Editing Getting the Band Together (section)

=='''Double Bass '''==

Meanwhile, Gadget and the Stone Bench Group were busy preparing for their next show. The success of their first performance at the Ugly Ferret had boosted their confidence, but they knew they couldn’t afford to get complacent. Gadget sat cross-legged on the floor of the Station, her 6-string bass resting across her lap. She plucked at the strings, experimenting with a new riff.

Cali walked in, her own bass slung over her shoulder. She winced slightly as she flexed her fingers. “What’s that?” she asked, nodding toward Gadget’s instrument.

“Just something I’m working on,” Gadget replied, her fingers dancing across the fretboard. “Thought it might be a good riff for the next show.”

Cali listened for a moment, then grinned. “I like it. It’s got a dark, edgy vibe. Kind of like you.”

Gadget smirked. “Thanks, I think.”

Cali set her bass down and shook out her hands, grimacing. “Ugh, my hands are killing me. This 6-string is a beast. I’m not used to the wider neck, and my fingers feel like they’re about to fall off.”

Gadget nodded sympathetically. “Yeah, it takes some getting used to. But there are ways to make it easier. Here, let me show you.”

She scooted closer to Cali and gestured for her to pick up her bass. “First, you’ve got to adjust your grip. You’re pressing too hard on the strings. You don’t need to crush them—just enough pressure to get a clean note.” Gadget demonstrated, her fingers lightly grazing the strings as she played a quick run. “See? Less tension in your hands means less pain.”

Cali tried it, her brow furrowing in concentration. She played a few notes, then shook her head. “It still feels awkward. My fingers keep getting tangled on the extra strings.”

“That’s because you’re thinking about it too much,” Gadget said with a chuckle. “Don’t focus on the strings individually. Think of them as zones. The low B is your anchor—use it to ground your playing. The high C is your flourish—use it to add color. The middle four are your home base. Start there, then branch out.”  She played a simple riff, her fingers moving effortlessly across the fretboard. “Here, try this. It’s a basic pattern, but it’ll help you get comfortable with the extra strings.”

She reached to Cali's hand gently extending the fingers  to the proper positions on Cali's sixer but also extending her psyche to channel healing into the hand, a purple stone on a chain hidden around her waist warmed, adding its potent magic.  As Gadget rubbed the hand Cali felt the stretching become more comfortable without knowing why.  Just Gadget's touch.  

Cali mimicked the riff, her movements slow and deliberate at first. Gradually, she picked up speed, her fingers finding their rhythm. “Okay, that’s not bad,” she admitted, a small smile tugging at her lips. “But my wrist still hurts a bit.”

“That’s because you’re holding the neck too high,” Gadget said, adjusting Cali’s posture. “Lower the bass a bit. It’ll take the strain off your wrist and give your fingers more room to move.”

Cali adjusted the strap on her bass, lowering it slightly. She played the riff again, her movements smoother this time. “Hey, that does feel better,” she said, her smile widening. “You’re full of tricks, aren’t you?”

Gadget grinned. “Years of practice. Now, let’s try playing in unison. It’ll help you lock into the groove.”

The two fell into an easy rhythm, their basses intertwining as they played. At first, Cali struggled to keep up, her fingers fumbling on the wider neck. But Gadget was patient, slowing down when needed and offering tips along the way. Gradually, Cali’s confidence grew, her playing becoming more fluid and precise.

The rest of the group soon joined in, and before long, the Station was filled with sound. It was rough and unpolished, but there was something raw and powerful about it—a reflection of the band itself. Eddie’s guitar added a sharp edge, while Tiffy’s violin wove in and out of the melody, creating a haunting counterpoint. Jax’s drumming provided a steady backbone, his rhythms driving the song forward.

As they played, Gadget kept an eye on Cali, offering encouragement and guidance when needed. “You’re getting it,” she said, her voice barely audible over the music. “Just relax and let the bass do the work. Don't over think it, but don't think of anything else.”

Cali nodded, her focus unwavering. She could feel the music flowing through her, the pain in her hands fading as she lost herself in the rhythm. For the first time since switching to the 6-string, she felt like she was in control.

When the song ended, the group erupted into cheers, their faces flushed with excitement. “That was awesome!” Eddie said, slapping Cali on the back. “You’re really getting the hang of that thing.”

Cali grinned, her earlier frustration replaced by a sense of accomplishment. “Thanks. It’s still a work in progress, but I’m getting there.”

