Miles for Love Series Box Set, page 128
Sheer luck led us here, opening for heavy hitters like Snake. We only have one album released so far, but we have enough material to cut another, it’s only a matter of time, and time is not what we have when we’re travelling from city to city, opening for other bands. Not that I’m complaining. To be in our coveted position is a huge blessing, and I don’t begrudge it at all, it’s just difficult to envision cutting another album when we’re working the stages nearly every night.
Neal gives me the cue, as our last song comes to a close, to head in closer, so we can all say goodbye to the audience and to our new fans. Even Ivan comes in, removing himself from behind his drum set, to join us. This part of the show I find truly important. We try to connect with the audience as much as possible during the show, and saying goodbye is a crucial part of that. The people in the front row we bend down and shake hands with, choosing those that aren’t already being barricaded by security staff. Nobody has been forcibly dragged into the audience yet, but I know one day that will happen, and I look forward to it…in a manner of speaking.
“Goodnight!” Neal shouts, and we all throw our hands in the air, waving. Whistles, shouts, hoots and hollers come from all directions as the lights dance around us. We join hands together at center stage one last time and take a bow before exiting. God, I’d love to go back for an encore one day, but when you’re an opening act, that’s a huge faux pas, unless the headliner invites you to do so, which almost never happens, and surely not in our case.
Chris is waiting for us on the other side of the curtain, holding towels for us to dry off with. It’s amazing how fucking soaked you get during a show. You might as well take about ten showers, because that’s how much sweat seemingly drips off you. My pants are drenched right through, and as I listen to the crew clearing our stuff off the stage, so Snake can prepare to perform, I see Michelle standing there with a smile on her face. “Hey,” I say breathlessly. “How’s the hand?”
She ignores my question. “If it weren’t for my unfortunate injury, I would never have been able to listen to the show. You guys were awesome.”
“Thanks.”
We sign a few autographs, even the chicks with the backstage passes get a few, and a photo as well. There is a line of people waiting to meet us, so we breeze through them all, shaking hands, signing shit and getting pictures taken, until I’m almost blind from the flash cubes, and working up another sweat. I grab my towel back from Chris, mop my face, and move on to the next bunch of fans waiting to catch a glimpse of us. Sometimes people backstage get wind of where we’re staying, and part of me hopes that these girls will. They’re as cute as hell.
“Okay, boys, you’ve got some people back here who want to speak with you. Clean the sweat off your faces and follow me.” Chris says to us as we follow him back into the bowels of the auditorium. If I know Neal, he’s dying to choke back the hooch. Ivan, too, and Danny can’t wait to light up a joint. I could go for both, personally, but I won’t do anything if I’ve got to be on camera. I’ve slurred stupid things like ‘Yesindeedieoh’ on camera when I’ve been ploughed, and I looked like a fucking moron, so I’ll never do that again. Shit, my mom watches that stuff.
So I put my air of professionalism on, as we head into this room reserved for things like that. It’s a small room, with no windows, and nothing but two couches on either side of the square room. When we arrive, I notice that the reporter’s tits are hanging right out…like, right out. Just her nipples are concealed behind her way-too-tight shirt. Her pants are not much looser, hugging her ass like she’s got double sausages instead of legs. Not to say that she’s fat, because she’s hot enough and all, but man, is it difficult to answer questions from a woman who is leaving very little to the imagination.
Tits introduces herself and I completely ignore her first name, but focus on her last name and what show or network she’s representing. She’ll forever be ‘Tits Mackenzie’ in my mind. Danny wiggles his eyebrows, giving me a knowing look. Yeah, like I didn’t notice, I think to myself. Fortunately, there’s a nice, black and white panoramic photograph of the auditorium as it was being built. I’m guessing that it was shot from a helicopter. Gives me something to focus on besides a large pair of tits, while Neal answers the brunt of the questions. With him being the front man and lead singer, he gets a lot of questions.
