Editing Getting the Band Together (section)

=='''The Night at the Ugly Ferret'''==

The night of the Stone Bench Group’s first performance at the Ugly Ferret had a strange energy—equal parts excitement, nerves, and underlying tension. The word had spread fast among the people who had seen them play at backyard parties, and a fair number had shown up, eager to see if the SBG could bring that same magic to a real venue. But there were also others in the crowd—some curious, some skeptical, and a few who made the air feel heavier just by being there.

Lucky worked the bar, keeping a close eye on the crowd. He was the kind of man who had seen enough trouble in his life to know when it was creeping in, and tonight, trouble might be lurking in the shadows. He was scared as hell. Maybe it was Wrecker and Reggy and their constant cheerfulness, the jokes they told. The money they had. But he also knew they were easily as bloodthirsty and ruthless as the bikers had been. Maybe worse. But his side room with its two stages had been cleaned by the pair, of the motorcycles, junk, boxes, and years of trash. They had put in lights, wiring, and even passed the city's inspection to get a venue permit.

Ominously as well was the warehouse space. They cleaned it and talked about extending the side area to the back. In the meantime, they had their incredible '57 coupe in there and seemed to live out of its trunk. A pair of cots, a coffee maker, and a fridge. A keg of beer and bottles of booze. A coffee table and their ever-present cigars. The two were not just weird rich killers. They were something beyond his ability to understand. That was scary. But they wanted a dance club and this band to play, so they got it.

Smiley, though unrecognizable in his disguise, sat in a corner nursing a drink, a couple of the old biker girls with him, chatting in low voices. Scattered through the room were members of local gangs, their eyes sharp, assessing, waiting to see what kind of place this would become.

The SBG huddled in the back before their set. Gadget could see the nervous energy in them—Eddie was bouncing on the balls of his feet, Holden kept checking his guitar, Jax had a protective arm around Cali, whispering to her. Tiffy, usually the loudest, was oddly quiet, biting her lip as she adjusted her mic. “You guys got this,” Gadget said firmly, making eye contact with each of them. Holden said, "It really isn't the plaza. This ain't busking."

“Yeah, it’s playing in front of people who might stab us if they don’t like the music,” Eddie muttered.

“Then play like your life depends on it,” Waldo said with a smirk.

Time came, and the Ugly Ferret was packed to the brim, the air thick with the buzz of anticipation and the faint hiss of spray paint cans as the crowd added their own colorful chaos to the walls.

Waldo walked to the front of the stage and sprayed a yellow semicircle in front of the stage, the crowd stepping back as he did. Behind him, the Stone Bench Group took the stage, their instruments gleaming under the dim, flickering lights. Eddie stepped up to the mic, his first time in a real joint. “Alright, Ferrets,” he called out, his voice cutting through the noise. “Let’s make some noise!”

The set started rough—Cali's hands were shaking, and Eddie missed some chords in the first song. Gadget did a bass ZINGER noise for each fumble, to the amusement of the crowd. Jax dropped his sticks. But then something shifted. Maybe it was the way the crowd responded, the way the backyard party crowd cheered them on, drowning out the murmurs of the skeptics. Maybe it was the spray paint event happening around them—cans hissing as people tagged the walls in wild, chaotic bursts of color, marking over the old grime and the ghosts of the bar’s past. The energy in the room changed, and so did the music.

The third song changed it all. A high-energy cover of '''''The Stray Cats’ “Rock This Town,”''''' Eddie’s guitar slicing through the room with razor-sharp precision. Tiffy’s violin wailed like a siren, weaving in and out of the melody, while Jax pounded the drums with a ferocity that had the crowd bouncing. But it was Gadget and Cali on their new 6-string basses that stole the show. Gadget’s fingers danced across the fretboard, her low B string rumbling like thunder, while Cali’s high C added a bright, melodic counterpoint that lifted the song to new heights. The audience erupted into cheers, swept up in the infectious energy.

Next came a surf medley, starting with '''''The Beach Boys’ “Surfin’ USA.”''''' Gadget and Cali locked into a tight, driving rhythm, their basses intertwining to create that iconic surf sound—deep, resonant lows paired with shimmering highs. Eddie’s vocals soared, and Tiffy’s violin added a haunting, reverb-drenched edge that had the crowd swaying like waves. The transition into '''''Dick Dale’s “Misirlou”''''' was seamless, the rapid-fire picking on Gadget’s bass sending shockwaves through the room. Cali, still getting used to her 6-string, held her own, her confidence growing with every note. Try as she could, Gadget could barely get Cali to look at the audience.

