Brody:Video shoot on the 11th. Church/concertconcept.
The band’s first video shoot for the new album was a go. It was happening at a sound stage, with a replica “church” set to mimic the church where the band wrote and rehearsed, and would incorporate a staged concert. Which meant a large crew and an audience—tightsecurity.
I replied.Gotit.
Then I deleted theconversation.
Flynn checked in. He was headed up the coast with Seth and Elle; they were spending the weekend in Whistler. The mountains there didn’t have much snow yet. What else there was to do in Whistler in November but rent a lux hotel room and fuck, I didn’t know, so I figured that was Seth’splan.
Delete.
10:22am.
I hit the road to Zane’s place in West Vancouver. Planned to tell him how good he’d sounded yesterday at the studio. Wondered if he really knew how good this album was gonna be. If he realized how crazy this year would be, for all of us. And that he’d be right in the middle ofit.
Ourfrontman.
The dirty voice of Dirty. The sex symbol / rock idol who was really just a mortal dude who never thought that far into the future, about what might be coming… and one of my best friends. And I was worried abouthim.
I always worried about Zane ontour.
About his sobriety. His fuckingsanity.
And now, I was more worried about him than I’d been in a long time. It was how he’d been acting this year. He wasn’t coming clean with me, and I was used to that, at times, but this wasdifferent.
It was the Maggie thing, maybe. That fucking secret-as-shit Maggie thing that he thought I didn’tknow.
And if I wasn’t gonna be there, on tour, to keep his shit straight, I’d be even more worried abouthim.
10:54am.
Zane answered the door of his multi-multi-million-dollar house wearing a cheap T-shirt that saidDrunk Chicks Think I’m Hot, flannel pajama pants and rimless glasses. Hardly anyone knew Zane sometimes wore glasses. To read. To watch movies. Shit like that. Not so much because he hid the fact, but because it didn’t fit the image of Zane that the world knew and loved—sex-crazed Viking rock god—so the world tended to disregard it, in that way that the world often chose to disregard the fact that celebrities were actuallyhuman.
We shot some pool while we talked about the album. I won. Zane was the one who owned a fucking pool table, but I always won. He accused me of practicing at the clubhouse. I didn’t. I was just good atpool.
Shady dropped by, even though he didn’t have to. I’d put him on Zane, as Zane’s newest bodyguard, and so far, so fucking good. Zane had a hard time handling anyone on his back as often as someone needed to be there, though I figured I’d finally found his match inShady.
Another thing not many people knew about Zane: the way to his heart was definitely through his funny bone. At least, if you were adude.
A veteran King, Shady was an old friend of my brother’s, and every time he got telling one of his wacky stories, Zane pretty much shit his pants laughing; so far, a bromance of epic proportions had beenborn.
Fingers crossed on that lasting an entiretour.
Shady kicked Zane’s ass at pool; Zane accused him of practicing at the clubhouse. Then Zane took acall.
Con checked in by text, said he’d see me later at theclubhouse.
Delete.
Zane got off his phone. “Maggie says I’ve got a bunch of promo shit, interviews and whatever, week afternext.”
I listened—I always fucking listened—to the way he saidMaggie, watched the way his face changed when he’d talked to her on the phone, the way his entire fucking physiology changed when he mentioned her. And wondered why the rest of the world was so fucking blind, when some shit was so obvious tome.
Piper messaged me about the club meeting:C400.
Church at 4:00.
A totally different kind ofchurch.
