Chapter Ten
River
“Here’s the set list we used in LA and San Diego. Do we want to change it up?” JD asked as he air-dropped the list to each of our phones.
I opened the document and read through it, not remembering most of the list. No wonder those concerts had been so fucking awful. I noticed the harder rocking songs were at the end of the set list, which was a fucking stupid move on our part.
I turned to Goldie. “Do you want to move the final three up to the top or maybe the middle? Can your voice hold out to the end?” I asked.
Goldie had been saving his voice all day, so he texted us in the group.
I think we should pepper those songs throughout the set list, between the songs where we all sing, so I can save my voice. I’m sorry, I didn’t think about it last night. Never again, I promise.
I turned to look behind me at Goldie in the back with a plant mister in his hands. “That thing helping?” I asked.
We asked the concierge at the hotel to track one down for him after we researched online how to help him recover from vocal strain. JD said he shouldn’t be singing at all, but we had made a commitment, and Goldie said no way were we breaking it because he’d behaved like an idiot.
Goldie nodded and sprayed more of whatever was in the glass decanter, giving me a wink.
The previous night, my bandmates had lost their fucking minds and smoked more pot than I’d probably smoked in my life.
They’d downed two bottles of expensive tequila and smoked three packs of cigarettes, which would be hell on anyone’s voice alone.
All three together was a death sentence to a singer.
Meanwhile, I was snuggled in bed with Kit Hansen, drunk off my ass, though I’m sure the sexy man wasn’t excited about me being there. God, I hoped someday I could find a guy like Kit to keep me warm.
Arlo finally spoke up. “How about this? We do the first half acoustic to change it up and then shred the hell out of the last half. That way, Goldie, you can hit those soft moments in these songs, but…what if we juxtapose the songs? Sing the shredders as acoustics and the acoustics as hard rocking metal?”
I gave his suggestion some thought, and I honestly loved the idea of mixing things up for each show. “I think that’s a fantastic idea. We should change things up in every show. We just rotate which songs we go balls out on and the others we go acoustic. It’s a great idea, Arlo.”
“We’re here, gentlemen.” I glanced out the window of the van to see that we were arriving at the venue.
Clancy stopped at the backstage door, and we hauled out of the van and headed into the building. Kit’s big red semi and trailer were backed up to the dock. The roadies were carrying in our equipment, and Kit was helping.
We watched as they carried in our instruments, speakers, and wheeled out the backdrop. It would be the first time we’d be able to use the set, and I was excited, having only seen drawings of it when we were trying to decide what we wanted our image to say to an audience.
We went inside for the sound check and played a few songs to work out some changes since we were switching up the set list. Things went great. We were ready for our first appearance at Beer Fest, and I was pumped.
We stood in the wings as Hielo y Fuego, an amazing Mexican band we’d met earlier in the day as we all hung out behind the stage to share dinner.
They were touring all along the Baja California coast over the summer, having just released their first album earlier in the spring.
After talking to them, I started feeling the familiar panic rising in my chest that we would sound like shit coming in behind them.
They finished their set with an incredible mariachi sound as their lead singer sang the lyrics to “Iron Man” by Black Sabbath in Spanish. It was cooler than I expected.
“?Gracias Ensenada!” The crowd went wild as the band walked off the stage. They high-fived us as they went back to the dressing rooms to change.
Marsh put his heavy hand on my shoulder. “Get ’em out there, River. Show everyone what Accidental Fire can do. Don’t let me down.”
We were pumped and ready to go. I wanted to puke, but I decided to channel my nerves into making the show the best it could be. Throwing up on stage wasn’t what I wanted everyone to remember about the show.
The stage went dark, and I pushed Arlo and Goldie in front of me. We took our spots on stage, and I strummed a chord on my acoustic that lit the crowd up. The screams were deafening.
I strummed the opening chords of our first song, “Don’t You Wanna Know?”—FM7, C, FM7, C.
Goldie came in on the first verse, his voice soft as he sang the words melodically instead of the screaming lyrics the way we usually sang them.
“Don’t You Wanna Know?”
They say that love is paradise
Don’t you wanna try a slice?
We might find it very nice
Don’t you wanna know?
I realize that we just met
And you don’t really know me yet
Let’s talk things out so there’s no regret
Don’t you wanna know?
The song was everything I thought it could be when we wrote it last fall. The crowd was incredible, and when I checked the wings where Kit was standing, watching us with a smile, I couldn’t believe this was my life.
The crowd roared as we left the stage. We sang. We thrashed. We had the time of our lives, and we got the call for the encore. I looked at the guys and saw the smiles. “How do we wanna do the encore?”
