Chapter 6
Noah
“I don’t give a shit! I want the other ride cymbal.” I pushed up from my stool and stomped over to Alice. “This shit isn’t right. Fix it!”
“Whoa, Noah.” Xander lifted his hands in a placating gesture as he stepped between me and Alice. “That’s not how we talk to people, man. What’s going on with you?”
“What’s going on with me is that shit isn’t right. My toms aren’t at the right level, and that ride cymbal sounds like shit. I can’t do a fucking show with this bullshit.” I tossed my drumsticks across the stage and stomped away.
But of course, before I left, I heard Alice mutter something about it being “the same cymbal as yesterday.”
I swore to Christ everywhere I looked was a trigger. I might’ve had my one-year chip, but by no means did I have my shit together. That hunger was always there, bubbling beneath the surface. And on days like today when I was stressed the fuck out, it would be so easy to give in. Just a little hit of nirvana.
Escape.
Freedom.
But then I remember the looks on the guys’ faces when I woke up in that damn hospital. How long it’d taken me to beat back the dragon. How much work I’d done to get here.
So excuse me if I was wound a little tight. This shit was hard.
I was all geared up to stomp back and tell her exactly what was what when I caught my NA sponsor, Malcomb Holt, lead guitarist for Long Licks, standing backstage with his hands in his pockets and a disappointed expression on his face.
And I should know. I’d seen it so many times before.
Muffling my groan, I stomped over to him. “Mal, what are you doing here?”
“Well, I came to give my sponsee some moral support, but I’m thinking maybe about giving you a lobotomy instead. You think anyone backstage has an ice pick? Three taps and you’d be a different man. Definitely happier at least.”
“I don’t care what you say—I’m not wrong.”
Alice walked by, holding the cymbal I’d been bitching about, a blank expression on her face.
Mal’s eyes flicked between me and Alice, but he didn’t say anything as she passed.
Once she was clear, he had plenty to say.
“Am I sensing some sexual tension? Is that the problem here?” A huge grin spread over his face, and he raised his eyebrows. “Did she turn you down?”
“Fuck no!” I all but shouted. “The problem here is that she can’t do her fucking job.”
Alice appeared in the hallway holding a Paiste 22-inch ride cymbal still in the box.
“Looks like she’s more than capable to me.”
She stopped in front of me with that damn blank expression still on her face. “This is the only other ride cymbal in the building. Do you want me to take it out of the box, or do you want to admit you were wrong and that the one onstage is the correct cymbal?”
I ground my teeth. “I don’t believe you. You have to be hiding my cymbal somewhere. Or maybe you took it home. But that one I used out there isn’t right.”
“Security escorted me to my car last night. Feel free to ask them if I smuggled a cymbal home in my pants. This is the only other ride cymbal in the building. Which one would m’lord like to use tonight?”
I clenched my fists and yelled, “Why do you have to be so goddamn frustrating!”
“Wow.” She gave a disbelieving laugh then shook her head. “If you’re done with your temper tantrum, I’d appreciate an answer to my question. Which cymbal do you want? The new, fresh out of the box one, or the original one?”
I ground my teeth. She was so fucking frustrating. Gave me so much shit when I was the one in charge. And then she just batted her eyes like that made it all right. “Put the original one back on. I can’t break in a new cymbal on opening fucking night.”
“Righty-O.” Alice swung back to go back the way she’d came.
“And I’ll be having a little conversation with Harper about your attitude. You’re out of line.”
She fluttered her hand in the air as she walked away. After a beat, she turned back and talked while walking backward. “Feel free. Harper told me yesterday what a wonderful job I was doing. That’s a direct quote by the way.”
Then she made a hand gesture with her free hand that I happened to know wasn’t a victory salute. At least not in England.
“You see?” I roared at Mal. “Do you see the bullshit I have to put up with?”
Mal muffled his laughter. “Do you seriously not see the sexual tension bubbling between the two of you?”
“Fuck off.” I stomped back onstage to wait for Alice to reassemble my drums.
* * *
“You doing okay?” Mal asked as he sidled up to me a few hours later in the greenroom. He’d given me time to cool off, unlike some people who seemed to enjoy needling me.
I hitched my shoulder. “I don’t know why this is so hard this time around. I mean I toured at only six months clean, and I wasn’t this twitchy then.”
“The program was fresher in your head then. And so were the consequences. Plus, you had Ford with you.”
I grunted in reply. It’d felt so demoralizing at first to literally have a babysitter along, watching my every move, but Ford had turned into a pretty awesome friend. “Maybe I should give him a call.”
“If you feel like you need to, absolutely. You have so many people in your corner rooting for you. Literally lining up to pay to see you. You’ve got this. Trust the steps. Trust the program. Lean on people when you need to. You can do this.”
