“It’s been…a really long time, but yes, I used to play,” I say. I don’t know why I’ve kept this from him. He asked me the night we met if I played anything, and I said no. Which wasn’t atotallie, since I haven’t played in years. I even had the opportunity to bring it up when he asked me about my 3047bracelet. That song—that drum beat—was the reason I wanted to start playing. He steps up, reaches into his stick holder, and hands two fresh sticks out to me.
“Show me,” he says.
I take the sticks from him and settle in behind the kit, adjusting the throne slightly before hitting each drum in turn, making sure my height and angles are right. The snare is a little higher than I would normally have it, but I refuse to touch anything else. I’ll make it work.
Right before I’m about to make the first hit, I notice something small and blue hanging from between the toms. I lean in closer and realize it’s the bracelet he took from me before the show last year.
“Oh my god,” I say, looking at him. “You still have this?” He just shrugs. I wait for any sort of explanation, but he remains stoic, so I close my eyes and take a deep breath before I decide to play ‘Whispers’. I’m almost halfway through when I look up and realize the entire band is now on stage, as well as Dani and Josh’s assistant, Kate. They’re all staring at me, wide-eyed, but Eric…Eric is staring at me in awe. Like I’m some sort of answer to a prayer. I stop mid-bridge and set the sticks down on the snare before standing.
“Holy shit, Tyler,” Josh says, and I feel my cheeks heat. “Eric didn’t tell us you played.”
“I didn’t know,” Eric says, his eyes still on me.
“Well, I think I speak for everyone when I say you’re officially replaced,” Max jokes, patting Eric on the shoulder.
Everyone breaks apart as I make my way back down to the stage, feeling Eric’s eyes on me the entire way.
“That was…” he trails off before shaking his head and smiling. “You’re good. I wish you’d have told me you played.” I shrug as we make our way back to side stage, and I’m introduced to so many people I feel myself internally panicking as I fight to remember names.
I meet the stagehands, the sound engineers, and the filmmaker they bring on every tour. I’ve followed him on Instagram for years and feel as nervous to meet him as I did when I met the band for the first time.
“Alright, Ty,” Josh says after the introductions are over. “You’re officially part of the family, so it’s time for your initiation.”
“What do you mean?” I ask nervously, hoping they’re not going to make me do something embarrassing like run a lap around the arena in my underwear.
“In this family,” Josh says. “Everyone backstage gets a secret handshake.” I smile wide when he uses the wordfamily, still not quite sure if this is actually my life or if I’m going to wake up any second back home in my bed.
“Okay,” I say. “What’s ours?”
Josh thinks it over and we try a few things before settling on two taps on the back of our hands, two taps on the palms, sliding our palms down to our fingers, locking our fingers together, and pulling each other in for a one-armed hug.
Kevin and I decide ours is a quick game of rock, paper, scissors (loser gets a noogie), and I laugh every time we practice it. Especially when he loses and dodges my fist so I don’t mess up his hair.
Max and I come up with a double high-five before turning sideways and bumping our hips together.
And then it’s Eric’s turn. He approaches me, bends his elbows at ninety degrees, and puts his fists out between us. I mirror his pose, and he presses his fists into mine, and then leans down and touches his forehead to mine. My hearthammers inside my chest and I close my eyes as his familiar scent envelops me.
He pulls away and smiles before turning and heading out to the stage for sound check.
I stand with my arms crossed as I watch Max mess around with his guitar, hitting a few chords and making some last-minute tuning adjustments.
Kevin’s bass rumbles low through the amps as he plays through some Primus to warm up.
Josh is standing in the center of the stage. His hands are tucked into the pockets of his hoodie, his eyes scanning the arena, lips pressed tight as if he's mentally rehearsing every move. I can see the wheels turning behind his eyes. He’s calculating, even now.
It’s funny, the way soundcheck brings everything down to its bare bones. In the moments before everything falls into place, it’s just…noise. The sound of instruments getting tuned, the hum of monitors being tested, the odd feedback echoing back from the speakers. I’m just standing on the sidelines, waiting for the moment when it all clicks, and it’s an almost painful kind of anticipation.
Then it happens. The first song starts to take shape. The guitar riff locks into the bassline, and Eric enters with the drum fill, and I’m amazed at how—awfulthe sound is from the side of the stage. Dani wasn’t kidding when we were in New York. There is so much sound bouncing back that it almost hurts my ears.
I turn and head down the steps backstage to get to the arena floor, and the difference in the way the sound travels through the space is immediate. My ears thank me as I make my way around the stadium floor, trying to find the perfect spot toward the back of the floor in front of the sound board.I’d always loved being as close to the stage as possible, and while that’s still a great place to be, the sound right where I’m standing is perfect.
They go through a few snippets of songs as the sound is adjusted both from the sound board behind me and through everyone’s in-ears, before moving on to syncing the lights and pyrotechnics with the songs on the set list.
I make my way back toward the stage and by the time I climb the stairs and return to where I started, Eric is waiting for me with a small black box and a set of headphones in his hands. I look at him, confused.
“I forgot to warn you how bad the sound is back here,” he says.
“What?” I shout. “I can’t hear you! Are my ears bleeding?”
