And I knew our new album would resonate with our fans. Despite a lot of the press we’d talked with doubting a new direction was a good idea, that was one thing Zack seemed to have dialed in: he understood what our fans wanted. He knew what music would resonate with the masses, how to touch them emotionally through his music. Our first album had mostly had fun and loud, rage-y songs, but this one had soul. There was a mournful subtext that carried throughout its entirety, the bluesy mood Zack had hoped to embody. And he had. The three of us had learned it, absorbed it, and had managed to riff on the foundation, building on the songs to make them our own.
I was proud of what we’d created. Zack, of course, was the impetus, but it was all of us that had made it come to life.
For this first leg—five weeks—we were once again the third act…but I knew we’d have old fans coming to see us, and I couldn’t wait. We’d be returning to a lot of places we’d seen the year before, even some of the same venues, but we had a few new cities on our itinerary. The single and video had dropped two weeks earlier and the album went live the day we hit the road. And, as we all talked on the bus about what was coming up, roadies included, I knew we were all excited to be back here again, but this time we were ready for the pressure of the road.
Our destiny had arrived.
We hadn’t even beenon the road for a week before Zack was back at his usual antics: drinking too much, being belligerent, taking various substances, acting like a “rock star.” At least this time his womanizing was out in the open. But his partying was over the top, like he’d been in a cage for the last six months, finally let loose and allowed to do whatever his heart desired.
What made it worse was that the headlining band had after parties every night, and we were invited to them all.
We’d just played to a sold-out crowd in Sacramento, and we’d definitely had reason to celebrate. When the headliners invited us again, of course, we went. It was a great opportunity to mingle with people who loved our music.
Braden and I had been talking with some fans at the after party but when they’d moved on to mingle, we witnessed Zack doing coke. Two young women flanked him beside a table where he was using a debit card to form lines on hisphone screen. He snorted one line and then made another that he promptly snorted.
“Should we say anything?” I asked Braden.
“No. Not here.”
But that didn’t stop Cy, who’d been nearby and caught it all. The volume of the room was high and noisy, so we couldn’t hear what he said.
Zack, though, we heard loud and clear. “Fuck off!”
Again, Cy said something we couldn’t make out, but this time, Zack pushed him, telling him to back off. Cy, not one to be ignored, seemed to stand taller—and what made me imagine our history as primates, both men faced each other, and their chests seemed to be puffed out as if attempting to look more intimidating.
Where the hell were the roadies?
Who was I kidding? They were here but they were partying too. We might have had a job entertaining a crowd, but they were key to that experience running smoothly. After all, most of them did a lot of physical work and also deserved a chance to unwind.
But already I was feeling like this was the worst way to do it.
Cy and Zack started shouting at each other, poking and pushing, neither one willing to back off—and even though Zack was a couple of inches taller, it didn’t intimidate Cy at all.
Finally, I could hear what they were saying. Cy was yelling, “You always do this shit, man—and you wind up making us all sound bad.”
“You wouldn’t even be here if it wasn’t for me.”
“I don’t owe you anything.”
It wasn’t until Braden began trying to talk to them that I realized he’d left my side. One of the roadies joined him,attempting to help—but it looked impossible. Both men looked primed for a fistfight, as if they’d been holding back for months.
The only thing I could think to do was find Mick.
Although I wasn’t sure where he’d be, I had a good idea of where to start looking. I knew he had to do all the money stuff with the venue but I was sure that would already be done, so Mick would probably be at the bus waiting for us. But, as I made my way to the exit, I worried that maybe he would have had the driver take him to the hotel.
If Mick wasn’t here, I didn’t know what I’d do.
But I felt overwhelming relief when I spotted the bus driver standing outside the bus smoking, talking to Mick. The air was much cooler than inside and I thought maybe we should have just dragged our guitarists outside to blow off their steam.
“What’s up, kid?”
“Zack and Cy are about to beat the shit out of each other.”
“And you got a room full of big guys who can pull ‘em apart.”
“All those big guys are drunk off their asses. And I don’t think Cy or Zack will listen to anyone other than you.”
Mick frowned, his voice grumbly. “All right. See you in a bit, Chuck.”
