Rock ‘N’ Roll Reunion

By J.J. Luepke and B.J. Gordon

The Garage Girls Band is invited to play for their five year high school class reunion. Getting there is problematic when three of them encounter stalkers and one is forced to take the law into her own hands. With her sharpshooter talents, Pepper could easily take out the enemy permanently. Will she break her promise to herself not to take another human life? Will Betsy forgive her husband for deceiving her? Will Jensine live to pursue her dreams? Will Lilly reveal her daughters paternity?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: May 11, 2016
• ISBN: 9781514471852

J.J. Luepke

J.J. Luepke has more than 12 years of experience in journalism. She earned a Bachelor of Science Degree in education and has had three award-winning poems published in various anthologies. She is an avid reader of murder mystery novels and lives in Minnesota with a spouse and three housecats. Luepke is joined by B.J. Gordon, a former truck driver who has hair-raising tales of her own to share.

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

On a Mission

B RIGHT LIGHTS, BIG city; bright lights, big city , thought Jensine as she trudged along the neon-lit boardwalk. It was the title of some musical movie from the 70’s or 80’s where a two buddies hit the road with a rock ‘n’ roll band, sleeping in seedy motels and trying to make a living off the music they loved. The mantra kept a steady rhythm with her foot-falls as she continued down the sidewalk with her guitar slung over her shoulder.

Jensine Dubois was on a mission: She was heading to an open mike audition with the hope that this would be the dawn of her solo career. Until last spring, Jen, as her friends called her, had been a carefree college student, grinding ax in a garage band in high school before that, which often got gigs at the area high schools, community centers and county fairs.

Shortly after graduation, the band had broken up and the members went their separate ways. Jen had applied to the music program at the local college. She had planned to take a double major in voice and composition.

Humph! Jen snorted. A fat lot of good it did her to sit down with that career counselor for two solid hours that first year, planning her academic career. After two years into classes, the vocal professor told her, You’ll never sing at Carnegie Hall. Jen had stared at him for what seemed like an eternity to determine if he was joking or not. He didn’t seem the type to crack a joke; so, she felt he was giving her his honest assessment.

My voice has been good enough for the purposes for which I have needed it, she had said stiffly. She hadn’t been sure whether she should laugh in his face or start crying.

I am certain it has been, the professor had concurred. I just believe it best to let students know if they are or are not well-suited for the vocal-instructor program.

Don’t worry, Jen had said with false bravado. I don’t have any plans to sing opera or to give voice lessons. With that, she had clammed up and never once let it slip to that college instructor that her goal was to continue singing her rock music with or without a band.

Maybe, just maybe, if-and-or-when she ever played some place big, like Madison Square Garden, she would send this stiff-necked, stuffed-shirted, self-absorbed bastard of a professor an invitation. Then he’d be able to see just how well she really can perform.

Suddenly, Jen halted in front of a marquee-hooded entrance with an easel out front. The sign on the easel announced the open mike event in which she had come downtown to participate. Ducking into the building, Jen was brought up short due to the dim lighting. The stench of cigarette smoke slapped her in the face. About the time her eyes had adjusted, a hostess appeared in front of her.

Can I help you? the scantily clad female asked Jen.

I’m here for the open mike event, Jen replied. Where do I sign in?

Just go around to the left, there, the hostess pointed the way, Lenny, the stage manager, is seated at the table at the foot of the stage. He’ll square you away.

Thanks, Jen said toward the departing bare back of the hostess.

No sense putting this off, Jen thought as she headed in the indicated direction. Butterflies were beginning to form in the pit of her stomach. Or, was that merely hunger, since she hadn’t eaten supper this evening? Hugging her guitar case so it wouldn’t hit anyone in the back of the head, she made her way around the corner table and up along the wall toward the stage, then stood in line at the sign-in table. There was only one other person ahead of her; and soon she was staring into the dirt-black eyes of the stage manager.

His eyes match his greasy black hair, Jen thought. Then she introduced herself, Hi. I’m Jensine Dubois. I called earlier to sign up for tonight’s open mike event.

Ah, yes! the middle-aged manager acknowledged. Here’s your number. And, here’s a recipe card. Write your bio on it for when I introduce you. All the regulars are here already, but you’re going on first, since you’re new and all. He pushed the cardboard pieces at her and slightly to his left to keep her moving even though there was no one else waiting in line behind her.

