The Wishbones
The second novel from Tom Perrotta, author of ‘Little Children’, ‘Election’ and ‘The Abstinence Teacher’.Everything is going pretty well for Dave Raymond. He's 31, but he still feels young. He's playing guitar with the Wishbones, a New Jersey wedding band, and while it isn't exactly the Big Time, it is music. He has a roof over his head…well, it's his parents' roof, but they don't hassle him much. Life isn't perfect. But it isn't bad. Not bad at all.But then he has to blow it all by proposing to his girlfriend…One man's treasure is another man's millstone. To Dave, the treasure in question is Gretchen; a sexy, bohemian poet Dave meets when playing at a wedding with his band. While Gretchen the poet plays 'the bridesmaid', Dave plays 'the rock-star'. And suddenly, the comfortable trajectory of his reality seems far less appealing.
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TOM PERROTTA
The Wishbones
For my parents
This must be the death of rock ‘n roll….
—Todd Rundgren
Table of Contents
Chapter 1 - The Wednesday-Night Showcase
Chapter 2 - We're Soooo Thrilled
Chapter 3 - You've Got a Friend
Chapter 5 - A Religious Experience
Chapter 8 - Carlos and Stevie Ray
Chapter 10 - Randy by Starlight
Chapter 16 - Fifteen Years in Fifteen Minutes
Buzzy, the bass player, had a suspended license, so Dave swung by his house on the way to the Wednesday-night showcase. Buzzy did quality control for a company that manufactured prosthetic devices, and lived with his wife and two kids on a street of more or less identical split levels that must have seemed like an exciting place in the days before the British Invasion, back when Kennedy was President and Elvis was King. Buzzy was the only member of the wedding band who was married, a fact whose irony did not escape the notice of his fellow musicians. Artie, the sax player and manager, had just broken up with a girl who danced at Jiggles. Stan, the drummer and sometime accordionist, was sleepwalking through a painful divorce. Ian, the singer/keyboardist and all-around showman, was living at home with his parents, as was Dave, who handled rhythm guitar and background vocals.
Buzzy was waiting by the curb, a scrawny, pony tailed guy in a tuxedo and Yankees cap, with a beer in one hand and a guitar case in the other. He stowed his bass in the backseat, on top of Dave's Les Paul, and climbed in.
“Daverino,” he said, tilting the beer can in salute.
“Buzzmaster.”
Dave shifted into gear and headed for Central Avenue. The silence in the car was mellow, uncomplicated. Buzzy took a swig from the can and smacked his lips.
“Yup. Another Wednesday-night showcase.”
“You ready? The people are counting on you.”
Buzzy thought it over for a couple of seconds, then nodded.
“Coach,” he said, “I'm gonna play my heart out.”
Dave snorted his appreciation. The guys in the band liked to joke about the showcase, but they were careful not to complain—bookings had doubled since Artie found them the slot. And besides, goofy as it was, the showcase turned out to be a real time-saver: instead of scheduling separate auditions for every interested couple, the Wishbones could just tell prospective customers to come to the Ramada every third Wednesday of the month.
“You going out afterward?” Buzzy crushed the can in his hand and dropped it on the floor. “I'm in the mood for a few beers.”
“I can't. I'm supposed to go over to Julie's.”
“Hey.” Buzzy didn't bother to conceal his surprise. “You guys really getting back together?”
Dave didn't feel like going into the details. He had made a mistake telling the guys what had happened in the first place. He should have known he'd never hear the end of it. Now the incident had become part of band lore, like the night Ian got propositioned by the mother-of-the-bride, and that time Artie got his lights punched out by a Puerto Rican DJ.
“We've been talking on the phone. She says her parents aren't so upset anymore.”
Dave kept his eyes on the road. He didn't have to look to know that Buzzy was smirking.
“I wish I'd been there, man. Just to see the look on their faces.”
Dave grimaced. The look on their faces was the last thing he wanted to think about.
“We've been going out for a long time. I guess it was bound to happen sooner or later.”
“A long time?” Buzzy seemed to be deriving great pleasure from the conversation. “Fifteen years, Dave. You've been going out with the woman for fifteen years. Since your sophomore year of high school.”
$5.99 BUFFET, proclaimed the marquee outside the Cranwood Ramada. SHOWCASE OF MUSICAL TALENT. Dave pulled into the sparsely occupied lot, glad for the opportunity to change the subject.
“Looks like a slow night.” He put the car into park and shut off the ignition.
Buzzy wasn't about to give up so easily. “What are you going to say to her parents?”
Dave undid his seat belt and opened the door. It was a lovely spring night. Leaving the guitars for Buzzy, he stepped out of the car and started walking at a brisk pace toward the entrance of the Sundown Lounge. Buzzy had to run to catch up with him, the hardshell cases banging like luggage against the outside of his legs.
“Bring flowers,” he advised, panting a little from the exertion. “You'll need all the help you can get.”
Sparkle was Hearing the end of their set when Dave and Buzzy entered the lounge. Their lead singer, Alan Zelack, was strutting across the stage in his red sequined tux, belting out “My Girl” in the heavy-metal falsetto he'd perfected during years of touring with the Misty Mountain Revue, a wildly successful Led Zeppelin tribute show. Now everything he touched came out sounding like Zeppelin, from Sinatra to the Hokey Pokey.
