Just Off the Key of Reason

Chapter Seven - When It All Goes to Hell

Tuesday, 20th of March, 2007 – Charlotte, North Carolina

As planned, they had arrived in Charlotte two days earlier than required but had been able to book a motel room with ease. After the terrible night's sleep everyone had in the bus, the five of them spent most of those two days asleep until they had to get ready for this show. This was fine by Patrick as it was an easy excuse to gain some distance and clear his head. Sound check had a few hiccups with the venue trying to get their microphone volumes level and ended up going overtime, but it was nothing they couldn't solve. After how long they had spent being holed up in rooms and then only playing half songs to an empty audience, Pete was itching to perform. He wanted to let loose and scream the words that had once burned at the back of his throat before he turned them into a song. During their show, he had got far too invested in screaming said lyrics and spun around only to punch Patrick in what would have been the crotch if his guitar hadn't protected him. As he collided with the bridge, he felt the skin break and watched as his blood flicked onto the body. Patrick stared down at the bassist who stared up at him wide-eyed, clutching his bleeding fist in his other hand as he kneeled on the stage. The song continued around them as Pete slowly dragged himself to his feet. They were thankful that it was their last song and they didn't have much more to play before they could leave the stage. While Patrick was happy that he wasn't writhing on the floor in pain, he wasn't happy that his guitar didn't sound the same after that. He couldn't quite be sure over the rest of the band, but he swore something sounded off.

When the set had finished they quickly dispersed, Pete jogging in the direction of the first aid area to get his hand patched up. She had found Patrick sat on top of an amp backstage, trying to tune his guitar unsuccessfully. It had a smudge of blood still smeared on it, standing out against the usually perfectly clean silver. He let out a frustrated sigh.

"This is my favourite Gretsch..." He muttered with a shake of his head.

"We'll send it off to get repaired." She said, trying to reassure him.

"I can't afford that." He admitted.

"The label will cover it, you actually being able to play is a part of your contract so that isn't anything you have to worry about. Pete didn't mean to do it either, so they'll be fine with it. We'll find a music store nearby and send it over to get fixed as soon as they can." She explained, instantly feeling the pang of sadness in her chest at the crestfallen look on his face.

"It's still my favourite." He set it gently on the ground next to his feet.

"Well, you can't leave it broken." She pointed out. He looked forlornly at the instrument before looking up at her.

"I guess..." He shrugged as he stood up. "If you could get it fixed that would be nice." He added as he stuffed his hands in his pockets and started walking off. She grabbed the guitar and started the mission to find the venue owner to ask about nearby music shops that could repair it.

It only took her about an hour to find a manager, explain the situation, and get them to send the guitar off the next day. He said it would be about a fortnight until they could have the guitar back. She knew Patrick wouldn't be happy about the news of being apart from it for two weeks, but it was something at least. She had been about to call the label and let them know what was happening when she collided into someone standing in the middle of the hallway she was walking down.

"Ah, so sorry about that!" She apologised quickly as she took a step back from the man. As she went to step around him, a hand caught her shoulder.

"Whoa, where are you off to in a such a rush, darlin'?" He asked, pulling her back around to face him. She grimaced slightly at the contact, but channelled her inner customer service representative because she had no idea who this guy was.