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It’s Only Rock and Roll

By: Dinsmore



This is not a stroke story but it is a romance with music themes thrown in. It also has a lot of detail and many words. If you don't like detail and find reading many words bothersome, don't read this story. This story was a lot of fun to write and as usual the characters are a bit over the top and larger than life and, since this is fiction, their experiences are probably not very realistic. As I said...it was fun to write. 

*

"Molly, what do you think of Morris?"

"He's fine; he's always polite."

"No, I mean...you know...what do you think of him?"

"Kate, I don't think of him 'that way'...ever. He doesn't do anything for me. I mean, you know how this company is; it's all about 'dress for success'. He's always dressed neatly but he sure as hell doesn't spend a lot on his wardrobe. That slicked back 'college' long hair doesn't do much to impress me---or the big boys. He's painfully shy and hardly dynamic."

"He is an accountant---CPA actually. I heard through the grapevine that he was probably one of the most respected ones---accountants, I mean---in the company."

"Sure, he's respected---as an accountant; that's all he'll ever be. He just doesn't 'shine'. Not much charisma there from what I see. Rod, on the other hand..."

"Rod is the classic empty suit; he doesn't know anything! He's all show."

"He fills that suit pretty damn well---and the big boss loves him! He'll be running this office before you know it."

"I hope you're wrong; Rod is out for Rod and no one else. On another subject, what have you got planned for the weekend?"

"Ah, well, I'm going away for the weekend; there's a really upscale resort about a hundred miles from here...and..."

"Wow! How'd you manage that on an intern's salary?"

"Oh, you know...a friend of a friend. What about you?"

"The greatest rock band in history is in town tonight---I've got two tickets. I was going to ask you if you wanted to go."

"Sorry, hon, we're---I'm---leaving right after work."

***

Morris watched the two young hotties chatting; he wondered what they had planned for the weekend. They were both babes. Molly was a bit of a bitch but Kate, the blonde, was just sweet. Maybe someday he'd get his nerve up and ask her out. He'd never been very adept in that department; cute girls unnerved him. He wished he had the gift for gab that many of the other young managers had---guys like Rod. You could tell by the way all the little sweet things hung on his every word that they ate it up. His cell phone rang. 

"Morris! Dave. We've got a gig tonight."

"We always have a gig on Friday night, Dave, at an after hours club from eleven to two."

"No, I mean another gig. You know who is at the hockey arena tonight? Evidently their opening act got in some legal trouble at their last concert and is a no show. The promoter knows the guy who owns the club we play and he recommended us. They're promising thirty minutes from 8:00 to 8:30."

"Shit, Dave, all of our equipment is at the club!"

"I told him that; they're going to send over some roadies to help us get moved. We need to meet them there at six."

"Okay."

"One other thing; we're not supposed to play any of our own stuff...just covers."

"That sucks."

"I guess they don't want us showing up the main attraction."

"Whatever. I'll be there at six."

The five of them had met back in high school when they had all won their respective state's Boys' State competition and attended Boys' Nation in Washington, D. C. They'd been invited back the following year as junior counselors. They'd all decided to go to the same state university together. After briefly parting for graduate school, they'd gotten back together. Having discovered their mutual interest in music, they had formed a band, playing parties and campus clubs throughout their college years and resuming their musical collaboration after grad school. 

Oddly they had all come back in the same city where they had completed their undergraduate education. They were a motley crew consisting of an engineer, a landscape architect and budding real estate developer, a systems analyst, a lawyer and, of course, one each CPA. They'd kept the band together because they enjoyed it. They had developed enough of a local following to sell out any club in the city. 

They were also damn good but none of them had any illusions about "making it". They had day jobs---budding careers and only played on Friday and Saturday. Club bands have to play covers---that's what people want to hear. They'd written enough of their own stuff to more than fill a CD and in fact had released one on their own which probably never found its way out of the county. The office manager had already booked; Morris would hit the door by five. 

As he was walking out the door, the adorable blonde accosted him. 

"Morris?"

"Ah, oh...hi, Kate." She was so damn sweet. He wished he had either the ability or the time to talk to her...get to know her. 

"Morris, I have an extra ticket to the big concert at the arena tonight. I was going to ask Molly but she has other plans. Would you like to go?"

Oh, fucking-A wonderful. She's asking me out...on a date. And I have to say no. Shit. 

"Kate...I'd love to go with you but...I just got a call and I have...my mother's sick. I need to drive home to see her...take care of things. Some other time?"

"Sure, Morris. Some other time." 

He had lied to her; she was sure of it. She'd made the first move; maybe it had been too sudden...she'd been too forward. He was too shy to accept her invitation. He was such a sweet guy...cute in his own way...but so shy and introverted. She wouldn't have any trouble scalping the ticket. 

***

"Well, it was pretty cool having an actual crew to help break down and move our stuff. I wasn't looking forward to the five of us doing it."

"The promoter said they'd help us move it all back after our set; we're getting paid more for thirty minutes than we make in three hours normally. He said if we did a good job, he's tied into other promoters that schedule this venue and we could get another gig in the future. Shit! We've never played for fifteen thousand people before!"

"Well, the money won't hurt; we've put everything we make playing into our equipment---not to mention some of our regular salaries. This is definitely a loss leading hobby."

"Is that what it is, Morris...a hobby? You're the best damn lead guitarist I've ever heard; you own any crowd you play for---and the rest of us are damn solid musicians. I know we all have careers but sometimes I just wonder if..."

"If we're really any different than a thousand other club bands across the country? If we're the one in a thousand that could make it? Yeah, I think about it some times and then reality sets in. Let's get ready; we open in a couple of minutes."

"Ladies and gentlemen, a special treat tonight. Opening for the greatest rock and roll band in history, our city's own---Boys' Nation!"

Often the greeting for an opening act is barely polite; the fans come to hear the headliners. On this night there were a surprising number of people in the audience that knew the opening act very well and had followed them for half a dozen years. The swell of the crowd surprised the five young men; it injected them with energy and excitement. In Morris' case it made the transition to his alter ego---his stage presence---occur instantaneously. He was no longer Morris Hamilton, CPA; he became Morrison, his proper first name. His mother had been thinking Van...his father Jim. 

He strutted; he swaggered. As he launched into the band's signature opening riff, the crowd went crazy; there wasn't a dry pair of panties in the house thirty minutes later. 

***

"Damn! These guys are good, Keith!"

"Not bad for a cover band."

"They're a cover band because that's what the promoter wants them to be. Hell, we're a fucking cover band! No ones comes to hear our newer stuff---it sucks! They come to hear shit we did decades ago. We're basically covering rock classics that we wrote twenty or thirty years back---because we can't seem to come up with anything decent that's new!"

"The money's good---and damn easy. What are you doing out here? You never come out early before a show."

"Heard the crowd; then I heard those opening chords. I had to see for myself. Here comes the promoter with his perpetually pissed off look. What's up, Robert?"

"Equipment problems! We need these guys to play for at least fifteen more minutes or the crowd is going to be pissed."

"Well, the curtain is about to come down on their opening and from the way the crowd is responding, I doubt that they'll object to an encore."

***

"Boys, we need another fifteen or twenty minutes!"

"No problem." injected Morris who in all actuality was really the band's leader and front man. "But, ah, we don't really have any more covers; we need to play our own stuff."

"Whatever! Another grand for fifteen minutes more work...tear it up, guys!"

The audience had not expected the opening act to get an encore; they were thrilled. Those who knew the group were even more thrilled when they rolled right into one of their own compositions which had become a local club favorite. 

"That's what I'm talking about, Keith! We spend a small fortune trying to find good, new stuff to record; why the hell aren't we playing songs like this? Shit!"

***

Kate was in the audience; she was a rock and roll junkie. She had only learned about this band a few months earlier after she relocated to the city to take her current job as a management intern. A friend had loaned her their locally recorded CD but she had never seen them in person. She was mesmerized; they had an energy and drive that had deserted much of what passed for contemporary rock music. Shades of Zeppelin, AC/DC before they fired Mutt Lange, Aerosmith before they lost it and decided to do ballads...the Stones before they became geriatric and senile. The lead guitarist was beyond belief...setting the tone...fuel injecting the energy level. 

Kate knew something about music; she had fronted a reasonably successful girl band back in high school and for a while in college. She was an accomplished guitar player---certainly as good a guitarist as she had witnessed in most local bands over the years. She'd given up that foolishness in college, majoring in business and then obtaining an MBA. Her mother had played the piano and sung at small town watering holes until the responsibilities of a family cut her budding career short. These guys were very good but the lead guitarist was beyond amazing; he excited her as no musician---no man---she had ever seen. She knew she was good; this guy was in the stratosphere. 

The fifteen minute encore stretched to thirty minutes; the band was surprised when the lead singer for a band long since inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame came up to thank each of them personally off stage. 

