop in town. For the sixth day in a row, the mercury levels were touching one hundred by early-afternoon. He had started to walk along the beach but the sand had been burning his feet, forcing him back up onto the boardwalk at the first opportunity. Even the well-worn boards were hot. A sea of blue umbrellas dominated the sand as the season’s tourists braved the sun’s heat. Turning up into Wilmington Avenue, Jake smiled. The coffee shop that Jethro had chosen as the location for his interview with Debbie was the same place that he had taken Lori on their first date. That first date seemed like a lifetime ago as he walked up the street.

  A quick glance at his phone informed Jake he was late. Five minutes late. Stuffing the phone back into his shorts pocket, he spied Debbie sitting at the only outside table that was in the shade.

  “Hi,” greeted Jake when he reached the small round table. “Sorry I’m late.”

  “Good to see you, Jake,” said Debbie, rising to give him a hug. “Thanks for agreeing to this. I was so sorry to hear about Rich.”

  “Thanks,” said Jake with a sigh. “What can I get for you? Coffee? Soda?”

  “Tea would be lovely,” replied Debbie.

  “Iced?”

  “No,” she said with a smile. “Earl Grey if they have it.”

  Nodding, Jake promised to be back in a few moments.

  Having placed their order, he returned to join Debbie, taking a seat opposite her.

  “They’ll bring it out,” he explained as he laid his sunglasses down on the table. “I ordered some Danish to go with it. The pastries from here are awesome.”

  “Favourite haunt?”

  He nodded, “I used to buy my morning coffees here when I worked at the pizza restaurant before the band took off. I brought Lori here on our first date too. My kids love their donuts. I guess we’re still regulars.”

  “Jethro did say he’d picked somewhere you’d be comfortable with,” revealed Debbie as she set her phone up to record their interview. “I appreciate you taking the time to talk to me.”

  “I’ll be honest,” admitted Jake, running his hand through his sun-bleached hair. “I’m dreading this. I’ve not really spoken to anyone about all of this.”

  “I’ll be gentle with you,” promised the English journalist with a warm smile. “If you need a break or want to stop, we will.”

  “Let’s just see how this goes,” he suggested as the waitress brought their drinks and pastries.

  “Deal,” nodded Debbie. “Ready?”

  “As I’ll ever be,” sighed Jake before taking a mouthful of his coffee.

  “Rich’s death came as a tremendous shock to the entire music community and I can’t begin to imagine the emotions you and the rest of Silver Lake have been going through,” began Debbie, her English accent soft and filled with compassion. “What details of that can you share? Did you have any inkling the last time you saw him that anything was amiss?”

  “Hindsight is always a beautiful thing,” replied Jake slowly, trying to form his answer in his mind. “I last saw Rich at my daughter’s birthday party. Everyone was at the house. We’d had a great day. It was Lori who saw him last. She walked him out to the car. He said he was heading off to drive to his sister’s in Florida. Lori has said she felt as if he knew he was saying goodbye. She’s quite intuitive when it comes to things like that.” Jake paused, took a mouthful of coffee then continued, “I got a call on July 3rd from Maria, Rich’s sister, asking if I’d heard from him. She’d expected him the day before but he hadn’t arrived and she couldn’t reach him on his cell. We all knew he’d planned to take a few days to drive to St Augustine. I wasn’t really that worried by her call but it kind of ate away at me. Next day, July 4th, we spent the day with Maddy and Paul. Maddy threw a 4th of July party out at their farmhouse. Rich was on my mind all day. That night I got a message to say the police in Gatlinburg had found his car. We got a call late on the Monday night to say his body had been recovered.”

  As he’d spoken, his voice had grown quieter and his hazel eyes had filled with unshed tears.

  “With the beauty of hindsight, were the signs there?” asked Debbie softly.

  Jake nodded. “As soon as I heard where his car had been found, I knew.”

  “Why?”

  “When the band were on their way to North Carolina on the last leg of the tour, we passed a sign for Gatlinburg. Rich told me a story about camping out in the Smoky Mountains as a kid. Talked about a valley where you could watch the sun set. Said he wanted his last view of the world to be watching the sun set from a rocky ledge looking out over that valley.”

  Jake paused to take another mouthful from his coffee. He watched as Debbie wiped a tear away from her cheeks.

  “You ok?” he asked quietly. She nodded so he continued, “As a band, we’ve talked it through. We all knew he was struggling. We’d all reached out. He was still blaming himself for the crash that killed Gary. He’d broken up with his girlfriend. We knew as we played those last few shows that he was finding things tough. He was drinking more than usual. He was keeping his distance. We have our suspicions that he may have been abusing certain substances. There’s no proof of that but we all had a feeling something was very wrong. It had been a long tour. We were all tired. All anxious to get home to our families. It gets kind of cosy on the Silver Bullet after a while. We all needed our own space. Could we have done more? I don’t know. Perhaps. We all tried.”

  “So, what now? What does the future hold for Silver Lake?” asked Debbie. “The video you released the other day mentioned a memorial show.”