Gadget smiled, her eyes gleaming with pride. “You’ll be a pro in no time. Just keep practicing, and don’t be afraid to experiment. The 6-string opens up a whole new world of possibilities.  If it helps when we play, think of my bass as the lead and yours as rhythm.  We can practice matching it with Eddie and Holden.  Same riffs, different keys.”

Cali nodded, her determination renewed. “I will. And thanks, Gadget. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Gadget shrugged, her tone light but sincere. “That’s what friends are for. Now, let’s run through that riff one more time. I think we’ve got something special here.”

The group launched into the song again, their energy infectious and their bond stronger than ever. As the music filled the room, Gadget couldn’t help but smile.  It was coming together
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==='''The Ukulele '''===
[[File:Holden and Uk.jpg|200px]]

The group’s impromptu jam session was in full swing when Holden, ever the quiet observer, wandered over to Gadget’s large guitar case. Being a couple now he didn't ask permission when he crouched down, flipping open the latches with a curious grin. Inside, nestled among an assortment of instruments and gear, was a well-worn ukulele. He picked it up, strumming a few experimental chords. The bright, cheerful sound cut through the room, drawing everyone’s attention.

“Since when do you play the ukulele?” Gadget asked, raising an eyebrow.

Holden shrugged, a small smile playing on his lips. “Since forever. My grandma taught me when I was a kid. She was born in Hawaii. It’s been a while, but I think I’ve still got it.”

He launched into a simple, upbeat melody, his fingers dancing across the strings with surprising skill. The ukulele’s bright, twangy tone added a new layer to the music, giving it a distinctly surfpunk vibe. Eddie’s eyes lit up, and he quickly adjusted his guitar, playing in harmony with Holden. The two instruments intertwined, creating a sound that was both nostalgic and fresh.

Tiffy, never one to be left out, grabbed her flute and joined in, her high, lilting notes weaving through the melody like sunlight on waves. The room filled with the sound of their combined efforts, the music growing richer and more complex with each passing moment.

Gadget and Cali exchanged a glance, then joined in, their basses providing a deep, resonant foundation. Gadget leaned over to Cali, murmuring, “Try this,” and played a simple but effective bassline that anchored the song. Cali followed her lead, her fingers moving more confidently now, the pain in her hands forgotten as she lost herself in the music.

Jax, ever the multitasker, passed around plastic cups of whiskey before settling behind his drum kit. He tapped lightly on the snare, his rhythms subtle but precise, adding just enough structure to keep the jam session from spiraling into chaos. The whiskey made its way around the room, the warm burn adding to the camaraderie.

Waldo, the silent, ever-present muscled roadie, lay on a bedroll by the wall, seemingly uninterested in the music. Gadget’s two huge dogs, Brute and Savage, curled up beside him, their massive forms making him look like a sleeping packmate. Shadow, Cali’s cat, ignored everyone, dozing peacefully next to her owner, unbothered by the noise.

The room was alive with energy, the music flowing effortlessly as the group played off each other. Eddie and Holden dominated the surf tunes, their guitars and ukulele creating a sound that was both playful and intense. Tiffy’s flute added a whimsical touch, while Gadget and Cali’s basses provided a steady, grounding rhythm. Jax’s drumming tied it all together, his light taps gradually building into a more complex beat.

As the song reached its peak, the group fell into a natural harmony, their individual styles blending seamlessly. The whiskey and the tray of green weed on the table added to the relaxed, almost euphoric atmosphere. It was clear they had been drinking more recently, but the music was too good to care.

When the song finally wound down, the room erupted into cheers and laughter. Eddie clapped Holden on the back. “Man, I had no idea you could play like that. The ukulele’s a killer addition. We’ve got to work that into the next set.”

Holden grinned, his usual quiet demeanor replaced by a rare moment of pride. “Yeah, it’s fun. I forgot how much I missed playing it.”

Gadget leaned back, her bass resting across her lap. “This is what we needed. A little experimentation, a little fun. We’re onto something here.”

Cali nodded, her cheeks flushed from the whiskey and the excitement. “Yeah, this feels right. Like we’re finally finding our sound.”

Jax raised his plastic cup in a toast. “To the Stone Bench Group. May we never stop surprising each other.”