"Hey, guys, we've got back stage passes for you. Hang out and we can get together after our set. We love your energy—and I love your original stuff."

"We'd be honored." Morris said softly. "Unfortunately, we have a gig from eleven to two; it's a regular thing and the guy who owns the club recommended us to your promoter. We couldn't let him down."

"Bummer! Look, make sure our manager---Pete! over here---knows where you're playing. We're sleeping over in town; maybe we can come down and hear your club gig."

***

"That was beyond cool, Morris---admit it! You were on tonight!"

"I hate to admit it---but you're right. The taste of the big time is addictive. I felt the energy; I didn't want to be anywhere else in the world but on that stage. Almost forgot about the quarterly audit I have to do beginning Monday morning."

"Do you think they're really going to show up at our after hours gig?"

"Right! Dream on!"

***

But they did show up, as did Kate who gained admittance to the always packed club thanks in no small part to the fact that she was a very pretty young lady. She even managed to get a seat fairly close to the stage. 

She didn't recognize the young CPA who worked in the same office with her. Why would she? The skin tight leather trousers and sleeveless, form fitting muscle shirt were hardly part of Morris' office attire. Morris wore glasses at work. His vision defect was relatively minor and only caused him discomfort when he had to work in front of a computer screen, which he did much of the time at his day job. 

His normally slicked back hair was loose and full. His office smile was restrained. When he played music his smile was based on the genuine joy and total release that being on stage provided. In the end, though, it was his style---his supreme confidence, even cockiness---that made any comparison between Morris the CPA and Morrison the rock guitarist ludicrous. 

Morris recognized Kate instantly as she took a seat only a few feet from the stage. She was not the first person that knew him as Morris who had ever attended one of their shows and none of them had ever made the connection. In fact, rather than avoid her gaze, he played to her, flirted with her...came on to her. At the first break, she stood up to approach him and he doubted the charade would survive close scrutiny. So what? He mused. It's not like I'm doing anything against the law. Fortunately, or unfortunately, the marginally disguised lead singer for the legendary rock band which they had opened for earlier in the evening cut her off and came on stage. 

"You guys are too good to be wasting away in obscurity. We shot tape on your opening earlier. I want some people I know in the industry to see and hear you. You deserve a record deal. I'm also being selfish; I'd like to record some of your stuff---it's better than anything we've written in years. Who's the writer, anyway?"

"It's pretty much a group effort; one of us gets an idea and we sit down together and hammer it out," said Morris, handing the legend a couple of unlabeled CDs. "We've never really let anyone else record our stuff. We need to think about that but I'm sure we can work something out."

"What's the chance that you could join us for the last four weeks on the tour---open for us every night?"

"We all have day jobs...careers...obligations."

"I predict you won't still be doing those day jobs a year from now."

"Wouldn't that be fun? Unfortunately as of right now, we each have a responsibility to the respective employers who put food in our mouths."

"Guys, some times you just have to take your shot. People out there are dying for a new sound in rock and roll and I think you've got it. Talk about it; I'm going to have our producer get in touch with you and set up an audition. Wish we could hang out but we've got an early departure. Keep it real."

A couple of hours later the members of the band sat together in Morris' living room. The five of them had formed a corporation and bought a small farm outside of town a few years earlier. They'd converted the old barn into a recording studio. They had ultimately built homes on the property for each of them. They had recently gotten through the zoning process which would allow them to subdivide the two hundred acres into single home lots. Since the land was zoned, "agricultural-residential' the lots had to be almost two acres and no more than twenty percent could be occupied with structures. 

The small Midwestern city was growing; their farm was on the side of town where a number of major corporate headquarters resided. They had all agreed to take it slow and ensure that only upscale custom homes were built. The project had just passed the break-even point; it would, hopefully, ultimately provide a reasonable degree of financial security for the boys but that would take a few years. 

None of them had any debt to speak of. On the other hand, taking the leap of faith required to quit their day jobs and lose the cash flow of a regular salary was daunting. Each had grown up marginally middle class; a regular paycheck and the financial security that came with it were ingrained in them. The supercharged performance in front of 15,000 people, coupled with the words of praise from a true rock and roll icon had injected a serious note of uncertainty in all five of them. 

"So, Morris...what the fuck?" asked the systems analyst. 

"Let's not get the cart before the horse. If this big cheese actually calls us and if we get a shot at an audition and if that leads to some sort of record deal..."

"And then what?" injected the engineer. 

"Then we consider the pros and cons and...make a decision," Morris said softly. 

"Hell, Morris, this may be a collaborative effort but you are the irreplaceable one. If you aren't up for it---it ain't going to happen."

"I'm not going to hold you guys back; we've always made decisions as a band when it came to our music. If you all want to do it...I'll be there. Now I need to get some sleep. Let's not count our chickens yet."

As Morris drifted off to sleep he thought about his friends. He had a strong sense that three of them were ready to take the leap should the opportunity present itself. Brett, the landscape architect---also the band's rhythm guitarist---was probably not a go. He was spending more and more of his spare time managing the boys' development project and loved what he was doing. He was almost certainly the only one of the five who really enjoyed his day job. He had hinted that he was close to quitting the landscape architecture firm he worked for and devoting full time to the development project and also doing his own thing as a landscape architect. He had been very quiet all evening. 

Morris himself was on the fence. He had not grown up with very much financial security. Ditching his job as a CPA to pursue a dream? Still, he had made a commitment to his friends. If the majority wanted to go for it---assuming the opportunity even arose---he wouldn't hold them back. 

They played their second regular weekend gig the following night. Kate had attended, arriving early enough to get another front row seat. She was mesmerized by the band but it was Morrison, the lead guitarist who excited her the most---excited her as a woman. She had tried to talk to him during a break but he had been mobbed by regular fans and she didn't want to come off as a groupie. 

That Sunday, Kate had pulled her Fender out of the closet for the first time since coming to the city. She was a bit rusty at first but soon got in a groove. Kate read music but could also play by ear. She ran through several of the songs she had heard Boys' Nation play. As the heat inside her quickly rose, she planted the butt of the guitar between her legs and visions of Morrison...going down on her...fucking her...making her cum, filled her consciousness. The orgasm surprised her and essentially ended her impromptu practice session. 

Monday morning as she drove to work she began to wonder what would have happened if she had kept with her music. Her parents wouldn't have approved; her dad would have been furious at the lack of maturity. Oh, well. 

"Hey, Kate!" Morris called from behind her as she walked into the office. "Did you enjoy the concert?" She stopped and waited for him to catch up with her. 

"It was fantastic, Morris! It's a shame you had to miss it. They had a local opening act---Boys' Nation----that was phenomenal! How's your mother doing?"

"My mother? Oh, sure; she's fine. It was sort of a false alarm. The band you mentioned...I think I might have heard of them. So you're a pretty serious rock and roll fan?"

"You bet!" Kate replied, adding a brief overview of her own foray into performing. 

"Why, Kate...I had no idea you were so...multi-dimensional. Did you ever think of trying a career in music?"

"Thought about it but my parents dissuaded me---more like they threatened to disown me!"


It’s Only Rock and Roll



"So you played an instrument...did you sing?"

"Sure! I was a damn good lead guitarist---not even close to the guy I heard his weekend---Morrison. He was off the charts! Speaking of music, I had no idea that you were a music lover. Do you play an instrument?"

"Oh, I'm not sure I'd call it playing. I picked up a guitar back in high school. I pull it out every now and again just for old time's sake. Well...nice chatting with you. I better get started on this audit. I'm afraid I'll be burning a lot of midnight oil on this project."

As Kate moved to her cubicle it occurred to her that she and Morris had just had the longest conversation they had ever enjoyed that didn't involve work tasks. He had come out of his shell; maybe music could be the common ground between them? She knew she saw something in him that wasn't shared by the other attractive young women in the office. She laughed as she thought about how much her parents would like him. . . solid, responsible...not flashy. 

Morris was surprised at how easy it had been to talk to Kate for a change. Hell, he'd even initiated it. She was so damn hot...but sweet. His folks would fall in love with her. She was the epitome of Midwestern wholesomeness. Then again, if he never got up the nerve to ask her out it was unlikely that he'd ever get to the point of taking her home to meet the folks. 

The following day he got one of those "please hold for Mr. So-and-so" calls. A few seconds later he was stunned when a man came on the phone and introduced himself; Morris had heard of him. More than heard of, this man was a multi-decade king maker in pop and rock music. If the call had come, he had expected it to have come from an underling---not the man himself. "Call me Clive," he had immediately said. 

"Easier said than done, sir, but I'll work on it."

"Morris, I saw the video tape and listened to the CDs Mick brought back. You guys are good---musically and visually. Visually, you personally are quite impressive. I'd like to fly you to LA as soon as possible for a formal audition."

