I’m working on the first story in my upcoming series about a small town band who makes it big. This is the working title. I would love your feedback.

Flintlock and Steel: Make a Wish Upon a Shooting Rock Star (edited 4/20/2025)

Chapter 1

Cypress Jones leaped into the air, coming down into a half-split as he shredded his guitar and slid across the stage towards his bandmate. Beau picked up the riff and turned the solo into a duet with a parry and volley like a battle with guitars. It was a powerful ending to their song. As the last notes faded, the audience’s response reverberated through the auditorium.

Chase spun around from his keyboard and pulled his brother from the floor. Grey was a few seconds slower. He had to navigate the maze of drums they’d crowded onto the stage. He grabbed Cy’s hand, and they stood together as the emcee tried to speak over the excited audience. “That was Flintlock and Steel, folks!”

Cy stared out at the crowd, unable to see past the footlights and spotlights. Sweat dripped down his face as his heart raced with fear and exertion. He panted beside his bandmates as he waited for the emcee to finish dissecting their performance. They’d made it to the final challenge. After eight weeks of competition, only two bands remained. Flintlock and Steel had been the underdogs. A mostly unheard-of band from an unknown town in eastern North Carolina. People treated them as a joke when their backstory was released. After their first performance, bloggers and fans had battled over them with the bloggers calling them a joke and the fans cheering them on each week until they’d made it to the last show.

“Whew, I didn’t think they were ever going to let us off the stage,” Grey said, pushing open their dressing room.

The room stank of cheap cologne, hair products, and sweat. Four young guys sharing one small dressing room. Things got funky fast.

Chase stood by the fan scrolling through his phone. “The fans love us. They think we’re a shoe in.”

“Yeah, I bet that TJ Hart has another comment,” Grey grumbled. “What is that dude’s problem? You’d think one of you dated his sister or something.”

“It must have been Beau,” Chase said, searching for the latest blog. “That asshole!” he growled. “Look at this shit!” he showed the others his phone. “Look what he wrote?”

Cy glanced over Chase’s shoulder at his phone. TJ Hart had led the bloggers in bashing the band, bringing up their early years when they used to dress as pirates to get gigs. Hell, it was a genius idea, especially when you come from an area where everything is either pirate themed or fossils. Maybe they should have dressed up as dinosaurs?

“Flintlock and Steel made it to the final round of Winning Nashville? You have got to be kidding me! These guys are a bunch of no talent pirate wannabees,” Grey read aloud the post by TJ Hart of Hart of the Music.

Chase glared at his twin. “Did you knock up his sister, man?”

“Don’t look at me.” Beau held up his hands. “I’m not the only one here with a dick.”

“No, you’re just the only one here who thinks he has to share it with every chic he meets.”

“Jealous little brother?”

“Little, you better feel again,” Chase growled.

“Boys!” Grey shouted over their tussling. Grey was the oldest of their group. Orphaned in middle school, he lived with his aunt and uncle. He’d acted as big brother to his cousin, but losing his parents had pushed him into adulthood sooner than he was ready. He’d always been the peacemaker, the levelheaded one, the mature one of the bunch.

Cy pulled his shirt over his head and wiped the sweat from his upper body. He’d love a shower, but they would have to be back on stage soon. He tossed the black tee shirt onto the pile of dirty clothes and grabbed another black tee shirt from the closet.

Grey tossed them all bottles of water from the mini fridge. “Better rehydrate before we go back on stage.”

“I can’t believe they’re still treating us like we don’t belong here.” Chase caught his bottle and opened it drinking half the bottle in one swallow.

Beau leaned over and patted his brother on the back. “After that performance, they’ll be eating their words.”

Grey pulled his half empty bottle away and nodded. “Beau’s right. No one will ever call us posers again.”

“There’s no guarantee we’ll win, but at least we went out doing our music, our way,” Cy said, searching the fridge for another water bottle.  

“You got that right.” Beau tapped his fist as he handed him a second bottle. “We really ripped that one apart.” He took a swallow before setting it down to change his shirt.

“You’re on.” The junior assistant blushed at the sight of Beau’s naked chest.

“Put your clothes on Bubba, you’re making the girl nervous.” Chase elbowed him.

