Because we didn’t know them all yet, we met for lunch the next day before our first sound check. Mick had one of the crew pick up several buckets of KFC chicken and a bunch of sides, and we met in a park, immediately realizing that itwassummer hot already.
But Mick stood and covered a lot of basics while the rest of us ate at tables under the shade of some trees. Once we were all introduced, Mick laid out his expectations, and I wondered how many people he’d had to manage at one time in the past. His usual gruff no-nonsense persona was on full display.
As always, I knew we were in expert hands—and I was grateful that he hadn’t retired.
After Mick was done barking out directions and sat down to eat an extra crispy breast with mashed potatoes and gravy, the conversation grew lively amongst all of us. Like with our second tour, the first-few-days energy was high and electric. It didn’t hurt that our crew consisted of mostly younger (and less chubby) guys than we’d had in the past—and they were fans of our music; in fact, we only knew two out of all of them.
When we were almost done eating, one of the youngest ones said, “That review onFerocitywas fucked up.”
Cy asked, “What d’ya mean?”
Zack said, “We try not to read our reviews. We’d rather hear what our fans think during our shows.”
“Oh, shit. Sorry.”
But Cy said, “Was it bad?”
The guy shook his head, his eyes wide as if he’d put a curse on us. Zack said, “Don’t worry about it. We’ll kick ass tonight like we always do.”
And did we ever. The crowd was on fire, and it was one of the best shows we’d ever performed. It was clear that the audience loved the new material and, just as I’d imagined, the women lost their shit when Zack sang “Sweet Love.” It didn’t hurt that he let Cy play guitar and Zack took his off for just that one song, walking up and down the stage. When he’d sing certain dreamy lines, like “I’d give up everything for just one night with you,” he’d point to one particular woman who’d look all swoony.
The after party was equally amazing. A few fans were there and we signed autographs and rubbed elbows with the people who loved our music. Everything seemed fine.
But the next day, the four of us in the band and Mick met for lunch. We were in Tucson, ready for another show that night. Zack looked tired, the worst I’d seen him in a while—but I knew he hadn’t been drinking, at least not where any of us had seen.
After we placed our order, I said, “Are you feeling okay, Zack?” Maybe it was just that he hadn’t been able to sleep or maybe he felt like he’d overdone it.
He shook his head, a frown on his face.
Oh, shit. Maybe he was missing Gabi—I hadn’t even thought of that.
Mick tilted his head as if examining our frontman. “Will you be up for performing tonight?”
“Yeah,” Zack said, closing his eyes and shaking his head again.
“So what’s going on?” Braden asked. “Is it Gabi?”
For a brief second, I wondered if Gabi had told him she couldn’t stand to be apart from him and was with another guy. It would serve him right.
Immediately, though, I took it back. I didn’t want to wish that kind of ache on anyone, not even the man who’d inflicted it on me in the past. As we put more and more distance between now and the time we’d been together, I’d been slowly settling in to realizing we had just never belonged together. We were like oil and water, never destined to become one. Back then, I’d hoped we were yin and yang but it was clear that the only reason we’d ever been together was because of me.
And I had to fucking get over it already.
In answer to Braden, Zack swiped his phone and handed it to him.Oh, God…itwasGabi.
I was wrong, though, and I knew as soon as Braden started talking. “When the world heard Once Upon a Riot’s self-titled debut album, we’d had no idea what had been missing from our lives. That first effort contained party anthems, youthful angst, rage against the system.
“And then, just as they’d found a place in our hearts, they switched things up. Throwing blues into the mix withThe Grindwas a risky move, but Zack Ryan and crew made it work. We fell in love with the fusion, even while Riot was veering into another lane without any forethought.
“That’s why we had such high hopes forVoyage. We thought Riot could do no wrong—but we were sadly mistaken. Once again, the band has careened off the road and we’re not sure where they’re going, but it’s definitely in the wrong direction. The crap contained on their newest venture is best left for the sewers.”
Zack actually winced at the last sentence. I kicked Braden under the table and he turned his head to me. I widened my eyes and barely tilted my head to Zack, hoping my fiancé would get the fucking clue that every word he’d read was like pounding a nail into our frontman’s heart.
Quickly, I said, “This is why we don’t read reviews. We won’t ever be everybody’s cup of tea.”
“Yeah, but that’s not the only one,” Zack said, shaking his head. “I haven’t found a single positive review. Why the fuck don’t people like it?”
And then it came to me. Holy fucking shit. Was it because we’d collaborated? Was it because our crowds loved Zack’s work and Zack alone?
