And, as promised, he talked to his mom. Even though we didn’t witness it, I believed him. How else would he be able to explain rehab? And he wouldn’t be able to stop any of us from talking about it.
We encouraged him to rest—even when we came over to play videogames with him two nights before we hit the road again.
There had been no press at all about his overdose, so we’d dodged a bullet.
Zack had been right to push for the second leg of the tour, because this was a moment when we got to reap the benefits of all our hard work. We were theonlyopening act for, of all people, Ashen Retribution—the band of assholes we’d toured with earlier in the year. This time, though, they had their first headlining tour and Mick told us they’d actuallyaskedto have us with them.
What?
Maybe we really had earned their respect.
That leg, four weeks, proved to us that we had earned our spot—on the charts, in rock history, in our fans’ hearts. We believed it even more when, one week in, Mick told us we had a third leg booked for January and February—in the UK andEurope supporting a famous UK band. And we weren’t the opener. The opening act was a German metal band.
We had never felt so legit.
Mick had admitted that the third leg had already been booked—but the label would not book any more dates untilafterrehab.
We should have enjoyed our first international tour.
But, as the days ticked by, I witnessed Zack beginning to close himself off again. He talked less and drank more, but at least he allowed us to babysit him. While on tour, he was always accompanied by one of us—and, even though it rankled him some, he let us do it, because he knew his future and his life depended on it.
Braden and I did some sightseeing when we could, but it was difficult if Zack didn’t feel up to going with us. Nearing the end of our time in Europe, every day was a struggle.
What happened with Cy the second-to-last night of the European leg didn’t help Zack’s mental state at all. As it was, Cy had been quiet, seeming to be containing his anger at a low simmer. Once or twice, I’d tried to get him to open up, but he refused—so, near the end, I was taking many of his turns to be with Zack. It didn’t hurt that we’d started playing cards again regularly—but it was often just Braden, Zack, and me. Cy made it clear through his actions that he didn’t want to spend time with any of us.
I tried not to take it personally.
But when he asked just the three of us—me, Braden, and Zack—to join him for dinner at a little inn in Budapest, we all knew something was up. Fortunately, the staff at the restaurant spoke decent English, so ordering was easy.
But the atmosphere was tense and it was all because of Cy.
Zack couldn’t wait any longer. As soon as we’d ordered, he asked Cy, “So what’s up?”
Cy had been growing his black hair longer again, so it once more reached his chin. It was thick and straight, so it hung in his eyes on stage—and the girls loved it. Here and now, though, it made it harder to read the expression on his face.
He shook his head slightly to get the hair out of his face before leaning back in the chair. “I’m considering something that I think you guys should know.”
“Well, spit it out,” Zack said. Although he’d seemed stronger over the past couple of weeks, the last few days had felt like he was only hanging on by a thread. Would Cy’s news push him over the edge?
And would it really matter? Now that his stay at a rehab facility somewhere in Arizona was imminent, maybe it would be okay if Zack couldn’t keep it together these last few days.
Then again, there was also the matter of our final show in Europe.
Cy’s expression hadn’t changed when he finally spoke. “Ashen Retribution has offered me a slot as a second guitarist.”
“And you’re jumping at the chance to take it?” Zack all but spat.
“I’mthinkingabout it.”
“Don’t just think about it, Cy. If you’re so goddamned unhappy, just take it. I think we’re all pretty sick and tired of your shitty attitude.”
“My shitty attitude is because you’re a fucking mess.”
A man at the table next to us stood as if expecting our table to erupt into a fight—probably because Cy and Zack’s voices had grown too loud and angry. Braden leaned over and I said, “Guys, you should probably keep your voices down a bit.”
Zack sat back and Cy glared before shrugging his shoulders. Braden said, “Zack, I get why you’re pissed—but, Cy, I also get why you’re looking.”
“I wasn’t looking, man. They askedme. And they might be dicks half the time, but they have their shit together.”
