MamaBlogger365 – The Journey, an excerpt, part 6 – by Jax Resto

Two days after talking with local celebrity guitarist Jeri Jay on the phone, I can’t get his hot pink MySpace page out of my head… or his request to audition for my girl band. I send Raven a text about considering it. She thinks I’m joking. Since we’re still short a bass player, I don’t pursue the issue.

I haven’t quite gotten over losing our bass player of 2 hours to Jesus. I think about Chelsea’s parting words over the phone. “I’ll pray for you to find a bass player.”

My phone vibrates. I think it’s Raven, but it’s a number I don’t recognize. I answer.

The caller says, “Hi. My name is Sam. I’m a friend of Micky’s. She said you were looking for a bass player for your new band.”

Though I know better than to let myself get too excited, I can’t help it. Sam is short for Samantha.

Thursday evening, Raven and I are sitting in a booth at a local English pub waiting anxiously to meet Sam. I sit facing the front door, so I can watch Sam’s entrance. The day we interviewed guitarist Micky at Starbucks, she described Sam as tall, blonde, and gorgeous. Even if Micky was exaggerating, the half hour conversation I had with Sam last night over the phone practically has me sold… not to mention the fact that she’s female.

Seconds later, vowing never to underestimate the power of prayer, I find myself mouthing a silent thank you to Chelsea… or maybe to Jesus. Sam just walked in, and Micky wasn’t exaggerating. At all.

As instant as my fondness for Micky was, so is mine for Sam, only different. I find Sam engaging. Beautiful. Yet, there is a bit of awkwardness about her that makes her endearing. She tells us that she spells her name with two m’s. “I just think it’s cooler,” she explains with a smile sans pretentiousness. She’s a mother of three, the youngest older than my teenage son. “I started young,” she says with another smile.

Samm is currently playing with an original metal band named Kaged. “I’m the only female player on the metal scene.” Though she makes the claim proudly, there is no trace of arrogance.

“Why are you leaving the band?” asks Raven.

“I was sleeping with the guitarist,” Samm replies with a laugh. “Then I caught him cheating on Plenty ‘o’ Fish.”

To exact revenge on the Kaged guitarist, Samm admits that she decided to go fishing, herself, where she ultimately met Rob.

She sports a perfect set of white teeth. “Rob and I had our second date this weekend. And I haven’t been home yet.” She laughs like a teenager. “Sorry, I’m not usually this ditsy, but I’m in love.”

Samm’s lovestruck giddiness belies her forty-something age and the fact that she’s been married and divorced more than once. I think she’ll fit right in. Maybe she’ll even be my favorite member. At least, she is so far.

We discuss musical interests and goals, as well as the fact that the only female guitarist we’ve found is Micky. Still on the “Micky’s a flake” kick, Raven’s disapproval is implied in her tone. Not that she ever tries to cover up her feelings.

Samm loyally defends her friend. “I don’t think she’s a flake. We played in a band together a couple of years ago. She was nothing but professional.” Samm looks at me, and I pick up a similar vibe from her that I’ve been observing, but brushing aside, from everyone else we’ve interviewed.

Samm volunteers to deliver Micky to and from practice, and I side with her about giving Micky a chance. Raven insists she’s always right about people, to with which I counter, “Well, you may turn out to be right, but it’s not fair to punish people for something you predict they might do in the future.”

I remind her that if it weren’t for Micky, we wouldn’t have found Samm, not to mention that by letting Micky in, our all-female pipe dream will finally be a real band. This time, I won’t yield. Sensing this, Raven reluctantly agrees.

Samm adds, “If she doesn’t work out, we can always make a lineup change later.” She smiles at me, her eyes warming. The instant relaxing of Samm’s facial muscles would probably go unnoticed if it wasn’t a look I’d seen before on others.

We schedule our first rehearsal for Sunday at 1 PM. Raven arrives half an hour early, which allows her half an hour to predict that Micky and Samm will flake on us, then another 45 minutes to bask in the glory of being right when Samm and Micky still haven’t arrived.

At quarter to 2, the doorbell rings. Eager for a distraction from Raven’s self-satisfaction, I sprint to the door, happy to see Samm and her smile on the other side. Bass in hand, and a full PA in her truck, Samm’s arrival is bittersweet.

“Where’s Micky,” I ask, Raven sidling up to me, the word “flake,” forming on her lips.

“That’s why I’m late,” replies Samm. “I went to pick Micky up, then she said she had to work.”

I ignore the burning sensation of Raven’s smugness on the back of my head, and quickly offer a solution. “I could call Jeri Jay.”

I glance at Raven, surprised to see her green eyes dance at the mention of Jeri Jay. She’s probably just desperate to have any guitarst at this point. As we make our way into the family room, I clarify that I’m not calling Jeri unless we will seriously consider letting him in. I already know he’ll pass the audition.

Samm knows who Jeri is. “He’s a great guitarist,” she says. “He’s just a little different. I’m surprised he wants to play with us.”

Raven grins, waiting for more, but Samm just shrugs. Jeri’s “pinkness” doesn’t seem to be an issue for her.

“Is it okay to bring in the PA?” Samm asks. “If this is where we’re gonna rehearse, I’ll just leave it here if you want.”

I can barely contain my smile. Apparently, Samm plans to stick around a while. “Yeah! Sure! Need help?”

“No, I got it,” she insists. “Call Jeri.”

Raven takes a seat at the dining room table, watching me eagerly. I’m not sure she’s as okay with Jeri’s “pinkness” as Samm and I, but maybe Jeri’s playing will be enough to win her over. I search my cell for his number, thinking most likely he’s too busy to make it on such short notice anyway. But what’ve we got to lose? I stare at his number on my phone screen. Hit the call button.

After one ring, his voicemail picks up with a singing “Hello.” Emphasis on the first syllable. Only it’s not voicemail. It’s Jeri.

“Hi,” I say slightly tongue tied. “Jeri? This is Jax. The drummer. Remember? We talked the other day?” I say the last part like a question.

“Oh, yeah. Hi, Jax.” He pronounces it Jack.

“Well, I know it’s short notice, but, uh, we’re at my house now and were planning to rehearse, but don’t have a guitarist, and were wondering if you…”

“Where do you live?”

I give him my address.

“I’ll be there in 40 minutes,” he says, followed by something else that makes me smile and think he’ll fit right in. He hangs up and I envision a cartoon Jeri darting from room to room at hyper speed to get ready.

I hear the front door open and close. Samm smiles as she passes, effortlessly carrying a large speaker on her shoulder into our rehearsal room. She’s like a superhero.

Meanwhile, Raven sits, frozen in time, waiting to hear Jeri’s response. I watch her eyes grow wide, the corners of her mouth slightly raised. After several hours… or maybe just seconds of suspense, she asks, “What did he say? Is he coming?”

I nod. “He’ll be here in 40 minutes. He…” I grin as I repeat his parting words. “…just has to put on his makeup.”

Bio: Jax Resto is a wife, mom and business owner by day, mom rocker by night. In 2010 she performed with Band of the Year at the Mamapalooza Festival in NYC. She left the band shortly after to start her own band of rockin’ moms Female Band Invasion. But her mom rock band took an interesting turn. Visit www.reverbnation.com/femalebandinvasion.

The Museum Of Motherhood is the first and only facility of its kind, celebrating the “her”story of mothers around the world. We need your help — please make your tax-deductible contribution today! Visit the Museum of Motherhood, NOW OPEN in NYC – Tues.-Sun., 10:45-6:30.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

  • Contact: MamazinaMagazine@gmail.com

  • Call To Order Mamazina: 877.711.MOMS (6667)
%d bloggers like this: