And if he offered any advice in return, we’d gladly take it.
* * *
The next day I was in Manchester, having lunch with Dylan. And then, of all things, shopping with Amber for some new lens she needed for her camera, while Dylan did some interviews with the rest of Dirty.
The day after that, I was standing on one of the biggest stages I’d ever played, singing my lungs out for one of the biggest crowds I’d ever played for, at one of the hottest festivals I’d ever attended. Over thirty of the top rock, alternative and electronic acts playing on five stages over three days. Sheer musical madness.
DreamWarp festival.
It was tradition, ever since I’d met Dirty at this festival seven years back, that every time Dirty played here, wherever I was in the world, I got my ass on a plane and joined them onstage for a few songs.
Usually, some of the other Pushers came with me.
This time, it was just me.
Dirty had both Jesse and Paulie—a guitarist who was filling in for Seth while he was home with Elle and the baby—on guitar, so they didn’t need my guitar. I covered vocals, trading off with Zane, on three songs.
We played Rose Tattoo’s “Nice Boys,” which we covered every time we played DreamWarp, and Queen’s “Tie Your Mother Down.” Then we did a crazy-hot version of one of Dirty’s greatest hits, “Love Struck,” with Summer joining us on synth and layering in some sick electronic vibes as the sun went down.
After I left the stage, Summer stayed on for two more songs, both from the latest Dirty album,To Hell & Back, which she’d played on as a guest musician.
Then everyone came offstage, sweaty and happy, as the crowd exploded.
Summer and I had a beer backstage and hung with Zane’s wife, Maggie, and Jesse’s pregnant wife, Katie, while the band went back out and did a three-song encore. Then the show was done, and Zane was hugging me and telling me how great it was to have me here.
It was all over so fucking fast.
And Christ, I needed more.
I needed to be back out on tour again.
“Honored to be here,” I told him, then dumped a cup of water over his head. He shook it off, then smoothed back his wet blond hair and scooped up his wife for a kiss—and a fuck, by the look of it. Once he had Maggie off her feet, he just kept walking, disappearing somewhere backstage with her.
Dylan hugged me next. “Great show.”
“I know,” I said, like he had nothing to do with it. Then I violently mussed his hair, sending his auburn waves flying all over the place.
He just laughed and drank his beer.
Then everyone else piled in for hugs and kisses, and more water and beers were dumped over heads.
Andshit… I hadn’t been this happy in a long, long time. The whole night was amazing. The fuckingenergyof it all.
The music.
The love.
Being surrounded by friends. Friends who understood what this music-passion thing was all about.
Being up there onstage doing what I was meant to do.
It made me so fucking hungry to get back out on the road with my band.
Mynewband.
When Summer hugged me, she said, “We’ll be here again. With our band.”
“Fucking right.” I gave her a squeeze and released her.