"A little bit of a problem there, sir---Clive. We all have jobs and we're all in the midst of important projects for our employers and it wouldn't be ethical to just bolt or call in sick."

"What kind of jobs, Morris?"

"Well, I'm a CPA, rhythm is in land management and landscape architecture, lawyer on drums, engineer on keyboards and the base player is a systems analyst."

"So you all attended college?"

"Plus grad school. Look, Clive, we've always operated as a democracy. If the guys want to take a shot, I'm with 'em all the way. The landscape architect is really the only one that I don't think will bite. He is also the only one that loves his day job and also manages our own development project so I think he'll choose to sit it out."

"Bluntly, I didn't sense that he was absolutely critical to your group chemistry---at least from what I saw on tape. If you've got to replace him, so be it."

"Painful process! We've been very good friends since high school. Adding a stranger to the mix is daunting."

"Okay, so you're telling me that at least right now, a three day trip to LA is out of the question. Maybe that might be better in the long run. I'd like to come there and hear---and see---you. I wouldn't mind a chance to see you do one of your gigs. But I also need to get some tape. Let me have someone check and see if there is a studio there we can use."

"Actually, we have our own. I failed to mention that our engineer is an acoustical engineer. We also plow everything we make on our music---and more---back into the business. We've got a pretty decent rehearsal and recording studio in what was once a barn. It's acoustically solid and our equipment is first rate. I hate to ask anyone to work on a weekend but that's about the only time any of us have any free time."

"Do you have an agent, manager or publicist?"

"Nope. We handle most of that ourselves. Keep in mind that we've never been a band looking to break into the big time. We like what we do; music is what we do for fun. If Mick hadn't said something..."

"Okay. Let's talk about time frame. I am booked solid for the next two weeks, regrettably. How about the following weekend? I can come in on Friday and fly back late Saturday or Sunday. I'll have a couple of people with me probably, including a sound engineer and a producer. Get with the rest of the band and get back to me---by Wednesday?"

"You got it, sir---Clive."

For the rest of the day, Morris had a difficult time keeping focused on the audit. In spare moments he called the rest of the band to bring them up to speed. That evening, the five friends sat down in Morris' living room to talk. Morris was the first to raise the issue with the one who had had the least to say. 

"You're not up for this---are you, old buddy?"

"How'd you know? We've laughed about it before but I'm probably the only one here who loves his day job. Someone needs to keep this development project going---and look for other opportunities in the future. I know I'm letting you down but I'm just not ready to do this. But I'll certainly be there for you guys in any way humanly possible."

The other three were on-board. They discussed replacing their rhythm guitar player. 

"We need to run an ad and have auditions. We don't have a lot of time and the whole chemistry thing worries me. Face it; we're not typical rockers and while there are some damn good local guitar players that come to mind I can't think of one of them that would really...'fit' with us," injected the drummer. 

It was decided that they would post an ad for a guitar player in the local papers and trades the following day. The audit kept Morris' nose to the grindstone; sadly he had no opportunity to chat with Kate other than work related crap. 

On Wednesday, Kate sat in her small apartment scanning a local music trade publication. She saw the ad. It didn't name the band but laid out very specific expectations for talent and experience. She slipped the publication in her brief case and headed for work. 

That night, she pulled out the Fender again and ended up practicing until well after midnight. She still had it. She had no idea what to expect but it was a little after midnight on Thursday when she decided to call and see if she could get an audition the following day during lunch. 

The guy who had answered the phone seemed surprised to be receiving a call from a girl but was polite and didn't blow her off. After she had reviewed her qualifications and experience she was given a time to show up and direction to the rehearsal hall. It was obvious to her that she was very near the end of the audition schedule. 

"Can you tell me the name of the band?"

"I'd really rather not; we're trying to keep this whole thing as quiet as possible; I'm sorry."

Friday as she walked to her car to go home she saw Morris a few feet in front of her. She called to him and he waited up for her. 

"So, Morris, have you got a big weekend planned?"

"Nothing very exciting, I'm afraid...you?"

Just for an instant she wanted to tell him. She also wanted to ask him out; she planned to go hear Boys' Nation again at least once. She had feared that she had been too forward before; she didn't want to make the same mistake again. In the end they parted somewhat awkwardly, both somehow wishing that the other would make the first move but neither doing so. 

Kate went back to the club where the band played an after hours set. She was not as fortunate in getting a decent seat as she had been the prior time. She was forced to stand way in the back and never really got a good view. 

Morris for his part was mildly disappointed that he didn't see Kate's smiling face down front; he had no way of knowing that she was there. 

The boys began the auditions at the barn early the next morning. They wanted more than just a musical audition; they needed to take time to get to know the people auditioning. By the middle of the afternoon they were despondent. There had been some truly awful auditions. There had been some very good ones involving people with obvious issues. They had a couple of "possibles" by the time the last one came in. From the audition list, they knew it was a girl and doubted that it would work out. 

None of the boys were remotely prepared for the tall, confident and drop dead gorgeous young woman who walked through the door with guitar case in hand. She was wearing a simple tank top and designer jeans, both of which hugged her perfect form alluringly. At first, Morris didn't recognize her; in fact it didn't register until she spoke. It was Kate's voice, but somehow different...huskier, deeper...sexy. 

"Guys!" Morris whispered. "I think I know this girl. She works at my office. I'm going into the booth. She doesn't know about my hobby and I'd like to keep it that way."

The rest of the band took the time to get to know their last applicant. Morris stayed in the booth and asked no questions. They others were very surprised to find that Kate was a lot like them, that she had a graduate degree and a real job. They liked her immediately. If she could play, it might just work. First they needed to assess her skill level. If it was there, then they needed to play together and see how it worked. If it got to that stage, it would only be the second time it had happened all day. 

She moved to the stage, opened her guitar case and smiled approvingly as she checked out their amplifiers. When she pulled out her custom built, Torino Red, Eric Clapton signature edition Fender Stratocaster, the boys were suitably impressed. 

"Guys, I know this is an audition for rhythm---second fiddle, so to speak---and I'm not exactly sure how one does a solo audition as rhythm, so ... I'm just going to play some licks and you tell me where you want me to go from there."

Kate hated guitarists who always seemed to need to tune up for five minutes before playing music. That wasn't her style. 

She started with the classic opening riff from Prince's When Doves Cry, then segued into the opening from AC/DC's Back in Black, the longer---and far better---original version, and had the band eating out of her hand from that moment on. The girl could play; she was head and shoulders above the other people who had auditioned. She was smoking hot. 

"Do you read music?" Morris asked from the booth. 

"Sure."

"Dave, give her the sheet music from some of our stuff. Kate, just play lead."

"I, ah, don't go by Kate...when I'm playing...Katerina?"

"You got it."

Fifteen minutes later, Boys' Nation was pretty sure they had their new guitarist. Morris needed to exit the booth and come down on stage so that they could see if it worked. 

"Kate---sorry, Katerina---why don't we set you up on one side of the stage and I'll take the other side." Morris said, having failed to introduce himself and doubting how much longer he could keep up the charade even with sunglasses. 

It worked. Morris laughed, for the Kate or Katerina he was witnessing was a completely different persona than the Kate he knew from work. She lit up like a Christmas tree on stage. She looked friggin' fine and she played hot. They ended up playing as a band for forty-five minutes, ending with a jam number in which Morris and Kate alternated on lead as if their guitars were talking to each other. They took a break and then reconvened; Morris again retreated to the booth. 

"Kate---Katerina---you were outstanding. We need to get our heads together and talk about it but frankly no one else came close. Look, one sensitive issue. We're a local club band; we play two gigs a week, a late show and a regular set. You need to know that a producer is coming down to hear us next weekend---a very big name producer. If he likes what he hears, we'll probably accept a record deal. We're auditioning to replace one member who likes his day job and isn't ready to take the plunge. The rest of us are prepared to quit our jobs and give it a shot. Are you okay with that?"

"What? A record deal? Touring...wow... I hadn't expected.... Sure! I'm on board!"

"Good! Next question: when can you rehearse? We like to keep it tight and we basically only have a week."

"Any night...weekends...I'm yours."

"Okay, let's plan to meet back here tomorrow at one. Our soon to be former rhythm guitarist has already decided that tonight would probably be his last gig."

"One more question, boys..."

"Which is?"

"Boys' Nation? I mean, I understand the reference very well---I think. I was selected for Girls' Nation but if you're going to add a girl to the mix..."

Morris spoke from the booth; he had retreated there following their stage work. "Nation...just Nation. How's that work?" 

"Works for me." Kate responded. Everyone else agreed and soon after said their goodbyes. 

***

"Morris, get you ass out of the booth. If you're going to rehearse---and play---on stage with her you're going to have to stand close enough to her so that she figures out who you are." 

