CHAPTER 10: ON THE AIR
Vincent
Pepe, Buck’s 6-foot-4, 260-pound Dominican ass-kicker, was hired as our driver, roadie and security chief. He also was handed the keys to the Shaggin’ Dragon Paddy Wagon, a super-sized black van Buck had purchased and custom-painted with red-and-gold dragon flames along the sides. The van, inspired by Freeway’s song of the same name, would become our primary tour bus. The first time we all rode in it together was the day before Halloween. The band was quite pleased with me when I told them I had landed us a live interview on WBRW, one of the most popular radio stations in Providence for people in their late teens and 20s.
“That Saturn chick is a good luck charm,” my buddy Craig said, punching me in the shoulder as we sat in the second seat. Buck rode shotgun. Freeway and Friday were hanging in the way back, giggling and marveling at some of the posters of naked women Buck had stuck to the ceiling and walls of the plush, red-carpeted Paddy Wagon. “This radio gig could be big, man.”
“No shit,” I said. “The funny part of it is Saturn’s roommate is the one that made it happen. Her name is Morgan and she’s a DJ at the station.”
“Is she hot, too?” Craig asked.
“Yeah, but more cute than hot,” I said.
“Hook me up,” Craig said, his big brown eyes bugging.
“I already did,” I said. “I got us the interview with her so all you have to do is charm her.”
Friday couldn’t resist jumping into the conversation at this point.
“No chance,” he said, leaning toward us with a big grin. “The girl is mine.”
“You got enough girls already, Friday,” Buck shouted from up front. Pepe and Freeway busted out laughing.
“You can never have enough,” Friday protested.
“So are you and Saturn aligned with Venus, the Goddess of Love?” the affable Freeway asked me as only he could.
“You could say that,” I said, trying to avoid the urge to turn the Paddy Wagon into a locker room.
“I did,” Freeway persisted. “What do you say?”
“We didn’t go all the way or nothing,” I said. “But it was a very good time the other night, especially for a first date.”
“Congrats, man,” Freeway said. “How’s your initial investment in this band looking right about now?”
“Better and better,” I said with a smile. “And you’ll be fighting off groupies before you know it, Freeway.”
“Yeah, that’s what I’m talking about. Move over, Rover, let Freeway take over!” Freeway shouted, quoting Jimi Hendrix from the song, “Fire.”
Friday howled and high-fived his friend.
When we arrived at the WBRW studio, a producer ushered us into a room next to the DJ room and we could see Morgan talking into her microphone. The “on air” sign was lit when we arrived and all the band members smiled. Craig and Friday were definitely checking Morgan out and ribbing each other, but Morgan mostly snuck glances at me through the glass and smiled as she finished up a traffic report. When the producers cut to a commercial, Morgan left her mike and opened the door.
“Hey guys,” she said, shaking everybody’s hand. “I’m Morgan. Me and another DJ, Ryan, will be interviewing you guys. He should be up here any second and we’ll get started. He’s actually seen one of your shows so that’ll make it even better.”
“Sweet,” I said, shaking Morgan’s hand. “Nice to see you again.”
“Right back at you, Vin,” she said with steamy look.
Freeway’s eyes caught the quick exchange and his eyebrows jumped toward his afro as he smiled. When she turned away, he pointed at me with his long index finger and whispered, “You got a problem,” then smiled even bigger. I shook it off and shrugged.
Ryan, a skinny college kid with purple-streaked, brown spiky hair who looked even younger than Morgan, finally arrived and introduced himself. After that, we all entered the “on air” room. The DJs each had a mike and the rest of us had to share the other two on the opposite side of the booth. Freeway and myself took the seats right in front of the microphones. The others were happy to stand behind us, except Friday. He grimaced and looked like he wanted some air time. Knowing Freeway, I was sure he would put his crazy pal’s mouth in front of the mike at some point during the interview.
“You’re back on the afternoon show here at 95 WBRW with Morgan and Ryan,” Morgan said on the air. “Right now we’re going to talk to a brand new band that’s going to play the Halloween show WBRW is sponsoring tomorrow night at the Heartbreak Lounge. They are called Freeway & the Vin Numbers. Hello guys and welcome to the studio.”
“Hello world,” Freeway said tentatively with a mischievous smile, drawing a chuckle out of everybody in the room.
“You must be Freeway,” Morgan told the listeners.
“He is,” Ryan confirmed.
“Yes, Ryan has seen the band perform before at the Heartbreak,” Morgan said. “I have not.”
“Shame on you,” I interjected.
“But, Vin, I will tomorrow night,” Morgan countered.
“Good,” I said, staring at her.
