Everything seemed to move in slow motion for Grace. Scowl's sudden interruption. His scathing look. It was like watching his future go up in flames right before his very eyes. Not for the first time, Grace felt like things were wildly out of his control and he hated feeling this way. The anger bubbled up and broke the temporary paralysis that had taken hold. "W-wait! You can't just..."
Scowl turned back to face Grace, the expression on his face enough to quell whatever comment Grace was about to make. Sunset leaned over the bar and whispered something in Scowl's ear. Scowl shook his head, but Sunset persisted. Finally, Scowl held up his hooves and turned back to Grace. "Look, you've got a good voice, for what it's worth. But that kind of music is stale. Done. Worn out. That's not what we listen to here. I'll do you a favor, though. I'll give you a week to get your act together. Come here every night for the next week and figure out what it is about the performers we hire that makes them good enough to stand on that stage. Give yourself a chance to pull yourself out of the docks and onto dry land. Really soak up the culture here." And without a second thought to that confusing metaphor, Scowl exited the main floor and headed back to his office.
Dejected, Grace set the guitar down carefully on a nearby stand. Blinking, Grace could've sworn there hadn't been one there before. "Well, believe it or not that was actually one of his nicer audition reactions." The stage-pony from earlier commented by Grace's side.
Grace hadn't even heard the pony approach. "Oh. Well, I mean, I guess so. I do have another chance. But..."
Sunset was on stage and patting Grace's shoulder. "Don't worry, we'll help you get up to speed. Scowl doesn't give second-chances to just anypony."
"Thank you. I really appreciate it. I do. I just...I need to...process this a little." The heady rush of emotions threatened to swallow Grace up on the spot, but he pulled through to stay in the here and now. "I'll be back later tonight. I just don't know what I'm going to learn here."
Sunset's gripped tightened. "Don't worry about that. There are some great musicians here. Some of them started out no worse than you."
Grace looked at his lifeline and shook his head. "What did you say to Scowl to make him change his mind?"
Sunset let go of Grace's shoulder and closed his mouth firmly. Inhaling through his nose, he let it out in a short burst and replied. "That's between him and me. Suffice it to say, this isn't the first time he saw just what was on stage instead of the potential. I just...reminded him of that."
Grace eyed his benefactor and nodded. "Thank you." He wanted to say more, but his emotions threatened to burst out like water from behind a particularly fragile dam.
Sunset nodded, glancing at the stage-pony. "Set, you're running the show tonight, right?"
The stallion nodded. "Yeah, Scowl's got a party on the other side of town. Checking out a new talent and handling the competition."
"Why don't you have Grace sit in with the Back-Droppers." Sunset suggested. "Who's pulling stage duty?"
The smaller stallion tapped his chin and thought a moment. "Uh, Frankly Sinful's maining. The rest of the Scratch Batch will be around too. They don't normally decide who's opening until they get in and see who's too drunk to play." Set answered. "Which reminds me, you should hold off on serving them when they come in. At least until the have a set list together."
"Oh, you know those guys; they pregame at their apartment before they ever wander over here." Sunset said, waving a hoof in the air. Turning to Grace, he decided to make introductions. "Grace, this is Ready Set, a cousin of mine and the showrunner when Scowl's not around. Well, he runs the show when Scowl is around too, just doesn't get half the credit for it. Go home, have a good cry and be back tonight to sit with the band. You'll get a feel from them on just how these Club Colts play."
"Club Colts?" Grace asked, slightly dazed and nauseous from the speed of all these developments.
"That's the name for the performers here at the Lemonlight. The regulars, anyway." Ready Set replied, looking over Grace's face earnestly. "Um do you want some water, maybe you should sit down for a bit."
"No. Thank you, thank you both. I'll be back." Grace said, picking up his guitar as he went and heading for the door. On the other side, Grace muddled over his feelings and hailed a taxi.
