Chapter One:
The sound of the impala lulled me into a stupor as I drove down Highway 31 in Kentucky. I was by Fort Knox, I guess, but I continued driving past the base gates, not exactly sure where I was going, just driving for the sake to drive. My guitar was resting inside of its case, which sat in the passenger seat where I kept a close eye on it. It was a beautiful electric guitar, black and white with brand new strings and tuned to perfection. I called it Baby, Jr.
You see, I wanted to make it. I wanted to make it to the top. Ever since I was a kid, the only thing I could focus on was music. School was just a distraction, I really only went because there were music classes I could take. So when I graduated college, I graduated at the top of my class with a degree in Music. Notes came easier to me than English, which I took as a sign. Yeah, it's childish to want to become a rock-star when you're twenty two but I couldn't ever imagine doing anything else. This was my destiny, even though I didn't believe in that bull crap.
I sighed and rolled my shoulders, feeling the stiffness from driving all day. I left Lawrence two days ago and I didn't look back. I took only what I really wanted to keep, which were my guitars, a few family photos, a duffel bag of clothes, and a hunting knife that my dad passed down to me when I was seventeen. It's some sort of family heirloom. Whatever, it was cool so I kept it. Anyway, all that stuff was in the trunk of my Impala, which I also got from my Dad, besides my guitars. Only two of them, an acoustic and Baby, Jr. And that's all I needed.
My toes began to tingle with numbness, which I took as a sign to pull over to a hotel before I fell asleep at the wheel and killed myself. I searched the road for some sort of exit when I found myself entering a small town called 'Radcliff'. First thing I see is a gas station, next to a skating park. Not too far away were a couple of sub shops, a tanning salon, a movie theatre and a few mainstream burger joints. Amiss the clutter of cultural chaos, I managed to find a decent looking motel, 'Biffs Motel'*. Too close for comfort but I had no choice.
I pulled into the parking lot and shut off my car, making sure to lock it once I stepped out to stretch my under-used legs. It felt nice to be out of the cramped space of my baby, even if it was in a shabby parking lot next to a motel that looks like it had been stained from constant Chew spit. That didn't stop me from walking up to the front desk and renting out a room for a day. The manager at the desk was a small man with too many missing teeth to be healthy and a beard that covered more than his shirt did.
"You got a girl in that there car?" He drawled, his southern accent and gruff voice sounding way too loud in the middle of the night.
"Um...no." I answered, confused.
"You got a boy?" The man raised his eyebrows and narrowed his eyes at me, as if trying to discern a secret.
"What? No!" What the hell was wrong with this guy?
"You'd be the first in a while not to, then." The old man shrugged, pulling out a key from the drawer and handing it to me.
"What do you mean?"
"I means what I means."
The man offered no more so I quickly left and grabbed my bag from my trunk, grabbed my guitars,and hurried to my room, locking the door behind me. I took a look around the room before I went any further and slightly cringed. The room was dark with a dull red pain on the walls and a dusty looking window across from where I stood. The bed was a double, thankfully it looked freshly made, and there was a TV in front of it atop of a small dresser. I walked further into the room and opened the door to the bathroom, where I saw a small cracked tub, a sink with crusty soap, and a toilet that I wouldn't sit on if I had fifteen layers of snow suits and a can of disinfectant. Not the greatest choice of motels, but I could've done worse.
I tossed my bag onto the bed and sat down, groaning as I sank into the mattress and my muscles felt better. I wasn't tired yet, so there was no way in hell that I was going to go to sleep. I didn't really feel like turning on the TV. I saw one of my guitar cases and smiled. Reaching over, I slid it over to me and pulled out my acoustic, a beautiful golden brown with shiny silver strings and a white capo on the neck. I ran my fingers along the face, admiring the sheen when I felt the urge in my fingers. An urge I could never, ever deny. The urge to play.
I strummed my fingers along the strings, my calloused pads pressing down as I began to play a song I would play for Sammy when he was bored. It was a slow song, not something Sammy usually liked, but he did and I was more than happy to jam this shit out for him. He was at Stanford now, though, with his girlfriend, Jess, so he never asked me to play for him very much.
My heart sunk as I strummed the last few chords of 'Angeles'* and I thought of Sammy. We were as close as ever. Hell, even before I left Lawrence or got started seeing Ellen every week, I would visit him as much as I could. We were as close as ever. But I couldn't drag Sam in on this, on my trip. I would love to have him here, let me tell you, but he just can't be here. Ellen thought it was a bad idea, me taking a road trip to 'discover who I really am, blah, blah, therapist horse shit'. But it was probably the best idea I've ever had. And the only way she would agree to let me go was if I created a video journal for her to review once I got back. Of course she would do that.