Beau waggled his brows. “You like what you see?”

She turned away.

“Sexual harassment, Beau.”

“That wasn’t harassment,” Beau whined.

“Let’s go, we’re wanted on stage.” Cy led the way. His stomach roiling with a thousand butterflies. He wanted this win. He needed to prove he wasn’t his father.

Cy stood on the stage with the rest of the band and tried to hide the fact that his knees were knocking, and his heart was riffing a distortion beat. The other band stood on the other side of the emcee. They’d been formidable opponents, fan favorites from the very beginning. He should be grateful to have made it this far, but damn it, he wanted to win. Winning would prove to them all he wasn’t a loser. He wasn’t like his father.

“And the band who wins the first season of Winning Nashville is Flintlock and Steel!” the emcee announced.

The audience cheered.

“We won,” Beau whispered. “We won!” he shouted and turned to hug Cy.

Cy just stood there. “We won?”

Grey and Chase crashed into them, bringing the four of them into one big bear hug.

“Let’s bring your families up on stage.”

Grey’s aunt and cousin rushed onto the stage and engulfed him in a tearful hug. “Your uncle wanted to be here…”

The Hunt family hurried on stage like a conquering army. They embraced their sons and then took turns hugging Cy and Grey.

He looked around for his mom and Loretta, but he knew they weren’t coming. Rhett said they had something to do. Cy gritted his teeth and closed his eyes. We won the fucking competition and the two people who meant the most to him in this world couldn’t be bothered to come for the final show. He wanted to smash something. Cy scanned the crowd. All he saw were strangers. His only fucking parent and the woman who was supposed to be his best friend couldn’t be bothered to come out and support him on the most important day of his life. Fuck ‘em. He didn’t need them. Hell, he didn’t need anyone or anything but his band mates and his guitar.

Attendants ushered them into a reception room with champagne and a DJ. Girls and agents shoved their cards at them until Mr. Hunt ordered them all to back off.

Cy smiled.

“Ah dad, you won’t let us have any fun,” Beau said with a pout as he waved goodbye to a leggy blonde.

“You want me to call your mother over to handle this?” Mr. Hunt raised a bushy eyebrow.

“Oh, look, short ribs, I’m starved,” Beau said as he made a beeline towards the buffet.

“You keep eating like that and you’ll need a bigger stage,” his older brother, Matt, teased.

Cy sidestepped the former soldier. He didn’t have any real grief with Matt Hunt, but he didn’t like the twins’ older brother on principle. He tried to date Loretta after he left for college.

“He already needs a bigger stage for his ego,” Chase said, grabbing a plate for himself. The Hunt brothers were all the size of small mountains and ate like a horde of grizzlies waking up from hibernation.

“Come on and get a plate,” Mrs. Hunt ordered. “Would you like me to fix you something?”

“No ma’am, I can do it.” Cy hung around the family for a little while, but he could barely tolerate the way they all supported Beau and Chase. It made him very aware of his own isolation. Everyone was laughing and congratulating the band, making plans for their future, and telling crazy stories about their earlier gigs. Forcing a smile, he walked away and leaned against the bar. “Whiskey, neat.”

“American?”

He nodded. “Jack, if you got it.” His cell phone danced across the bar. He glared at it.

“You going to answer that?” a pretty girl in a short dress and high heels asked. She wore too much makeup. Her eyelashes spikey and thick, like someone had coated them with road tar.

Cy ignored the phone, giving the girl his best smile. If his mother and Loretta were too busy to come out and support him, then he was too busy to talk to them. “It’s not important.” He nodded to the Hunt family out on the dance floor. “Are you a friend of theirs?”

The girl blushed and shook her head. “No, I’m crashing the party. Are you going to tell on me?”

He grunted and shook his head. “What do I care? Have fun.”

She put her hand on his arm and leaned close. “How about you? Do you want to have a little fun?”

Cyprus studied the girl. “I’m not in a good mood.”

“I could make you feel better,” she whispered, rubbing her hand on his chest.

He met her eyes and shrugged. “Why the hell not?” he growled. Let her help him forget.

In the morning, as he slipped out of her hotel room without waking her, he hadn’t forgotten. All he’d done was add guilt to the already toxic mix of emotions stewing inside him.