Next up was '''''Red Elvises’ “Red Lips, Red Eyes, Red Stockings,”''''' a raucous rockabilly number that had the room shaking. Eddie’s vocals were full of swagger he hadn't known he had, and Tiffy’s violin added a wild, Eastern European flair that perfectly complemented the song’s infectious energy.

Tiffy stepped into the spotlight for her haunting original, '''''“Black Road Away from Home.”''''' Her voice sang with a mournful beauty, weaving a tale of loss and longing that left the crowd spellbound. Gadget and Cali’s basses provided a dark, brooding foundation, their 6-strings adding layers of texture and depth that elevated the song to something truly special.

The mood shifted slightly as they launched into '''''Duane Eddy’s “Peter Gunn,”''''' the iconic riff ringing out with a fresh, gritty edge. Tiffy played the sax line on the violin, giving the piece a fresh, bright note. Holden’s rhythm guitar was rock-solid, while Jax’s drumming added a punchy, almost primal intensity. Gadget took the lead on this one, her 6-string bass adding a deep, resonant growl that gave the classic tune a modern twist.

Midway through the set, Eddie introduced a surprise. “Alright, folks, we’re gonna slow it down for a minute. But don’t worry—it’s still gonna get weird.” He stepped aside as Gadget and Holden walked to the front of the stage, each holding a kazoo. The crowd erupted into laughter and cheers as they launched into a hilariously heartfelt rendition of '''''“Somewhere Over the Rainbow.”''''' Holden’s kazoo playing was surprisingly soulful, while Gadget’s added a playful, almost comedic flair. By the end, the entire room was singing along, their voices rising in unison.

A surprise awaited them after the kazoos as Gadget and Holden jumped into the '''''Time Warp from Rocky Horror Picture Show'''''. Tiffy jumped in to sing for Little Nell's part. The dance number was a classic even after so many years, and the crowd of Ferrets loved it.

Jax got his moment to shine with '''''“Thumpa Thumpa,”''''' a percussive, high-energy Buddy Rich-influenced solo that showcased his incredible drumming skills.

The energy ramped back up with an original track, '''''“Stone Bench Blues,”''''' a rockabilly-infused number that showcased the group’s growing chemistry. Eddie’s vocals were raw and impassioned, while Tiffy’s violin solo brought the house down. Gadget and Cali’s basslines locked into a tight, driving groove, their 6-strings adding a richness and depth that elevated the song to another level. The crowd was on their feet, dancing and clapping along, completely swept up in the music.

With a blistering cover of '''''The Stray Cats’ “Built for Speed,”''''' the room exploded into chaos as the audience sang along at the top of their lungs. Eddie’s vocals were raw and impassioned, while Tiffy's voice in unison with Eddie’s practically brought the house down.

As the set drew to a close, Eddie grabbed the mic, his face flushed with excitement. “You’ve been an incredible crowd tonight! Let’s end this with a bang!” The group launched into a raucous cover of '''''Red Elvises’ “Surfing in Siberia,”''''' the room exploding into chaos as the audience sang along at the top of their lungs. Gadget and Cali’s basses thundered through the room, their 6-strings adding a wild, untamed energy that perfectly matched the song’s frenetic pace. Jax’s drumming was relentless, and Tiffy’s violin screeched like a banshee, driving the song to its explosive finale.

When the last note faded, the room erupted into deafening applause, the crowd chanting for an encore. The Stone Bench Group exchanged grins, their faces glowing with sweat and triumph. They had done it—they had turned the Ugly Ferret into a place of magic, even if just for one night. And as they launched into their encore, a soulful rendition of '''''“Stand by Me,”''''' Gadget couldn’t help but smile. This was just the beginning.

By the time they finished, the crowd erupted in cheers. Even the ones who had been skeptical at first seemed to have been won over. Smiley, still hidden in his disguise, gave a slow nod of approval. The gang members in the back exchanged looks, their interest piqued. Money to be made.

The Stone Bench Group had made their mark. The Ugly Ferret was no longer just a relic of its past—it was becoming something new.

