Last Bandit: Book 1 in The Bandits Series

Sympathy for the Devil

Chapter 13: Sympathy for the Devil ~

"I don't know, man. I'm just not feeling a band right now," Jasper confesses as he sits on the bed. His black bass rests unharmed in the corner, neglected for the past week.

I lean against the dresser and wonder why he has given up the thought of forming a band with me. Has he realized something? Does he think I'm not a good enough guitarist to share the stage with him? I still really want to hear him play.

But I suppose I should just accept his decision, accept the fact that he just doesn't want to perform right now. I understand him and how he feels. I've been in many slumps during my music career. Well, I wouldn't call it a career...

"The seat's open anytime you want it," I say and watch him as he stares at the ground. He's a good friend. He took me in.

I leave him to sort out his head. It's easy for me to detect a troubled person, for some reason. I see that there's something bothering just about everyone. We all have something worrying our minds, even if it's put to the side from time to time. It still shines through in people. And I suppose my six sense is picking up on it.

Jasper thanks me, and then glances over at his lonely bass. It used to reside in the living room next to my guitar case, but Jasper has since moved it into seclusion, where only a few people get to view it anymore. It's a real shame, I think, to not feel the need to play anymore, and not feel anxious to let your music be heard.

I return to the living room, leaving Jasper as he lays back on the bed. He came home very late last night, chose to sleep on the floor, and woke rather early. I was the one sleeping in the queen bed, and Roxie had the couch. I go back and close the door so he can have some much needed sleep for now.

My guitar is already prepared. My tiny, cheaply bought amp is plugged in and running. Everything is ready to go. And as I wait for Alexandra and her friends, I strum very lightly and quietly and grow nervous.

There's many questions to ask. What if the musicians and I connect, then our musical bond breaks when we're finally on stage? What if something like that happens? What if it all falls apart again? Then what?

After hours of asking myself unanswered questions and playing light chords on my guitar, there's a knock on the apartment door. I retrieve it to find Alexandra on the other side, clothed in black, white skin, and red lips, just as I saw her last night. Behind her stands the candidates she hand picked for my band. Two linger in the hall, shy or nervous or something, and the other towers next to her, eyes piercing through me with such surprise and leeriness. It's Davey. My brother.

I know it is him because of the resemblance he has of our father. It's like looking at a much younger, much rougher, and much wilder version of my dad. They've both got the same dark brown hair, the same as mine, but I have dyed over it with black. They both have emerald eyes and a delicate nose for a man. I suddenly feel bad, terribly bad.

It's good to know my brother is alive and well. After not hearing a word from him, not even the slightest for years, I half-assumed he was dead too. Now he's standing before me, seemingly healthy, staring at me like I'm some sort of living, breathing, walking disease.

Because Alexandra has seen the look of bewilderment on my face, she remains quiet and allows my brother to speak first.

"Fancy seeing you here," he says after a smile creeps onto his face. His expression has changed from skeptically amazed to genuinely happy.

It's all very weird, very unexpected to meet my brother in Hollywood, especially to have him appear at my door by chance and actually recognize me. I knew he was here, yet I never believed I'd run into him. A part of me thought he was long gone.

"You're the guy looking to put together a band. Well, what a coincidence, huh?"

"So you two know each other?" Alexandra finally breaks in.

Davey looks over to her and casually admits, "He's my little brother."

She grows happy too, and a bit of surprise is written in her eyes. She looks at me with a big grin upon her face, clearly taking the credit for reuniting my brother and I.

I welcome everyone in before I speak back to Davey. I'm still quite shocked that he's here. He's alive. And he doesn't look half bad. I'm sure I look like hell, and I feel guilty for appearing that way before my brother, who for many years was the 'druggy' of the family. Now that label has been given to me and my dull skin and sunken in eyes. Davey looks bright and lively. And happy. He looks so much happier than I think I've ever seen him before.

"You're out of a band?" I quickly ask him while we stand aside. There's no time to catch up. We've got to get the ball rolling.

"Things fell through," he replies, eyeing my guitar.

Alexandra introduces me to the others. The man who plays bass is Brian, and the drummer is named Rex. The two of them seem to know each other well and first ask me to play the guitar. So I toss the strap over my shoulder and pick at the strings.

"Zeppelin," I hear my brother say. There's a smile upon his face, and then he motions toward my guitar. "I see you've been taking care of her."

My 1968 cream, Fender Stratocaster was left behind by my brother when he made his move to Hollywood. He took his Les Paul, the one he sneakily stole from the back of a loading truck that was delivering to a local music store near Helena. And I got permission to babysit after his Jimi Hendrix lookalike guitar that I hold in my hands right this very moment.

It's gentle in my grip. The metal strings twang with electric warmth. And the body feels comfortable as I rest a part of my forearm on it. Davey won't stop smiling, and I realize the others are grinning also.

As I play Whole Lotta Love, my mind drifts off to another time while my fingers blindly perform the song. Davey left ten years ago when he was just seventeen and I, twelve. I remember his reasoning being just like mine; he couldn't handle it in that town anymore, and he felt like he didn't belong there. So I was handed over to family friends who took care of me until I was fifteen. Then they too went away, for the mother passed, the father did not want to be responsible for a boy that wasn't even his child, and their kids either had their own family already or were beginning college.

The years that followed weren't so kind. Living on my own as a scared teenager made my blood boil over the thought of Davey, who left me alone. But as I grew, I understood him more and more. And I suppose that's why we are both here today in Hollywood, holding our gifts for guitar playing, singing, and music in general. That is what brought us together again.

The song ends just in time, keeping me from thinking anymore thoughts of my damaged past. Alexandra claps slowly, but her beaming expression shows that she is pleased. Rex and Brian appear similar, one nods his head and the other claps along. And my brother, he simply grins, but his sympathetic eyes give me the impression that he is sorry. I don't want him to be sorry.

None of them brought their instruments with them. Obviously, it'd be pretty hard to set up a drum kit in this tiny apartment. There's a bass in the next room, but I won't go and ask Jasper if a stranger could use it. Luckily, Davey's instrument is his voice.

We begin to jam, Rex and Brian laying down the beat by slapping their thighs, stomping the floor and hitting pens against the wall. I play a lick that I came up with in seventh grade, and Davey sings what comes to his mind.

"I'm in cahoots with the devil again... Shot another quick fix into my vein..."