Tits addresses me after I keep smiling and chuckling on queue, in response to Neal’s colored answers to some of the questions, and she asks. “How many hours a week do you practice the guitar?”
“Err…I don’t know…all the time. I never really time it.” I answer honestly. “If I’m not on stage or recording something, I’m practicing.”
“What about when you sleep or have to take a piss?” Ivan asks, joking.
We all laugh, including Tits. “What about on the tour bus? What do you guys do to keep yourselves occupied?” Tits asks.
“Sleep, mostly.” I answer. “Sometimes we just talk or write songs, but we mostly sleep.”
“Or sleep one off.” Danny chuckles.
“Yeah, that was only you, mister.” I say, elbowing him.
Tits has the grace to laugh again. “Okay, one last question. When are you releasing your second album?”
Neal takes this one. “Well, as soon as we have a chance to record it. We’ve been on the road for a couple of months now. We haven’t been home or in the recording studio since early summer.”
She smiles. “Can I squeeze one more question in?”
“Sure, go ahead.” Neal encourages.
“Do any of you have a girlfriend? I’m sure your fans want to know.”
Girlfriend or conquest? I think to myself, but don’t say aloud. That’s one of the major perks of being in a rock band; the chicks. There is no shortage, and if my memory serves me right, I saw that pack of chicks from before the performance, hanging in the hallway again. I’d like to cut this interview short so I can go check them out. “Na, none of us have girlfriends. Not right now, anyway.” I answer honestly.
“Okay, thanks a lot, boys. I really appreciate it.” Tits rises and shakes our hands, and I try like hell not to look at her chest, but she bends over to pick up her soda can, and I take a peek. Fuck…me. Are those real?
“Err…you’re welcome.” I say, and she shakes all of our hands. I swear to God one of her tits pops out from the vibration of the handshake, but I focus on the photograph again, and Chris walks Tits out, gesturing for us to follow them. We go back to the dressing room and change, and then we hop back on the tour bus, back to the hotel where we’re staying. Kudos to Chris for finding us a swanky hotel. It’s huge, with like fifty floors in it, and even a pool and an indoor workout room.
This is the part I hate about being in a band: loss of freedom. After such an adrenaline rush, I need to talk a walk and smoke one badly, but I can’t. Neal and Danny are tossing back the hooch, and I take a few myself, but I need air. “Yo, Chris…did they find that dude that tried to rob the bank?”
“Do you think the show would have been able to go on if they hadn’t?” Chris asks rhetorically, and I want to smack him for answering me like I’m a stupid asshole. My dad was like that, and I wanted to smack the goddamn self-righteous smirk off his face whenever I’d ask him an honest question. Like, what the fuck is his problem?
“Fuck you.” I mutter under my breath, grabbing my lighter, baseball cap and sunglasses off the top of my dressing trunk. Walking out of the room, I don’t look back. I see one of our security guards is at the end of the hallway, guarding the exit door, so I make like I’m getting ice out of the machine tucked in a cubby, and he turns his head. There is another exit door on the opposite end of the hallway, so I walk casually, turning only slightly to look at him, but he’s on the radio. Chris is probably radioing to him that I’ve flown the coop, so I take off down the stairs, throwing my hat and sunglasses on.
When I head down to the exit door, I open it slightly, stick my head out and look both ways. Michelle is on the other side of the door. “Hey, how do you get out of this place?” I ask from behind my shades.
She points to the door on the other side of the hallway. “There is an exit door there, sir.”
“Can you take me there?” I ask, knowing that the other security guard is probably on his way down that flight of steps, looking for me.
“I’m afraid I can’t leave my post, sir.” She doesn’t know it’s me.
I lower my glasses so she can see my face.
“Okay, sir.” She nods hesitantly, looking down the hall first. “Follow me.”
She leads me back into the same stairwell, and out the back door. As soon as we’re outside, I breathe in deeply. “Ah, fuck…is that nice.”