“So, since I don’t know anything and neither do most of our listeners, who does what in this band?” Morgan asked us.
“Freeway plays lead guitar, Craig plays rhythm guitar, I play bass and Buck plays drums,” I said.
“And both of you guys sing,” Ryan jumped in.
“Yeah,” Freeway said.
“Freeway and Vin both sing,” Ryan repeated for the benefit of the listeners. “And then this guy, what’s your name?”
Freeway pushed Friday toward the mike stand.
“Friday,” Friday said with a smile as we all bottled up our laughter with our hands.
“Friday here,” Ryan continued with a chuckle, “just kind of stands there like a bad ass basically.”
“Yes, but Friday has unknown talents that are still yet to surface,” I jumped in. “We’ve been plotting some tricks for the Halloween show and …”
Morgan smiled at me as I spoke with increasing confidence on the air. She seemed to like the way the interview was going.
“No, Vin, don’t give anything away,” Freeway said, shaking his afro and regaining control of his mike.
“Never,” I said.
“For those just tuning in to WBRW, we’re talking with Freeway & the Vin Numbers,” Morgan said. “They’ll take the stage around 10:30 or so tomorrow night and go on before the headliners, The Afterglows, at our Halloween show. How did you guys come up with the name for your band? I mean, is Freeway your real name, Freeway?”
“My real name is Prince because my momma loved Prince, but there’s already a Prince, you know, and I jam by I-95 all the time so the nickname kind of stuck,” Freeway said.
“Then Buck here came up with the rest of the name,” I jumped in, ushering Buck toward my mike stand.
“Well, we had Vin right here,” my bookie said, putting his hand on my shoulder. “And then I was watching all those cars whizzing by on the highway one night — that’s a lot of VIN numbers flying by. The rest is history.”
“Vehicle identification numbers for those out there who don’t know what it stands for,” Ryan pointed out with a smile. “Did you know that Morgan?”
“Um, I think so,” she said with a feigned ditzy expression.
“Now the show I was at, you guys opened with a cover of ‘Love or Confusion’ by Jimi Hendrix,” Ryan said. “And Freeway, here, does bear a strong resemblance to the late rock legend. For those who haven’t seen him, he’s got the afro, and his guitar playing is pretty amazing.”
“Thanks,” Freeway said shyly.
“You guys have a sound that is kind of bluesy and retro, but it’s kind of refreshing compared to what’s on the radio these days,” Ryan said. “Is that what you’re going for, like a 1960s or ’70s revival?”
“We’re definitely influenced by bands like the Jimi Hendrix Experience, the Doors and Led Zeppelin,” I said. “So we’re trying to mix that wi
th our own musical experience and modernize it for kids of our generation. We’re so new at it that it’s all kind of experimental at this point, but we’ve written like 20 original songs already so something is working. It’s been a blast so far.”
“Have you guys recorded anything or have a demo yet?” Morgan asked.
“We only formed last month,” I said. “But we’ve been talking about getting some recording time before the end of this year.”
“Yeah,” Freeway added, “we’d like to put out a CD early next year if we can. Right Friday?”
Friday smiled and leaned toward the mike.
“Get paid, get laid,” he said, setting off another round of laughter in the studio. The producer had to bleep out the fourth word.
“So Ryan, you’ve heard these guys play,” Morgan said. “Which songs were your favorites? Which songs should they record and put on the CD?”
“I actually liked a bunch of them, but I don’t really know the names because they’re not on a record yet,” Ryan said. “The first original song they played the other night was awesome. There was a wicked fast tune with ‘medieval upheaval’ in the chorus. And the encore song, the paddy wagon song.”
“Translate that for us, Vin,” Morgan said.
“Nice choices,” I said, nodding at Ryan. “We really like those tunes, too. They’re called ‘My Paul,’ ‘Medieval Upheaval’ and ‘Shaggin Dragon Paddy Wagon.’”
“Wow,” Morgan said. “Crazy names.”
“Yeah,” Freeway said. “Freakier the better.”
Everybody laughed.
When the interview ended and we all filed out, Morgan pulled me aside.
“I’ll see you at show, Vin,” she said, her blue eyes glamming me for several seconds.
“Cool,” I said, feeling slightly awkward. “Thanks for this. Seriously. This is huge for us.”
“Don’t worry,” she said. “I’ll let you make it up to me later.”
Thoughts of Saturn raced through my head, but I kept my options open.
“I will,” I said, kissing her on the cheek and apparently making her day.
No, I couldn’t bet on football games any more. But that rush had been replaced by the thrill of making meaningful music and gambling on my own dicey ability to handle more than one woman at the same time.
CHAPTER 11: HALLOWEEN MAYHEM,