***
"So you got shot down." Juri stated, trying to get a handle on the situation.
"Like a balloon in a hailstorm." Grace confirmed.
"But you're going there tonight to play with the band." Juri said, rubbing one temple idly.
"Yes," Came the reply.
"That's almost inequestrianly cruel. Dash somepony's dreams and then set them up to watch other ponies do what they want to." Juri remarked.
Grace shrugged. "It's what I gotta do to make it as a singer here. I've tried just about anyplace else I can think of. I haven't just been sitting here eating apples and working temp jobs. Most places won't even see me unless I have a manager and an established name. Cracking into music here is the hardest, and even open mic nights at dives and college bars haven't gotten me anything. What else am I going to do?"
Screwing his mouth up towards one side, Juri thought over the situation. With a sigh, he shrugged. "I guess that's that. You're gonna get the hang of it quick, I'm sure. That Scowl will regret not starting you out as a full-fledged singer."
"I hope so. I can't get stuck working as a house band player." Lifting his cup, Grace took a long swig of water and set it down.
Juri patted his friend's back. "You're taking this better than I would."
"Oh, well, you weren't here when I got home." Grace explained, setting his cheek down on his hoof. "I had myself a good cry, just like Sunset suggested. Then I took a shower. And before you came in I was stretched out on the couch, dreaming up horrible ways for Sighing Scowl to be as utterly and completely humiliated as I was."
Juri bumped Grace's shoulder lightly with his nose. "I'm sorry. You shouldn't have to change who you are just to prove to these ponies that you're good enough. You should be able to play what you like."
Grace's eyes met Juri's and their gazes held for a moment. Something in the verdant depths of Juri's eyes kept Grace's attention. Blinking rapidly, Grace realized he hadn't spoken. "Thank you, that's very kind of you." Shaking his mane out, Grace sighed. "But if I'm going to make it in this landscape, I have to make the kind of music that other ponies like."
As Grace turned to go to the kitchen, Juri couldn't help but mumble, "I like the kind of music you play."
***
Ready Set lived up to his name. Grace was ushered in quickly and guided around the colored glass facades set up behind the stage. When he'd had his audition, the glass had been black. Now on the other side, Grace could see through to the rest of the club, but the club couldn't see him. Perfect for hiding a band of noponies.
"These are the Back-Droppers. On drums, you have Metal Pedal." The mare thumped a hoof down on her namesake in greeting, banging the bottom drum of her set. "On lead guitar, you have Scratch Plate." The stallion played a few power chords and then waved. "And our masters of mouth-metals, the triplets Tenor, Alto and Soprano Sax." The trio started up a Maredi Gras-style swing, Tenor on his namesake, Alto playing a trumpet, and Soprano on trombone. "Everyone, this is Graceful Bass and he plays..." Ready trailed off as he turned back to face Grace. "Oh, I guess I never asked what you can play."
Off the top of his head, Grace started listing instruments in no particular order. "I can play electric and acoustic guitar, bass, stand-up bass, harp, violin, piano, banjo--"
"So this is our new bass player." Ready Set announced, cutting off the rest of Grace's list. "Make sure and run him through a few of the Scratch Batch's latest numbers." To Grace, Ready turned and said, "If there's anything you aren't comfortable playing, improv and if all else fails, just sit it out. Nobody expects you to do too much back here and you wouldn't attract attention with the screens up. That's part of what makes the Back-Droppers so versatile. You'll get paid per night at the end of every night, minus any drinks you pick up from the bar. Drinks aren't free, but they are half-price for Back-Droppers. Just stay sober enough to make it through the night."
With that, Ready Set went off to handle other business. Grace turned to the other Back-Droppers and smiled. The triplets eyed him with polite interest, Metal seemed intent on getting her snare set up properly (and making an appropriate amount of noise in the process). Scratch Plate levitated a stool and bass guitar over by him and looked up expectantly.