"I know; I'm just not ready. I'll take care of it before tomorrow afternoon."

Kate decided not to go watch the band perform Saturday night. She was so excited and scared in the same instant that she just needed to crash and think about what had occurred. There were lots of local bands that thought they were going to get a deal. It might fall through...might just be a pipe dream. Still, if it did happen...her parents. . . oh, shit!

She was very surprised early Sunday morning to get a phone call from Morris, the CPA. 

"Kate, I hope I didn't wake you, I..."

"No problem, Morris. I'm an early riser. What's up?"

"I was wondering if you had plans for breakfast, I..."

"Breakfast?"

"Sure. Breakfast. There's a little place down on the river that has the best Eggs Benedict anywhere, and I was hoping unless you have plans if..."

"What time?"

"Ah, nine?"

"Where is this place? I live near the river."

Morris told her. 

"Oh, sure! I know where you're talking about. Why don't I just plan to meet you there at nine---if that's okay? It's a short walk from my place."

"Sure. Nine, then."

"Okay."

"See you then, Kate."

Well, who would have thought? Morris had finally gotten up the courage to ask her out, albeit for breakfast. It was a start, although in view of where her life might soon be leading it might well never be more than a start. 

She saw him sitting outside the small café drinking a cup of coffee. She recognized him but, then again, she didn't. He was dressed casually but conservatively; his hair was not slicked back and then the truth began to dawn on her: either Morris had a twin brother or a very interesting extracurricular activity. 

He looked up and saw her, rising to greet her. 

"Hi, Kate. Thanks for coming."

"And which of your multiple personalities am I speaking to right now?" she quipped. 

"There really is only one personality, although I suppose there is also a stage persona...not unlike Kate and Katerina?"

"Touché."

"Well, sit down. I'll tell you how Morris got to be Morrison or vice versa and then I want to hear your story."

An hour later, each was sure that the other had a third personality. 

"Okay, Morris. You're not the strutting Morrison this morning---nor are you the painfully shy CPA who I've been trying to get to notice me for the last six months."

"Oh, I noticed you. Look. My parents are very old school---very formal. They're great parents but I grew up with certain behavioral expectations. The profession I chose---or was 'suggested' to me by those same parents---tends to attract or expect a certain style. Around my friends---whom you met yesterday---this is who I am. Around very pretty girls, I revert to type. Not a great track record there...painfully shy. This is who I believe I am."

"I see."

"So, we have the Midwestern, no makeup, 'aw, shucks' Kate; then I meet Katerina and right this minute you're not really either. I'm guessing some of the same parental issues?"

"Uh, huh. I don't really have any friends here but if you went back to college or high school with me, my friends would tell you this is pretty much me. Get me around my parents and I become very, very 'aw shucks'."

"Same here. Morrison probably would have no problems securing female companionship; Morris, on the other hand is shy. Morrison is a little like Superman on red kryptonite. It's a stage personna---a role. I enjoy it but I wouldn't want to live it day in and out. I like the person you are sitting with this morning, Kate. You are just one of a small group of people---friends---that have had the chance to see it."

"So we're friends?"

"I hope so."

"Good."

"So where do we go from here?"

"Look, Kate. I'm in music mode right now. Yesterday we were just looking for a solid rhythm guitar player---but you're better than that---much better. I think we need to work out some changes---I mean you still need to play rhythm on most numbers but some how I'm envisioning 'dueling' guitars where it makes sense or even times when you take lead and I back you up. I was sort of hoping maybe we could practice a little before the rest of the guys come in. I have a feeling about this; I know as far as the record producer is concerned, we're changing the look and feel but my gut says it's a positive change."

"Is this the part where you invite me back to see your recoding studio?" Flirting...damn straight she was. 

"Exactly!" Morrison---not Morris---replied. 

"Why not? My apartment is only a couple of blocks from here. We can swing by and I'll pick up my guitar---and my super hero costumes. Believe it or not I just can't crank an axe without the right...wardrobe."

A few minutes later as Morris waited in the car while Kate went upstairs he was as excited as he had been about anything in a long time. He was excited about what Kate's expertise could mean to their music; he was excited about Kate and the fact that he'd finally gotten it up...his nerve. She came back to the car dressed as she had left it. She responded to his quizzical look. 

"I brought a change of clothes---not exactly suitable for riding around town. Thank God I haven't gained any weight since I last wore some of this stuff."

Within half an hour they were back at the barn/recording studio. They'd have almost two hours to work together before the rest of the band arrived. They started out acoustically, just attempting to get their respective tempos in sync. They plugged in for the last hour or so. They were on the same wavelength surprisingly quickly, each demonstrating an uncanny ability to anticipate and respond to the other. At a little after noon, Kate, excused herself, ostensibly to use the restroom. She came back in a couple of minutes transformed into Katerina and the outfit she had chosen was a stunner that showed a fair amount of skin and hugged her exceptional form as if it had been sprayed on. 

"What do you think?" she said, performing a pirouette. 

Morris was speechless at first. "Okay! Unfair! I need to get into character." He removed the nice, preppy shirt he was wearing to reveal the skin-tight muscle shirt beneath. Kate perused his sleek, muscled form appreciatively. Kate started to laugh. 

"What?" he said. 

"I like the top---but khaki shorts? I don't think that works."

"Okay, well, we can fix that." He said, and began removing his shorts, much to Kate's consternation. 

"Relax! I've got biking shorts on underneath---never thought about performing in them but..."

The bike shorts were modest in their coverage...less so in their equally painted on appearance. 

"Oh, yeah, that'll work!" Katerina replied, licking her lips, stroking her $2,600 tool of the trade provocatively and rolling directly into the Ozzy Osbourne riff from Iron Man. Morris picked it up immediately and they began playing it in perfect sync. They then moved effortlessly into Brown Sugar by the Stones and played a real guitar duet together. Then on to Van Halen and Dance the Night Away, followed by Miss You by the Stones. Then it was China Grove by the Doobies. Simple Man by Skynard. Bring it on Home by Led Zeppelin. 




It’s Only Rock and Roll



Then what could only be called a rock version of Little Big Town's Good as Gone. Master of Puppets by Metallica. Smoke on the Water by Deep Purple. Texas Flood by Stevie Ray. Hotel California by the Eagles. Cities on Flame with Rock and Roll by Blue Oyster Cult. By the time the rest of the band arrived Kate and Morris were smoking through Give the Dog a Bone. 

The rest of the band saw it, heard it and felt the chemistry. They quickly joined the jam and helped take the AC/DC classic through its paces. Then they got serious and began to rehearse their normal covers and original numbers with their new band member. Kate's ability to switch from a solid rhythm guitarist to an improvising lead was nothing short of astounding. Many great guitar soloists suck as band members---all they care about is their time in the limelight. Kate was not one of those musicians. By late afternoon the chemistry was solid; Nation was a new band...a different band...a better band. 

The man who Katerina had replaced joined his mates on stage. "I knew this damn band needed something different. It's so much stronger with you on guitar, hon---these guys were just too nice to say it, but next to you...I was just another guitar. Plus the pure sexual energy between you two is something that Morris and I could never pull off---thank goodness. You guys probably need to work on your staging a little together---get your cues down---but damn! It works!"

The rest of the band drifted off to their own homes leaving Morris and Kate alone together. 

"It felt right, Morris. I hope you guys aren't just being kind. I don't want to screw this up for you," Kate said. 

"Not much chance of that, babe. You're way too good to be playing rhythm---but you are also as solid a rhythm guitarist as I've ever played with. I think we've got something here. I wish we had a chance to air it in front of an audience before the record guy gets here. Are you hungry?"

"What? Morris is asking me out for the second time in the same day? Will wonders never cease!"

"Actually I was inviting you in. I'm a decent cook. Let's walk over to my place and see what we can put together."

"Mind if I change?"

"Don't change on my account."

Kate returned in under five minutes in a cotton sundress looking for all the world like the Midwestern small town girl she was at her core. For Morris, the effect was even more stimulating than the sexy outfit she had worn over the afternoon. Who knew who made the first move? Certainly Kate had moved into his personal space but he was pretty sure he had initiated the kiss...a tender...gentle...affectionate kiss. Her lips were soft and warm...it was the perfect first kiss. 

"Do you sing, too Kate?"

"Oh, sure, but let's get the guitar stuff down before we get into that. Nothing like changing the subject!" she said, reinitiating the kiss. Morris did not object. 

Morris and Kate cooked dinner together and worked in the small kitchen as seamlessly as they had on stage. They ended up on the couch; they ended up in each other's arms. They did not end up in Morris' bed and, if the truth be told, that was a mutual if wordless decision. Morris spoke after one last kiss before Kate got in her car to drive home. 

