Free GRIT (The Silver Nitrate Series Book 2) by Tiana Laveen

beat the living daylights out of her, to the point his arms were sore and throbbing half way through the damn song. He hadn’t had time to warm up; tendonitis would surely set in if he weren’t careful, but he had to give it his all, and this was a workout in itself.
    He kept on, his face tight with angst and love as he disappeared within himself. Matt and Dave played the riffs perfectly, right along with him, as if they’d been practicing the shit for weeks. He was in the midst of pros… playtime was over. These guys were in the big leagues, and even when they’d been drunk off their asses, they played most people into the goddamn ground…
    He couldn’t hear what anyone was saying, but Leigh was vigorously bobbing his head, dark brown waves of hair swinging to and fro. Several guys he didn’t know observed intensely, commenting to each other every now and again. Steve, the manager, whispered a couple of times then walked out with his phone in hand. As the song came to a close, sweat poured down his face and a satisfied grin creased his mouth. He wasn’t sure how well he played by their standards, but he was proud of himself nevertheless. Dave set his guitar down and threw him a look over his shoulder. Shaking his head, he stumbled back over to his seat.
    Matt placed his guitar gently against the wall, began to walk away, and then paused. “How old are you, man?” he asked, and sighed.
    “Thirty.” The guy sucked his teeth, shook his head, and walked away.
    Leigh took a deep breath, and soon Steve re-entered the room.
    “Look, we’ve heard a lot of drummers over the years.” He grimaced, as if the mere memory caused him pain like tooth decay. “Steve said he saw this guy one night in Syracuse, New York, tearing the club up with some drum solo for the song, “Hot For Teacher”, by Van Halen. That was almost a year ago…
    “He’s been watching different guys, man, narrowed it down, but kept coming back to you.” He pointed at him. “You’re fuckin’ good, man. Shit! I’m impressed… and you’ve had no formal training?” he said seriously.
    “None. My grandfather taught me the basics. The rest is self-taught.”
    “There was a quick moment there when you were trying to get your bearings, I think. I was a little worried but you straightened right up. You actually exceeded my expectations.”
    “I was a little nervous. I’m cool now.”
    Leigh nodded in understanding. “Good. Because here’s the deal.” He paused, his expression thoughtful, swiveling in his chair slow and easy, as if deciding his next move. “If we can come to some sort of agreement, we want you, Zenith. I don’t even need to talk to these guys.” He hitched his thumb in his bandmates’ direction. “I know them. I looked at them while you played and after it was over, we all realized you’ve got something incredible…and to never have gotten guidance from a formally trained instructor…just wow. Anyway, we are all on one accord with this. I could tell by their reaction they thought you were dope.”
    “Thank you so much, man. You have no idea how much I appreciate that.” He couldn’t help but smile.
    “Alright.” He ran his hand down his face and looked up at the ceiling in deliberation. “We have some shit going on right now, but what I want to do is for you to get back with us in about a month… A month right, Steve?” he called out.
    “Yes, actually after the holidays, the beginning of January,” the man clarified, impeccable in one of his fine suits.
    “Yeah, January. You can live wherever you want for a while. Stay in New York; we’ll keep flying you out at first, but we tour at least four months out of the year, and usually with at least three other bands, depending on the line up. That’s a lot of time to be away from home, and we practice a lot, too. So that means by next summer, you need to be based in Michigan.”
    Zenith kept a straight face, exuding a calmness that was a lie and a damn half. His