Chapter 23
Iconfessed what I’d threatened Zack with to Braden that night when he came back from Cy’s room. “What were you thinking?” he asked.
“I wasn’t. I just…I wanted him to wake the fuck up. I thought maybe I could push him into doing the right thing.”
“Baby...I can’t blame you—but do you really think leaving the band is the answer?”
“I don’t know. But at least I won’t have to watch him slowly kill himself.”
We sat on the bed, silent for a moment, and Braden squeezed my hand. I believed watching Zack implode was just as hard on him, but he didn’t seem willing to take the tough love as far as I had.
And I had to know for certain.
“I, um…I told Zack I’d take you with me.”
“You what?”
I just shrugged, frowning. Braden let out a sigh—but he didn’t indicate if he would leave or not. When he shook his head as if he were disappointed with me like he might be with a child, I grew angry. “I was desperate. It wasn’t sinking in with him.”
That disappointed expression remained on Braden’s face. “Zack has to decide he’s ready. We can’t force him into rehab. That’s not the way it works.”
I knew he was right but I was irritated, because it felt like he was taking Zack’s side. “Fine.” I stood up and stormed off to the bathroom.
Braden walked toward the doorway where I had just squeezed some Crest on my toothbrush. “So that’s it? You’re done talking?”
“There’s nothing else to talk about. I’m going to bed.” And, with that, I began vigorously scrubbing my teeth, refusing to make eye contact with my fiancé.
Well, if I was going to burn one bridge, why not set them all ablaze?
After our show the next day, we headed to Atlanta for the next.
We all slept in our bunks and arrived by lunchtime.
Mick rousted Zack, who was still in bed, and we all got out to eat at a burger place before sound check.
All six of us were seated around a table—Mick, the bus driver, and us four band members—and we remained silent as we scoured the menu.
But I wasn’t hungry.
After we gave the waitress our orders, I decided to let the proverbial cat out of the bag. “I need to make an announcement,” I said, waiting until all eyes were on me.
I could see it on Mick’s face: Oh, God, what now?
Braden’s expression wasn’t much better. At least he had an idea of what I was about to say.
I could have been melodramatic or over the top, but I knew how my bandmates—and our tour manager—were feeling near the end of this leg. Being on the road was exhausting and here I was piling it on.
So I took a deep breath, willing my voice to stay calm and steady. “I’m leaving Once Upon a Riot. I’ll fulfill my obligations for this tour—the festival this summer and the second leg. But after that, I’m done. Please find another drummer to replace me after that.”
I couldn’t read Cy—not at all—but his face was cool and, well, unreadable.
For Cy, though, that wasn’t anything new.
Zack, on the other hand, plastered a neutral expression on his face.
No, that wasn’t entirely true. He was trying to do that; instead, it came off as I-don’t-give-a-fuck.
He was working hard to keep it there, and I imagined his hangover wasn’t helping.
Braden looked sad…but he’d already known about this.
Mick, though—looking at his face nearly killed me.
This man who had become the closest thing I’d ever had to a father (aside from my beloved grandpa) looked like he’d lost his dog.
That was just his eyes and I only saw it because I’d known him for so long.
Seconds later, he’d moved his mouth so that it was in its standard half-frown position, the main reason why, for so long, I’d just thought he was a grouchy old guy.
He managed to ask, “Do you want to share your reasons? Did another band steal you like they tried to with Cy?”
“No. It’s not that. I do love drumming and I’m going to miss it, but that’s not why I’m leaving. I just…wanted you guys to know so you’re not blindsided when I don’t show up for a third leg.” Directly to Zack, I said, “And I don’t want you scrambling to replace me at the last second.”
Cy, of all people, finally spoke up. “Dani…I get you. You don’t have to say why, but I think you know a big part of the reason why I wanted to leave.” His cool dark eyes told me he really did understand.
And it took me back to when Cy was ready to abandon us. Zack had been full of contrition and apologies for our other guitarist, promising to change. But he’d treated me like shit, telling me how worthless I was to the band. Just remembering that cemented my resolve.
But Cy nearly dissolved it with his next words.
“I stayed because we’re a family…because all of you relied on me—not just Zack.
And Zack made good on his promise. He let us do a big chunk of the writing for this album,” he started, and I thought to myself, Yeah, because he had writer’s block.
