Fly the Rain Read Online Free Page B

to meet with
Cindy.
    She walked out the door and saw the line of
losers. They don’t stand a chance, she thought.
    Then she noticed a newcomer
at the end of the line. She was petite, mid-twenties, long black
hair. Did she bring that big red guitar, or did it bring her ? Sondra had no idea whether
the girl could play, but she loved her instrument. It was a Gibson
ES-335 with classic 1957 humbucker pickups. “Nice.”
    “ Thanks.”
    “ What’s the name of your
band?”
    “ Rainbow Bridge.”
    “ Y’all renamed your band for
this gig, didn’t you?”
    “ Yeah. Dumb,
huh?”
    “ Well, they do want something
local sounding.”
    Rainbow Bridge was about twenty miles from
where they were standing, between Bridge City and Port Arthur. It
was built in 1938, yet is still the tallest bridge in Texas.
    “ I don’t know where the rest
of my band is. They should have been here by now.”
    “ I’m Sondra.” She offered
her hand.
    “ E. Z.”
    Sondra looked amused.
    “ No, no. Not Easy . It’s
initials. E. Z. Bender.”
    “ Oh, I get it. You play lead
guitar.”
    “ Right.”
    “ I like it.”
    “ Thanks.”
    Sondra leaned in, and whispered, “Could you
come over here for a minute?”
    E. Z. nodded and followed her some thirty
feet away from the line.
    “ Would you be interested in
auditioning for my band?”
    “ I told you I’m already in a
band,” said E. Z. “They’re just running late.”
    “ Yeah, but would you
consider a change for the better?”
    E. Z. studied Sondra’s eyes, and saw
mischief—maybe even danger. “Sure.”
    “ Good. How about getting
together tonight?”
    “ That’ll work. Do you
already have a name for your band?”
    “ Yes, I do.” She waited a
moment, for effect. “ Orange
Puke .”
    “ Sounds nasty.”
    “ Yeah.” Sondra laughed.
“We’re gonna blow chunks. But in a good way.”

    Chapter 5

    “ To be real honest, Jeffrey,
you’re not making much progress,” said Greg. “Are you practicing at
all?”
    “ Well, yeah. Mom makes me. She sits
there watching to make sure I’m getting the right fingering and
phrasing.”
    “ Hmm. I might need to talk
to her about that.” Greg hated when kids were forced into musicianship. He had
been teaching private music lessons for more than ten years, and
had seen it often. Parents made their kids miserable. It rarely
worked anyway. “You don’t really want to take piano, do
you?”
    “ No, Sir.”
    “ Well…”
    “ I wish my mom would let me
take guitar lessons. That would be cool.”
    “ You know you’d get calluses
like this.” Greg held out left hand and showed Jeffrey his
fingertips.
    “ Yeah! My friend, Zach, has
calluses. They’re hard like plastic.”
    “ Well, you know, it hurts
for a while—until you build them up.”
    “ I don’t care. I love the
guitar. I’ve been begging Mom to switch me from piano to
guitar.”
    “ I’ll talk to
her.”
    “ Great! I already have a
guitar and—“
    “— don’t get too excited yet.
We’ll see what she says.”
    “ Thanks, Mr. Tenorly.” He
jumped up and ran for the front door. Then he stopped, rushed back
over to grab his piano books, and raced out the door.
    Greg’s 3:30 lesson had been cancelled, so he
now had a thirty minute break. Oftentimes, during a break, he would
step outside and wander down the sidewalk, observing the
townspeople going in and out of the shops around Coreyville
Square.
    But something was bugging him. His dad’s
birthday party was only a few days away. He hoped he wouldn’t
regret letting Cynthia talk him into going.
    Then he began to think about his uncle. He
had not seen Uncle Ed in a long, long time. He hoped they would be
able to just pick up where they’d left off. They always seemed to
be able to do that.
    Edsel Torkman was his mom only sibling. Ed
had always been odd—even as a child. Kids made fun of him because
he talked faster than most people could listen. Sometimes, he would
begin to stutter. Then the kids would laugh