Braden of all people spoke next. “You’re not gonna believethe way Zack managed to do it. We think our fans are gonna eat it up.”
“I have to admit you’ve got me intrigued.”
She asked a lot of questions and, as time passed, I was starting to feel tired and bored, because most of the questions were geared toward Zack or the guys. I started to wonder if maybe I’d been wrong all these years when I blamed it on misogyny—because we were being interviewed by a woman. Then again, maybe she was enamored of the guys. After all, the three men in the band were pretty hot.
But, I reminded myself, Braden was my guy and the only one I needed to care about.
Her next question, however, made me almost freeze. “So there’s a rumor, guys, that Zack and Dani are dating.”
Looking at our images in the laptop, I couldn’t miss how Braden’s face fell. How the hell should we answer that? But Zack took it before I could even try. “Uh…we kind of were—but not anymore.”
I nodded affirmatively while debating if I should take Braden’s hand in reassurance.
Roxy said, “Ah, your female fans will love hearing that. All the girls love you guys. And that’s not to make you feel bad, Dani. Women want tobeyou.”
What?I hadn’t even considered that. I’d always felt like the fifth wheel, like the outcast that no one wanted to acknowledge.
This was a first. “Seriously?”
“Hell, yeah. You’re a bad ass drummer in a field where not many women dominate. In fact, I’d love to interview you by yourself next month.”
“Oh…okay.”
“And I don’t want the rest of you guys feeling bad. Over thenext year, I’d love to interview all of you by yourselves. But at the festival, let’s plan on doing a quick video interview.”
My bubble burst quickly knowing that I wasn’t any more special than the guys in my band—but then I realized that was okay. All I’d wanted was to feel equal and part of the group. Why did I have to feel special on top of that?
Then Braden said, “For the record, I’d like you to know that Dani and I are dating.”
For just a split second, I would have sworn it had grown so silent that I could have heard a pin drop—but, of course, that wasn’t true. Zack had a fan blowing in the background and there were kids playing across the street, their voices occasionally easy to hear through the open window in the kitchen.
Zack said, “That shit’s off the record.”
Raising an eyebrow, Roxy jotted something on the little notepad she had. “I’m happy for you guys—but what a bummer for all those girls out there drooling over you, Braden. You’re a lucky lady, Dani.”
I knew I was…but I still didn’t feel like it.
CHAPTER 9
Although I tried to bite my tongue, the Amped in Anaheim Fest felt like another money suck, even though it was pretty lean as far as a tour would go. The guys and I flew out of Colorado Springs in the morning, landing in California long before noon. The only thing we brought were overnight bags, the guys’ guitars, and a snare, because I didn’t trust that the shared drum kit provided by the festival would capture Once Upon a Riot’s sound properly.
We would be flying back to Colorado the next morning.
One detail that made me feel a little better was being greeted by Mick at the airport. He’d rented a large van and, after a lone new roadie helped us load our stuff in the back, we piled in and headed out of the airport.
Mick had the new roadie at the wheel. From where I sat, he looked much like the guys we’d had on our tour—mostly big and muscular but with a bit of a beer gut, longish brown hair that needed a trim so it didn’t look so scraggly, tattoos on every inch of his arms, and a full beard. Mick introduced himasEggs—short for his last name, Eggleston—and then Eggs proceeded to tell us how much he loved our music.
At least we had an ally.
“You’re not on till 1:45 and the gates don’t open till noon. I already picked up your credentials yesterday, so we just need to get there before noon to do a line check. Me an’ Eggs looked over the backline, and you’ll be good to go there.” Although I knew a line check was a modified sound check and the backline was amps and that sort of thing—and I understood that time was tight at the festival—I worried about getting there early enough, almost interrupting Mick until I remembered we were in a different time zone. My brain hadn’t caught up and probably wouldn’t, but, just like on tour, I had to put my trust in Mick and know that he wouldn’t let us down. “Any of you hungry?” Mick asked, his voice sounding much like an old friend.
We all confirmed that we were, and Mick took us to Denny’s. While Mick and Zack talked about merch, my brain started calculating expenses…just like when we’d been on tour. I knew this was as lean as it would get, our one roadie there to help us get set up. We only had fifteen minutes to set up and break down, because the festival had a pretty tight schedule, and I didn’t even know how many bands were there, but there had to be close to a hundred. There was a main stage and two others (we were at one of those) and bands would play from just after noon until close to midnight.
But there was, of course, the flight, the van rental, Mick and Eggs’s pay, this meal, and who knew what other costs. And, listening to Mick and Zack, I got an idea of how the merch would work. The festival would get a cut but they’d handle everything—and they were the ones who provided the hotel for the night, so there was that at least.
I knew, though, that we weren’t making a whole lot—again, because we were the new kids. But Mick kept telling us that a festival like this was a great way to get new fans.
My stomach was in knots and Braden kept rubbing my back, trying to help me relax. His attention was meant to be comforting but it was starting to get on my nerves, so on the way to the festival, I grabbed his hand in mine to still it.
