We’re setting up for the private charity event at the Staples Center and it’s hot as hell out today. Sweat rolls down my back, catching on my sleeveless shirt just before it would’ve run down my ass crack.
“I’m going to need a fucking shower before we go on,” I tell Jesse between songs at our soundcheck.
“Right on. Fucking heat wave,” Jesse replies.
“Where are the Santa Ana’s when you need them?” Xander asks.
“I think either el Nino or la Nina have fucked with Mother Nature, and she’s not gifting us any Santa Ana winds this year,” Kenney answers.
Xander frowns. “That fucking sucks. How the hell are we supposed to surf when there’s no surf?”
Kennedy shrugs. “Take it up with the big man upstairs,” Kennedy points to the sky, “and Mother Nature.”
“They have their own agenda,” Xander snips.
“That they do,” I agree.
“Think Linc’s gonna beat some ass tomorrow night?” Jesse asks.
“Never doubt Knox. Ever,” I remind him.
“I never do,” Jesse answers.
“Who’s he fighting?” Kennedy asks.
“I don’t know. He said it’s a random matchup thing like they did last summer.”
“Hmm. We missed that. Definitely something I want to see,” Jesse tells me.
“We’ll make the next one.”
Cage comes walking up looking cool and perfectly put together. How the guy does it, I don’t know. We’re standing here sweating like pigs, and he’s cool as a cucumber.
“Batman,” Xander says with a nod.
“Everything all set?” Cage asks.
“We’re gonna do one more, then we’re all set,” Jesse replies.
Cage nods. “There are showers and air conditioning in the back. I insisted. You can’t very well go on stage with heat exhaustion.”
“That’s a fact. We can hang out on the bus, too,” Ben says. “Maybe take a nap.”
“Nothing short of an hour or you turn into a prick,” Jesse chides.
“Fuck off, bro,” Ben sneers.
“Temper, temper,” Sera says as she walks out to where we’re standing. “I’ve never been so glad to not have to perform. This weather is disgusting.”
“Imagine living in Florida,” Kennedy throws out there.
Sera looks at him in horror. “No. I had to model there more than once. Frizzy hair, air so thick you can barely breathe, and so hot and humid it feels like a sauna. I’ll pass, thanks.”
Kennedy nods. “Right on.”
“We’ve got tight security tonight. The show is sold out and with this heat, I imagine the crowd will get a bit unruly,” Cage informs us. “They’ve got the cool mist set up for you guys.”
“Thank fuck,” Ben replies. “I hate this heat.”
