Chapter 14 #2
Although he gave me a small frown, he relented—and Cy and Zack thought nothing of it. That stung as well…that Zack didn’t even ask about my choice.
That first night, we stayed in a Motel 6 and the guys were excited that there was a pool—but we didn’t have any swimming gear. We planned to go out to eat and decided to swing by the Walmart that was about a mile away so the guys could buy swimming trunks.
Me, though…surrounded by several men I didn’t know? I wasn’t interested in baring a lot of skin.
We ate at a McDonald’s not far from the hotel and then it was just me, Zack, Braden, and Cy who went to Walmart—and we walked.
After being crammed on that bus and at two fast food restaurants in a day with seven other people we didn’t really know, we needed a little alone time.
I was surprised that it was actually cool outside.
Wasn’t Arizona supposed to be hot year round?
Needless to say, I wore a jacket for our walk.
What I loved about what I’d been able to see before darkness fell was how much it reminded me of Colorado—mountains off in the distance and cool for early fall.
“So, guys, what do you think?” Zack asked.
“It’s still so surreal,” I said.
Braden agreed and Cy said, “I can’t wait to play for a huge audience.”
“Me neither,” Zack said. “This crowd will be as big as the one we had in RiNo over Thanksgiving weekend.”
Braden said, “I think our days of playing for fifty people at a time are behind us.”
“If they love our music.”
It was unspoken among us: we were getting plenty of airplay and we knew we had sales, but we didn’t know how many yet. One thing we did know was that we hadn’t gone viral. So, even through the excitement, we hid the fear we all felt inside.
What if no one liked us?
What if they hated our music?
What if they liked it but not enough to buy the album or any of our merch?
There were so many what ifs at the beginning, and we weren’t sure what to expect.
That night while the guys played in the pool, I walked around the parking lot looking at the stars…trying to keep myself from all the worries I felt.
The next night in Los Angeles for our first show as a professional band, we felt the love, starting first with the venue.
Because they spoiled us right from the get-go, we would be ruined for all future venues that didn’t pamper their artists, especially nobodies like us.
Each of us had a dressing room and there was a huge green room where Last Five Seconds had set up a meet and greet for after the show to which we were invited.
My dressing room felt plush, like I was already a big star.
Unfortunately, it didn’t help my nerves. Suddenly, I was back in Lamar for our very first show—a bundle of nerves, shaky, doubting my ability.
Where the hell was that coming from?
Probably the knowledge that we were up first—and nobody here knew us.
After getting ready, I lay down on the soft couch in my room, pulling up my knees to my stomach, taking in deep breaths through my nose.
The food the venue had offered us earlier—wraps and salads—was now churning in my gut, and I regretted eating any of it.
Now I was only sipping water so I wouldn’t throw it up.
Not long after that, I heard a sharp knock on my door that made me jump. “I need you out here in ten minutes, Dani.”
Could I even do it?
I kept breathing as if I were meditating, doing my best to calm my nerves…and managed to fall asleep. That wasn’t surprising, considering how hard it had been falling asleep in that shared room with Braden—in a strange place and far from home—and a bus ride that made it difficult to even nap.
Another sharp rap on my door startled me and I got hit with a wave of nausea—so I got up and went straight to the trash can by the dressing table and lost all my dinner. Another loud knock, followed by Mick. “Everything okay?”
I might have muttered No in between waves.
So he asked, “Can I come in?”
“Yeah.”
I expected to be berated, because everything I knew about Mick was that he was all business.
In his first meeting with us, he’d told us he wouldn’t tolerate any “drama” or other “prima donna bullshit” that most bands engaged in.
He’d seen it all before and would rather “knock our heads together” than put up with “bullshit.”
Although he’d never exactly defined bullshit other than talking about drama and other adolescent behaviors, we got the message: if we had a beef with each other, we needed to deal with it ourselves.
He was only there to make sure we got to where we needed safely—including onstage—and to keep things running smoothly.
So I figured I was going to hear something about being irresponsible and disrespectful—and on our first night, no less.
But when he entered, I was still hovering over the trashcan as my stomach stopped heaving, and I wiped my chin. I knew it was just nerves and not some kind of stomach bug because I instantly felt better, though weak.
“Are you all right?” Mick asked, his voice unusually soft.
“Yeah…I just, um…I think I’m a little nervous.”
“It’s your first show. It happens. Can I get you anything?” he asked as he pulled a tissue out of the box on the dressing table.
“I just need to rinse my mouth out, I think.” After wiping off my chin again with the tissue, I turned on the sink next to the dressing table.
“Do you need extra time or—”
“No. I think I’ll be all right.”
“Listen, kid,” he said as I turned around, dabbing at my chin with a cloth, “you don’t have to be a hero. If you need a few minutes, it’s okay.”
I had a hard time believing I was talking to gruff no-nonsense Mick. For a change, his tone was almost…fatherly. “Thanks, but I really am okay.”
“All right. Then let’s get you on stage for your first show.” Picking up a bottle of water off the table next to the door, he handed it to me, and I said another quick thanks as we walked into the hallway. “We’re gonna head just offstage. The guys are there already.”
As we made our way there, I marveled at how much my opinion of this man had changed in the span of just a few minutes. “You said this show was sold out?” I asked, wanting to break the awkward silence.