Jen glanced at the number. It said 1, just as the manager had indicated. She hoped this was a good sign. I’m number one! She thought. Just like that old football chant, We’re number one! We’re number one! came to mind. Jen felt a giggle forming in the back of her throat. Quickly, she jotted down her name, hometown and the fact that she had played for three years with The Garage Girls band. It didn’t look like a great reference, but that’s all she had.

No more than she handed her card back to Lenny, but he grabbed it and ran up the steps to center stage where a microphone waited on its stand, in front of it was a community-used amplifier. Jen froze for a split second thinking this is happening way too fast. Then she snapped out of it as Lenny began to rile up the audience with bawdy jokes. Slipping her guitar case on the registration table, she snapped it open and drew out her one prize possession. Good thing she had tuned it at home because she sure as shooting wasn’t going to get time to do the whole routine right now.

Please welcome to the stage, all the way from the East Side, Gin – Sing! Lenny was saying. That’s my cue! Jen thought and trotted up the stairs to join the manager at the mike.

What did you do to my name? she whispered as she crossed in front of him.

You’ll thank me for it later, he whispered back, grinning at the audience and nodding his head. He quickly left the stage and her all at the same time. She was standing alone near the microphone stand, fiddling with the shoulder strap. Then she slung her guitar behind her as she lowered the stand to match her height. Jen plugged her guitar into the house amplifier and slid back behind the microphone.

Without preamble, she burst into an electrifying, intense rock-inspired song she had written after her disappointing session with her college vocal professor. The refrain could be misconstrued to mean she had just broken up with a snobby lover.

"Ya think yer all it! Ya think yer all it!

You rough pile of shit!

I can’t wait to get out the gate

And leave this place to its rotten fate!"

They were allowed two numbers tonight, and Jen had decided to open with that eye-opener and close with a mellower piece that would leave the audience feeling good about themselves and her. Her second number was a love ballad that she had written while she had been dating the captain of the football team. Its refrain was easier on the ears.

"I long for your strong embrace.

When you hold me, the world is a safer place.

You are my life, my light, my all.

I know you’ll catch me if I fall."

The allusion to Jeff Farber’s strength as a football player hadn’t been lost on him. He had eaten it up. So, why had it been so hard for him to get it through his head when she had told him they were through? He had followed Jen around for weeks like a lost puppy, begging her to take him back. The closer it got to the prom, the more incessant his pleas became. Finally, she couldn’t stand it anymore and introduced him to a flirty freshman who really wanted to date a football player. He finally got the hint.

With all these memories flooding through her, Jen sang her heart out and left it all on stage, as the band used to say. Even though the songs must have sounded trite and school-ish to the audience, they gave her a warm round of applause afterward. It wasn’t enough to win any prizes, but she was satisfied. As she left the stage, Lenny even invited her to come back as a regular.

Jen contemplated calling a cab to take her back to her studio apartment after the open mike event ended, but she decided to wear off some excess energy and walk back the way she had come. As before, her fashion boots drummed out a quick staccato on the sidewalk, but not loud enough to interfere with her reliving the evening in her mind. Jen remembered how the stage manager had messed up her name, calling her Gin-sing, kind of like Jen sings… but also like the spicy herb, ginseng, her mother used at home when cooking and brewing tea. Ginseng. Hmm. Not bad. That would make a neat stage name. Lenny was right. She would have to thank him for it.

Suddenly, a shadowy figure leaped out of the alley and locked his arms around Jen in a bear hug. She screamed and fought against the iron bands that held her tight. She twisted in place which caused her guitar case to strike the assailant in the head. It couldn’t have been hard enough to do any damage, but it must have startled the attacker as he let go, yelping.

Just then a car pulled up with the passenger door open. The driver shouted, Hop in! Jen leaped into the vehicle, sliding her guitar around in front of her at the same time.

The driver slammed his foot into the gas pedal causing the door to close automatically from the air pressure caused by the acceleration.

Shaking from the attack, Jen slowly turned her head toward the driver, whose voice she had recognized from the club. One of the stand-up comedians had come to her rescue. Out of the frying pan and into the fire! God only knows what this stranger wants from her!

