“Iknowit. My first love was a guy named Matt. I lost my virginity to him my senior year—but he was an abusive asshole. Not so much physically, although he got a little rough sometimes, but he was mentally abusive. And I know if I ran into him today, I’d have a hard time not falling victim to his charms.”
I started laughing. “You are so full of shit.” I knew her well enough now to know that she wouldn’t fall for that behavior, even if the guy was her first love.
At that, she started laughing so hard, she cried, and, in our slightly inebriated state, we both had a difficult time stopping the giggles. “Yeah, I am. I just wanted to make you feel better.”
“I guess it just helps knowing I can eventually get over Zack.”
I only wondered how long it would take.
We wereby no means millionaires (or even “thousand-aires” as Braden liked to joke), but we were able to relax and breathe a little over the rest of the year. Now that we were making money, we knew what we were doing was viable.
And the label dangled another carrot: if the first single off our next album performed well, they suggested we try touring as headliners.
As a band, we discussed it. But I had to give Zack credit. As much as the man had stars in his eyes, he was realistic. When Braden and I pushed to headline, Zack said, “Guys, I can’t wait for that day—but we’re not ready. Let’s keep supporting the biggest acts out there right now so we can keep growing our audience. I promise it’ll pay off.”
And we knew not to argue. After all, Zack’s instincts—especially when not dampened by alcohol—had usually been spot on. Here we were…actual rock stars. Every time I thought about it, I could hardly believe it. In September, we had another band meeting to discuss what we would do next.
After we all settled in Zack’s grandfather’s living room, he started speaking, but I couldn’t help noticing the changes. Although Cy still lived there, I doubted any of the changes were due to his influence. But I could tell that Zack wanted to respect his grandparents—because the shelves by the east window still held all of their old books.
But there was new furniture and a big area rug in a muted white and light gray pattern that livened up the room…made it feel less like an old person’s home. I suspected his grandparents hadn’t changed anything in the house for decades—and I based that on my own grandparents’ house: the couch was always in the same place in the living room, the recliner and two chairs, the television and the end tables. Even the paintings and photos on the wall stayed in the same spot. The same could be said of the kitchen, dining room, and bedrooms. The only things that had changed had been due to technology—like replacing their dinosaur computer in the tiny bedroom that served as an office with a newer, sleeker version.
So it was nice to see Zack settling in—and I wondered if part of that was due to rehab. Even though he hadn’t talked much about it, he’d hinted that part of it had involved therapy, both individual and group, and then I knew just how good the treatment was. Zack’s issues stemmed from shit he’d buried deep inside and never talked about.
“So…we had a successful first album and followed a passion of mine for the second. What should we do for our third?”
I sort of shook my head because I was no expert.
Cy said, “Do we have to have a theme?”
“That’s not what I mean. I’m just asking if any of you have been dying to try something…like an acoustic album or if there’s a cover you think we should record. Or maybe there’s a musical style you want to incorporate, like rap or something.”
Braden said, “We figured you’d come up with that.”
“Well…I’ve been kinda selfish. I’ve been all ‘this is my band,’ but it’s honestly all of ours—and I think I shouldn’t be the only one making the decisions around here.”
Holy shit. That was growth. Wow. I hadn’t talked to Zack one on one since he’d returned, but I didn’t have to in order to know he’d made some progress as a human being.
Holy shit.
I kept thinking that phrase over and over in my head during the meeting, because I had never seen Zack so giving. I’d never seen him able to give up control.
Cy sat up in the chair. “Actually, I think I’d like to just play some good old-fashioned rock and roll.”
Zack grinned. “Defineold-fashioned… ‘cause I don’t plan to play any Buddy Holly or The Beatles or anything like that.”
Cy laughed. “No. Not like that. I mean just…not worrying about having a certain sound. Just riffing, jamming, letting the songs kind of evolve that way.”
“Oh. I like where you’re going.”
For the first time in a long time, Cy’s smile actually reached his eyes. “Then I’ll have to share some stuff I’ve come up with.”
“Hell, yeah, man. In fact, I’ve been pretty much a dick when it’s come to our music…to our sound. If you guys want to write music, let’s have a consensus for what we work on. How’s that sound?”
Braden said, “That’s cool, dude—but I haven’t been writing shit. It’s easy for me to come up with stuff once you write the basics, but I’ve never even tried writing from scratch.”
I knew Cy didn’t have that problem, but I echoed Braden’s sentiment. “Same here. I mean, how do you even write with a drum?”
Zack grinned. “You ever hear Omaha music?”
