'That'll Be The Day' (Chapter 5)
Serialized Crime Fiction: A Power Pop Heist
CHAPTER 1 • CHAPTER 2 • CHAPTER 3 • CHAPTER 4 • CHAPTER 5 • CHAPTER 6 • CHAPTER 7 • CHAPTER 8 • CHAPTER 9 • CHAPTER 10 • CHAPTER 11 • CHAPTER 12 • CHAPTER 13 (THE END)
That’ll Be The Day: A Power Pop Heist
by S.W. Lauden
Chapter 5
Fucking drummers.
Charlie “Chaz” Caldwell was a high school dropout with a pill problem, but he owned a vintage Ludwig drum set. For that reason alone, the Sharp brothers had desperately wanted him in their band. Jamie played bass and sang while Jack filled out the sound with his guitar, but good rock drummers were in short supply back then. Chaz’s timing was so-so, but his drum fills were epic. He was their very own Keith Moon, in all the best and worst possible ways.
Chaz disappeared after the band broke up, apparently moving to Memphis to start over. Or at least that’s what Jamie told Jack as they drove.
“Chaz got popped for possession and did three months in county jail. He split town the minute he got out.”
Jack could relate. Only, in his case, leaving town would have to wait until after Memphis.
“How’d he end up working for a Tennessee millionaire?”
“Depends on what you mean by work. He’s basically Patterson’s cleaner. Takes care of all the dirty work, no questions asked.”
“Sounds like the perfect job for a scumbag.”
Jack turned to look out the window. They were already an hour into their 300-mile trip to the birthplace of rock ‘n’ roll before he realized the road signs pointed toward Texas, not Tennessee.
“Where the fuck are we going?”
“Austin.”
“Seriously?!”
“Calm down. We need cash to pull this job off right. Chaz can get us access to that 45, but he wants five grand up front.”
“Sounds like the Chaz I remember. What’s that have to do with Austin?”
“There’s a concert promoter down there who’s been after my private record collection for years. Dude’s a serious collector. We’re about to make his dreams come true.”
Jack flashed to the Collectible display behind the counter at Cavern Vintage Vinyl. Those records were the closest thing his brother had to a savings account. He’d been carting most of that precious cargo around for more than twenty years. Jack felt a brief pang in his chest that he wrote off to indigestion.
“We don’t need to drive an extra day for cash. We could just knock off a few liquor stores on the way to Memphis.” Jack flashed the handgun for emphasis.
“That’s exactly your problem. You’re too impulsive.”
“The fuck’s that supposed to mean?”
“We’re planning a big score and you want to risk everything for a couple hundred bucks and a carton of smokes. You need to start thinking bigger.”
They inched through rush hour traffic in Dallas five hours later. Mind-numbing road trip malaise had taken hold by that point, neither of them speaking for twenty-five miles at a stretch. The floor at Jack’s feet was littered with empty Cheetos bags and crushed Styrofoam coffee cups. The ashtray overflowed with spent butts. Powdery ash swirled around the claustrophobic cab like a snow flurry.
Jamie played DJ the whole way, spinning an endless stream of his favorite songs. Jack mostly tuned it out, but found his foot tapping along once or twice. Bram Tchaikovsky flowed into Blondie and The Plimsouls; The Kinks gave way to The Bangles and The Nerves. Jack recognized most of it, but his brother managed to throw an occasional curveball.
“Who’s this?”
“Weezer. Song’s called ‘Jamie.’”
“Guess that explains why you like it.”
“Yeah, but do you like it?”
Jack snorted. “I don’t really care about music much these days. It’s just always on in the background, especially when I’m with you.”
“Your loss. They wrote it about their lawyer. Speaking of… You know this one?”
Jamie fumbled with the smartphone in his lap. It was connected by a couple of cables to the ancient car stereo. He killed the Weezer track halfway through to start a new song. Jack made it to the first chorus before giving his assessment.
“They wrote two songs about their lawyer? Pretty lame.”
“Nope. This is ‘California Sex Lawyer’ by Fountains of Wayne.”
“Sounds like the same band.”
“You need to get your ears checked. Weezer and Fountains Of Wayne are totally different animals.”
“Could’ve fooled me.”
Jamie issued a dismissive laugh.
“You remember how much Jenna used to love Weezer?”
That caught Jack off guard. He wanted to change the subject, but knew it was no use. There was nowhere for him to hide. Besides, Jack had questions of his own. This was as good a time as any to ask.
“Yep. Used to make me play that blue record over and over when she was little. She still living up in Chicago with what’s her face?”
“That ended a couple years ago. Jenna moved back to Tulsa last summer.”
“Seriously? Why didn’t you tell me?”
Jamie brought the volume down on the stereo.
“I wasn’t sure you wanted to know. But since you brought it up...”
“What the hell’s she doing in Tulsa?”
“Working at some food pantry. Seemed pretty happy last time we spoke.”
“That’s good.”
Jack felt his temperature rising. He went three years in prison thinking his little sister lived up in Chicago. That was far enough away he could forgive her for not making the trip to visit him. But Tulsa was another story. She could have made the drive out to see him at least once while he was inside. Especially after everything he’d done for her.
“You have any idea what I did to piss her off?”
Jamie sat up straight, a surprised look twisting his lips.
“Jenna’s not mad at you as far as I know.”
“Then how come she never came to visit me in the penitentiary?”
“Guess you’ll have to ask her yourself someday.”
They pulled into Austin around eight o’clock. The last time Jack was there Jamie & The Jaxx played a South by Southwest showcase their label set up. That must have been sometime around 2007, if his math was right. It wasn’t the last show they ever played, but the writing was already on the wall by then.
The Hamburg Room was a little off the beaten path, away from downtown by a mile or two. Jamie parked on the street and went around to the back of his pickup. He opened the tailgate, producing a box of records. Jamie handed the loot to Jack before reaching back inside. A guitar case was in Jamie’s hand when he slammed the tailgate shut.
Jack ground his teeth with rage. “What the fuck is that?”
“Don’t worry. It’s a short set. I’ll give you half my drink tickets.”
That'll Be The Day: A Power Pop Heist
CHAPTER 1 • CHAPTER 2 • CHAPTER 3 • CHAPTER 4 • CHAPTER 5 • CHAPTER 6 • CHAPTER 7 • CHAPTER 8 • CHAPTER 9 • CHAPTER 10 • CHAPTER 11 • CHAPTER 12 • CHAPTER 13 (THE END)
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Both That’ll Be The Day: A Power Pop Heist and the sequel, Good Girls Don’t: A Second Power Pop Heist, are available in print and ebook formats on Amazon.
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