Keep in mind, this is an AU of the main stuff, and in no way affects it. Nothing from the Main Storyline will make an appearance here, other than some characters.
I will be uploading two chapters per week [Tuesday/Thursday], since the chapters are so short.
Thank you for clicking this story, and I hope you enjoy! Please leave a review!
Part Five – Harmonica Rhythm
Henry let out a bellow of laughter as he heard a yell from the bench of the tour bus where Beary had just sat. Beary, however, jumped like he'd been shot, and looked back at the bench with wide eyes, only to see a shirtless human with long hair sit up, holding his stomach, the blankets he'd covered himself with slipped down the front of him into his lap.
"Beary, Jewel, meet Roadie," Henry introduced to the two startled cubs. "Driver, roadie, and drummer for the band."
Roadie held out his hand to the cubs, shaking their paws. "Real name is John, but I like being called Roadie instead, so stick with that."
"I'm Beary, and this Jewel," Beary repeated what Henry had said, smiling. "Nice to meet you."
The hippie smiled at him before looking at Henry. "Uh, Hen? Why are you guys in here? You know I asked to be informed if any tours came through."
"This isn't a tour, Roadie. We're, uh, getting the band back together for one last ditch concert to save the Hall. Two, actually, since I don't want to charge a ridiculous price, even though we need the money. You charge a high price for a concert that might not happen, and people won't come. But if it's lower, then they will." He smiled at his own brilliance.
Roadie blinked a few times, and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. "We're… getting the band back together?"
"We're gonna try!" Jewel confirmed.
"Well then, I guess I'd better get up, huh?"
"It would help," Henry laughed.
Roadie still sat there, though, and an awkward silence fell.
"Uh, Henry?"
"What, Roadie?"
"I'm not exactly dressed to be getting up… Could you guys wait outside so I can get dressed?"
Henry blinked. "Huh? Oh. OH! Okay. Kids, off the bus for a minute or two!" The older bear ushered the two confused cubs off the bus.
Roadie emerged a few minutes later, dressed in jeans, a clean t-shirt, and a brown jacket from another era. "Well then, let's get this bus out and get on the road! But first, have you seen my chicken?"
Henry, Beary, and Jewel all shook their heads, and were soon drawn to Big Al yelling.
"Get off my grass!"
Roadie groaned and raced over to scoop up the chicken.
"He was makin' a mess on my grass!" Al complained almost childishly.
"Sorry, Big Al," the human apologized, slinking back to the bus with his chicken.
"Yeah," the bear grumbled as he examined his grass. Seeing that there was no "mess" on the green blades, he sighed and looked back at the bus.
Beary and Jewel climbed onto the very-dirty-on-the-outside bus, now that it was started with a mighty screech and groan that caused them to cover their ears, and stared in awe at the pictures pinned to the red and gold velvet walls, and newspaper articles, magazine covers and interviews. Much of what they found in the bus they had never seen before, such as t-shirts, records, and even a gold record framed on the wall, therefore leaving them very excited and happy.
Henry glanced at Roadie a moment, and the two looked at the cubs in amusement. "Sit down, you two. We're going to be going." He then went back down the stairs and looked for his brother-in-law. "Get the place ready for the concert, Big Al! I'm counting on you!" Henry called from the door just before it shut.
"Don't you worry about nothin', Henry. You just go get them boys!" As the bus began to move, the gray bear quickly added, "Oh! And be careful of my-" His warning came too late as the bus drove right through his grass, leaving two deep, muddy tracks in the soft dirt. "-grass…" Al groaned, frustrated. He threw his arms up in the air before slamming his paws against his sides in exasperation.
There was a loud creaking noise behind him, followed by a loud thud. His eyes widened and his jaw dropped in disbelief before he turned and saw that the shed had finally fallen over.
He definitely had his work cut out for him. He needed to make a few phone calls and try to get some help for out here.
.~*The Country Bears*~.
