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Then…
Reggie didn’t know much about what his Uncle Eliot did for work. His mom was a nurse, his dad was a banker… but Uncle Eliot had never outright told Luke what his job was. That never bothered Reggie though, as long as he kept his promise and always sent a postcard from wherever he was. Reggie’s bass case was covered with postcards from everywhere, sending new country albums along with them. There was never any long heartfelt message written on them, but the fact that his Uncle Eliot kept sending them meant he was alive, and that was all Luke cared about. Uncle Eliot was good at keeping his promises… unlike his dad, Uncle Eliot’s brother, who started to scream and yell and break glass all over the place. Even though he was only seven he knew how to tell when a person was lying.
Six years later though… six years later the day Reggie dreaded the second his Uncle walked out of the house finally came. When the time had come for Uncle Eliot’s postcard to arrive in the mail Luke was anxious, pacing nervously around his living room. His dad didn’t exactly like Uncle Eliot, they apparently had gotten into a fight when Reggie was born. Uncle Eliot wanted to take Reggie in, not trusting his dad as far as he could throw him. “That damn brother of mine probably stuck his nose where it didn’t belong,” his dad said from his place lounging in the reclined lazy boy chair.
The stench of alcohol filled the air and Reggie scrunched his nose at the foul odor. The only reason why Reggie had even entered his house was to try and grab a few blankets he and Luke could use in the studio. The winter was proving to be a cold one, harsh winds shook the studio every night. Reggie didn’t give his dad the satisfaction of a verbal response. “You don’t know Uncle Eliot,” Reggie muttered under his breath, twitching the curtains to see if the mail truck had pulled up yet. Instead of the mail truck though… a fancy looking black car rolled up their driveway. Men dressed in camouflage stepped out of the cars, one holding an American flag while the other held some sort of plaque.
No, Reggie thought as he desperately tried to think of another reason why his Uncle missed this month’s postcard. There had to be something, something Reggie hadn’t thought of. His Uncle couldn’t be dead. He always seemed so strong, so indestructible, like he could take on a whole army without a gun and survive the fight. The shrill sound of their doorbell rang out and Reggie looked to his dad, who just grunted and took another gulp of beer, changing the channel on the tv. “Fuck you too asshole,” Reggie muttered as he shuffled to the front door.
“Hello,” one of the buzz cut men said when Reggie swung open the door. “Is this the Spencer residence?” Reggie nodded, already starting to feel his hands shake.
“I’m uh - I’m Reggie,” Reggie said, tripping over his words. His uncle couldn’t be dead, his Uncle the one who supported his love of country music. His uncle who was the only adult who gave two shits about his well being. His uncle who was always there for Reggie, despite being oceans away. A look of sympathy crossed the soldier’s faces,
“You have our greatest sympathies. Eliot Spencer was one of our best.” The second soldier said, producing a plaque that had the medal of honor on it. Reggie didn’t want the award though, he didn’t want the flag he just wanted his uncle back. To hug him again, to get him tickets to Sunset Curve’s next gig, to play their banjos and be alive again.
Current Day…
Within the month of Julie’s life-saving hug they’d managed to pin down the location of Alex’s sister, but when Julie offered to help Reggie search for his family he shot her down. Reggie already knew where his family was: six feet under in a graveyard, dead for over twenty-five years… when he first came back as a ghost he let himself hope his uncle was a ghost too. That something would push them together and they’d be reunited and his uncle would finally be able to see Reggie kill it during a performance. After six straight days of searching though, his patience wore thin and it felt like his uncle was dying all over again. “I’m sorry,” Luke said as the band wrapped up their latest soundcheck. When Reggie finally broke down, mourning the loss of his uncle all over again, Luke finally caved and let them start working his country into Julie and the Phantom’s repertoire. Surprisingly, their fans loved the mix of country and rock.