The group clinked their cups together, the sound of laughter and music filling the room once more. Even Waldo cracked a smile, though he didn’t say a word. The dogs stirred slightly, their tails thumping against the floor, while Shadow stretched lazily before settling back into her nap.

As the night wore on, the music continued, the group experimenting with new sounds and ideas. The ukulele became a permanent fixture in their jam sessions, its bright tones adding a unique flavor to their surfpunk sound. And though the whiskey and weed flowed freely, the music remained the focus, a testament to their growing bond and shared passion.

Gadget couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride as she watched her friends. They were more than a band—they were a family. And with every note they played, they were building something truly special.

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==='''Exploring Musical Knowledge'''===
[[File:Sbg-violin.jpg|200px]][[File:Sbg-kazoo.jpg|200px]][[File:Sbg strings.jpg|200px]][[File:Sbg-drums1.jpg|200px]][[File:Sbg-violin.jpg|200px]]

As the jam session wound down, Eddie leaned back against the wall, his guitar resting across his lap. He looked around at the group, a thoughtful expression on his face. “So Holden plays the ukulele, and I assume Gadget does too because it’s hers. It’s funny; we’ve been playing around each other and now with each other for a while. What other things do we play? I play guitar, obviously, played standup bass in Jazz Band, as well as tuba and French horn in the orchestra back in junior high. Tiffy’s tried teaching me violin. I can mostly not embarrass myself on harmonica. What else?”

Tiffy smirked, setting her flute down. “Violin, viola, cello, flute, and a number of those like recorder, fife, some woodwinds. Some brass, but I couldn’t get the hang of them. And… ah… well… the piano.”

Eddie raised an eyebrow. “You never mentioned most of those, but… the piano? Are you any good at it?”

She nodded, a small, proud smile playing on her lips. “Yeah, I’m pretty good.”

Jax chimed in, tapping lightly on his snare. “I toyed around with sax but left before I did a lot with it. Played the xylophone a few times. Just like they’re drums, ya know. Did a bunch of other percussion before Cali and I ran off the first time. Ya know, any of us could play stuff like tambourines, maracas, other percussion noise makers.”

Holden added, “Guitar, ya know. Some bass. The ukulele and ah… banjo. I actually started as a little punk on the banjo. But Mom loved that, and Dad hated it. When she died, he got rid of all her stuff, including the uke and the banjo. After that, it was guitar.”

Cali shrugged, her bass resting against her leg. “Bass, some guitar, but I loved the low sound. Jax taught me bongos pretty good.”

They all turned to Gadget, expectantly.

She hesitated for a moment, then said, “Well, mainly kazoo.” The room erupted into laughter and good-natured goading.

“Bass. Lead guitar. Ah… Irish folk harp. Dulcimer. Flute was my first love, but it brings back memories for me I avoid. But recorder, piccolo, fife, a few of the woodwinds. Ya know, a conch might be a good addition to our sound. I’ve tooted them.”

She paused, as if hesitant to go on. “And damn… I’m pretty good on the piano. Spent some time on the road with a hell of a jazz piano player. Learned a lot from him… ah, too much… too much drinking… too much… well, he was the first I let. Not my first, but the first I let…” Her voice trailed off, and Cali reached over, gripping her hand, understanding now why she felt so comfortable with the wild girl; shared grief and experiences.

Holden put his hand on her shoulder. “I hope I get to meet him someday, if he was kind to you.”

Gadget nodded, implying he was. “Holden, if you ever meet him, we will know a hell of a lot more about each other than you could possibly imagine.” She chuckled, thinking of her piano man, the Lord of Chaos.

They talked for a bit longer, sharing stories and jamming a little more before eventually drifting off to their respective corners. Brute, Gadget’s massive dog, wandered over to lie near Holden, while Gadget herself settled down with a thoughtful expression.

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---

==='''Eddie and Waldo’s Conversation'''===
[[File:Holden and Uk.jpg|150px]]

Eddie stepped outside, lighting a cigarette and taking a long drag. The cool night air was a welcome relief after the heat and noise of the jam session. After a few moments, Waldo and Savage, Gadget’s other dog, joined him. Savage disappeared into the night, running off to patrol the area, while Waldo leaned against the wall, lighting a joint. He took a hit and passed it to Eddie.

“Trombone,” Waldo said suddenly, his voice low and gravelly.

Eddie looked surprised. “Really?”

“Yeah. Long arms, ya know. Big sax some. And… tuba.”

