A Time to Move On Read Online Free Page B

properly welcome them. Luke turned and looked at Mack
with a giant smile on his face. The fact that the fans loved and appreciated
all their self-written music and lyrics was the best part of doing what they
do. No other part of the lifestyle trumped seeing thousands of people singing
lyrics that came from the band's hearts and dancing to music that they created.
    Fallen Tuesday went right back to
work, playing two old songs, two new songs, and then Luke talked about the
album and the tour for a couple minutes. That gave Mack a chance to stand,
drink some water, and walk away from the kit. He went to the front of the stage
and reached down, offering his sticks to two lucky fans. Two people each grabbed
a stick and started to jump and hug them as though they were winning lottery
tickets.
    Five stools were brought on stage
to give the band a chance to slow the show down and jam acoustically. Normally
Mack stayed behind the kit or played a quieter rhythm for the band, but today
he wanted to play guitar with them. And nobody objected to it.
    The five of them were on the edge
of the stage, playing songs. Just jamming and hanging out. That was the kind of
image Mack wanted for the band. The shows weren't big productions, they were
just rock shows. It gave the band a chance to make a connection with every
person in the crowd. No matter the seat, no matter if they wore a Fallen
Tuesday shirt or not, they were there for an experience.
    After the acoustic set, Mack went
back behind the kit. He took a drink of water and readied himself for a drum
solo. He started to hit the bass drum over and over. He raised his arms up and
smacked his sticks together. Luke and the rest of the band started to clap
their hands, bringing the crowd to do the same. Soon there were thousands of
people at Mack’s command. He then went into his drum solo, his hands and arms
moving like a wildfire. Sweat collected and rolled down his face. He gritted
his teeth, wanting his body to play faster. Soon he had a rhythm going so
strong that the crowd started to cheer for him. Mack played the same thing over
and over, bobbing his head, looking out to the crowd as they all raised their
hands and cheered.
    Then, as fast as Mack started, he
completely stopped playing. He slowly stood up and looked out at all the fans.
The people who had been waiting since before sunrise to have a chance to score
a ticket to the show. The people who used their hard earned money for
everything Fallen Tuesday. The people who would rush to their computers to buy
tickets when the tour came within reach of them.
    Mack put his hands up and nodded.
Everyone kept cheering. He closed his eyes and threw his drumsticks to the
crowd.
    Then a sweeping thought went
through his mind.
    I miss you, Kelly…
    The thought weakened his legs and he
sat back down. Luke looked at him, but Mack simply nodded. It was time to
finish the show. Mack needed to get off stage and hop on his bike. He needed
the open road more than ever.
    Fallen Tuesday played three more
songs and then the five guys took to the front of the stage. They had their
arms around each other and stood there, relishing in the applause and enjoyment
of the crowd.
    They waved goodbye, slapped the
hands of those near the stage, and then headed off stage. Mack ran and grabbed
a bottle of water. He chugged it in one shot. The road crew started the clean
up process. And Frank walked around on his cell. Some fans were winners of a
contest and they were allowed backstage to meet the bands, so they were roaming
around getting autographs and taking pictures.
    “That was a good show,” Luke said.
“It’s building out there.”
    The crowd was still cheering. Faint
chants for Fallen Tuesday continued.
    Mack looked over his shoulder and
thought about his ride. He needed to go.
    “Listen, I have to take care of
something,” Mack said.
    Nobody responded. Mack wasn’t sure
if that was good or not, but he turned and ran anyway, making his way through
the