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    ShapeShifter: The Demo Tapes (Year 2)
    ShapeShifter: The Demo Tapes (Year 2)
    ShapeShifter: The Demo Tapes (Year 2)
    Ebook89 pages1 hourThe Trevolution

    ShapeShifter: The Demo Tapes (Year 2)

    By Susan Helene Gottfried

    4.5/5

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    About this ebook

    The Demo Tapes: Year 1 introduced the reading public to ShapeShifter and the two men behind this fictional band: Trevor Wolff and Mitchell Voss. The Demo Tapes: Year 2 brings you more of the short fiction that brings these people to vivid life.

    Year 2 delves more deeply into love, friendships, and the inside workings of ShapeShifter. Vive la Trevolution!

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherSusan Helene Gottfried
    Release dateSep 11, 2009
    ISBN9781452402918
    ShapeShifter: The Demo Tapes (Year 2)
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    Author

    Susan Helene Gottfried

    Susan Helene Gottfried is the heavy-metal-loving, not-disabled enough divorced Jewish mother of two. A freelance line editor to authors of fiction by day, her select roster of clients tend to hit bestseller lists, and more than a few have quit their day jobs. It’s not entirely her doing, but like does attract like.Susan holds a BA (University of Pittsburgh) and MFA (Bowling Green State University) in English Writing and Fiction, respectively.She lives with a couple cats in the Pittsburgh suburbs, just West of Mars. Visit her at http://WestofMars.com and http://TalesFromTheSheepFarm.com.

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    Reviews for ShapeShifter

    4.5/5

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    • 5/5

      Apr 12, 2011

      I read these stories after Trevor's Song, the full-length novel which features the same characters. I'm so glad the author has collections of short stories available which feature the same cast, as it's like coming home to old friends. If you haven't read Trevor's Song, then the Demo Tapes anthologies are a great introduction. The characters in the stories are well drawn and complex - a good read.
    • 4/5

      Aug 7, 2009

      Shapeshifter: The Demo Tapes, Year 1 will be unlike any other books on the market because it is a short volume of material from author Susan Helene Gottfried's blog.These snippets and scenes take readers behind the scenes of a band in the beginning and on the road, providing 100 pages of sheer entertainment, laugh-out-loud moments, and pure joy. Whether readers are fans of 80s hair bands and heavy metal or not, the plight of these boys on the road will have them shaking their heads or laughing right out of their chairs.In one section of the book, Gottfried uses vivid, snappy descriptions to bring Mitchell's green hair to life on the page after than band spends three days in Phoenix at the pool. "'How'd you make it worse?'Mitchell jerked up so fast, he cracked his head on the faucet. He let out a wordless yowl and jumped up and down, a hand clapped to the spot, until the first jolt of pain faded." (Page 80)In a variety of demos, Trevor, Mitchell, Eric, and Daniel are introduced, complete with their outrageous behavior and the tensions often prevalent in a band of young men. Shapeshifter: The Demo Tapes, Year 1 will whet readers' appetites and have them salivating for more, like so many record companies waiting for the next biggest band.

    Book preview

    ShapeShifter - Susan Helene Gottfried

    Chapter one

    Trevor in Tree

    One of the very first things I knew about Trevor Wolff was that he once carried his bass guitar into a tree in the Vosses’ backyard and serenaded the entire neighborhood. Problem was, he had no amplification. There were no witnesses to this feat of romance, daring—and typical Trevor behavior.

    Still, the mere fact that Trevor would be outrageous enough to try this defines much of who he is. It took me a while to write it down—I’ve found that some moments in the early creation of this project are hard to write—but once I did, I loved how it came out.

    Here you go. Trevor in Tree, first posted August 5, 2007.

    ***

    It was 3:00 a.m., not a minute over, when Patterson pulled into the driveway. He was so tired, he felt like his whole body, not just his arm, was needed to force the gear shifter up and into park. He hated these late-night calls, always had. He hated having to leave Sonya’s side, hated having to sneak in and out of his own house so he didn’t wake the kids. Small complaints, really, for this life he’d chosen. The good he did far outweighed the inconvenience and disruption for the family. They all understood that.

