Solas walked down the street, humming a tune and his fingers twitching in his coat pocket as he thought of playing his guitar to the tune, his attention being caught by a particular flyer on a store front,
"GUITARIST WANTED!!
If you play guitar and want to be in a band call us at 906-645-0098 and we'll set up a audition date. DO NOT CONTACT UNLESS SERIOUS"
Solas perked up, could it really be that easy? Memorizing the number, he quickly ran off to find a payphone, dialing and being startled when a slightly drunk voice answered,
"Hello?"
"Hello uh...I'm calling about your ad?"
"Oh! Oh yea!...uhh what ad?"
"The one about the guitarist...?" Solas said, hoping to god that the man was sober enough to actually know what he was talking about.
Thankfully the man did seem sober enough,
"Oh yea! Thanks for calling, what's your name?"
"Solas Collins-O'Riordan"
"No shit?! Shit man okay can you make here uhh...Saturday at....fuck what time works for you man?"
"...Three Pm?"
"Sure ma-RAZOR GIMME BACK MY FUCKING RUM-sorry about that here's my address".
The man told Solas his address who quickly found a pen in his coat pocket to scribble it down onto his arm, thanking the man before hanging up and racing home to practice.
He may have been good, he may know all the cords to all his favorite songs but one could never practice too much at his craft.
Also he was just nervous as fuck.
YOU ARE READING
Land of Gathering.
General FictionSolas was a guitar player. That's all he ever wanted to do was play keyboard or Guitar. So when he got the option to play in a rock band, he was beyond thrilled. Who knew the music scene could be so messed up.