Lucky looked to Wrecker. "We are going to need a staff. This could get messy." Wrecker nodded, "I know a guy."

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==='''Meeting on the Street'''===

Smiley and his two girls walked the four blocks to where he had parked their battered van.

When they reached it, Reggy stepped out in front. "Smiley, I love what you've done with your hair. Washed it, right?"

Smiley put his hand on his hip, clipping open his draw holster. "Yeah, I wanted to look my best for you." The girls started backing away, the black-haired one slipping a hand in her jacket.

"Lady, I have no qualms about shooting a woman if you draw on me. Let’s take a deep breath and show your hands. If I wanted you all dead, we wouldn’t be talking."

"So, what are we talking about?" Smiley asked. "And you know there is only one of you against the three of us."

"Is that what you think? Look at blondy there." They turned to look, and the green dot on her chest moved a bit, signaling that Wrecker was somewhere nearby.

Reggy said, "Wrecker wanted to talk to you, but he really wanted to drill a .50 caliber BMG through your front teeth much more. Now, in respect to a friend who prefers accommodation to bloodshed, I want to talk about our situation."

"Our situation? You mean you two killing my chapter? I’ve killed my share of dudes, but that was mass murder, you psychopath!"

"Yeah, we did that, but that’s done. So... How do you feel about taking your prospects and your ladies and moving to, say, New Orleans? New York is too close. Toronto? By the way, where are your prospects?"

"I don’t know. They disappeared after your massacre. Did you kill them too?"

Reggy shook his head, "No, we missed them as well as you. Till now. So... What will it be? New Orleans or Toronto?"

Smiley looked up to the roof line where Wrecker swung the green dot to flash in his eyes. He scowled, his hatred growing deeper.

"New Orleans."

Reggy nodded, "Good. You lost your Baltimore privileges. Let the girls know we don’t have wanted posters on them, but finding new places to live can be liberating."

"Can we go?"

Reggy backed away, nodding, letting Smiley have the last word.

As the van drove away, Wrecker came scaling down to the ground and crossed the street, cradling the M82.

"I really should have drilled him."

"After Gadget didn’t kill that huge monster dog, it seemed a little awkward thinking of killing Smiley without at least giving him a chance to flee."

"Sure. Sure. But you know he’ll be back."

"Of course. No chance he’ll stay away. Then he’s fish food."

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==='''Forty Threes'''===

Looking out from the shadows at the Ugly Ferret, the boys of the 43rd Street gang, often called the Forty Thieves as an homage to the movie *Gangs of New York*, watched the crowds of people going into the crappy old bar for a performance of the weird twangy group called the Stone Bench Group.

The bar had belonged to the Blind Reapers for years until their sudden disappearance. The boys didn’t know why but knew they couldn’t find as good a source for their habits. Sucked for them, but life went on. The new popularity of the old Ferret was an opportunity. They had gone to a few of the shows and didn’t understand why people liked these freaks. But money was money.

After the music was going and the people had all gone in, they moved. Running low to avoid cameras recently installed on the outside of the building, they ran past parked cars, sticking long sharpened screwdrivers into the tires on the street side, dragging them along the paint, and occasionally breaking a window. They laughed as they went by, peeking in the cars occasionally. Toward the end, two slipped into minivans and, popping the ignition, hot-wired them, filling the vehicles. They drove away, laughing.

Inside, Reggy watched the screen of a widescreen TV set up in the garage area he and Wrecker used as living quarters for now. The feed was from security cameras set up with a great deal more skill to be hidden from sight. He smoked a Urala cigar and listened to the surfpunk sound from the other room.

"Well?" he said.

Wrecker said, "Yeah. Let them make their play. Maybe we can use them. Twenty-two of the rattlings in the gang. Ten out there. Two stolen cars. Ask Lucky who he would call to fix flats. Talk to Gadget. There are going to be some angry people after the show. She and the group should go out and help change tires, meet the fans, pitch in. Hand out kazoos. Order a thousand kazoos." He handled a kazoo, the top emblazoned with the letters SBG, tooting on it with amusement. Reggy wandered out to talk to Lucky.

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==='''Later That Night'''===

Later that night, the Stone Bench Group was outside, leading a kazoo-a-thon as a dozen garage workers helped car owners replace tires.

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