"Kate...I don't want to screw this up---the music or the...other. I like you a lot; hell, I've been worshipping you from afar since you first walked into the office. When it comes to relationships, I'm far more Midwestern-Morris, the mild mannered CPA. I..."

"Hush!" she said, pecking him on the cheek. "This is provincial, small town Kate you're talking to, so no excuses are required. We've got something here, Morris---musically as well as personally. Let's just let it happen. If there is something here---something real and very long term---we'll figure it out. Thanks for being the sweet guy I knew you were."

The work-week went very quickly. The band met every night to rehearse. By the end of the Thursday session, they felt very comfortable with how well things had come together. 

Friday morning, the big boss flew in and announced Rod's promotion to general manager over the entire office. The current local boss would be relocating in under a week. Rod in turn announced Molly's promotion to a position that everyone knew she wasn't remotely qualified for. Kate would be working for Molly; Morris would be working for Rod. It sucked. 

On the other hand, Morris received a call late in the day from another mogul of the music industry. He told him the truth: we have a meeting scheduled with someone else. If it doesn't work out, we'll call you. No, we haven't signed a contract. Yes, we'll be open-minded. 

The first legendary recording mogul flew in early enough on Friday to take the band to dinner. He was surprisingly warm and human considering his legacy. He had an engineer/ producer and an attorney with him who were somewhat less convivial. Throughout dinner, the band knew they were being interviewed. 

"You are the most unlikely rock and roll/border line metal band on the planet! You're all delightfully free of typical musician's issues---particularly for rock and rollers. I need to get one thing out on the table in case it is a sensitive issue. Bluntly, Mick and the boys would like to record some of your stuff."

Morris felt an alarm bell go off but stayed calm. "Our best, signature stuff isn't even right for them. The last thing we are going to do is 'give away' our best tunes so that if and when we ever get a chance to record them we come off as a cover band. If you flew down here just to steal our music, thanks for dinner---but no thanks. Now, on another note, we wrote half a dozen songs that are very much in their style to play in preparation for their first---and probably only---concert in our fair city. Those songs would be perfect for them. Bluntly, the songs that I saw Mick salivating over when we opened for them aren't for sale---and they frankly don't have the talent any more to do them justice."

"Is he speaking for all of you?" injected the irritating lawyer. 

"We're done here," responded all five of them almost simultaneously, as they rose to leave. 

"Wait!" said the mogul, coming to his feet. It was time for the other attorney at the table, the drummer, to put in his two cents worth. 

"We've been friends---best friends---since high school. We're still together more than a decade later---with the exception of Kate, of course. If you just wanted our songs, we could have saved you the trouble on the phone. Your mouth-piece's less than subtle attempt to insert a wedge was not appreciated and showed a complete lack of class. Morris is the leader of this band---because he's got the most talent and because we all trust him implicitly. On the other hand, while we're a democracy, we are all on the same sheet of music---have been for years. I'm afraid you've just given us a clear indication of why we'll probably always be a local club band who plays for fun: slimy record labels and their minions. Sorry you wasted the jet fuel flying here."

"Can we at least talk about it?" pleaded the mogul. "Simon's comment was inappropriate and I apologize. Sit down and at least let me say my piece. None of us are remotely used to dealing with a band like Nation---or individuals such as you folks. We're feeling our way here---and we're going to get it wrong sometimes but I pledge to you that in the end, we'll get it right."

"I need to apologize---profusely," injected the suddenly less irritating lawyer from the big city. "In case you haven't already figured it out, Clive and I play good cop bad cop. We're used to dealing with, well, bluntly, marginally educated, often drug addled, not-very-bright, desperate to sign a recording contract---but certainly talented---musicians. We're not very used to dealing with ethics and integrity when it comes to musicians---sorry to be so callously blunt. I've certainly never had another attorney sitting across from me as a band member---and a friggin' CPA. Again, my apologies. By the way; where did you attend law school?"

The drummer told him. "It was in New Haven...Edited Law Review. I also specialize in contract law."

"I see."

***

A few hours later the three men from the big city were nestled together at a table at the front of the after hours club. The owner of the club was a good friend of the band; he knew that he might well be losing his best act but he also knew that being the owner of a club where a big name got its start was not bad for business. He also was a decent human being. 

To say the least, Nation smoked from eleven to two as they had never smoked before. If it was possible, Kate was even more impressive in front of an audience. The personal and musical chemistry between Katrina and Morrison on stage was something to behold. Clive knew they were better than good. They were the second coming. Shades of Zeppelin—but not a Zeppelin cover. Glimpses of AC/DC at their zenith, only better. It was all there; he absolutely had to sign them. 

Late the next morning they all gathered at the barn/recording studio. The record people wanted to record some tape under studio conditions. The visiting producer/sound engineer took his place in the booth. The band launched into one of their best numbers. The producer interrupted them three times in the first sixty seconds with some inane request or another that they do something differently. This time it was the normally quiet and staid engineer on keyboards who went ballistic, as he calmly entered the sound booth which he had essentially built. 

"Get away from my board and out of my booth! I don't care how many awards you have! We ain't doing Brittany or Jessica pop crap here! We're trying to do rock and roll! You don't keep cutting and pasting rock and roll---you just play it. Unless there is an obvious fuck-up, you let it ride. I designed this place acoustically so that we could record as a group---not a bunch of solos dubbed together by some moron who wouldn't know good music if it fell out of his ass. I know! Don't tell me! You're one of those friggin' West Coast engineers---UCLA---am I right?"

"Why, yes. I graduated near the top of my class. I have a Masters..."

"From a glorified city college, for Christ sake! I've yet to meet a UCLA engineer---or any engineer from that community college system you have out there---who knew shit from Shineola. Jesus-H-fucking Christ!"

The rest of the band bit their tongue. Morris turned and spoke to Clive. "In these matters, he does speak for all of us."

"I take it he didn't go to a community college?" Clive said, hardly able to suppress a grin. 

The drummer answered the question for Clive. "MIT...Summa...first in my class. Tell your man to run the fucking tape, don't tweak it---just try to keep the levels in line. I've got a friggin' Black Lab that can handle it if he's not up to it. Fucking producers! What a complete waste of good sperm!" The engineer/keyboard player was on a roll. 

After several hours of almost perfect sessions they had produced a solid body of work that could easily stand on its own and form the core of an album. Somewhere along the line the two engineers had shaken hands and more or less made up. All sat down back in Morris' dining room over a late lunch to talk. 

"Four decades in this business says it's good---great---stuff. You're all smart enough to know that it takes more than good tape---someone has to decide to play it. We need to get you exposure; we need to start promoting you. There's virtually an album here. You have to know I want some of my producers to listen to it and make suggestions."

"Just so you understand that we keep absolute artistic control of the product. We're not unreasonable folks—we're not ass holes. We'll certainly listen to good advice---but we have no intention of turning our music into crap with a bunch of over-dubbed electronic junk or whatever. It's a band; it's rock and roll. Our goal is simple: as much as is humanly and technically possible, we want the album to sound the way we sound---live. People who shell out their hard earned money for an album don't need to be disappointed and pissed off because the album doesn't measure up to what they heard Friday or Saturday night at a concert or a club."

"I'm with you, gentleman---and lady. The couple of producers I'm thinking about have a wealth of experience specifically in taking band-rock and making it work on recordings with some of the legends of the industry. Now that Shania is busy raising kids, rumor has it that Mutt might be interested in getting back into rock production. Speaking of the lady: do you sing, Kate?"

"I can but we really haven't tried it with that element yet; we're still trying to get the music to work."

"It already works. Think very seriously about a solo vocal for Kate, gents---assuming she doesn't suck."

"Where do we go from here, Clive?" asked Morris. 

"Get you on the road as an opener for a major band; photos, videos, interviews, planting the seed. I've seen it take up to two years to get an album out. I don't remotely see it taking that long with you. You have no bad habits, you understand the studio process, you've already got good songs to record---or already reasonably recorded---and I don't have any doubt about your work ethic. Anything under six months is probably fantasy but a few good reviews here and there on the tour, local radio interest---who knows?"

"So, am I correct in assuming we're close to discussing a potential contract?" Kate asked. 

"That we are!" replied the mogul's attorney. "I happen to have a basic boiler plate contract with me for you to look over." He started to hand it to Morris who indicated that he should hand it to the drummer, who briefly flipped through it and then spoke. 

"I can see some problems already but I really need to go over it with a fine tooth comb and we all need to chat. I think we all agree that up front money in lieu of a crappy percentage on the back-end is not in our interest. Look. We're about to quit our day jobs or at least take leaves of absence. We're all good enough at those day jobs that if this whole thing implodes, we'll have no problem finding jobs after the dust clears. We've got some money coming in from our real estate development---more every day. So, as I see it, less risk for you on the front end---but also less reward for you on the back-end. If we flop---you don't lose much. If we succeed marginally---it's probably a wash. If we really make it big---we'll both do just fine. 

