Chapter 52

Bobby, drove the 1930 Boyertown bodied Dodge diesel out to the ranch. Tommy followed along so Bobby wouldn’t have to beg a ride back to town.

When they drove up, I was reasonably surprised ... they hadn’t called.

“The mob killed Joe A to muscle in on the profits over Spring break. It was the band and not the bar that put the profits over the moon. Without you ... we had nothing for ‘em. They aren’t the kind of folks to let things slide. We’re supposed to talk you into coming back,” Tommy said.

Bobby chimed in with, “It’s damn galling to find out just what kind of garage band we really are without you.”

“Spring Break is over ... there’s no sense in going back now. Didn’t you explain that to them?” I asked.

“Yeah. They were wondering where the crowds had gone. When we left they were plotting to make the schools spread out spring break to all year.”

“What idiot... ?” I asked.

“Third son of the Boss.”

“Not working with a full magazine?” I asked.

“A bubble out of plumb,” said Tom.

“Missing the key piece of his puzzle,” said Bobby.

I turned to look at Bobby, “I hate it when that happens.

“He let you guys go?” I said.

“Yeah,”

We three broke into hiccup laughter.

“I assume we’re not going back.” I said ... choked out, really.

And that drew a laugh.

“Well, come on. I bought new instruments so we can practice.”

“What about George?” Bobby asked.

“Just hold on ... follow me.”

Tommy loved his Broadkasters and all the cymbals. Full throttle, Tom was trying to beat them to death.

Over the din, Bobby shouted, “Oh God. You got a 1953 Les Paul.”

The guitar wasn’t out of the case yet. The 1953 case is distinctive.

“Open the case,” I shouted back.

He popped the clips and opened it ... he fell back. The yellow Carl Perkins model with the trapeze tail piece and bridge.

“Shit. TOMMY ... stop!” The silence was deafening.

“Karen. I can’t play this.” he whispered.

“Sure you can. Unless you want to play this one,” I pulled the Strat case off my pile.

This one was a 1954 Stratocaster. A solid, deeply contoured mountain ash body, a 21-fret one-piece maple neck with black dot inlays, and nickel plated, bar mounted Kluson tuning machines.

“Jesus Christ, Karen.”

“Yeah ... ain’t it cool,” I said, “You get to play through a 1964 Fender Pre-CBS Blackface Showman Tube Guitar Amplifier with a newer twin 15 speaker cab. Where Johnny comes up with these things...”

“The stuff he gets off the Rez...” Bobby was mystified.

“I know. I bought me a bass and Ampeg B-18-N Amp ... Hey ... that reminds me. C’mon. We need to shift some boxes.”