  “That’s something that the fans are pleading for. Something the record company and our management want,” replied Jake, choosing his words carefully. “We owe it to the fans to give them their time to say goodbye but each of us has to have some time to come to terms with the loss first. I can’t say when it will be scheduled for. I just don’t know. Right now, none of us could pull off a Silver Lake show. I tried to play a couple of songs for my daughter and couldn’t do it. Too many ghosts.”

  “Will the band keep going?”

  “In time, yes, I think so” replied Jake, forcing a smile. “He’d never forgive us if we didn’t! I just can’t say when. We had tentative plans to start work on our next album in the fall. We’ve not really spoken about this as a band yet. Nothing about the future has been agreed.”

  “I heard a rumour that you are filling one of the commitments Rich left behind and are going back to teach a music workshop. Is that true?”

  “Yeah. I’m back in class on Monday,” revealed the Silver Lake frontman with a shy smile. “Rich had agreed to teach a two-week summer school class at the high school where we both taught before the band took off. Over the years we’ve been back a few times to do the occasional workshop but nothing like this. I’ve agreed to take his place. I’m not sure I’ve prepared the same lessons he had in mind but I have a plan.”

  “How long since you taught music?” laughed Debbie. “Must be quite a while?”

  “You’d be surprised,” he said quietly. “I’m teaching my daughter to play just now. It’s bee
n about four years since I taught a workshop. We’ve done the occasional day visit to the school but nothing this big since we left to pursue our careers with Silver Lake.”

  “And how are you getting on teaching Melody? How old is she now? Four?”

  “Miss Melody is five,” corrected Jake. “And she’s a natural musician. For someone so young, she’s determined to learn. She’s focussed on the lessons. She practices without being asked to. I’ve been super impressed with her so far.”

  “Another rock star in the making?”

  “Who knows!”

  “What’s been the hardest part of the past few weeks?”

  For a moment, Jake looked thoughtful and Debbie wondered if he was going to answer.

  “I guess just trying to come to terms with the fact he’s not here. It would be easy to think “Oh, he’s down in Florida fishing” but, in reality, he’s left a huge black hole in our lives. A Rich shaped hole. Each of us has admitted that we’ve either gone to call or message him then remembered he’s gone.” He paused then whispered, “That’s hard.”

  “Thanks, Jake. Let’s leave it there.”

  With a sigh of relief, Jake nodded.

  As they finished their drinks, Jake and Debbie reminisced about past interviews and radio show appearances. Amid the sombre moments, they found some anecdotes to laugh about and some happier memories to hold onto.

  “It’s funny,” began Jake. “The kids really help with all of this. They see things differently. More clearly. They just ask what’s on their minds. We were at dinner the other night in Baltimore. At the Hard Rock Café, in fact. I was pointing out various pieces of memorabilia to the kids when Melody asked what would happen with Rich’s guitars. She asked if the Hard Rock guys would display them on the walls. To her, that would make perfect sense. To us, to me, it was like “They’re Rich’s guitars! We need to keep them for him.” It made me think.”

  “Was he buried with any of them?”

  The question caught Jake off guard and he felt himself nod before he realised it. Taking a deep breath to help to compose his thoughts, he explained, “Just between you and me, not for the interview, yes. Maria wanted him to have his favourite acoustic guitar with him. He’d had it forever. Wouldn’t let anyone else near it. I think I might have played it a couple of times over the years. She put it in his casket.”

  “Did the rest of the band put anything in?”

  Jake shook his head. “I tossed a few picks into the grave. I don’t really know what Grey and Paul did.”

  “When the time is right, what kind of memorial show would Rich appreciate?” asked Debbie, subtly trying to glean some fresh insight into the band’s plans.

  “Something small and local,” said Jake. “Rich always preferred smaller venues. Two-thousand-seater max. Maybe we’ll do it in Florida. He always loved our shows down there best. It’s way too soon to say for sure.”

  Glancing at the time, Debbie apologised that she would need to head off. Inwardly, Jake was relieved. As she gathered up her phone and her sunglasses, Debbie promised to send Jethro a copy of the final recording for approval before airing it on her radio show. Still wrestling with his emotions, Jake nodded. With a smile, Debbie said her goodbyes then dashed off up the street.

  Instead of heading straight home, Jake ordered a sweet iced tea to go then wandered back down onto the beach. Lost in his thoughts, he meandered along the hard-packed wet sand towards home. Much as he loved living in Rehoboth, he wasn’t a fan of the tourist season and hated the beach being so crowded. He much preferred the end of the season, around the end of the first week in September, when the holidaymakers had left for the year and the locals could enjoy the last few days of warm sunshine in peace.

  The crowds of sun-worshippers thinned out as he reached the end of the boardwalk and, by the time he was in front of the house, the beach was quiet. Not ready to face Lori and the kids yet, Jake sat down on the hot sand to finish his drink. Behind him, he could hear the children playing on the sun deck and smiled as he heard Melody laughing. She shared the same musical laugh as Lori and listening to it helped to banish some of the ghosts he’d brought along the beach with him. As ever, within a few short minutes, the laughter turned to tears and Jake could hear Jesse wailing loudly.

  Downing the last of the cold sweet tea, Jake scrambled to his feet and headed home.