Fred Bedderhead took his post at a security checkpoint at a music studio in Memphis, TN, and looked out at the soundstage that was bustling with people – both bears and humans. Standing at six foot six, he was the tallest person there, his dark brown fuzzy head standing out above the music cases and the colored lights.
"Hey, Fred," one stagehand said.
"How's it goin'?" another questioned.
Fred smiled at everyone as they passed, giving them an honest, happy answer. Everyone knew him because he was in charge at that soundstage, being the security guard.
"Excuse me? Can I get by?" asked a pretty young woman.
"Sorry, but you have to be part of the video shoot to get in," Fred stated, not looking at her as he took a drink from his Styrofoam cup, figuring it was another fan.
She rolled her eyes. "I kinda am the video shoot."
"Oh, Krystal, hey!" Fred said, putting his cup down, flustered. How embarrassing to not have recognized her!
"I am so glad to see you!"
He blinked, raising his eyebrows. "Really?"
"Yeah, can you get my stuff?" Not seeing his disappointed expression, she led him back to where her giant road case was.
Fred put all his 750 pounds behind the case, pushing it behind her as she pranced past a couple of dancers who were warming up.
"So, whatcha been up to, Fred?" she asked, glancing back at him.
"Oh, stuff," he responded, trying to come up with something interesting. "Playing with my harmonica.
"Really? You play?"
Krystal was walking pretty fast, and Fred was trying hard to catch up with her. He wanted her to know that there was more to him than being a security guard! "Oh, yeah, I used to be in The Country… oof!" He walked into a post. "Bears…" he finished, feeling dizzy from bumping his nose into the cases.
As he was rubbing his head, Krystal picked up the bear-sized harmonica that feel from his pocket. It was shiny gold and beautiful – definitely something special. She admired it for a second until she noticed that it said THE FRED on the underside and THE COUNTRY BEARS on the top.
"The Fred?" she asked pensively. "Wait a minute, you're Fred Bedderhead? Fred from The Country Bears?"
"Yeah."
"You played great harp! One of the first concerts I ever went to as a child was you guys playing!" she said. "And didn't you invent the stage dive?"
"Yeah, but I'm too old for that now," Fred said, waving the thought away with his paw. "Besides, Ted's the one who was the genius."
Krystal frowned. "You're not too old! C'mon, you should play with us." She motioned for him to follow her.
"Huh?" He ran toward the stage, trying to catch up with her.
"C'mon, Fred, show us what you got." She passed him back his shiny harmonica.
Fred's stomach got all jittery and his nose twitched. "Ooo, well, uh, geez. Okay."
One of the guys on the stage started playing a little percussion. Fred took a deep breath and nervously started to play. He hadn't played with anyone since the band broke up years ago! A moment later, the band kicked in, and Krystal started to sing. A roadie ran in and stuck a microphone in front of Krystal, and the director signaled the special-effects guy to turn on the fog machine for the practice shoot.
Even the dancers started to strut their stuff. The stage came alive with song, dance, and light. And there was Fred, a former famous band bear, playing along and having all sorts of fun! His mind filled with the memory of the crowd chanting his name, and he got more and more excited.
"Stage dive! Stage dive! Stage dive! Whoa!" Fred chanted as he began to run towards the edge of the stage, memories clouding his mind. He thought he saw an audience below, chanting and cheering his name, just waiting to catch hi –
THUMP!
He landed on his stomach on the hard ground, where there were not any people in an audience. It was just a cold cement floor. What a pity.
In the distance, he thought he heard a familiar voice groan, "Oh, Fred…"
He was vaguely heard the footsteps as onlookers – mainly members of Krystal's band – came towards him.
"Hey, Fred. You all right?" Krystal asked, her chocolate brown eyes filled with worry and concern.