Eddie nodded, passing the joint back. “Well, damn, Waldo!”

“It’s Earnest Bluebonnet Pavlovich. Mom called me ''Ernie''; Dad called me ''Pasha''. I like Waldo better, but it was Wart’s idea. Ya know… ‘Where’s Waldo? Go get me some smokes, Waldo…’ I had to make my own way among Wart’s guys. I was never one of his favorites. Got cut out of everything. That probably saved my life because I never touched Cali, and she knows I argued with Wart about her. I got beat down twice telling him to let her go. Gadget killed him, didn’t she?”

Eddie looked at him hard, his cigarette dangling from his lips. “Why do you think that?”

“I tried to tax her that last time Wart got you all. She put me down hard. Like, *hard*, man. I’m a big fucking guy, and she put me down like I was a toddler. Called herself an ‘apex predator monster.’ I had to look that up online to know what she meant. Later… I met Wrecker and Reggy before I came around you guys. They work for her, you know, not the other way around. There’s something just not right about her. Those guys, they’re hard men. Bad hard, like nothing Wart ever was, more like the Blind Reapers were. The Reapers were mean, cruel… killers. Wrecker and Reggy, though? They’re terrifying. And they answer to your bassist. Just so you know, man; there’s something seriously dangerous-crazy about her.”

Eddie nodded, taking another drag of his cigarette. He knew firsthand how right Waldo was. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “I know.”

“You saw the Station a couple times while Wart used it. It was a pit. I’m not saying it was clean when we got here, but I lived there. It was a slum-filled torture house out of a movie. Her tied down back there. The place smelled like… you know. It was professionally cleaned, then made to look dirty so *we* could clean it. Dirty, messy, but not Andy Gump, cumdump, rotted meat, sweaty dirty. It was cleaned and staged, man.”

The two stood in silence for a while, the joint passing back and forth between them as the night stretched on. Somewhere in the distance, Savage howled, a long, mournful sound that echoed through the darkness.

“Then there are the dogs,” Waldo said, breaking the silence.

Eddie shivered. “Brute and Savage? I thought you liked them?”

Waldo nodded. “I do. A lot. I had a big dog when I was a kid. My dad killed it. But it’s not just them.”

“Huh?”

“Dude, this is dog land. Wart never left the place except in a group, and he killed more than a few dogs coming and going till they left him alone. I also got around pretty good, but I knew when to walk and where to run. And there were hundreds of them, ya know. The cops stayed out of this area. The city abandoned it. Wart said some guy named Kane told him the owners of the buildings around here were all dead or corporations that everyone had given up on. Cheaper to let them fall apart than tear them down.”

“So the dogs owned the place. Where are they now? We’ve been coming and going for weeks now. I’ve seen a few here and there. You heard Savage a few seconds ago. He wasn’t alone. He had more howling with him. Why aren’t they here? It’s fucking weird. Creepy. Like horror-show creepy. Like in the movie where the group decides to split up and you howl at the screen to stick together creepy. Am I the only one who noticed?”

Eddie looked around, as if for the first time. “Maybe… I never thought about it. I guess I thought Wart had handled them…”

“Look,” Waldo said softly, “I like Gadget. Hell, she saved my life, so I may love her, and I’m grateful. But there’s something just fuckin’ weird about her. That’s all I’m saying, dude.”

Eddie nodded. “Yeah, okay.”

Waldo nodded and went back inside, leaving Eddie alone with his troubled thoughts and his last cigarette.

===''in progress- Holden gadget, hotel''===
Here’s a small scene for you:  

The neon light from the motel sign outside flickered against the thin curtains, casting restless shadows across the dingy room. The place smelled of stale cigarettes and cheap disinfectant, the kind that never quite covered up the history of bad decisions made between its walls.  It was the bands first out of town gig but the perks didn't include rooms at the Hilton.

Holden sat on the edge of the lumpy mattress, pulling on his jeans while Gadget lounged on the bed, still tangled in the sheets, her electric blue hair fanned out over the pillow. He moved around, picking up their scattered clothes from the floor.  

“Here,” he said, tossing her shirt onto the bed before bending down to retrieve her pants. As he lifted them, something tumbled out and hit the threadbare carpet with a soft *thud*. A wallet. It had landed open, revealing something that made his stomach drop.  

