About Live Wire:
Excerpt:
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Storm Signal
“Lightning, Dad―dead ahead,” Caleb said.
Caleb's eyes never left the windshield as he wrapped the headset's cable around his Walkman. He rarely saw towering thunderheads in his native southern California, and upon witnessing this searing bolt of plasma, New Mexico had his full attention.
Behind the wheel, Pale Brody kept an eye on the fine line of the eastern horizon. An endless procession of high-tension towers guarded Route 60, while above, distant, bruised, and bloodied, the clouds shed a curtain of rain, which set to work in smearing that perfect boundary between earth and sky. The lightning flashed again, enormous and impressive. He silently congratulated himself for changing the wiper blades on his ‘68 Fleetwood before leaving Los Angeles.
“That was just huge,” Caleb said. “I can't wait to pass through it. I guarantee the day will not be able to get any cooler than that.” He jabbed his index finger toward the sky show.
“You're right, Playboy,” Pale said. “From here all the way to the Atlantic, the thunderstorms are really something else. We used to drive right through some certifiable whoppers back in the day. Did I ever tell you that in Nebraska we almost got caught in a twister?”
Caleb turned away so his father would not see him roll his eyes. “I've heard that story a couple times.”
“That's why I change it every time I tell it, buddy.”
Back in the day for Pale meant when he anchored the lead guitar position in a band called Mac Daddy. Mac Daddy was a mid-level hard rock outfit out of Pasadena, signed to a major label subsidiary. Pale likely would never have joined a band like Mac Daddy―his guitar pastor preached Hendrix over Page―but the club scene in LA had only one lane in those days, and if you wanted to play pro, you drove in it.
Fun days nonetheless, those road trips, as Mac Daddy roamed North America, played loud, played hard, drank absolutely everything, and met absolutely everybody.
Caleb was just past the toddler stage when it all became airborne, and Valerie remained at home base with one eye on their son and the other scrutinizing the label's A&R guy. On a few occasions, Pale flew Valerie and Caleb out for shows in New York, Denver, and Miami. Those times had been good. Never rock star spectacular, but good.
Four years into the band's slow but steady climb up the ladder, they suffered a self-inflicted, humiliating blow. In 1988, Mac Daddy released a highly mocked, syrupy MTV power ballad called “I Wish You Missed Me,” right as tastes began to change. Their upcoming album, Relentless Boulevard, absolutely died in the stores because of it, and the label tossed Mac Daddy like incriminating evidence.
The second whack in the balls came a month later, right in the middle of rescue negotiations with Capitol Records. Because of Relentless Boulevard's dismal performance, Mac Daddy was replaced in the direct support slot for a major act's European tour; not bumped down a peg to opening band, just gone. Upon that news, Capitol stopped returning their manager's phone calls, then canceled future meetings. Within four months, the wounds proved fatal. The band split up.
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About Kyle Toucher:
Kyle Toucher (rhymes with voucher) was raised on a diet of Frankenstein and Godzilla, Black Sabbath and Black Flag, Lovecraft, Blatty, Barker and King. Through his twenties, he fronted the influential Nardcore crossover band Dr. Know, made records and hit the road. Later, he moved into the Visual Effects field, where he bagged eight Emmy nominations and two awards for Firefly and Battlestar: Galactica. Recent credits include Top Gun: Maverick, The Orville, and defense industry clients.
He lives with his wife, five cats, two dogs, and several guitars in a secure, undisclosed location.
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