I made a few calls, worked quietly on my laptop at one of the tables in thelounge.
Then, inevitably, I went over last night in my head… trying to figure out what the hell had gone wrong. At the show… andafterward.
And why it felt like Zane had won some small, fucked-up victory because he’d gotten medrunk.
From a business standpoint, the night had gone perfectly. The show was sold out, we sold a shit-ton of merchandise, we got plenty of local media support, and many, many happy fans left the concert with autographed stuff and smiles on theirfaces.
It was the first show Steel Trap had ever opened for Dirty, and they were a great fit. We’d all miss the Penny Pushers on this tour, for sure; we’d toured with them so often. But Steel Trap was joining us for almost every show on the North American leg of this tour and if last night was any indication, it was gonnarock.
Brody had flown down for the show, and he seemed really happy witheverything.
Security was tight and Jude seemed pleased with his crew, which consisted of several regulars and some new guys he’d brought on for the tour. His new girlfriend, Roni, had also flown down; she’d be traveling with us for the first few shows, and Jude looked pretty damn happy holding her handbackstage.
Clearly, the band was happy,too.
Dylan was adorably thrilled that his girlfriend, Amber, was on the road with us. I’d never seen Dylan Cope so lost over a girl; not even close. The way he looked at her, the way he listened when she spoke, the way he was always fetching her a drink or pulling her onto his lap. For her part, Amber was already working her ass off as our tour photographer. And seeing her take photos of Dylan in his kilt at last night’s show, watching him sit her down at sound check and try to teach her how to play? Nauseatinglycute.
Elle definitely wasn’t happy that she wasn’t playing bass on this tour, but she did have that pregnant glow about her. And when she watched her man onstage, reunited with Dirty, I could see how proud she was. Seth fit right back in with the band, almost as if he’d never left, but even better; there was a fresh sense of excitement, respect, and appreciation between all the band members. The members of Dirty were as glad to have Seth Brothers back as rhythm guitarist, backup vocalist and songwriter as he was to beback.
Plus, Seth sizzled onstage. With his short beard and aviator sunglasses, he was all soulful artist wrapped up in mystery wrapped up in sexy man, and the fangirls fucking lovedhim.
As for Jesse, I’d never seen him happier or in better form than when his wife, Katie, was backstage, dancing and singing along to every song. Which was saying something; with his leather pants, wavy dark hair and dazzling grin, Jesse was always in great form. He kissed Katie every time he went onstage, every time he came off, every time he switched guitars, every time he had any excuse to do it. Marriage suited him. Katie suited him. And every one of us would reap the benefits of his good mood on this tour. When the sun shone on Jesse Mayes, you just had tosmile.
And all of us were definitely happy with our newest member, MattyBrohmer.
Matt was a maniac on the bass and he brought something fresh, exciting, and enjoyably unpredictable to the stage and to Dirty’s performance. He was filling in for Elle on this tour, and I’d be the first to say we made the right choice with him. He’d rehearsed his ass off and knew all the songs inside-out. Plus, he was a nice guy. Matt was an old friend of Dirty’s, had played with Zane on-and-off in his supergroup side project band, Wet Blanket, and really, we were lucky to havehim.
And then there wasZane.
Zane Traynor was, to put it mildly, an integral part of Dirty. And there was no denying that I cared about what happened to every member of this band on the road. Every show, from the moment they all stepped onstage until they stepped back off, I cared. I cared if they were having an off night, if things weren’t going well, if something didn’t go as planned. I cared how it affected them, and how that would end up affecting usall.
We were a team and a family, and Icared.
But it had been so long since we’d been on tour—since before Zane and I were married—that I’d kind of forgotten, until they were onstage last night, howmuchI wouldcare.
How much it would bother me when I saw Zane out there, struggling, and something wasn’tright.
My gut was in knots for the entireshow.
I’d never felt that way before at a Dirty show. Well… other than at the very last show of the last tour, the night after Zane and I were married. Although, to be fair, I’d missed half of that show, since I was drunk; apparently, I didn’t take the whole discovery that we were actually, legally married, and Zane presenting me with a massive diamond ring, all toowell.
At last night’s show, I was fully-present and sober and I was watching everything from backstage. I saw and heard it when Zane’s mic cut out during “Dirty LikeMe.”
Really, it wasn’t that big a deal. I’d seen pretty much every type of screw-up there was, and not just at Dirty shows. I’d seen band members crash into each other, fall off the stage, forget the words to their ownsongs.
Shithappened.
Even to practiced, polished, professionalmusicians.
But I knew the mic thing would upset Zane. Despite whatever chaos the man wreaked in his personal life, when it came to his voice and his onstage performance, Zane was a consummateprofessional.
And he was aperfectionist.
He did not like shit goingwrong.
I knew it would bother him even more when, in the very next song, he smashed Seth in the face with his mic. The both of them went right on with the song like nothing happened, because that’s what professionalsdid.
But when Zane screwed up, it stayed with him. And I knew he’d blame himself for the wholething.