“Thanks, Mal.”
“You up for a meeting after the show?”
I smiled and shook my head. He was always pushing me to go to meetings with him. “I have to make an appearance at the afterparty, but sure. After.”
“Good. Less time at the afterparty, the better.”
“No doubt.”
“But, uh, there’s something I’ve been meaning to talk to you about if you’ve got a minute.”
I watched the bustling people in the greenroom—Chase on the couch feeling up his wife’s burgeoning tummy, Ella taking pictures of Jesse sitting in the makeup chair getting his guyliner touched up while Jesse tried to look cool (really he just looked in love with his wife), Xander arguing with someone from wardrobe over a sparkly top he definitely wouldn’t be wearing today while Harper argued with a roadie in the doorway. Since it was still early, we hadn’t let any media or contest winners in yet. Only family and close friends. Chase’s mom, Shay’s sisters, and Xander’s family took up one corner, chatting and laughing. I gave Liam a wave, but he was busy talking with Grady. The only person from my life that was here was Mal.
And wasn’t that just a little bit sad?
The only person who showed up for my residency kickoff was my NA sponsor.
“I’ve got lots of minutes.” I sighed. “What’s on your mind, Mal?”
“Just…I’ve been thinking about something since soundcheck earlier. And I’m wondering how honest you’d been in step eight.”
“My amends list?”
“Yeah.”
“What about it?” My amends list was imprinted on my brain. Every time I thought of using again, I thought about all the relationships I’d almost killed. The people I’d hurt and how they’d feel if I picked up that needle again.
Mal shifted his weight. “I think there’s someone you might’ve left off.”
“Who?”
“I didn’t see Alice’s name on your list.”
“Alice?”
Given the way everyone turned to look at me, I might’ve said her name a little loud.
Hunching my shoulders, I turned to Mal and hissed, “Why the hell would I put Alice’s name on my list?”
“Are you serious?” Mal gave an incredulous laugh. “Because you hid drugs in the gear she was responsible for and could’ve gotten her fired. Or arrested. You guys were in a foreign country for chrissake.”
“I…”
“What did you make amends to Harper for?”
“Having to find me when I’d ODed. Not accepting the help she’d offered…” Dropping my head, I whispered, “Hiding drugs in the instrument cases.”
“And you don’t think Alice deserves an amends for the same thing?”
It felt like he’d hit me over the head with a sledgehammer. I swore I saw spots for a second and I had that weird skin crawling sensation.
Son of a bitch.
I was the fuck up. Alice hadn’t done anything wrong. But I kept blaming her for shit. A lot of shit she didn’t have any control over.
I’d been blaming her for my own shit. Like she’d done something to me when she’d told Harper about my drug stash.
I hadn’t been wronged.
I’d been an ass.
“Fuck.”
“Exactly.”
We stood together in silence, him supporting me, and me coming to terms with what an asshole I’d been while chaos reigned around us.
A few minutes later, someone let in the media and all those with backstage passes, and things really got hectic. I did my part, gladhanding anyone who came across my path, trying to be the Noah everyone thought they knew. But the whole time, all I could think about was how easy it would be to escape for a minute. Find some roadie or fan who was holding and make it all go away.
“Noah! There you are, man. I’ve been meaning to talk to you.” Liam grinned at me as he clapped his free hand on my shoulder. In his other hand, he held a glass of what was no doubt alcohol-free sparkling cider.
“Hey Liam. How’s it going?” I gave him my fake-happy smile.
“Good man. Just been catching up with everyone. I hadn’t seen Grady in a hot minute. It was good to talk to him again. Still can’t believe he’s married with kids. When did we get old?”
I nodded. “Some days I feel truly ancient. But that’s the next step for you, right? Like all the guys, you got the girl. Next comes marriage and the baby carriage.”
“Holy shit, man. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves here.”
This time I didn’t have to fake a laugh. It burbled out of me on its own. “Noted.”
“But seriously, No, how’s it going? You dealing with your shit like we talked about?”
That wiped the smile off my face. I nodded stoically. “I’m trying. Some days are better than others.”
“I get that. Probably more than most here. It does get better, but it never goes completely away.” He paused and gave me a chin nod. “I’m just a phone call away if you ever need an ear. Ever, brother. I’ll be there for you. I hope you know that.”
“I appreciate it, Lee. I—”
“Does everyone have a glass?” Chase shouted over the dull roar of the small crowd in the greenroom.
“What is with this shit anyhow?” Shawn Reyes, a pop-rock soloist who had his own Vegas residency at the Oz Resort down the street, yelled across the room. “I came to get fucked up. Not drink some toddler bubbles.”
“Fuck you, Reyes!” Chase hollered back. “Who invited you anyways?”
