One Helluva Gig by Kevin R. Doyle is a Stress Busting Book Festival pick #rockfiction #rockstar #fiction #mustread #giveaway
- N. N. Light
- 6 hours ago
- 5 min read
Title: One Helluva Gig
Author: Kevin R. Doyle
Genre: Rock fiction
Book Blurb:
Rob Jeffers has it all: fame, money, and the life of a rock and roll star. Frank Peters is a regular guy, a newspaper reporter who just happens to have a passing acquaintance with the Great Jeffers. As Jeffers's career shoots up, Peters's fortunes follow in his wake.And when Jeffers passes away at the height of his fame, Peters’s life begins a steady unravelling. Until a chance encounter on a minor story gives him a new outlook on the celebrity lifestyle, and new hope for his own future.
Excerpt:
The hell of it is, looking back on it, I realize Harlan was absolutely on the money. The paper—for which I no longer work, by the way—did lose a hellacious opportunity. Here was the sudden death, by myocardial infarction, of one of the true greats in the music industry of the last half century. A man who ranked right up there with the best of the best: Presley, Jackson, Cash, et al. And I was, as Harlan pointed out, the original guy, the one who’d first interviewed Jeffers when he was nothing but a two-bit band musician in Ohio.
I think about those days often, probably more than I should. There I was, just a know-nothing kid writing up copy for the university newspaper, and here was this other no-name, two-bit session musician who did main vocals for a local garage band, one which had somehow managed to score a gig playing at the student union one Saturday night.
By early Saturday morning (our deadline was Sundays) the editor could already tell we were going to have a hole to fill, so after rifling through all the various bulletins, releases, and memos that accumulated on her desk each week, she called me over and gave me my marching orders.
A complete neophyte at all this, I arrived at the student union about half an hour before the show’s start time, thinking I’d introduce myself to the band and make an appointment to talk to them afterward.
Reminiscing, with all my grey hairs intact, I sometimes wonder how, naive as I was back then, I managed to dress myself in the morning.
To my credit, almost as soon as I entered the union, I realized the first flaw in my plan. We weren’t a large school by any means. Hell, a good year for us was around ten thousand students, and with the weather being warm and breezy, I had just naturally expected that the audience for the show would amount to, at most, a few hundred slackers like myself.
But as I entered through the old double doors on the north side of the building, I was instantly stopped, then compressed in on myself by the tightly-packed wall of flesh I encountered.
Seriously, I made it no more than two feet inside before coming to a dead stop, hemmed in on all sides by young, casually-dressed, mainly female bodies.
Only then did I realize that to young women of a certain persuasion (i.e. breathing and with a pulse), musicians, even the most bargain-basement types, represented the ultimate in fantasy crushes.
Obviously, a frontal assault was out of the question. I’d be lucky to move forward three feet in the next two hours. Sucking in what little breath I could, I managed to bump, grind, and wiggle my way back and out. Stopping on the sidewalk, I leaned over with hands on knees and took in deep gulps of air.
Recovering, I stood up, adjusted my glasses, and looked around. People were still filtering in, and both genders seemed represented outside. Most, as far as I could tell by clothing and appearance, on the lower end of the economic scale. I could spot people like that easily, mainly because I saw one in the mirror when I dressed each morning.
Seemed as if a lot more people than I’d expected were turning out for this show by a no-name band. The realization actually made me feel a bit better about myself, mainly because it proved that I wasn’t the only one with not much to do on a Saturday night. However, the revelation really didn’t help much. I still needed to get in to interview the band somehow, and in my inexperience didn’t have a clue how to do so.
Then, off to my right, a slight, average-sized guy came running along. He was wearing the pants and vest of a denim leisure suit, a wildly-flowered polyester/Hawaiian shirt with the first five buttons opened up, and sandals. Skidding to a stop in front of me, he looked about as confused as I felt at the moment.
“’Scuse me,” he said, “is this the place for the concert?”
I looked around at all the people flocking in our direction, listened to the squealing of the collection of cuties on the other side of the door.
“Yeah,” I said, “but good luck getting in. The place is packed.”
“Really? Cool!” He took off his mirrored sunglasses, and for the first time, I saw the eyes that, in years to come, would stare out from a billion or so album covers.
“Hey,” he said, “you a student here?”
“Yeah, but…”
“You think you can show me how to get in? Like there’s a service entrance or something, isn’t there? I’m with the band, and I’m running late.”
I clenched up. One of the oldest con lines in the world is “I’m with the band.” But something in the man’s look told me to take a chance.
“I think I can get you in, but I need something in return.”
“Yeah?” Now the “guy with the band” seemed uneasy. “What’s that?”
“Well, you see,” I said, “I’m with the student paper…”
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What’s your favorite way to combat stress?
Day-long drives through the countryside.
Why is your featured book a stress busting read?
It’s short, to the point, and deals with rock music.
Giveaway –
One lucky reader will win a $100 Amazon gift card.
Open internationally.
Runs May 1 – 31, 2025
Drawing will be held on June 1, 2025.
Author Biography:
A retired high-school teacher and former college instructor, Kevin R. Doyle is the author of six novels in the Sam Quinton mystery series, all published by Camel Press. He’s also written four crime thrillers, including And the Devil Walks Away and The Anchor, and one horror novel, The Litter, along with numerous short horror stories published in small magazines over the years. The first Quinton book, Squatter’s Rights, was nominated for the 2021 Shamus award for Best First PI Novel, and the sixth in the series, The Booker, is set for release in August of 2025. .
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