“It is a fresh evening tonight…for California.”
“Yo, you want to like…take a walk or something? I know the spooks will come looking for me if I don’t take a uniform with me.”
“Sure.” She nods.
“How’s your hand?” I ask, as we start walking down the back alley.
“Hurts like hell, but I’ll manage.”
“Oh yeah? Shit, I feel bad.”
“It’s not your fault.” She says. “Hang on. Let me radio in that you’re with me.”
“Sure.”
She does so and then she turns the volume knob down to a conversational level. Neither of us says anything for about five minutes. It’s nice to just be, you know? No talking or communicating in any way. You don’t really get to enjoy silence much when you’re traveling with three other guys and a road manager with a big mouth.
“You guys did great tonight.” She says after our brief yet welcome silence.
“Thanks. It was a good show. We worked our asses off.”
“The fans loved you. I swear they cheered more for you than when Snake took the stage.”
“Bullshit.” I mutter with a grin.
“I’m serious. You should have headlined, and they should have opened.”
“You think so.” I guffaw. “Maybe when we have more songs to play.”
“You don’t have more?”
“Well, not more cut, no.” I explain. “There are tons written and practiced and stuff, just not recorded.”
“And you can’t play unrecorded stuff?”
“One or two, yeah, but not a whole set. Fans like to engage and sing along. If they don’t know the words, you’re kinda sunk.”
After another five minutes or so of silence, we hit a small park area. It’s desolate. Everyone is watching Snake, is my guess. “You mind if I light up?” I ask, pulling a joint from my shirt pocket.
“As long as you don’t endanger your life…or mine…you’re free to do whatever you want.” She says flatly, unimpressed. I’m not sure if she’s annoyed or just doesn’t care.
“You want a drag?” I ask, after I light it and suck it back.
“Thanks, but no.”
“You never smoke weed?”
“No. I tried it once, but it made me puke.”
“It would probably make your hand feel a lot better.”
“No thanks. You enjoy it.” she says, pinching her lips into a smile. I’m making her feel uncomfortable, I think.
Licking my index finger and thumb, I pinch the lit end, effectively putting it out. I usually only take a couple of drags, anyway. I don’t like to get stupid high, especially when I’m in the middle of unknown territory, regardless of whether or not I have a chaperone. Tucking it back into my pocket, I pull my sunglasses off and hang them on my shirt. “You mind if we sit in the park for a while? I just need some air. Been sharing oxygen with people for days now.”
“Sure. Whatever you like.” She says, and we both sit on the bench.
There are trees and a pathway leading to a set of residential buildings. The buildings look completely unlit in the darkness, as if nobody is home or everyone is gone to bed. It’s eleven o’clock at night. The park area is lit by coach lamps set about ten feet apart. It’s kind of nice. “I wonder why they put this little nook here. You would think that between a hotel and a bunch of buildings, that all there would be is open space.”
“There is a cemetery on the other side of this, I think.” She explains. “At least, that’s what I heard over the radio. The bank where the attempted hold up was is on the other side.”
“I heard they caught him.”
“Yeah. I’m glad they did. That would have made holding a concert impossible if they hadn’t.” she says, and I notice that there isn’t a twinge of sarcasm or self-righteousness in her voice at all.
“When I asked my road manager, he acted like I was an ass for asking if they caught him.”
“It’s a legitimate question. I mean, I don’t know about you, but it was pretty scary. People who pull stunts like that are sneaky. Who knows what that was all about. It could have been anything from a one-man operation to the mob or some organized crime unit. They could have taken over the whole city. Believe me, I’ve seen stuff like that unfold quickly.”
“I bet.” I nod. “I bet you’ve seen lots of shit.”
“I’ve seen enough.”
“Hey, how come if your dad taught you all that stuff about elevators, how come you never did that?” I ask, turning to face her, feeling good and relaxed, both from the few drags of the joint and from the fresh air and silence.