Fred Bedderhead turned halfway over and looked at the white-wearing singer. Fred wheezed like a harmonica, and Krystal reached into his huge mouth and pulled out his musical instrument. Fred coughed, sounding less musical, and looked at her, embarrassed. Blushing under his fur at his embarrassment, he tried to explain himself. "Uh… The Dive works better-"
"Yeah, with an audience, right?" Krystal finished for him.
"Yeah," the bassist agreed.
"Yeah," she softly giggled as she stood up straight. "Well, if you're all right, I gotta go get ready for the shoot."
"Okay."
"It was fun." She waved, and then disappeared.
'Great job, Fred,' he mentally groaned. 'You're never going to be able to live this one down.' He watched her leave, still feeling downcast. "Sure was! Wish I could play some more!" he called as he began to get himself up.
"I might be able to help you out with that."
The voice was familiar, yet unexpected. Turning halfway over again, he looked at the three bears – an adult and two cubs – coming towards him with wide eyes.
"Huh? Henry?"
It was indeed Henry Dixon Taylor, his former band manager. Where he had come from, Fred didn't know, but he was glad to see his old friend.
Henry looked down at him with a small grin. "Need any help?"
Fred nodded, and Henry grabbed one of his paws, and the mysterious cubs grabbed the other, both having to hold on, and pulled him to his feet. The cubs nearly fell on their backs from the effort of pulling him, but were saved by Henry grabbing their arms quickly. Fred brushed himself off and looked at Henry, ignoring the cubs – though he was admittedly curious about them. But, considering how much the male looked like Helen, he didn't question anything about him. The other one looked like Trixie, surprisingly. "What ya doin' here, Henry?" he asked.
The cubs looked up at Henry expectantly as the elder bear began to speak. "Well, um… You see…"
"Spit it out, Hen. I don't have all day. I have to get back to-" he glanced around at the warehouse, watching the people scurry about, "-work. At least until my shift's over." He began walking back to his "desk", which was actually pretty much just a podium. All he did around here was stand around and try to look useful. Nothing exciting ever happened. But, since his ice cream business went up in flames because of people complaining about fur in the ice cream, it was all he was qualified to do.
Seeing Henry's hesitation, the male cub spoke. "We're having a benefit concert."
Henry finally found his voice and echoed the cub's words. "We're getting the band back together for a benefit concert and hoping you could help out."
"Get the band back together?" Fred questioned as he pulled off his cap and security belt that had his Taser, walkie-talkie, and other security equipment on the small table. He was starting to mull this thought over. It would be nice to put down the belt and pick back up his bass guitar and harmonica.
"You can do it!" the male cub encouraged. "You're Fred Bedderhead. The amazing, world famous Fred Bedderhead." Fred looked away from the podium and glanced at the cub in amusement and confusion as he went on. "Thee Fred Bedderhead."
"Uh…" He glanced at Henry while putting a paw on his hip. "Who is this guy? And who is she?"
Henry grinned while glancing at the cubs. "Oh, that's Beary, and this is Jewel." He looked back at the dark-furred bear. "And he's right!"
"But how you goin' to get people to come to the show, Hen?"
"Uh…"
"Why don't ya call Rip Holland, Hen?" Beary questioned, surprising the two older bears. How on earth did this cub know of him?
"Rip Holland?" Henry growled, causing the cub to wince slightly.
"Uh…" Fred began, but Henry cut him off.
"The guy who stole the band from me and ruined them?" He groaned. "Ah, call Rip… Yeah."
Beary and Jewel glanced at each other in amusement. "So, we're gonna make the flyers? Call the radio stations? Print up the tickets? Make posters?" they asked together.
"There's a pay phone over there, Hen. By the driveway," Fred said, pointing over the ex-band manager's shoulder at the large door in the warehouse wall. "I gotta go clock out. Shift's over and I see my replacement."
The pepper-furred bear groaned slightly. "All right. All right. You win. I'll call him."
