Chapter 6
Like many dumb teenagers given some freedom, I repeated that situation, more times than I’d care to admit. I started experimenting with different drugs offered at shows, drinking when I could, and having lots of sex.
In fact, I couldn’t remember the guys after a while—not their faces or their names—and I could barely even recall the show. We were garnering lots more attention as winter thawed into spring and spring into summer, enough that Zack proclaimed we had actual fans.
But we never did have someone contact us about a record deal.
That didn’t matter, Zack insisted. We’d make our way regardless.
After one particularly intense show, I hooked up with another guy who got too rough, leaving marks on my neck—not from his mouth but from his hands. But I was too blitzed to care. It wasn’t until the next morning that I began to question my ways.
I overslept, not unusual, but this time my boss told me not to bother coming in. I was fired.
I thought, Fuck it. I didn’t like that job anyway but realized that job prospects were few and far between.
Angry with myself, I got in the shower to wash off last night’s show and, as I patted myself dry, I stared at myself in the mirror.
It had only been a few months, but I almost didn’t recognize myself anymore.
My face was pale, my eyes red-rimmed, making the dark circles obvious.
I’d make a great corpse.
I’d lost weight too—and had been avoiding my mom and grandparents’ calls.
Feeling guilty and ashamed, I went to my room and dressed.
Before looking for another job, I’d journal out all my negative feelings and then call my family members.
If I couldn’t find work right away, I’d probably have to ask my grandparents for a loan—something I did not want to do, because then they’d all just tell me to come home.
Before journaling, I needed coffee. Barefoot and in a light robe, I made my way to the kitchen, surprised to see Braden there. “I thought you’d be at work already,” I said.
“It’s Saturday.”
Jesus. I’d really lost track of time. My former boss didn’t realize it had been a miracle that I’d even remembered I’d been scheduled to work. But Braden didn’t need to know any of the thoughts in my head. “What are you doing up so early?”
At that, he let out a dry chuckle—but there was no humor in it. “Ten o’clock is early?”
“I guess not. It just feels early.” But the coffee I’d just poured in my mug would help.
I started walking toward the hallway and Braden said, “Would you sit with me for a minute?”
The tone of his voice made me pause—something sounded…not wrong, but definitely not right.
“Um…sure.” I felt a little sluggish—not exactly a hangover, but something close—and I hoped I had the emotional wherewithal to be able to support him however he needed. As I sat at the table, I looked at him—really looked at him—but I couldn’t read a thing.
Was Zack okay? Had I missed something in my stupor the evening before?
When I looked at Braden, he seemed a little unsure…hesitant, so I nodded, hoping to jar something loose. Finally, he asked, “Is everything okay?”
“What do you mean?”
“With you. Are you okay?”
Why was he asking me that? “Yes, I’m fine.
Why wouldn’t I be?” But that was a lie. I didn’t know if he knew I was lying, but I did.
In my heart of hearts, I knew I was getting sucked into a black hole where I was trying to drown out the ache in my soul.
The band was doing great, but the woman inside me was dying.
Zack didn’t care about me and if Once Upon a Riot didn’t make it, I’d have no career to speak of.
I was going downhill fast.
Braden tried to smile but it didn’t work—and I knew why. He was trying to give me the dignity of maintaining the lie even while he wanted to give me any support he could.
He really was the best one of the four of us.
“Okay,” he said quietly. “Just…know that I’m here if you ever need me. Or want to talk.”
He had seen right through me. “Thanks, Bray,” I said, reaching my hand across the table. “I appreciate that.”
When he took my hand, he squeezed it softly, as if hoping his promise would absorb into my skin. How had the rest of us deserved a kind soul like Braden, I wondered, not knowing that eventually I would hurt him far worse than anyone else.
Over the next month, I worked on getting my shit together.
I stopped indulging in party drugs and drinking, and I even got my job back at the fast-food restaurant where I’d worked before the holidays.
I got lucky, going in to talk to the manager on a day when three of his staff had just quit.
He threatened me, though, telling me he wouldn’t put up with “any more shenanigans.”