"On another note, Morris is a CPA as you know---an auditor. He is an absolute master at finding funny games with net, gross and expenses. He's even sent a couple of folks to jail as I recall. He's going to dig through the splits and general accounting principles like a friggin' woodchuck. If there is anything in the financials of this contract that is going to set off his alarm bells, you'd be smart to tell him up front---because he is tenacious and meticulous...and he loves his work. It would help if you could send us this as a file---email it if that works. That way we can insert comments in a more orderly fashion."

"I have a copy on my laptop," said the big city lawyer. 

The other member of the band, the system analyst had already opened his own MacBook by the time the lawyer had booted up. 

"Is that the file, named. . ."

"Yes! How did you know?"

"You definitely need to beef up the security on your computer. Anyone with a Wi-Fi connection within a hundred feet of here with even minimal skills can hack you. Christ! You've got a wide open, unprotected port! Hell, they could hack you from China over the Internet and have full remote access---just as I have right this minute. No need to email the contract---I've already got it. If you've got a couple of minutes, we can at least erect a rudimentary firewall---and when you get back to your office you need to fire whoever is in charge of network security. You need a VPN at a minimum, 128-bit level encryption, dedicated firewall, WAP at least on the Wi-Fi, password protection on your sensitive files...and a few other things."

"Is there anyone you could suggest back in the city?"

"Absolutely. I don't even mess with security any more; it's pretty mundane. My company has a contract with an LA firm---classmate of mine. I just sent you his card---and just sent him your card."

After the laughter died down, Clive spoke. 

"Folks, are you considering other offers?"

"We do have at least one other bona fide inquiry. In the end, it's not going to come down to a bidding war---it's going to have more to do with trust and chemistry. Your reputation precedes you. We are not actively seeking other arrangements. We will be polite to the other company who has contacted us but hopefully will have no reason to get into a serious discussion."

"Fair enough. I think we're all anxious to get this ball rolling. How long is it going to take you folks to review and annotate the contract?"

"A day or two---then it will depend on our ability to come to agreement on the ticklish points," Morris said. 

"In the interim, it would be helpful to see a marketing plan," Kate added. 

"A marketing plan?" Clive responded. 

"Sure. A marketing plan. If we sign a contract, you become responsible for marketing this band. Hugs, warm feelings and promises are really wonderful but a detailed marketing plan incorporated as an addendum to the contract would not only give us a little better sense of your commitment---but also help us anticipate what you need us to do as part of that plan. I can't imagine jumping into any business project without a marketing plan which includes timelines, anticipated expenditures, bench marks, measurement to ensure acceptable completion, quarterly reviews---the usual."

"Let me guess; your MBA is in marketing?" Clive asked with a grin. 

"Double major; finance and marketing," she replied. 

"Why should that surprise me?" Clive responded with a twinkle in his eye. 

***

A few hours later the three record company executives chatted at 27,000 feet in Clive's G550. 

"Clive, this venture is certain to have some challenges based on the last twenty-four hours."

"I agree, Simon; we're going to have to cross our t's and dot our i's. With any luck we'll sign a contract that everyone has read and understands---which is good news. I doubt we'll be spending money at Betty Ford or picking the red M&Ms™ out of the bowl or explaining DUI arrests, trashed hotel rooms or bar brawls. These folks are smart and well educated---but they're also good artists with good ears for what works. They don't need their egos massaged and they can smell bullshit a mile away. We need to make damn sure everyone understands one simple fact: don't BS these kids---be straight with 'em and we'll all make a hell of a lot of money."

The contract negotiation was as arduous as anything Simon had ever been involved in. Thanks to email, proposed changes could be acted on in a matter of minutes. Essentially, the band won every battle. As Simon read the final draft, he chuckled. It was a damn good contract. It was a win-win contract. It was the kind of contract he would have signed if he had been an artist. The band had already printed off the final version and signed all of the copies. It was in the hands of FedEx but it was essentially a done deal by Friday morning. 

Morris had completed the audit on Wednesday; he'd printed off the final copy Thursday morning. Everything had come out well except for one small area: someone was committing fraud with a company expense account. The evidence was irrefutable and backed up by numerous sources. He had already sent the evidence to the corporate controller as he was required to do according to the corporation's accounting policies. The corporate controller had reviewed Morris's findings; the evidence was absurdly obvious. The regional big boss was flying in Friday morning. He had spoken to Morris on the phone and was none too happy---as if it was Morris' fault that someone in the office was cheating. 




It’s Only Rock and Roll



Morris was in his office Friday morning when he received a call from an officious secretary, "The big guy will see you now." His response was unexpected. 

"Tell him I'm busy and I'm expecting an important phone call. He's more than welcome to come to my office."

Said big boss did so. He was not pleased. He started to light into Morris, hinting that he was an insubordinate trouble maker. Morris cut him off. 

"Sit down---and pipe down! Your behavior is entirely inappropriate. It borders on hostile work environment stuff. First, let me remind you that the moment my audit team confirmed questionable financial practices in this office, it was my responsibility---it's in my job description---to report it to the corporate controller, not the chain of command. I would also remind you, sir, that you signed off on every one of those fraudulent expense reports---not that I'm implying that you were party to the fraud but every expense report you signed off on in the last three years is going to be combed through---by outside, independent auditors. 

"Let me also remind you that at the instant the corporate controller ascertained that the audit team's findings were 100% accurate and confirmed several specific incidents through an outside investigator---I ceased to be in your chain of command---which means I don't report to Rod, the cheat, and you don't sign my paycheck. All of which is essentially a moot point, since I submitted my request for a two year leave of absence in keeping with corporate policy first thing this morning and effective today---with the signed document sent at my personal expense via FedEx First yesterday---to the controller. 

"It would be highly unlikely that the corporation would refuse my request and choose to simply terminate me in view of the whistle blower statutes in this state. We're done here. Your boy broke the law. With the scrutiny that all corporations are under these days---not to mention the income tax fraud implications for the company---I would expect that they will want to make an example of him and seek criminal prosecution. 

"There also appears to be a conspirator---a young former intern and recently promoted manager named Molly. I have every sense that she does not want to go to jail, will claim that she was intimidated by a superior with whom she also had an ongoing sexual relationship---which she will probably also claim was coerced. That's for you---or more accurately the outside investigators---to figure out. Off the record, I don't buy it---not that you've got a chance in hell of proving that she's lying. Rod is seriously screwed---but so are you. Molly will probably ultimately skate if she's cunning enough to cooperate, perjure herself and can keep her story straight. 

"Finally, my next in command is completely read-in on the entire matter. Here's the entire file. We're done here. I've never kept anything of a personal nature in this office. Here's my key and my security badge. I have no other company property in my possession. Do you have any questions?"

"No, I don't think so. I apologize for my behavior. It was completely inappropriate. I'm angry at myself---not you. I misread the man---misjudged his character. You were just doing your job and I respect that. I'm sorry you are leaving. Frankly, I considered you for the position I gave Rod but..."

"I neither dress nor schmooze as well as he does? I don't exactly have a corporate haircut? I'm quiet and introverted and don't have the gift of gab? I don't play golf? For the record, he has a second rate education from a regional state university---and a mail order MBA---and I have an MS in Accounting from Northwestern. Go figure? Look, no hard feelings. Rod had all the style to be a general manager---just none of the substance and no ethics. He's a textbook sociopath---he pulled the wool over your eyes. I enjoy crunching numbers; I actually have, in my life, demonstrated leadership ability. I could have 'handled' this office but I probably wouldn't have loved it."

"What are you going to do now, Morris?"

"Do you enjoy music, and if so, what kind?"

"Well, you might not know it from looking at me but, yes, I love music. Classic rock. Zeppelin...Aerosmith...AC/DC...the Stones, of course---why?"

"Fascinating, as Mr. Spock would say! I have a hobby; I front and play lead guitar in a rock and roll band. You'd probably like what we do. We just signed a recording contract with a major record label. We leave Monday to open for the greatest rock and roll band in history through the remainder of their US tour."

"You are shitting me!"

"Not remotely. Do you remember Kate---the other intern who didn't get promoted?"

"Of course; nice girl...cute, sweet."

"Somewhere in your inbox is her notice; she just joined the band. She may just be the second best rock guitarist I've ever heard."

"Second best?"

"After me."

***

A massive amount of activity occurred in the week following that Friday morning meeting in Morris' former office. Logistics, publicity, phone interviews and promotional activities seemed to occupy every waking hour. The band played their last club date the following Friday, even though the record company had wanted them to cancel. By the next evening, they would be opening for rock legends in a major city only a five hour drive from home. Their equipment had already been broken down and sent in advance. Their leased tour bus would pick them up at nine o'clock Saturday morning. 