  When he stepped up onto the deck, he found Lori sitting on the swing with Jesse on her knee. He could see a red bump on the little boy’s forehead.

  “Hey, what happened?” asked Jake, coming to kneel in front of his tearful young son. “You ok, big guy?”

  “Me fell,” said Jesse still sniffing back tears.

  Looking up at his wife for an explanation, Jake raised an eyebrow.

  “He was running and tripped. He fell over his own train set and hit his head on the leg of the lounger,” explained Lori, cuddling her son in close. “He’s fine. Got more of a fright than anything else.”

  “Where’s Miss Melody?”

  “She disappeared indoors. Not sure where she went,” confessed Lori. “I was busy calming this little guy down.”

  “I’ll check on her,” said Jake, getting to his feet.

  He found their daughter in her bedroom practising her chords. She was sitting on the bed with her tutorial book spread out in front of her. When he saw which page she had it open at, Jake smiled.

  “Hey, Miss M!” he called out. “Sounding sweet.”

  “Thanks, Daddy.”

  “What you playing?”

  “New chords,” she replied, pointing to the book. “Mommy said you were going to be busy. I was trying to learn these myself.”

  “And can you play them?”

  “Almost,” replied the little girl, looking and sounding very pleased with herself.

  On a whim, Jake said, “Want to come for a drive with me? I’m going to take a run out to JJL.”

  “Yes!” squealed Melody excitedly. “Will I get to play for Dr Marrs?”

  “We’ll see,” replied Jake with a grin. “Let me go and tell your Mom where we’re going.”

  Having promised to bring in steak sandwiches and cheese fries for dinner, Jake and Melody set off in the truck with the windows down and a Molton song blaring through the speakers. The traffic heading out of town was heavy but it was still flowing as the day-trippers retreated from the heat. As they headed up the highway, Melody sang along with each song that came on. Listening to her attempt to reach Tori’s high notes made Jake smile. Before they reached the studio, the album ended and Jake put on a classic rock playlist. Much to his amazement, he listened as Melody sang along, word perfect, to Deep Purple’s Smoke On The Water.

  “Where did you learn that?” he asked as he turned off the highway into the studio’s long drive.

  “Ellen taught me,” replied Melody seriously. “Said it was one of her favourites.”

  “And when was Ellen giving you singing lessons?”

  “While you were on tour. Scott brought her over for dinner and she taught me some songs.”

  “Sounds like she did a good job,” complimented Jake as he parked the truck. “I’ll need to watch my back or you’ll be after my job!”

  Giggling, Melody said, “Don’t be silly. I’m a little kid. I can’t be a rock star.”

  Smiling at her innocence, Jake walked around the truck then lifted his daughter down from her car seat, “Melody, you can be anything you put your mind to.”

  “I think I’d like to be a singer or a teacher or an artist like Mommy.”

  “Plenty of time to decide, baby girl,” he said smiling. “And nothing to stop you being all three.”

  Cool air and loud guitar music hit them as they entered the foyer of JJL. The lounge was deserted when father and daughter wandered through. Having told Melody to take a seat, Jake fetched them both a cold drink from the refrigerator.

  “Wait here till I see if Dr Marrs is free,” instructed Jake as he loosened the lid on Melody’s bott
le of apple juice. “Don’t spill that.”

  Leaving his daughter sitting with her juice, Jake headed over to the control room, knocking on the door before waiting to be waved inside.

  “Hey, Jake!” greeted the producer. “What brings you out here?”

  “My truck,” he joked as he stepped into the small room. “Thought I’d bring Melody out to visit and check that everything was in place for the workshop sessions.”

  “Where is she?”

  “Out in the lounge. I left her with some juice. She’ll be ok out there for a few minutes.”

  “If you’re sure,” said Dr Marrs calmly before turning his attention back to the live room. “Garrett, give me fifteen minutes. Go grab a coffee then we’ll go for it on track seven.”

  Pushing his chair back from the console, Dr Marrs said, “Come into the office and we’ll check it’s all in the diary.”

  It was almost half an hour later when Jake and the producer came back out of the office. The first thing Jake noticed was that the lounge was empty. The second thing that both he and Jim Marrs noticed was that there was music coming from the live room. The two men exchanged glances then followed the strains of the blues melody into the studio.

  Much to Jake’s amazement, he found Melody sitting on a stool with one of Garrett’s guitars and the older musician talking her through a simple chord progression. She smiled when she saw her daddy but kept playing.

  “Sounding good, Miss Power,” complimented Dr Marrs sincerely. “Your dad been teaching you?”

  “Yes,” replied Melody as she struggled to hold down the chord on an unfamiliar full-sized guitar. “He bought me a guitar for my birthday.”

  “Jake,” interrupted Garrett as he plugged his own guitar in, “Can I borrow this young lady for an hour? I want to try something.”

  “Sure,” agreed Jake, a little bemused. “Can I listen in?”

  “From the control room,” replied Garrett. “Yes.”

  Knowing that his friend preferred not to have an audience in the live room, Jake acquiesced without complaint. As he took a seat in the live room beside Dr Marrs and Lee, the sound engineer, he asked, “What’s he up to?”