Page 5 of Limitless

“Drake irresponsible? Never!” Ken clapped me good-naturedly on the shoulder. “If anything, Drake’s far too responsible. He needs music to loosen up now and then.”

The pub re-opened at seven, and a few patrons trickled in, taking tables in the bar and adjoining restaurant. The O’Rileys had gone through several years of hard times due to the restrictions on dining during the worst of the pandemic, and so they were glad to see the crowds slowly return.

Once we all had our instruments ready, we played an oldie but goodie — Ruby Tuesday by the Stones. We had all played it so many times over the years, it was inscribed in our memories. Not completely flawless, but good enough to elicit a smattering of applause from the small crowd at the bar that night. The sign outside the pub indicated Mersey would be practicing so they knew what to expect. I think the crowd was pleased that we played as well as we did.

That’s how I felt, anyway.

Next, Ken turned to me. “I thought we could try something a little more modern. What do you think?”

I frowned. “What do you mean by ‘modern’? What decade are we talking about?”

He shrugged. “Still Brit Invasion, but more 80s. How about Tears for Fears? Some of their old hits. They have a new album out, so the crowd might like to hear some of their hits.”

“What do you suggest?” I strummed a few strings, trying to remember the songs I knew and had played of the band before. My focus had been on the 60s, so the 80s wasn’t something I was familiar with.

“I don’t know. What’s your favorite Tears for Fears song?”

I shrugged. “The Working Hour? It was my favorite off the album.”

“I think I remember,” Ken said and nodded. “It has a big sax part, doesn’t it? What will we do instead?”

“You could play the melody on the lead guitar,” I offered.

“Let’s give it a try.”

Ken said and took out his cell, which he used to control the sound. In a moment, the first bars of the song played over the sound system.

We all listened closely, and it came back to me. “We can’t do the intro without a sax. We can start when the drums do.”

For the next hour and a half, we listened and then played each bar of the song, playing the original, and then working out how we could adapt. It was a complex song, requiring a deft hand on the drums, keyboard and guitars, plus harmonies in the vocals.

I thought I had asked too much of us, but at the end of the first two hours, we had it down — roughly. It would take several more practices before we had mastered the basics, and then a few more before we would be good enough to add a few embellishments.

“Do you know anyone who plays the sax? It would be great to invite them to practice with us. The sax is such an important part of the song.”

“I might know a guy,” Ken said. “We can get together again tomorrow night. I’ll let you know if he’s available on short notice.”

Mrs. O stood by the bar watching. I waved her over. “Can you record us for a minute or so? I want to send Kate a video.”

“Sure,” she said and accepted my cell. I had it cued up so she could merely press the red start button and record us.

We played the new song, and Mrs. O recorded for us, then returned the phone to me. I watched the clip and smiled.

“Thanks,” I said and slipped my cell into my pocket. “Kate will enjoy seeing what I’m up to.”

“My pleasure.”

We played for another half hour, and then, around nine-thirty, we left the stage to the appreciative clapping of the audience. We went to the bar and refreshed our drinks. I kept mine to a soda and lime as before, not wanting to have to fight a hangover the following morning when I’d be meeting with Lara to discuss the custody arrangements.

While Ken went to the back of the restaurant to deal with some kitchen equipment issue, the other boys left to go home to their families. It was a Sunday night after all.

I stood at the bar, nurturing my soda and lime, pleased with the way the night had gone.

I felt something against my arm and turned to see a young woman standing beside me. She was pretty, with long fair hair and a plunging neckline designed to show off her wares.

“Can you buy me a drink?” she said, smiling, her eyes widening suggestively. “I heard you play and think you’re incredibly sexy. We could party together.”

I laughed at that. “I’m married. Happily.”

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