Richie Lee Jones- Wanna Try?

Chapter 1: Finding Jayne Collins

The crowd screamed as the guys took their final bow and turned to leave the stage. The crowd cheering long after they left until the arena lights came on and they were shuffled out. B.O.B and Chiddy Bang had finished their tour around America and, with me being their lead guitarist. Did I need to mention that? No. Ha, alright then. Well I’m a musician, doing well when you think about it. I’ve been the lead guitarist for artists like Justin Timberlake, Rihanna, Ed Sheeran, James Blunt, Eminem, Florence + The Machine, Kimbra, J. Williams. The list goes on. I love drinking almost as well as performing and when the big people up in the music industry aren’t hiring me and I’m dancing around the stage out of control (Much to the managers dislike) I’m performing in the band that my friend made, specially for his Irish pub. We’re a great hit, a 13 piece band in all and I’ll do anything from vocals to drums, violin, base or just playing my guitar.

Though, the guy brought another bar over in Nottingham, England. Of cause he’d started to get a little too comfy on his high throne in New York,

“Fat bastard,” I comment and he laughed and shook his head.

“Cold bitch,” he replied and I punched him on the shoulder, “Come on Richie!” he complained. I chewed on my bottom lip while I surveyed the early drinkers in the dim light of the pub. His eyes glancing over my body quickly before he lifted an eyebrow.

“Why would I want to put up with your… customers any more than I have to?” I say with a sigh and push my plaid shirt sleeves past my elbows and switched positions so I could look into the drink on the bench.

“Cause I’ll pay ya, and good pay too,”

“I’ve got enough to live myself quiet fine for some time Benji,” I replied quickly.

“You get to do the place up, dazzle it and make it show worthy!” he threw his hands high into the air as if some large neon light might smash through the roof and rest before us.

“You trust me with that?” We both laughed,

“The builders have the plans, you just need to be there for a week and then you can piss off for another two weeks before I need ya again,” he said and made money motions with his fingers. I scowled at him before sighing. What’s the damage? Nothing too bad would ever come from going to somewhere new, I think looking around the old pub to the crooked old man with fraying white beard staring into his half empty glass.

“Fine,” I say and look over and with admit of defeat smile.

“Really?” he said sounding shocked.

“Well now you’re questioning it,” I say pushing away from the bar and he shook his head frantically.

“NO NO NO! Stop!” he said and pushed a hand to my shoulder.

“Of cause I will,” I say smiling, “Give me the tickets with a week in London and we have a deal,” I say and hold out my hand. He thought about it and shook my hand with a grin,

“You’re one Richie. Don’t corrupt those boys before I can get there,”

“That’s like finding a desert in a rainforest! It doesn’t happen,” I finish, downing the drink he had and walked out of the pub with a swing in my step. Nottingham, I think with a grin, you better be ready for me.

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I finished the phone call and felt good; I’d had two weeks before I’d start the tour so that meant enough time for Benji to get his arse over here and fix up his own pub. Just weird how I had to go to a performance sorta thing at one of the stages in London, but it wasn’t too far from here so I got my guitar and my rucksack, shoving a few chords into it, a sandwich and my book. With that I checked to see if I had anything in my teeth and pulled on my odd socks and converse high-top trainers and brown leather jacket that smelt of travel.