Annoyed and slightly pissed off, I put my guitar down and snapped the rubber band on my wrist a few times. Once I had calmed down, I looked over to my bag where the video camera waited for me to make my first video. I should get started on that...I stood up and put the keys in my pocket, heading for the door and shrugging. I'll do it later. It's not like Ellen would know, anyway.
I didn't know where I was going. I'd never really been in Kentucky. As I walked away from the motel and down the sidewalk, I passed more fast food restaurants and gas stations, even a few office buildings, when I say a giant neon sign that read "Margaritas". Well, that looked fun. It would be a good idea to check that out. I changed directions and headed towards the sign, hearing the loud clatter of people inside dancing to music. There was no line, but there was a bouncer who was smaller than me, and that's saying something.
I paid my way in with no trouble and was blown away by the sheer size of the place. The room had to be as big as the entire building with a miniature stage at the back, but big enough to have all the attention. To the right of the door stood the bar with the largest collection of alcohol I had ever seen. And I had seen a LOT of alcohol. There had to be at least over 100 people in here, all dancing and grinding to the music like animals. This was my kind of party.
I made my way over to the bar and sat down, trying to get the eye of the blonde girl working the bar. She was short with long hair and bright red lipstick, wearing the apron of the club and a white shirt with name of the club above her right breast pocket, where she kept a pen. When I finally got her eye, she walked towards me and leaned against the counter. Her name tag read Jo.
"What can I get for you?" She shouted over the music.
"Just a beer, thanks." I smiled, giving her the cash and turning around to look at the people when something on the stage caught my eye.
A couple of guys were climbing the steps to the center of the stage and hooking up some equipment and a strange looking soundboard I had never seen before. There were four guys, about the same age as me, I guess, all with dark hair and ripped jeans. Two carried guitars and they both had black cut-off shirts on with wristbands made of leather. The one who sat at the drums was sort of goofy looking, with a little butt chin and combed brown hair. His eyes were dark but I could swear he was smirking. Then there was the lead singer.
He was taller than me, I could totally tell. His black hair has spiked and he wore tight fitting black jeans with a cut-off shirt, like the guitarists. He had a tattoo on his arm but I couldn't tell what it was from where I sat. He picked up the mic and waved a hand across his throat, telling the DJ to turn off the music.
"What's going on?" I asked Jo when she came back with my beer.
"They're going to play. Every weekend they play here. Manager likes live bands. She thinks they keep the place interesting." Jo shrugged, walking away once I had grabbed my beer.
"Hey, guys," The guy with the microphone said loudly. His voice was deep and gravelly, like he had just eaten something that didn't go down well. "My name is Castiel and we're 'Supernatural'." The crowd screamed when he paused, busting my fucking ears as I choked on my beer and Castiel just laughed into the microphone. "We aren't going to do originals today, just covers. So we'll start with Fall Out Boy, just to warm up, okay?" He smiled as the crowd cheered again. "We'll start with Thanks for the Memories."
I scoffed and rolled my eyes as I went back to my drink. Fall Out Boy wasn't exactly a good choice for a club like this. But as soon as I heard Castiel count down from five and the guitar started, I froze. This wasn't the song. Well, it was the song but it wasn't the song at the same time. They played the song with more energy, with a faster tempo, to make it perfect for a club like this. The crowd screamed and danced. I didn't think they could get more excited. Then Castiel started singing.
I've never heard a guy sing quiet like Castiel. His voice was deep but it was rough and smooth at the same time and he had no trouble at all hitting higher notes or singing high at all. I found myself tapping my foot along and bobbing my head in time with the music. These guys were awesome!
"So how're you liking it?" A voice shouted behind me, making me jump. It was Jo and she laughed at me. "Sorry."
"It's fine. They're great!" I shouted back.
"Tell me about it. I swear, one day they'll be filling arenas if it keeps going like this."
"You think so?"
"Definitely." Another customer flagged Jo down and she smiled at me before trotting back off to her job.
They were going to make it big. They were rising stars. That's what I needed. As the guitarist shredded his solo, I looked up at Castiel, who was taking a drink of water and poured some slightly on his head to cool off. Maybe this was my chance. They could use another guitarist. I mean, to be honest, the one they have now keeps slipping up on the chords and screeching the notes.
As Cas' eyes met mine, I realized that I had been staring as I worked my way through my thoughts. He smiled and, I could've sworn, winked at me before he literally jumped back into the front of the stage and began singing into the microphone again.
This was what I wanted. To get paid for gigs like this. To have people screaming for me, fans who sang along to songs I made.
This is for me.
Hey, guys! Here's a long chapter for you! Don't be afraid to leave reviews and shoot me a message, okay? Tell me what you think and what you think will happen next! I hope you enjoyed it!
*-Biffs Motel is a real place, but I've never stayed there so don't go basing the atmosphere on this story if you ever happen to stay there while in Kentucky.
*-Jensen Ackles has actually produced a song called 'Angeles' filmed by Jared Padeleck, so I invite you all to check it out!