Being sober, however, allowed me to see Zack in a whole new light.
He, too, was doing exactly what I’d been allowing myself to do.
He was partying a little too hard, having sex with any girl willing to part her legs, taking way too many illicit substances.
Until sobering up, I hadn’t really noticed that Cy had taken over driving us home after every show.
But one day in September, Zack told us he’d finally socked away enough money from our shows that we could record a small demo—and we were going to party to celebrate.
The guys invited friends from their day jobs as well as a couple of other indie bands we’d met once or twice at venues.
I didn’t really know many of them, mostly because I was ignored.
I was the “girl” of the band and somehow didn’t seem as respectable as the guys.
Even though it pissed me off, I planned to keep working hard, hoping my skills would eventually earn me some respect.
It was yet another reason to stop drowning in my sorrows.
I didn’t love the music as much as Zack did, but it was my life—and I needed to treat it that way.
On a night like tonight, though, when we were just having some fun, I planned to drink a little.
While we waited for people to arrive, Cy, Braden, and I played a little poker.
I was getting better at it, but I still had a long way to go.
It made it harder when they threw in variations and I had to remember the new rules.
Still, playing with the guys gave me an opportunity to learn how to bluff.
We were playing five-card draw when our first guest arrived.
It was Wes.
Why Zack kept inviting him was beyond me.
Actually, I knew why. It was because Wes had no qualms about taking Zack’s money and buying him whatever he wanted at the liquor store. Wes was also under the delusion that Zack would make him part of the band in some capacity or another when we got bigger.
An hour later, I was sipping on a screwdriver, and our apartment was packed with people.
It was still early, but I imagined our neighbors would complain if the noise continued late into the night.
There were even a few females in the mix, but most of them were girlfriends of guys who’d been invited.
Three of us—Cy, Braden, and I—stayed seated at the kitchen table, dealing to additional players when they joined us.
That was when I realized I’d become a decent player. The guys knew me too well, and I couldn’t fool them to save my life—but people who didn’t know me and had often discounted me who were also starting to drink could be bluffed.
But there was no hiding my disappointment when I caught Zack cozying up to a woman with black hair and dark makeup, her large boobs on display, popping out of a too tight black tank top. I said, “Fold,” and tossed my cards face down on the table, standing up.
Cy said, “You haven’t drawn any cards.”
I just shook my head, making my way toward the bathroom.
I wasn’t going to cry, but if I had to keep looking at Zack and that girl, I was going to lose my shit.
Maybe I was getting better at bluffing, but I couldn’t do it well enough to pretend seeing Zack wasn’t upsetting.
Even though he wasn’t touching her or anything, the way he was leaned up against the wall, giving her his easy smile and all his attention told me exactly what I didn’t want to know.
In the bathroom, I stared at myself in the mirror. What was it about me that Zack didn’t want? I wasn’t ugly…and we had always been great friends until recently.
That was why I’d been indulging in mind-numbing substances and having sex with strangers—it was an attempt to push Zack out of my head.
And, although I knew I wasn’t going to be getting chummy with any of the band assholes in our apartment that night, I did plan to get drunk as soon as I left the bathroom.
But, when I stepped out, Wes was blocking the exit out of the hallway.
At first, I wasn’t sure if he was doing it on purpose, so I tried sidestepping him, but he anticipated my move and shifted so he stayed in my way.
As usual, he wore baggy jeans and his short blond hair looked uncombed—and I wondered why he thought I might be interested in him.
Even if Zack were a bigger asshole and even if I’d moved on to other pastures, Wes would not have been on my list—not as a potential hook up and definitely not as a love interest.
“Excuse me,” I said, trying to make my voice sound less irritated than I was.
“No excuse for you.”
“That is the oldest, lamest joke in the book.”
“Not meant to be a joke,” Wes said, his eyes narrowing. “I need to get your attention.”
“Um…you kind of have it. I don’t really have a choice right now.”
Although I hadn’t thought it possible, he got even closer to me, breaking into my personal space. “Don’t you have any fantasies, Dani? I don’t mean your band dreams. I mean don’t you want to explore your womanhood?”