The rest of the band had drifted off to their own homes and beds. Kate had fallen asleep on Morris' living room sofa. She had changed into that damn sundress which had crept up her shapely thighs. Morris chuckled. Certainly her stage costumes were more overtly sexy but that thin, cotton sundress made Morris's dick stir. Always the gentleman, he carefully picked her up and carried her to bed---in the guest room. They hadn't had much personal time together over the hectic week. 

Kate awoke an hour or so later, at first unsure where she was. Morris had given her a tour of the house the first time she visited so she soon figured it out. She went into the bathroom, gratified to find suitable hygiene supplies. She took a quick shower and brushed her teeth. She returned to bed sans clothing to sleep. Fifteen minutes later she made a decision. She wasn't remotely interested in sleeping alone. She walked the short distance down the hall to the Master bedroom. She slipped into Morris' bed, electing to stay on the other side. 

Morris had not awakened when she slipped under the covers. At some point he rolled over and quickly realized that he was not alone. In the soft moonlight streaming through the open window, he saw her. He watched her sleep for some time before rolling back over to go back to sleep. Kate stirred and made another decision. She scooted her warm body over to Morris' side of the bed and snuggled up against his muscled form. 

Morris was quickly wide awake; Kate sensed it and whispered. 

"Just let me touch you...for a while."

Ah, the best laid plans of mice, men and women! The feeling of Kate's soft breasts crushed against his back...the tickle of her pubic hair...one of her hands on his neck...the other across his hip. His cock was quickly hard...almost painfully so. When her hand strayed and brushed against his turgid organ and his reached back to find the smooth, warmth of her young hip and his fingers strayed to the tight cleft of her exquisite rump...

***

Clive had said six months at a minimum. The album was ready to roll. Now it was up to the band to impress the fans as an opening act for the next four weeks. There were interviews, late night TV performances, charity concerts, awards shows, the constant massaging of the appropriate radio station play lists, a follow up mini-tour and state fairs. The band just got better; the reviews were laudatory but in the end it was that one review, that one essential piece of coverage that pushed things over the top. 

Think back a few years. No one went to see Bonnie and Clyde until a certain New York film critic writing for what was then the top circulation weekly magazine in the country raved almost over the top about it. The same thing happened to the first Star Wars. In the case of Bruce Springsteen, he got on the cover of the number one and two weekly news mags in the same week accompanied by gushing reviews during a particularly dismal phase in the music world. The eastern intelligentsia embraced him and he became an icon in spite of the fact that he had little or no voice, was an average guitar player, only produced three or four really memorable songs---and wouldn't have existed without a decent band and a great sax player. 

It's like the whole Grateful Dead thing: "they must be good, all these really smart and famous people adore them." Come on now, we all know the truth. They had one pretty good song and then a whole bunch that sort of had the same sound and next thing you know---icons. Certainly other pieces of "entertainment" have been thrust on us by the media and to our surprise, we go to the movie or hear the artist and, lo and behold, damn, that's good! Elvis certainly comes to mind along with the early British invasion. Then again there's always Milli Vanilli and that silly white rapper with the bad hair who stole entire songs from Queen, among others---Vanilla Ice? Dr. Pepper comes to mind. We've been told our whole life that we love it...but we don't. We do love their commercials though!

And so it was that the head cheese in the world of music criticism happened to hear Nation on late night TV, arranged to hear them play on the mini-tour and decided that they were the second coming of something, or the rebirth of whatever or the new wave of modern rock and roll. They wanted a cover shoot. Quickly other magazines got wind of it and they wanted a cover shoot and interviews. Would they become the latest fad to leave the public consciousness in six months or icons?

Even Clive was nervous and he was the godfather when it came to obtaining free, top of the line publicity. In the end they all agreed they were pretty much over a barrel---you don't turn this guy down or his magazine so they went along, scheduling the album release seventy-two hours after the weekly hit the streets. 

In the end, it worked. A year later, they were headliners who could fill any venue regardless of size. Their first album set all time records. They would become such a phenomenon within two years that they could pick and choose and not have to live on the road. They're second, third, fourth...well, let's just say they made a lot of money for everyone and the band never had to worry about day jobs again. Yet, as one might expect, there were rocky moments in their individual lives. 

Guess who never told mom and dad that they had quit their day jobs and gone on the road with a rock and roll band? Each of the others had gotten around to it before the big cover story came out. Kate and Morris had waited until the bitter end. In a break in their road activity, the made plans to visit their respective parents together. 

There were other issues to be discussed. "Hi, mom. Hi, dad. Guess what? I play guitar in a rock and roll band! Yep! Quit that pesky day job. Oh, by the way, this is the man/woman I've been fucking for the last few months---he/she plays in the band too! And we're in love! And we want to get married!"

They'd wanted to wait until they were unquestionable successes, when there could be no question that they had made the right decisions. Early the following week two fathers would walk out to their respective mail boxes and peruse the cover of a magazine that each had subscribed to for decades. And there would be this posed picture on the cover. Kate would be wearing something revealing and...well, very tight. Morris would be in a tight body shirt and leather pants and...long hair. They'd all have the rock-and-roll look on their faces. The gig would be up. The two fathers would flip to the page with the cover story and begin to read the short bios on each band member. Each would hurry to the kitchen screaming his wife's name. 

It was a Thursday morning when the two lovers boarded Clive's G550. He had offered the use of the plane without hesitation. He liked these kids and liked them a lot. It was the least he could do for them in their hour of need. The respective parents lived about three hundred miles away from each other, less than an hour by jet. They knew their progeny were coming for a long overdue visit; they knew said offspring were in the company of a member of the opposite sex. Some announcement of an engagement was expected and neither set of parents was anything other than excited and pleased about the prospect of welcoming a new son or daughter into the family. Thursday and Friday night at Kate's home; Saturday and Sunday at Morris'. 

***

"Kate, give us your flight information and we'll come pick you and your friend up. It's a hike to the airport, almost an hour and a half and with this winter weather we've been having it can be a frightful drive."

"Mom, we're not flying commercial...private jet. We're coming into the County airport---the one across from the big quarry. It can't be five minutes from the farm. I'll call you when we're in the air but we should be there around three."

"Oh...okay. Well, anyway, your father is so excited that you're coming home for a visit! It's been so long since you've been home."

"Love you, mom."

Fifteen minutes out, Morris turned to the woman he was so hopelessly in love with. "Got a plan yet?"

"Not a clue. It's not like my parents hate rock-and-roll---they grew up in the sixties! Hell, they introduced me to Led Zeppelin. It's just...they didn't want their only daughter playing it...living it. How many times did daddy say he couldn't wait for the day when I made vice president? It didn't matter vice president of what, just a business card with his little girl's name and the title under it."

"Clive gave me these before we left," he said, pulling two articles out of his bag. "they're advance copies of the magazine article---with the cover pictures and everything."

"So, you're thinking maybe, I just flip 'em on the coffee table and wait to see how they respond?"

"Well, that's at least a plan. Look, hon...you know we're good. You know we made the right decision. You know I love you."

"That I do, father of my unborn children!" she said, falling into his arms. 

Morris' hair was loose, not slicked back but his attire was conservatively casual. The $70 mil jet pulled right up within twenty feet of where Kate's parents were standing. The two lovers descended the short steps with their small bags in hand. The plane would leave but return two days later. Introductions were made and hugs exchanged. Small talk was made on the short drive home. 

Sleeping arrangements were explained. Kate helped her mother fix drinks as Morris and his soon to be father settled into the expansive great room in front of a crackling fire. Small talk continued. 

"So, Morris, my wife seems to have told me that you are a CPA but...ah, you're not doing that kind of work right now?"

"I was a CPA for almost six years---Northwestern, Masters in Accounting. I'm pretty sure it's what my father always wanted me to do...follow in his footsteps. I was good at it; truthfully I always enjoyed crunching numbers. I could go back to it, I suppose, but my hobby got in the way and I thought I owed it to myself to give it a shot...chase a dream, so to speak."

"Hobby?"

"More accurately a job, now---a career I believe. Music."

"That's really interesting! Kate always had a love of music. She had her own band back in high school---did she tell you that? They were really good! But I think we both know the chance of a high school band guitarist and singer ever really making it is..."

"Slim to none?"

"Something like that. I used to love to hear her play---never missed one of their gigs. Hopefully some day after she gets herself established in the business world she can get back to her music...as a hobby...something she just enjoys doing."

"What kind of music do you like, sir?"

"Call me Ed. Just about anything other than rap and most current pop music. Jazz, Classical, Country---and of course rock and roll."

"Rock and Roll?"

"Seventies stuff, AC/DC, Zeppelin, the Stones...some of the newer stuff...The White Stripes, Maroon 5---although their recent album really sucks..."