    Mitchell, thankfully, slept through anything. Short of pouring water over his head, that boy could be near impossible to wake. An annoyance most mornings before school, on nights like this, it became a blessing.

    With Amy at college, there should have been one less bedroom door to creep past. But she’d come home for a few days, needing to get away from the ruckus in the dormitory in order to study for a pre-med exam.

    Amy should have known better than to expect quiet in this house, Patterson thought as he gathered up his briefcase and swung the car door open. When Trevor had moved in, silence had moved out. Even when the boy wasn’t home, his noise lingered, as though somehow bewitched. If anyone could charm something as ephemeral as sound, Trevor could.

    That boy… Patterson sighed and heaved himself out of the front seat. Sonya had always wanted two boys to complement her two girls, but Patterson didn’t think she’d ever envisioned a pseudo-son like Trevor. He had come to live with them as the result of another late-night call, subtly different than this had been but middle-of-the-night, nonetheless. No one regretted it, least of all Mitchell, who was actually getting into less trouble these days. Having his partner in crime permanently nearby had worn some of the luster off Trevor’s perpetually outrageous behavior. Mitchell wasn’t feeling the need to keep up as much anymore.

    Patterson paused by the door, halted by what sounded like a cat in heat in the backyard. Ever since Mrs. Bretton’s prize Persian had been impregnated by the Wilsons’ tom, and after the coyotes had grabbed three small dogs elsewhere on the street, the neighbors had been militant about keeping their pets inside at night. It was doubtful that there was a cat, particularly a cat in heat, in the backyard.

    What was out there—or more appropriately, who—didn’t surprise Patterson in the least. Trevor perched a good ten feet up in a tree, some guitar or other on his lap. On closer examination, Patterson could make out an electric bass. Thankfully, given the hour, not even Trevor had been able to power it that high up.

    Obstacles, however, didn’t ordinarily stop Trevor. Patterson groaned as the young man, seemingly oblivious to his company—although with Trevor, one was never certain of anything except that frustration was imminent—resumed singing. Maybe caterwauling was a better term for the boy’s noise.

    Son, come on down now, Patterson called when Trevor finished the first verse.

    Finally home, huh? Did you catch the bad guys?

    Never mind that. Come on down before you fall and land on that guitar of yours.

    Not gonna happen, powerful legal guardian. I’m wedged in here good and I’m busy serenading the neighborhood. Wrote the song myself. Like it?

    Patterson wiped a hand over his face. Trevor, son, it’s late and we should both be in bed. You have school in the morning and I have work. Come down.

    Actually, it’s early. And school’s a waste of time.

    Regardless, you and I made a deal and I expect you to uphold it.

    I want to see who else I can wake up.

    So far, you would seem to have woken absolutely no one. I was not asleep when I drove into the driveway just now.

    Trevor shrugged. So I’m starting small. But mark my words, one day, when I’m famous and the whole fucking world respects me, these treeside serenades will be what people all up and down the street remember. And every single one of these losers who’s too busy sleeping to appreciate my bad music will suddenly be my best friend. He cocked his head. Sort of like how until you Vosses came along, all the people who pretended to be my friend would bug out every single time I showed up with a black eye. Only in reverse. Trevor gave one of his satisfied nods. You watch. Every single person on this street will be able to tell you what songs I sang from here.

    I suspect you’re right, Patterson told him. Trevor’s nightmares must have returned, causing the boy to fear a return to sleep. By climbing that tree, he could replace the horror that had woken him with a more pleasant scenario. Whether or not he would one day find this success he craved was yet to be seen. Based on drive and charisma alone, Trevor could probably power himself wherever he wanted to go. So long as the nightmares didn’t hold him back.

    Those horrors were probably the only part of the Trevor experience that Patterson felt ill-equipped to handle; the boy’s scars ran deeper than anyone had anticipated. He refused to acknowledge them, let alone speak of them. It seemed no one could hide his hurts as well as Trevor Wolff.

    Well, he said

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