Shawn glared at Chase. They’d had some dust up in the tabloids years ago since they’d both dated the same it-actress…the same weekend.
“Uh, I think what Chase meant to say”—Xander jumped in, holding up a placating hand at Shawn—“is that during our residency here, all backstage areas are drug- and alcohol-free—that goes for anything that is recreationally legal. Yes, even in Nevada. So all toasts will be with alcohol-free cider or a mocktail of the band’s choosing.”
An overwhelming feeling of peace swept over me, and I had to surreptitiously wipe at the corner of my eye. The guys always had my back. But I never would’ve expected—let alone asked—them to make this change for me.
Damn, I loved these guys.
“Plus, since we’re all multiplying lately, I thought it’d be good if there were less drunk assholes backstage.” Chase raised his glass to Jesse with a smirk.
“Chase!” Ella yelped. She gestured furiously for him to stop talking, but her brother was too busy shaking Jesse’s shoulders to notice.
“Fuck, that’s one way to announce a pregnancy I guess.” Jesse grinned while Ella looked like she was plotting her brother’s murder.
“Oh shit, was that not public? My bad. Sorry, sis.” Chase lifted his glass toward his sister.
It was probably a good thing that she was not within reach of her brother.
“Too many witnesses, Ella!” I patted her shoulder. “But I’m down for an alibi if you need one later.”
“You are my favorite Tin God, Noah,” Ella said, giving me a slight smile before turning to Chase and promising retribution with a glare. Then she was enveloped by well-wishers.
“Right.” Xander whistled to get the crowd’s attention again. “Can we get all the Gods over here for the kickoff toast? Where’s Noah?”
“Coming!” I hollered. “I was just keeping Ella from committing…what’s that word Shakespeare would use for killing your brother?”
“Fratricide,” Shay said like it was a word everyone had at the tip of their tongues.
“Holy shit.” Chase beamed down at his wife as he wrapped one arm around her shoulders. “I really hope our nugget gets that brain of yours.”
“Because it’ll be tragic if little Robinson gets yours.” I snorted with laughter.
Jesse laughed too. “Yeah, it would just be thinking about chords and tits.”
“Hey!” Chase barked as he elbowed Jesse in the gut. “Watch your language. Developing ears are listening.”
“What?” Jesse raised his hands in an act of innocence. “It’s not like I said anything nasty. Tits are tits. Besides, your fetus isn’t even here yet.”
Shay grabbed Chase’s hand before he could start a slap fight. She held his hand between hers and pressed a kiss against the back of it.
Something about the action made my heart thud unevenly. But I shook off the sensation.
Shay smiled at her husband. “Technically, at this stage, the baby can only hear my heartbeat and muffled sounds from my voice. It’ll be a few months before you have to worry about language. “
“See? Stop being a dipshit.” Jesse laughed and danced away from Chase’s reach.
Shay rolled her eyes. “But loud music like from say a rock concert can be stress inducing, so I won’t be watching you all perform. Sorry. Hope you all kick ass tonight.”
“Wait, stay for the toast at least.” Chase turned a puppy dog stare at his wife that had me embarrassed for him.
I turned to Xander to mutter something about Chase’s whipped status, but Xander had his arms wrapped around his new wife, Harper. And Jesse was all over Ella, no doubt whispering naughty shit in her ear, judging by the flush on her cheeks.
And the cheese stood alone.
Fuck.
“Hey, Romeos!” I hollered at my loved-up band. “Can we get this toast on the road? I think there are a few thousand fans out there who are waiting for us.”
The dull roar had rumbled in the background for a while now.
“Shit.” Chase grabbed the bottle of cider, and my annoyance leached away.
I shouldn’t be blaming them for my ridiculous jealousy—or chosen celibacy—especially when they’d already gone so far to make me comfortable here.
“All right!” Chase yelled. “Does everyone have their drink?”
“ Yes !” the crowd chorused back.
Chase grinned. “Good! Before every show, one of the four of us sponsors the kickoff drink. I drew the short straw tonight. Thanks to the Oasis Resort for hosting us for this residency. It’s fucking amazing that we can have fans from all over visit us in one place. And thanks to Harper Grey, our show manager, Tyler Worthington, our manager, and Stolly Records for all the work they do behind the scenes. We really appreciate all the roadies, light, sound, and instrument techs, merch people, and promotors for how hard you all hustle for us. We can’t do this show without you all busting your asses for us, so tonight’s show is dedicated to our crew. Love you guys! Let’s kick this tour off right!” Chase yelled, holding his bubbly glass high. “All hail the Tin Gods!”
“Hail!” everyone hollered back before we clinked our glasses together and downed the shot. Then raucous cheering pulsed through the room.
I grinned at my bandmates.
And finally, after way too long, it felt like some of the broken pieces of me were clicking together.
I was home.