The badge gleamed under the flickering motel light. *Federal Bureau of Investigation.* Holden’s hands clenched around it as his breath caught. He flipped the ID up, staring at the picture—her picture—next to the name: **Special Agent Rowena Kessler.**  

“What the hell is this?” His voice was sharp, disbelief coloring every word.  

Gadget, still stretching lazily, turned her head toward him. When she saw what he was holding, her entire body tensed. The playfulness in her eyes vanished, replaced by something colder, more calculating.  

“Holden,” she started, voice low, but he was already on his feet, badge still in hand.  

“You’re FBI?” His jaw clenched. “What the actual fuck, Gadget?”  

She sat up, the sheets slipping down her bare shoulders, but she didn’t reach for the badge. Instead, she sighed, rubbing her temple. “It’s real,” she admitted, her voice softer now. “I’ve been undercover for a while.”  

Holden took a step back, his mind racing. “You’ve been lying to me this whole time?”  

“No,” she said firmly, finally swinging her legs over the side of the bed. She looked up at him, her eyes steady. “What you and I have? That’s separate from my work. I never lied to you about us.”  

He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. “Then tell me. What the hell are you doing?”  

Gadget hesitated for only a second before deciding. “I’m here for Victor Kane.”  

Holden’s brows furrowed. “The city council guy?”  

“The underworld boss,” she corrected. “He’s running half the crime in Baltimore, and I’m getting close to exposing him.” She leaned forward, her voice dropping. “I need you to keep this quiet, Holden. No one can know. Not Eddie, not Tiffy, not Waldo—no one.”  

Holden’s hands tightened around the badge. His world had just tilted sideways, but the way she looked at him—steady, honest, and completely serious—made it clear she wasn’t playing him.  

Finally, he exhaled, tossing the wallet onto the nightstand. “You could’ve told me.”  


She gave him a small, almost regretful smile. “No, Holden. I couldn’t.” She paused, then exhaled. “But just so you know, Wrecker and Reggy don’t run me—I run them. They work for me, not the other way around.”  

Holden’s eyes narrowed, his grip on the badge tightening. Gadget crossed her arms and leaned against the nightstand. “I’ve got a senior agent overseeing things, Lisha. We have… a lot of freedom to operate however we need to.” She glanced away for a second, then back at him. “The original plan was simple: track down Wart’s guys, follow them up the chain, and get a clear line to Kane.”  

She gave a dry chuckle, shaking her head. “Didn’t work out that way. I got a little… sidetracked. The music, the band—it wasn’t supposed to be anything more than a cover, a way to blend in. But then, I actually started *liking* it. The guys, the gigs, the late-night jams—it became real.  Saying that its different then what i'm used to is a humongous understatement. Reminded me of my dreams before things got complicated.  Music.  Performing.   And for a while, I let myself forget why I was really here.”  

Holden swallowed hard, trying to process everything. “And now?”  

Her expression hardened. “Now, I’m back on track but i want the music too.”  

She stepped closer, voice lowering. “Those guys who have been pushing Lucky around? They’re Kane’s. Low-level enforcers, but still connected. That means we’re already in the game. I just have to work my way up, get closer to Kane’s inner circle.” Her fingers drummed against the nightstand as she thought. “Once I’m in, things change. I stop being the one looking for an opening, and I *become* the opening.”  

Holden’s stomach twisted. “And then what? You take him down? Just like that?”  

Gadget gave him a long look. “It’s not going to be that simple, but yeah. That’s the idea.”  

He let out a slow breath and rubbed his face. “Jesus, Gadget… This is dangerous. Kane’s not just some street thug. He’s got politicians, cops, hell—probably half the damn city in his pocket.”  

“I know.” Her voice was calm, steady. “That’s why I need to be careful. And that’s why I need you to keep this secret. No matter what happens.”  

Holden looked at her, searching her face for any sign of hesitation. There was none. Just that same fierce determination that had drawn him to her in the first place.  

Finally, he sighed and dropped onto the edge of the bed, running his hands through his hair. “You’re asking a lot, you know that?”  

She sat beside him, bumping her shoulder against his. “I know.”  

He let out a dry laugh. “Figures I’d fall for a fed.”  

Gadget smirked. “Figures I’d fall for a guy who could keep up.”  

A moment of silence passed between them. Then, softly, Holden said, “Just… don’t get yourself killed, alright?”  

She leaned her head against his shoulder. “Not planning on it.”  

But the weight of her words hung between them, a silent acknowledgment that plans didn’t always go the way they should.