CHAPTER 2

Lady Trucker - Pepper

P EPPER SPOTTED A trucker in trouble ahead and began downshifting the mega-engine in her Kenworth. She swung her rig in behind the orange pylons that dotted the shoulder of the deserted road behind the stranded Maranell Frozen Foods truck, shifted into neutral and set the parking brake. She knew she wasn’t on a hill, but good habits can save a person’s life. She slid out of the cab and strode down the road, barely glancing over her shoulder for oncoming traffic. It was quiet as most people were already home from work for the day.

He watched her approach his driver’s door through his side view mirror.

You got truck trouble? Anything I can help you with? Pepper asked after he opened the window. She pushed her auburn ponytail behind her shoulder and pulled her hand up to shade her eyes and fixed the other driver with an open and honest face.

Who are you? the Maranell driver asked.

My name is Kris Crandall, she answered. Most people call me ‘Pepper’. What’s the problem with your truck? Maybe I can help. Got a flat? I have an extra spare…

Nope. I stopped for that in the last town, but I’m driving this dinosaur with propane tanks on my refer. I think the technician sliced the propane hose. The freezer gave out. Don’t suppose you have any spare hose?

Sorry, not the right size hose, but I have a brand new freezer unit on the back of my truck. Say, did you shut off the propane valve?

Yeah, that was one of the first things I did.

How far were you going with your load? Maybe we could put your stock in my freezer unit. It is running. We could get it there after all!

Sounds good, but let me call ahead and double check with my manager, he said. By the by, my name is Jack Danielson. He reached toward the dash, picked up his radio set, and called into his home depot. He spoke softly, away from the window, so Pepper couldn’t hear what was said. He returned shortly and opened the window a little wider. My depot manager said to go ahead.

Great! Say, has anyone ever asked you if you like your almost namesake in booze, Jack Daniels? She stepped back and let him drop down out of the cab.

Yes, I have heard that a few times, Jack said. In fact, I’ve heard it enough times that I decided to actually give it a try. I’m more of a beer man myself, so I wasn’t surprised when I didn’t get along with the hard liquor. He chuckled and shook his head. They began walking toward the back of his truck.

You live around here, Jack? Pepper asked.

I live in Flagstaff. That’s where the depot is, too. How about you?

I grew up in Minnesota, still have family there, but now I call my truck my home.

I hear you, there. I’ve been to Marshall, Minnesota a couple of times for training. That’s where the Maranell Frozen Foods national headquarters is.

Oh, yeah! I know all about Maranell Frozen Foods. I order food from there all the time. That’s why I stopped for you. I know you drivers are real gentlemen and your trucks are usually in tip-top shape, Pepper said. If you were having trouble, it was highly unusual. What repair shop did you say you stopped at?

I didn’t, but it was Augusto’s Auto Repair. If you ever stop there, be sure you get someone other than Fred to work on your truck. I even had to tighten a lug nut after I picked up the rig. He shook his head in disgust. I think he was mad because I wouldn’t give him a tip. I told him I didn’t carry that kind of money, besides, who ever heard of tipping an auto repairman?

Thank God for pre-trip inspections, huh? Pepper responded. Say, Jack, what’s this gold seal on the back door? It looks like a medal or something.

Yeah, it is, Jack said, reaching out to touch the sticker almost fondly. That’s a sales recognition award. Only the top sales person in each state gets one. I won this five years ago when this tractor was my regular rig. My new tractor has one also from last year – before I was promoted to over-the-road.

Oh, yeah? Prove it! Give me your sales spiel.

Jack shrugged, but went along with it. He pretended to know on a customer’s door.

Good morning, Pepper! How are you today? he asked then reached for the door handle.

Pepper grinned at him and said, I’m fine. How about yourself?

Doing well also, thank you. So, what are you in the mood for today? Some of our Black Angus Steak, like you had last time? Jack suggested.

Those were good, but I think this time we should try some chicken. Pepper played along.

Would you like to try our Unbreaded Chicken Breast Fillets or the Lemon Pepper Chicken? Jack asked, not missing a beat.

Oh, let’s go with the Pepper Chicken. It shares my name. Pepper’s grin grew wilder.

I know you’re going to love the Pepper Chicken, and since it is on special this week for $2 off, would like two or three bags of them? Jack said with a straight face. They’re so good, you’re going to want to use them for entertaining.

No, thanks. I don’t do much entertaining in the truck.

That’s probably true, Jack