let there be rock page 2

The Doctor nodded his head, his lips curled in one of those awkward smiles one might use when caught with one hand in a cookie jar. 

A voice, familiar, heard just a few minutes past, called in from outside the door. 

‘Sir…? It’s already 10 minutes past curtain, and the crowd…’ 

‘Alright!’ the bandleader replied in a growl, grabbing his trusty main Gibson from the stand. He tossed the strap over a shoulder and motioned to his band. ‘We ready, boys?’ 

‘Sure thing, boss.’ 

‘Say the word.’ 

‘Yeah, let’s get this place movin’ ' 

The band walked past a suitably chastened Doctor, still blushing, absently rubbing his jaw as he found himself alone in the dreary dressing room. 

‘Well, I’d say that didn’t go quite as well as it could have,’ he said to no one in particular. ‘At least Amy and Rory weren’t here to see it…’

~~~ 

Twenty five hundred voices screamed in unison. Thousands of feet stomped on the floor. Hands clapped with impressive intensity; surely the next day they’d be stinging, still red. The audience called out, asking for more. 

No. 

They demanded more. 

Minutes passed, the crowd’s energy growing at a fever pitch. Soon it would boil over, and then… 

The house lights dropped, the hall bathed in pitch blackness. A single spotlight snapped on, pointed center stage, and out of the darkness strode the man himself, his Gibson slung down to his waist. His pompadour, which an hour previous had not a single strand out of place, hung in tight ringlets that shone more from sweat than oil. He smiled, the spotlight shining off his gleaming teeth. As he strode to the mic, the crowd screamed louder, if such a thing was possible. 

One hand reached out, grabbed the mic stand. He moved forward, opened his mouth to speak, and as the audience began to quiet, he pulled back, his smile widening. 

As expected, the crowd ate it up, and the screams came even louder. 

He waited, exulting in the adoration, before finally stepping with authority to the mic. 

‘New York City,’ he said, his drawl silky smooth. ‘New York City, y’all have been so good to us tonight. I know the boys back there…’ 

He motioned with his hand toward his backing band, who nodded in return. 

‘…I know they feel the same way. It’s getting’ late, and l know y’all got important stuff to do tomorrow, but we wanna do just one more for ya. That OK? Y’all want one more?’ 

The audience screamed in one voice, affirming the response he already expected. 

‘Alright,’ he said, smiling as his hand unconsciously went to the guitar neck and fretted the first chord. ‘I hope you’ll forgive us if we can’t play more than this…let’s see if you know this one!’ 

A familiar riff started, and deep within the audience, a man in outdated professorial garb, completely standing out from an audience of teenagers, nodded his head and smiled. He unconsciously mouthed the words as Chuck Berry returned to the mic: 

Well, if you feelin' like it
Go get your lover, then reel and rock it.
Roll it over and move on up just
A trifle further and reel and rock with it,
Roll it over,
Roll Over Beethoven, dig these rhythm and blues.

The band started to play a turnaround, and the Doctor knew that Berry was about to solo. He opened his eyes and turned to the stage.
 
What he saw came as a shock. 

As Berry started the opening notes of his solo, he suddenly dropped to a crouch, almost mimicking the Doctor’s accidental moves from earlier, but with far more grace than the Doctor could have ever managed. Suddenly extending a leg out in front of him, Berry began to strut across the stage, hopping in an exaggerated duck-like crawl. He ripped out riff after lead line, each faster, louder, rawer than the previous. The band struggled to keep up, the drummer pounding his kit, the pianist’s fingers running up and down the ivories almost faster than the eye could make out. Even from his seat (not that he was in it, mind…from the first note of the night he was on his feet just as everyone else in attendance was), the Doctor could tell that his backing group was just as shocked by this turn of events as the audience was. He stared, his mouth agape, as Berry turned his way, almost preternaturally, and winked knowingly. 

See, boy, the wink seemed to say. You think you can play…but this is MY music, and ain’t no one can play like me! 

Smiling widely, the Doctor joined in the jumping and screaming, lost in the moment. 

I was wrong, he thought excitedly, his hearts beating in time with the breakneck pace the band pushed out. This went way better than expected…a shame Amy and Rory weren’t here to see it… 

written by 
JULIE KAY 
copyright 2013

artwork by 
COLIN JOHN 
copyright 2013
< PAGE 1          CONTENTS >