Backbeat Rhythm

Chapter 2: Backbeat Rhythm-2

The first break hit practically before Kit knew it. Rod and the others happily reached for the beers that were included in their pay, but Kit always asked for Coke instead. He’d sowed his wild oats early, and nearly gotten into trouble he couldn’t get back out of. No more booze or drugs for this man, not with Ebon to think of. And Ebon would never find out that he was the result of that one wild night, the time Kit got roaring drunk and decided he should try heterosexuality for once. So far as Ebon knew, his mother had left to pursue an acting career, leaving Kit to raise their son. The fact that Anita’s face never appeared on any screen Kit had ever seen didn’t seem to bother the boy, thankfully.

And speaking of his son…Brian clapped Kit on the back as they crowded around the small table in the dressing area. “You ought to bring Ebon by again one night. He liked the music that one time. Maybe he’d accept your hair better if he saw how much the crowds like it.”

“Yeah,” Tom chimed in. “We like the kid, Kit. Doesn’t he want to play an instrument or something?”

Kit dropped to a chair, massaging his wrist. Playing in a band was harder than most people realized. If you didn’t take a couple of little breaks, your hands and wrists sure let you know they’d had a workout. “Ebon’s not really into music. I tried showing him a few things, but he’s more into this Scout thing right now. He likes to sing. Maybe when he gets older he’ll pick up an instrument.”

“When he gets older,” Brian said, waggling his eyebrows, “I’ll show him how much girls love a good guitarist.”

“God forbid.” Kit didn’t really understand why his son wasn’t an avid musician, but he’d love the boy even if he were tone-deaf. He’d offered to pay for voice lessons, but Ebon just wasn’t interested in a music career at this stage of his life. Kit had always known that music was going to be his life, so he wasn’t sure if he should worry that Ebon didn’t seem to have an all-consuming passion or not. Maybe Kit was just as abnormal as his father always accused him of being, and Ebon was a normal kid who hadn’t made up his mind about anything as yet.

They took a few minutes to finish their drinks, then hit the stage again. By this time, the club’s patrons knew they could deliver the goods. They crowded the floor as they heard the opening riff of one of Radioactive’s own tunes. Kit was especially proud of his part in creating their songs. Rod was pretty good at coming up with the lyrics, but he couldn’t think of the right tune to save his life. It took expertise to come up with that part of a song, especially with two guitars, a bass, and a drum to think about.

The opening riff concluded, Rod hauled the microphone close and growled the lyrics to the excited crowd.

On and on, all night long

We’ll rock your night, just come along.

It was different playing your own music. Kit found himself analyzing the tune, finding a place where Brian’s rhythm could shift to a higher octave, a spot where Chris might toss in a few extra licks on lead. He really liked the way the drums laid down a steady backbeat, and modulated into an F key for a few licks of his own. He never seemed to finish tinkering with a song, even when the audience obviously approved of the thing. He was happy the rest of the band let him do his thing, too, instead of insisting the songs be played exactly the same with every performance.

This was what he lived for: creating something out of your own head that had people on their feet, dancing to your tunes. Sending your own creativity out to inspire others, and seeing them enjoy what you’d created. He could probably get a boring job somewhere making twice the money, but it’d never live up to the rush of having a crowded club in the palm of your hand, screaming your own lyrics back at you.