“Acoustic,” they said unanimously. That’s exactly what we did, and it was amazing.
Once it was over, we walked off the stage, and I saw Kit standing in the wings. I slid my acoustic strap over my head and handed it to one of the roadies, continuing on my path toward Kit.
I stood in front of the gorgeous man, grinning. “What’d you think? Better this time, right?”
“Come here. That was great.” I stepped closer and he wrapped his arms around me, which was exactly what I needed.
“Thank you,” I whispered.
“You about ready to go back to the resort?” Kit had a big grin on his face, and he didn’t push me away, which was incredible.
We’d ripped the roof off the place, and I didn’t feel the need to stick around to hear the next band. We’d proven we were ready to show the world what we had to offer, and there was no looking back.
“I’m ready to go. This is the best night I’ve had in a long time.” It wasn’t a lie.
“Aren’t you and your bandmates going to party? It was a rousing success. I can send you the video clips I recorded. It was—what is it you kids say? Epic?”
I laughed and hugged him again. “I’m done with that life. Nothing I could drink or smoke would give me the high I’m feeling—”
“Come on, Riv. We’re going out to the beer garden. All the bands are meeting there to celebrate.” Arlo tugged my arm, but I stayed where I was—under Kit’s left arm.
“Naw, man, I’m going back to the resort. I’m beat. I’ll see you guys later. Don’t get arrested,” I joked.
“God, you’re lame as fuck. Night, loser,” Arlo responded as he hurried to catch up to the others.
I turned to Kit. “Clancy will stay here to bring them back to the resort, so it looks like I’ll be on foot.” Yes, it was a come-on, but I wasn’t very good at shit like that. I fully expected him to laugh and walk away.
“I don’t think that’s the safest thing to do, River.
In the best interests of the band, I’ll escort you back to the resort after the truck is loaded and I move it back to the security lot.
” Kit kissed my forehead, which was unexpected, and then he disappeared into the crowd of guys changing out the setup for the next band.
Our backdrop was wheeled behind the stage, along with Hardy’s drum kit, which was all put together and attached to rolling platforms. Our mics, speakers, and instruments were taken into the semi-trailer and stored on the shelving units inside.
It really was an ingenious way to move things around with the least hassle and would come in handy at the other venues.
“Why don’t you get in the truck and relax? When we’re done, I’ll move the rig back to the resort for the night. You guys were phenomenal tonight,” Kit said as he walked me over to the red semi and opened the door for me.
I climbed up and looked around. It was the first time I’d seen the inside of such a beast, but it would be a lot of fun to explore while Kit supervised the loading of the trailer. I slid into the seat and he closed the door. The chirp of the locks caught me by surprise.
I opened the glove compartment to see that it contained little more than the papers associated with his truck and insurance. The captain’s chair on the passenger side was comfortable and reclined, which was really nice.
There were a lot of gadgets and gauges on the driver’s side, making it look like the cockpit of an airplane.
There was a compartment under the radio that I opened to find some tissues, an open bag of Dum-Dums, and a small trash receptacle, where I guessed he put the wrappers when he was on the road. As I expected, it was empty.
There were two cupholders next to the compartment, and everything was neat as a pin. It wasn’t surprising at all.
I stood from the chair, which had an arm that lifted to make it easier to get to the sleeper part of the cab. There were a lot of stainless-steel cabinets with locked doors, so I couldn’t snoop. The bed was a nice size.
Sitting on the edge, I looked around to see some pictures on a corkboard hung over the entryway. There were pictures of people in his life that he must have liked looking at while resting. One was a man at a desk. He had to be Kit’s father because Kit looked just like him.
There was a picture of three guys in blue military uniforms with white hats.
I stepped closer to see that one of them was Kit, and he looked very handsome.
There was also a picture of a couple and a boy, which I guessed were Kit’s parents and him when he was young, and there was a picture of Kit, probably from high school prom, with his arm around a very pretty girl.
There, on the corkboard, was a picture of Nate Ashby, the head of Sound Wave Studios. I knew Kit was acquainted with Nate because he was at the dinner before the tour, which was where I met him. Why would he want a picture of Nate Ashby to look at when he took a break from driving?
There was a book on the shelf over the bed, along with a small lamp that I guessed Kit used when he read. There was a surge protector on the wall with ten outlets and places to charge cell phones. It was efficient.
The comforter and pillow covers were navy with beige trim. I lifted the edge of the comforter to see beige sheets, and when I smelled the pillowcases, the scent of lavender filled my nose. It would be amazing to smell that all night.
“Are you smelling my pillow?”
Shit! Busted…