It took two weeks, but Matt eventually got over it. He never actually said he forgave me, but he stopped glaring and started joking. I knew we were back on track when he started insulting me. That was how I gauged our relationship—if he was giving me shit, then he wasn’t mad at me.
I think it helped that images from that night starting cropping up everywhere, and some clever asshole had started calling me Hand Solo. It stuck, and the name was everywhere in a heartbeat. Matt thought that was hysterical, and he’d taken up the nickname too. Whatever. Didn’t matter. That night had been one of the hottest moments I’d ever had with Anna. It was a fond memory for me, one that reminded me just how amazing, sexy, and up for anything my wife really was, and reminiscing about it made me giddier than a thirteen-year-old with a hidden Playboy magazine stashed under his mattress. I wasn’t sorry it had happened. All I was sorry about was that I hadn’t had a chance to finish.
As things with Matt returned to normal, my thoughts returned to showcasing myself this tour. There had to be a way to do it. If Matt wouldn’t give me a chance to play lead guitar, then maybe Kellan would let me be front man. Not for all the songs, but maybe one. Or two. One of the crappier ones that no one cared about.
Since we rode on the same bus together, I had plenty of time to talk to him about it. “Come on, Kell, I know the songs better than you do, and my voice is spectacular. The crowd will love it!”
He looked up from playing with Ryder on his lap. Ryder had a few teeth coming in, and the front of his blue D-Bags romper was soaked in saliva. He was all smiles though; my nephew was rarely unhappy. While Ryder grabbed for a set of plastic keys in Kellan’s hand, Kellan shook his head. “No, Griffin. I already said that.”
Irritation spread up my spine as the oft-repeated answer to my every question burned in my ears. I was so tired of people telling me no. “Yeah…I heard you. I just don’t think it’s right.”
Kellan’s attention had drifted down to his son yanking on the keys in his hand, but he lifted his eyes again after my comment. “You don’t think it’s right that I sing the songs? That I wrote? I’m the lead singer, Griffin. It’s my job.”
I rolled my eyes. “You guys are so hung up on labels. I’m the lead singer. I’m the lead guitarist. Wah, wah, wah. Would it kill any of you to step outside of the box?”
“We’ve got a good thing going, Griffin. Now isn’t the time to shake things up.”
I leaned forward in my seat. “Now is the perfect time, Kellan. Fans don’t want us to stay stagnant and predictable. They want fresh, they want new, they want to be knocked off their feet. Frankly…they want me.”
Kellan cracked a smile as I relaxed back in my chair again. “They want you? Really?”
Nodding, I jerked my thumb toward the back of the bus, where Anna and Gibson were taking a nap. “That little gallery fiasco went viral, and the fans ate it up. They want more shit like that. They want more me. I’m telling you, if you gave me just a little bit of freedom during the show, you wouldn’t regret it.”
Kellan sighed and looked over at Kiera. She had an expression of horror on her face, but she shrugged, like she didn’t have an answer for him. Jesus. It wasn’t like I was asking to raise their kid for them. It was one fucking song. Kellan looked back at me, his expression serious. “Maybe we can find something fun for you to do. Maybe a skit or…something.”
A skit? Well, acting wasn’t exactly what I wanted, but I suppose it was a start. “Sure. Great. Can we start tonight?”
A strange look passed over Kellan’s face before he answered. “I have to talk to Matt and Evan first, see what they say. I’ll let you know.”
“Awesome!” I bolted out of my seat so I could go tell Anna the good news—they were finally giving me a chance. Maybe not in my preferred form, but I’d take any opportunity to strut my stuff. I wondered what I should do for my skit as I opened the door to the back bedroom where my wife was resting. Maybe I could re-create the moment from the gallery. Hand Solo here. I’m here to rescue…well, myself. I’ll be with you in a minute. Ha! Maybe I should do stand-up instead.
“Guess what, Anna!”