“And he went to rehab.” Which he’d already flushed down the toilet.
“After this tour, we’re going to have to talk about what’s going on with you,” he said to Zack, “but right now, I’m committed to all of you. ”
At first, I felt a sliver of shame, bailing when noble Cy had decided to stick it out—but as soon as I let in all the feelings of what I’d been railing about ever since I’d become a woman, I found my determination.
Zack had treated Cy—a man—very differently from the way he had treated me.
And, without an apology from him, he could fuck all the way off.
But I wasn’t about to say that.
“Cy, I respect your decision and I was so grateful that you stuck it out. Riot wouldn’t be the same without you. But,” I said, shifting my eyes to Zack, “you guys could hire a monkey to do what I do.”
“What?” Braden almost shouted. Our poor waitress arrived with a tray full of drinks and tried passing them out in the midst of the chaos. We’d have to be sure to give her a good tip.
I had to unclamp my jaw to address my fiancé. “Those aren’t my words.”
He raised his eyebrows and then, very quietly, spoke. Because the waitress was talking—“Who had the Dr. Pepper?”—no one else heard him. “You didn’t tell me that.”
“I know.”
He squeezed my knee, and I knew then that I had his support. Last night, I hadn’t been sure, but now that I’d filled in a little bit more of the picture, he understood.
“Dani, I hope to God you know that’s not true,” Mick said, opening up a sugar packet and pouring it into his glass of iced tea.
I let out another long breath, this time looking at everyone except Zack.
“I’m not going to debate any of this. I just didn’t want this to be a surprise.
” As I unwrapped a straw, I stared at the paper, no longer willing to meet anyone’s eyes.
“I love you guys and I hope Riot keeps making amazing music and getting more fans—but you’ll have to do it without me. ”
Mick wasn’t satisfied. “You still haven’t said why. Is it because you’ve lost your self-confidence? I can help you with that, kid.”
I couldn’t help but smile at him. “I know. And don’t think I don’t appreciate it. But…if you want the truth, I can’t be around our frontman anymore.”
Mick’s light blue eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”
Oh, Jesus—did he think Zack had assaulted me? I didn’t want him to have that erroneous impression. “I don’t want to witness another OD.”
“I already told you that won’t happen again.” When Zack finally spoke, his voice was far too loud, and a family at the next table shot us a look. Well, at least he hadn’t cursed.
I glared at the man I used to love to the depths of my heart. “Maybe not. But people die from alcohol poisoning too—and I don’t want to be around when it happens. Because, at the rate you’re going, it will.”
Zack looked like he was trying to come up with a good retort but his head hurt too badly to focus.
Oh, fuck. Had I done that? Had he drunk more than he usually would have because of my confrontation last night?
No, Dani—you can’t keep taking on his burdens.
God, I wanted to blame myself and, yeah, maybe I’d triggered something, but I couldn’t be responsible for his behavior.
I’d told him more than once that he needed counseling—he needed to talk out all that shit with someone who could help him figure out how to navigate his feelings, and he’d blown it off.
He’d tested two therapists and decided there wasn’t anyone who could help him.
And that was not my fault.
I couldn’t give in now, not like I had time and time again. I had to be strong.
“So, as I said earlier, I will fulfill my obligations—but you’ll have to find someone to replace me.” Childishly twisting the knife, I said to Zack, “Maybe you can call the Cheyenne Mountain Zoo when we get back home. They might have someone eager to hit the road with you guys.”
Again, Zack opened his mouth—but he had nothing.
Yeah, I thought so.
And, with that announcement made, I had made my bed…and now I could lie in it. There would be no turning back from this point.
At least, as I stared at a cheeseburger that I couldn’t force down, that was what I thought.
We went straight from the last show of this leg of the tour in Miami to Texas for the summer festival in early July.
No longer a rookie act, we had a time slot in the late afternoon.
I was partly excited because I loved the energy of the festivals—but I was sad, knowing this would be the last one I’d attend as a drummer.
Zack had taken to not speaking to me—like, not at all. In fact, he barely acknowledged me as a coworker when we were performing onstage. And I didn’t care. That was a bridge I’d needed to burn for a long time, because too many times I’d ventured across it, only to leave disappointed and hurt.