"So, played with the Back-Droppers long?" Grace asked as he sat on the stool. Running a diagnostic spell out of habit, he checked the condition of the bass guitar as Scratch responded.
"Five years. Before that, I played with the Scratch Batch. That was back when my brother lead. I played bass. Before that, I was a Club Colt. I planned events for Manehattan's Dock District. Then my bar got bought out and now, well, you could say I've fallen from grace."
Grace eyed the laughing unicorn and noted that the lighting had covered the gray hairs and wrinkles at first. Scratch Plate looked to be in his fall years. "You've been around for a while, then."
Nodding, Scratch reached out and patted Grace's shoulder. "Yeah, I have. And let me tell you, even Red Ink himself couldn't play Sitting on the Dock like what I heard earlier. You were born at the wrong time, my friend."
Grace's eyes widened. "You've heard Red Ink play?"
Scratch shook his head and looked at Grace seriously. "I played with Red Ink. Oh yes, sir! Nopony could party like Red Ink. Even the ponies today don't have the same style. Old Red could knock back more brews than you'd believe and he'd still be a gentlestallion to any sweet mare he saw. And then say the raunchiest things in a conversation in the manager's office. Real character, Old Red."
Grace laughed and shook his head. "I can't believe it."
"Well, don't take my word for it, just look here." Scratch lifted the guitar strap and flipped his instrument around to show the back. The white electric guitar was covered in all sorts of names and cutie marks. At the center, in appropriate red ink, was the name of the stallion in question.
"No, I can't believe my luck at meeting somepony who knew Red Ink. Like, really knew him! This is crazy." Grace admitted, placing a hoof to his forehead to fight the light-headedness.
"Oh boy, has Scratch star-struck another one?" Metal asked obnoxiously.
Tenor chuckled and waved a hoof at her. "Oh, come on! Let him have this, Pedal. How many other ponies even remember a name that old?"
"Can't be a lot." Alto agreed.
"Less every day." Soprano added.
Scratch let out a sharp blast-like laugh. "Ha! You foals today and your Just-In Beavers and Panic! at the Broncos."
"Can we ditch the old-nag routine and get to playing something?" Pedal asked, thumping the bass drum rhythmically.
"You got a song in mind, young lady?" Scratch asked, warming up with a few low-high sweeps.
Tenor started up a keyboard, letting out a few experimental taps and trills. His sisters followed suit on their brass.
"Let's put some spice on this beat!" Scratch shouted as the rest of the band went quiet for a second. Grace was confused momentarily, disoriented by the sudden lack of sound.
"Ole!" Everypony except Grace and Scratch yelled. Then the music struck up, with a definite southern flair. Scratch looked over to Grace, who belated picked up the bass and listened for the common bass line. Nodding, Scratch started singing a flawless Mexicanter-style ballad, in the original language. The song actually seemed melded to a rock'n'roll beat, making it that much more lively. Grace followed along, improvising when he could.
With a flourish, Scratch finished off. Once again, everypony stopped playing to let out an exclamation. Grace had just enough to quiet his strings as the others yelled out. Without missing another beat, the band launched into the next song.
Some time later, the band took a break for drinks. Most of them seemed to prefer something from the bar, Metal in particular not shy about ordering from the upper shelves. Grace contented himself on a tray of water that everypony else was ignoring. Even Scratch raised an eyebrow over his fizzy drink at Grace's drink of choice.
"Well, you got a lot of good stuff, kid. Why the hay aren't you playing for some recording studio? You would be a hell of a session musician." Scratch asked after a long drag on his drink.
Grace shrugged. "I want to be a star." The other band-mates burst out into laughter. Scratch merely looked thoughtful.
As the others went on with their own conversations, Scratch seemed to decide something. Setting his jaw, Scratch pulled Grace close. "I'll tell you what I've told every wannabe I've ever met. Watch who you make friends with. The bed you jump into might not be as cozy as it looks."