It turns out that Zach Bryan’s purchase of Jack Kerouac’s On The Road scroll is only the second most significant literary surprise of the month. During routine maintenance at 161 Hudson Street in Tribeca, a well-thumbed notebook was located tucked away behind some plasterwork in the basement.

The artifact was filled with barely legible cursive scrawl and the pages were stained by sweat. However, the notebook has been authenticated as the original manuscript of Heated Rivalry, which inspired the fan fiction that replaced music with hockey in six books and a televised rom-drama.

Jambands.com has been granted first publication rights for select portions of  Heated Rivalry: Bass Gods.

***

The stage timer showed the final 15 minutes that remained before curfew. Sure, the expected encore would blow minds, but there was something more seething in the back of Dave’s head. Desire.

He’d had years to perfect this singular message: Plucking the digits that would convey his room number. “Love Tractor” would finish the night, but before, during the final tune-up, he would communicate the meeting spot to the one person who would pick up on his intent.

…

Oteil clawed through the bedside table of his hotel room, eager to discover the complimentary pen.

He knew he only had seconds to put ink to paper if he was going to make this happen.

3-6-1. He got it. Thanking nugs.net, he slipped the Hilton-branded sheet into his back pocket for safekeeping before a sudden rush of memories took him back to when it all began: 

Dave was young, but still an established player in the Southern rock circuit when he entered Oteil’s orbit on H.O.R.D.E. Tour ’92. At first, it was innocent, stolen glances between Aquarium Rescue Unit’s timeslot and Widespread Panic’s arrival on stage.

But after a couple of weeks just gawking at one another, the tension had peaked, and neither party could ignore it.

Oteil envisioned the silky texture of Dave’s mane, and the first time he had braided the long, dark locks. It wasn’t until Gov’t Mule’s 2001 Fall Run that he actualized his impulse, but in the years that followed their first encounter, Oteil was fueled by fantasy.

…

Dave tucked his bass into its case before slipping out the back of the venue undetected by his bandmates. His palms sweat at the thought of this meet-up he had longed for.

In his hotel room, he freshened up and questioned the addition of aftershave. He had been saving what remained of a bottle he procured at a roadside stand between stops in Portland, Maine, and Syracuse on H.O.R.D.E. Tour.

Dave let out a light laugh, thinking back to the Colonel’s comments, “Who are you trying to impress? She must be cute.” It was delivered with a knowing wink.

The Colonel was the only one who ever figured it out, but it was also impossible to keep anything from someone with that level of intuition. Quick raps at the hotel door broke Dave’s reflection, and suddenly his stomach was a highway filled with butterflies.

He smoothed his hair while checking his appearance in the hotel room mirror and cursed himself for not pulling together a more daring look.

…

Oteil second-guessed the string of numbers on the Hilton-branded paper after knocking a second time. He thought he heard a sigh, but before he could mull over any more observations or leave altogether, the door swung open, and those strong, familiar hands were dancing down his back.

“I needed this,” Oteil exhaled.

More to come…