“I guess.”
Zack said, “We should all get Riot tattoos.”
Cy again spoke up. “That’s a bad way to spend what little money we have.”
“It’snot. It’s investing in our art. If we look like real rock stars, we’ll earn more money. And what if I pay for them andyoupick where you want it?”
That was why we all got matching tattoos. We all got the upside down bleeding heart that was part of our logo. Although we’d all talked about getting them in different spots, each of us wound up having them put on our upper left shoulder. I was a little bummed because I wouldn’t get to see it, but I figured it would look intriguing when I wore tank tops.
And, as we continued practicing the new songs, the controlling version of Zack began to re-emerge. I knew that meant he would probably start drinking more—and I hoped that Cy, his new roommate, could help him stay sober more. Maybe just his presence would help calm Zack’s inner beast. But, of course, Cy got a job at Walmart, meaning he wouldn’t be around much when we weren’t rehearsing. And Braden was considering setting up a Cameo account to earn a few bucks here and there.
I, however, was trying to enjoy my downtime, because I knew it wouldn’t be long before we were back on the road. As we approached summer and the first festival date, I wondered if I should find a job, but I didn’t want to leave after just a few weeks. If we were near harvesting season, I could easily find day work picking vegetables and no one would care if I didn’t stay more than a week or so.
As it was, Cy was looking less like a rock star every day. He cut his hair and it was back to the black shade I was used to, so he had the look of a young executive.
Except some of the teenage girls who shopped there recognized him and made it hard for him to get his job done—even with a more traditional appearance. He managed to keep working, but he was relegated to stocking and different hours.
A week and a half before the festival, we’d settled on a playlist—all of the songs we’d played while on our first tour and three new ones, because we wanted to get our audience hyped for the new album but also gauge how they’d react.
And we had an interview scheduled with Roxy ofFerocity. I’d only met her once and I hadn’t known her name at the time, during our interview in some hotel on our first tour when I’d had a horrible hangover, and I wasn’t sure what to think. She seemed nice enough, but I’d been in bad shape that time.
We would be interviewing over Zoom again, and Zack asked that we all come to his grandpa’s house for it. But I started thinking of it asZack’splace, even thoughhecontinued calling it his grandfather’s.
Zack had asked us to dress like we would if we were onstage, and I took him seriously, so I put on heavier makeup and, instead of pulling my hair back in a ponytail, I made it a little messy and big—and I wore a tank top that might show off my new tattoo if I turned just right.
Before firing up his laptop, Zack said, “I’m not gonna tell you what to say, but make sure you talk about the new album at least a little. We wanna get people excited about it.” And then we took a few photos selfie-style in front of the garage door—but, even with Zack’s long arms, he didn’t get much more than our faces in the frame.
So we piled into the downstairs bathroom and he pointed his camera at the mirror. “Don’t smile so much, Dani. Look metal.”
I rolled my eyes at Zack, but I knew exactly what he meant—and the next pic was pretty cool.
When we logged in, we were greeted by Roxy French. The last time we’d seen her, she’d had beautiful dark brown hair that cascaded around her face. Today, it was a gorgeous deep purple, and she had it pulled back a little bit. Something else I hadn’t noticed before was her arms. She had two full tattoo sleeves on display because she too was wearing a tank.
She couldn’t have been much older than we were, if at all.How the hell had she managed to afford all that ink? Surely writing for a rock magazine didn’t bring in that kind of cash. And, if it did, maybe I would have been better suited to it than playing drums.
“Hey, guys!” she said, her calm, slightly husky voice putting us at ease. “Thanks for making time to talk with me today.”
“We wouldn’t miss it,” Zack said. “Can you see all of us okay?”
Based on what our monitor showed us, I was pretty sure she could see us just fine—and she confirmed that. “Yeah.”
“I’m gonna send you a couple pictures of us through chat if you want to use them.”
“Awesome—but how about I chat you my email address? That way you can also include the copyright holder info and give me permission in writing to use them.”
“Consider it done. So what questions do you have for us?”
“Oh, my God. So many. How about I start with general questions for the band. Like…I know you guys are working on your new album. What can you tell me about that?”
We let Zack take the reins for that question—because, really, it was his baby. He’d been the one who’d written the songs and, even though he’d been a little more relaxed with letting us make them our own, they were still his creation. Roxy’s eyebrows raised when he began talking about the blues-infused sound.
“Is there any way I can hear a sample?”
“We’re gonna be at the Amped in Anaheim Fest week after next—and we plan to play three of our new songs.”
“No shit. I’m gonna be there.”
Zack put on his knee-buckling rock star smile…the one that used to make me melt. “We can’t wait to rock you hard.”