“Because I realized how mind-numbingly boring it was.” She chuckles. “And I wanted to see the world, but my parents couldn’t afford it, nor could they afford to send me to college, so I joined the military and killed two birds with one stone.”
“I wrote a song with that title.” I say, smiling at her.
“No kidding.” She smiles back.
“Seriously.” I state, lifting my brows.
“Is it going on the next album?” she asks, and I can’t tell if she’s teasing me or being serious, because she’s smiling.
“If it’s up to me, yeah, but I have three other guys to answer to, plus a bunch of other people with a stake in it.”
“Do you feel weird…you know…being away from your guitar?” she asks honestly, like she can relate or something.
“Yeah. I should have brought it with me as a matter of fact. They’re probably in the hotel room right now saying, ‘he won’t go far; he left his guitar here’.”
With that she snuffles a tiny laugh.
Then she does something that makes me laugh like hell.
Chapter 4
Michelle
He’s laughing at me. Is it the weed, or am I really being that stupid? Regardless, I keep singing the words to ‘Great White’ the part right before his guitar solo, and he keeps chuckling, making me laugh with him.
“What?” I ask, laughing.
“I have never heard anyone butcher the lyrics to that song like that before.” He barks out a laugh so genuine it’s endearing. “That’s fucking hilarious. It’s like…you just made the perfect parody to that song.”
“Did I?” I ask, as I continue to sing about milk and cookies in a song about what I thought was milk and cookies, hence ‘white’. “I seriously thought it was about Oreo cookies and milk.”
He looks at me and can’t help himself. He can’t stop laughing.
“What?” I ask, almost whining. “What is so funny?”
He looks away, like he’s embarrassed. “Oh my God…I can’t believe this.” He’s still laughing, but he’s calmed slightly.
“Are you that high? That you think I’m that funny?”
He turns closer to me and inches in. “I’m not that high, I only had a couple of drags, just to take the edge off.” He licks his lips and then his face says that he’s going to try to explain something, but then he loses his nerve and turns his head again, chuckling.
“Okay, what.” I say flatly, throwing him a bone.
He draws in a deep breath, looking around, as if someone is watching, then he looks straight at me and says. “’Great White’ is a euphemism for cum. You know…sperm?” He gestures with his hand, as if I should fill in the rest.
My eyes widen. “Oh.” And then I snort a laugh, and we both start laughing hysterically at my faux pas.
“Oh my God.” He says, high-pitched. “I haven’t laughed like that in a while…high or not.” He admits, widening his eyes comically.
“I can’t believe you wrote a song about semen.” I say to myself.
Another laugh. “It’s a song about getting there, it’s not about worshipping ejaculation.”
I snort out another laugh. “Okay.”
“Lots of artists write songs about weird stuff and use euphemisms.” He explains. “There are hundreds of examples, but the one that comes to mind for me is Steppenwolf’s ‘Magic Carpet Ride’.”
“Yeah, that’s about drugs though.” I point out.
“So?”
“So, you wrote about semen.” I smile. “Any other songs euphemisms?”
“Tell you what. You can sing me another one some time when I need a laugh, and I’ll tell you.” He states.
“Fair enough.”
In the distance there is a couple walking towards us. My security guard hat immediately goes on. “I know it’s dark, but it’s pretty well lit out here. We’re going to have to duck for cover here.”
“What?” he whispers. “What do you mean? We can’t like…hide or anything, can we?”
As I scan the couple, who will be within earshot in another ten seconds, I think of the easiest, simplest thing to do in this situation. “Okay, we have to make it look like we’re making out. Hide your head in my neck, like they do in the movies.”
I lean towards him, so my head will face the couple, and so his head in hidden, and he tilts his head towards me, dipping his face into my neck, making it look like we’re kissing. It’s an old trick but an effective one. We stay in that position until I can see the couple from the other side of us. “Just another second.” I whisper to him, as I see the female turn around to look at us. When they’re out of earshot, I pull away from him.