“It’s fine,” Reggie said, shaking off Luke’s concern. His uncle’s been dead for over twenty-five years, nothing could change that… except maybe keeping his memory alive in his music. Their latest gig was a Trevor Wilson party. Luke protested the idea at first, but after Julie explained the party was Trevor’s way of coming to terms with stealing their music he agreed to it… begrudgingly. The plus side was that there were always managers and record execs at Trevor’s parties, which meant they’d probably get more label offers after they performed.
“Guys, the next band wants to soundcheck,” Julie said, walking over to them. “You good?” Reggie nodded, swinging his bass around until it rested against his back.
“Yeah fine…” he said trailing off. Julie didn’t seem to believe him, but let the matter slide for now. Alex poofed across the stage to them,
“Guys Willie said he’d be here but he’s not here yet.” He said, and Reggie was grateful for the conversation change. After Julie’s life-saving hug they discovered though they were solid, they could still poof around… it really helped when they had to sell the whole phantom part of Julie and The Phantoms. Reggie rolled his eyes.
“If Willie said he’d be here he’s going to be here man, don’t worry about it. I saw some cute chicks earlier, wish me luck!” Reggie exclaimed, leaping off the makeshift stage. He could feel Luke’s eyes staring at his back and he shook his head, clearing his rambling thoughts. As he cut through the crowd he ended up bumping into someone, knocking them both to the ground.
“Damnit! Watch where you’re going next time kid!” The man exclaimed, a southern twang in his voice. He was dressed in a suit, tailored to perfection. Everything about his appearance was meant to make him look important, look like some sort of music manager or record exec. Reggie knew better though. The man reached down to help him up. Reggie grabbed his hand, letting himself get pulled back onto his feet. He couldn’t be real, he couldn’t be. They buried his uncle, sure the castet was closed but Reggie had to be the one to organize the funeral. He saw his uncle’s dead body lying in the casket, face pale and unmoving.
“Reggie?” The man asked, sounding exactly like his uncle did. Reggie’s heart rate spiked, suddenly feeling a lot more panicked than before. “ Shut up Hardison! ” His uncle whispered, despite no one else paying attention to them. “Reggie it’s okay, you need to breathe alright?” A strong hand collapsed on his shoulder. Reggie shuddered, the world spinning around him.
“Dead - you - you’re dead ,” Reggie stammered, trying to wrap his mind around the fact that his uncle was, in fact, not dead. “Caleb, you have to be Caleb. Something - one of his plans. Using my uncle. But I looked and I couldn’t find him anywhere.” He continued to ramble, trying to formulate how Caleb even knew about his Uncle Eliot. A look of confusion that crossed his uncle’s(?) face. Reggie shook his head frantically as his uncle found an empty room and closed the door behind them.
“Reggie listen to me, listen to me man !” His uncle said, taking hesitant steps forward, raising his hands palms out. “I’m alive okay? This is real, I don’t even know who that Caleb guy is. Are you in some sort of trouble?” Reggie’s hands were still shaking, but his uncle’s voice washed over him like a security blanket.
“Real?” Reggie wondered, voice hoarse. His uncle nodded, eyes shining with worry.
“Yeah kiddo, this is real. Just as real as your soundcheck was,” Eliot said, Reggie still on the defensive. “Just as real as you are right now, as real as your band.” He reached forward and pulled Reggie in for a hug. Reggie was wrecked , shaking as his uncle wrapped strong, very solid and very, very real arms around him.
“Uncle Eliot?” Reggie asked, hope filling his voice.
“Reggie, there you are!” Luke exclaimed, popping into the room. Eliot startled in surprise, and broke off the leg of a chair to wield as a makeshift weapon. Reggie quickly stepped between them,
“Uncle Eliot! This is Luke!” Reggie said, introducing his bandmate before his uncle could cause any permanent damage. His uncle glanced between them then a wide smirk crossed his face, and Reggie suddenly wanted to kill the man all over again.
“Luke as in the Luke you spent three hours talking about once?” Eliot said, and Reggie crossed his arms. He glared at his uncle in betrayal while Luke just laughed, the sound filling the room.