"You know the White Stripes? They've got a knew album coming out any day."

"I already downloaded the single---liked it a lot! Hell, son, I'm not a fossil. Here, take a look," Ed said, handing Morris' the iPod Nano™ from his shirt pocket. 

Morris absently ran his finger around the wheel on the little MP3 player. Pretty eclectic, definitely rock, good jazz, a little country and then he got to the Ns. The band had released three songs to iTunes™. His future father had downloaded all three of them. He thought they had released potential album art work; apparently Ed had never looked that closely at the tiny photo or bothered to read the verbiage. 

"This is a pretty new band; no album yet. Nation. What do think of 'em?"

"First new rock and roll I've heard in damn near twenty years that got my motor running. I'll get you some headphones if you want to listen. They're good son, damn good. Like the second coming...like it's the seventies again---only different. They're not just some wannabe cover band. They're unique."

"Does your wife---Kate's mom---share your taste in music?"

"Oh, hell, yes. Morris, Kate knew we never disliked her music---even encouraged her back in high school. But at some point you have to grow up and just face reality. Get a good education and a career---a job---with some real security and opportunity for advancement. I wonder what is keeping those girls with our drinks! We've got a good life here---a farm that is finally large enough to put some money in the bank every year. Did Kate ever tell you I taught her to play the guitar---bought her first one?"

"She never shared that fact."

"Look, I played in a band---my daddy had a conniption! In those days, rock and roll was the devil's music---and he needed his only son to take over the farm not chase a pipe dream. So, that's what I did. No regrets---oh, hell, yes, a couple every now and again."

"I'll go see if I can rustle up some refreshments, Ed, then maybe you an I should take a walk or whatever."

The two women stopped talking as Morris entered the kitchen. No one seemed to be either crying or frowning---that was a good sign. 

"Any chance we could get a drink around this place?"

"We're sorry! We're talking and---how are you and daddy doing?"

"We're doing just great. We're going to go take a walk and talk."

"Whatcha talking about?"

"Music. How about you folks?"

"Men...one man in particular...two men more accurately."

"Don't let me interrupt."

Morris returned to the great room, handed Ed his drink and the two men wordlessly put on light jackets and walked outside to enjoy the unexpected early winter warm spell. Ed spoke first. 

"Anyway I can help you get started with what's on your mind, son?"

"Well, let's see. Let me start with the easy part first. Kate and I used to work in the same office. We've been seeing each other for the last five months. We actually work very closely together in our new jobs. I'm head over heels in love with her, she feels the same way about me and I intend to marry her at the earliest opportunity assuming her daddy has no problems with it. Which is to say, I'm asking for permission to marry your only daughter."

"That was the easy part? She's not pregnant, is she?"

"Not to my knowledge."

"I'm honored that you'd ask. Pretty old fashioned and very decent. You seem like a decent fellow. You both have good educations so I have no doubt you'll figure out a way to put food on the table. Children?"




It’s Only Rock and Roll



"We want children...probably not for the next couple of years but then, yes---without question."

"Well, you have my blessing. Usually that's the tough part---you said there was something else?"

"Have you got your ear buds with you?"

"Never leave home without 'em."

"Why don't you try my Nano™ for a second; this is a new song---hasn't been released yet---it's by the band we were just talking about. Their first song with their female guitarist as the lead singer. Work with me, here, Ed. Let me know what you think...particularly the female vocal. It's already keyed up."

Ed started listening to the music; he smiled. At around forty-five seconds, the recognition hit him. He turned to Morris, a look of disbelief on his face. He looked down at the screen. He looked up at Morris. He grinned. He closed his eyes and listened to the rest of the song. He removed the ear buds. Tears welled up in his eyes. He looked back at Morris. 

"That's my baby girl! That's her singing voice...I'd know it anywhere."

"That it is."

"Son of a bitch!"

"Ed, we both quit our day jobs several months ago. We've been on tour, done some late night, this and that. It's about to blow wide open. Let me bring you up to speed in short order and then we can talk about the future." 

Morris briefly reviewed the saga of what had become Nation and how his daughter became a part of it. They got back to the house just as Kate had apparently handed her mother the proof of the magazine spread. Morris retrieved the second copy and handed it to Ed. The two parents became absorbed in reading for several minutes. 

"Well, I'll be damned," her mother intoned. "Ed, did you know about this?"

"Not until about two minutes ago."

"And?"

"Pretty neat, don't you think? Our daughter plays rock and roll...she's a rock star!"

"Not quite a star yet, daddy...but we're good...we've got good people...we're going to make it...make it big."

"Would you like to see the video?"

"Absolutely!" both parents said in unison. 

"Morris! You didn't bring that with you---did you?"

"Never leave home without it." 

Ed quickly grabbed it from Morris' hand and slipped it into the DVD player. 

Her mother provided a little commentary. 

"How do you fit in that outfit honey? Wow---great riff! You two are hot together on stage! The drummer is really cute!" And so on. When the video ended, both of Kate's parents jumped up and hugged her. 

"We always knew you had talent even back in high school, honey. We just wanted you to have options...choices...an education to fall back on. We couldn't be more proud."

"Well, that was easier than we thought it would be!" Morris exclaimed. "Unfortunately, I don't recall my folks being hard rock fans, although my dad once was pretty crazy about the Doors. I'm still without a plan when we get to my home."

***

The good news was that Morris' parents instantly fell in love with Kate; she was everything they could have wished for in a future daughter and they were thrilled at the prospect of pending nuptials. As the four of them settled on a porch not that unlike the one at Kate's parents' home, Morris' dad cut to the chase as was his nature.

"Son, you indicated that you had a couple of things to chat about---not that I can imagine anything could be as big---or as exciting---as your engagement, so what else is on your mind?"

"I've taken a leave of absence from my CPA job and I...oh, hell! Maybe you might want to flip through this," Morris said, handing his parents copies of the magazines they had brought with them.

Both parents read through the article and perused the pictures in silence for several minutes. They looked at each other several times. If they were surprised or shocked, it hardly showed on their faces.

"Son," Morris's dad spoke first. "Are you folks as good as this writer seems to think you are?"

"Yeah, dad...we are...better."

"Have you got a good contract?"

"If we sell music the way everyone believes we will---damn good."

"Are you having fun?" his mother inquired.

"It's a lot of work but at the end of the day...yes, when we play, it doesn't get any better."

"And the two of you get to be together...travel together...work together. That's very special," his mother said.

"And you've always got your educations to fall back on---both of you---if things don't work out," his father added.

"That's very true."

"Well, damn! Congratulations again! It's not often that someone gets to chase their dream---and catch it. I always knew you loved your music, son. I never wanted to dampen your spirits in that direction---I just wanted you to have options and know what you were getting into, which you obviously do. God bless you," his father intoned.

"That was easier than I thought it would be," Morris said.

"Hell, son, last time I checked, you're an adult and have a right to steer your life in the direction you want it to go. It'll take a little getting used to saying, 'my son's a rock star' but in reality, in our book, you always were even when you were a CPA. We've always been proud of you and never more than at this moment."

There wasn't a dry eye in the group. Another major hurdle that turned out to be not so major after all.

Nation did in fact become the second coming in rock and roll. After a half a dozen years at the top, they retired, moved back to that Midwestern college town and built somewhat bigger houses. As so often happens in the music industry, their retirement turned into little more than a brief hiatus. All of the band got married and stated families. After a suitable interval they came out of retirement and owned the charts again. Not wanting to follow in the footsteps of their predecessors who had become almost jokes performing well into their sixties, Nation was formally retired as each of the members reached their forties.

Molly sold Rod down the river and dumped him. Rod was fortunate to receive a suspended sentence and three years probation. He is currently an independent tee shirt vendor at rock concerts who has gotten in trouble on more than one occasion for trademark and copyright violations. Molly threatened a sexual discrimination suit and received a substantial out-of-court settlement from the company. She blew through that pretty quickly and currently works as a waitress at a wing joint.

Kate and Morris had two children, a boy and a girl neither of whom seemed terribly interested in music as a career. Their daughter went on to become a lawyer and their son a CPA. While not musically inclined, both work in the music industry and are highly respected and sought after.

No one can keep coming up with good songs forever; Nation was fortunate to have retired before they ever began to suck. Then again, their adoring fans await the release of their latest album, ten years after their retirement. It's seems there were some tapes of jam sessions that had been misplaced over the years which included several unreleased songs. Pre-sales on Amazon ensure that it will be platinum the day it is released.

They're all still very good friends and neighbors. They still get together regularly in the old barn to jam. Sometimes they even talk about coming out of retirement but, as they look around at their respective families they quickly dismiss the thought. There are some things in life more important than rock and roll...but not many.

Edited by Techsan