Jewel and Beary low-fived each other's paw with a grin on both of their faces. Fred, after stepping into the main office and depositing his security belt and badge – and discovering that he wasn't scheduled for another week – led the way to the back of the warehouse, the cubs following behind him closely. Henry followed behind them, diverting from the group as he went towards the phone, leaving Fred to watch Beary and Jewel.
The bassist and cubs glanced at each other awkwardly, unsure of what to say to one another. Fred's snout moved, making him look like he wanted to say something, but nothing came out.
"So, uh, who are you two again?" He looked at Beary. "You Henry's kid? Ya look just like your mother."
Beary blinked, confused. "Henry's kid?"
"Uh, yeah? Henry's married to Helen. Aren't you his kid?"
Beary frowned. "I never knew my parents… I don't have a family."
"Oh, uh, my mistake." Fred quickly turned to Jewel. "And you?"
"I'm Trixie's daughter!" she responded eagerly.
"Trixie's… daughter?" Fred blinked a few times, looking her over. She did indeed look like a younger version of the golden bear that had joined the band a few decades ago. Did this mean that Tennessee was the father, or was it someone else? "Huh."
"Hey, Fred!" Roadie called from where he was working on the bus's engine.
The Bedderhead, grateful for the distraction, excitedly greeted his old friend and went towards the bus, leaving the disappointed cubs behind.
.~*~.
Henry walked back to the bus with a hop in his step. Something told Fred that his call with Rip Holland went well. The bassist watched as Henry and Beary low-fived, both with wide grins on their faces.
"So, I take it Rip decided to help out?" Roadie asked, smirking.
"Yup. This Saturday night at eight, and another one the following weekend," Henry replied. "Just in time, too. Two concerts. The bank did tell me – I went around Reed's back, see – that if I got at least half the payment in, they would postpone destruction until I can get the rest of the money within a reasonable time. I just talked to them about it, too."
"Awesome," Beary smiled, while Jewel let out a whoop of joy.
"Well, let's get loaded up. We have a long way to go if we want to get the others on time," Roadie said, grinning at the cub's excited behavior.
As they all got into the bus, Henry spoke. "You know, Fred? You were the only one who ever wrote me. Know where any of the other boys are?"
"Zeb never gave up the honey. Hangs out in a bar in Nutville," the former bassist answered.
"Well, that's our first stop. Let's get going. It's clear across the state." Roadie said as he closed the bus doors. Henry sat up in his armchair while Beary, Jewel, and Fred – feeling bad about ignoring the cubs – hung out in the middle.
Beary pulled out a red binder out of his blue backpack and opened it, reading what was inside. Fred peered over the cub's shoulder, curiosity getting the better of him. Page after page, Beary turned, each one containing either an article about the Bears or a collage of pictures of the bear band. "Oh… That's a nice scrapbook, Beary," he complimented.
"Thanks. I've been working on it forever with Jewel's help, since her mother can get us pictures we otherwise couldn't access," the cub answered, turning the next two pages, revealing a picture of Fred with a bunch of lines drawn around him. "I really like this picture," he said, looking directly at it. He then glanced up at Fred.
"You used to have a lot of fur. Got sloth in your genes?" Jewel asked.
Fred blushed under his fur as he rubbed the thinning fur on the top of his head, nodding slightly. "Mother's side. Uh… Yeah… Well…" He quickly changed the subject and began talking about the article on the next page. "Oh, look at this one! Winnin' that talent show was our big break."
"What's an arm musician?" the cub asked, pointing a claw at the article title.
"Oh, that's Benny Boggswaggle. He was real talented."
"But he was a bad loser," Henry cut in from up ahead.
"He hit Zeb with a chair," Fred responded. "Nasty guy, and a bad temper." He shook his head. "Reminds me of Ted, actually. What good's family if they treat you like that? Don't count on any family lovin' you. Ever. Not even your own blood. Me and my brother ain't talked in ten years. Family is good for nothin'."
Beary's ears lowered, and he gave Jewel his scrapbook and went to the very back and stared out the back window, his lower lip wobbling.