“Not just this one. Every single show. But that’s not surprising. Last Five Seconds has always drawn a crowd.” And we were lucky enough to be able to share that crowd for a few weeks. “But don’t let that scare you. You’re gonna be great, kid. Just imagine yourself back in the studio recording.”
“I’ll be fine as soon as I’m behind the drums.”
“Knock ‘em dead.” Rounding a dark corner, Mick opened a plain wooden door and the sound of an excited audience rushed through.
That was all it took. Their energy and enthusiasm smoothed out my sour gut and hit me with an electric rush—and I felt almost like someone could plug their phone into me to charge it.
Zack noticed me first, his green eyes on fire, eager to show these people what we were all about.
Our merch table—run by an outside company and people we didn’t even know—stocked not just t-shirts and other swag but also CDs.
We were hoping people who’d never heard of us before tonight or who had only heard our single would decide to pick it up while they were here.
Zack’s eyes told me he already imagined we’d sell out of everything night after night.
Braden looked more like I felt—a little nervous but toughing it out—and Cy had his usual look of brooding reluctance.
Back to his old self, Mick said, “Play like your life depends on it. Don’t embarrass me out there.”
Braden frowned but Zack laughed. “Get outta here, old man. You can’t handle our level of rock.”
“You’ll go on in five. I’ll give the word when it’s time.
” Mick disappeared for a couple minutes and I realized the guys and I could talk and no one in the audience would ever hear it, but we were all too wound to do it.
As we waited, I realized that maybe part of why I was off my game was because this was the first time we’d ever gotten ready without setting up our instruments ourselves.
We’d done sound checks that afternoon, but we hadn’t had to move any of our equipment. That was our road crew’s job.
So this moment was a little surreal.
Holy fucking shit. We were about to become real rock stars.
This was the moment we’d been working toward.
Even not onstage, I could feel the energy and excitement from the audience, building, like a car where, as soon as you’re on the highway, you press the pedal to the floor so you can finally be free.
And, when I was behind those drums, I was fully free.
All the shit we’d gone through—the small audiences at a few of the bars we’d played early on where the crowd was as lively as if we’d been playing in a nursing home; the bullshit misogyny I’d had to deal with at every turn; the label controlling our every move, keeping the purse strings tight—all of that was worth it for this moment.
The minutes ticked by like hours but, finally, Mick came around the corner. “You’re on, guys. Give ‘em a show they’ll never forget.”
Zack gave one short nod, the look in his eyes telling it all.
He was about to meet his long-awaited destiny.
As we walked under the lights to our positions, the guys already had their instruments over their backs, and I realized I’d left my drumsticks back in the dressing room.
For just a moment, I panicked, preparing to run offstage to get them, but then I remembered there would be an extra pair at the kit.
I just needed to make sure not to damage them or send one flying offstage.
I hadn’t had many issues in the past, but I was feeling the pressure.
When I sat at my drum kit, I allowed myself to look in front of me. In a way, this was no different from past shows, with one exception: we’d only been on a stage this big once or twice before. There was more than enough room for the guys to wander without running into each other.
And, no matter where they moved, I’d always be able to see the audience.
Unlike the shows we’d played before this night, my drums and I were on a platform.
It wasn’t mountainous but it made it a little easier for the audience to see me behind the guys.
It was hard making out the audience, though.
Under the harsh lights beaming down on us, all I could see was a dark abyss.
I could feel them out there, but I could only occasionally see a movement in the blob.
It was probably better that way.
Immediately, I was grateful for Mick again, the guy I’d thought was going to be our nemesis throughout the entire tour.
He’d insisted that I have a fan blowing on me throughout the show.
“The guys can move all around the stage and cool off that way, but you’re stuck.
” Because the lights felt overly warm on the skin on my arms, the fan was a necessity I hadn’t known I needed.
And he’d also told us to buy more amps. Lots more. We’d need them.
The crowd was cheering as we took our positions, and I wondered if it was because they knew us from our single or if they were just excited that the show was starting. I was all but giddy.
When Zack looked back at me, I felt like a complete idiot.
I was the one who had the task of starting us out on the first song, but I’d been absorbing all the newness.
Giving him a quick nod, I loosened my death grip on the drumsticks and clicked them together in front of my head—one, two, three, four.
Zack’s grin nearly melted my insides, as all the tension, nerves, and anxiety washed away.
In that moment, I was witnessing my best friend and my forever unrequited love doing what he’d always known was his fate.
He was becoming a rock god.
As he played the first chords, my feet were playing the bass drum, my sticks occasionally striking the snare.
Zack had written this song back in January and we’d all fallen in love with it, a tribute to our lives at the time—struggling to make ends meet in our dead-end jobs, living for those nights where we could share our art with appreciative fans.
It was when we played that we truly felt purpose, and that was why he’d named the song “Alive.” When we’d put together the setlist, that was the song Zack insisted go first. It had been another one he’d wanted as a single, but the label had said it was too slow, too brooding.
The compromise was that we’d play it first on tour.
Once we started, I settled into the familiar and, although I was still marveling at the crowd and loving what felt like thunder-like applause, I finally relaxed and appreciated the moment.
This was where I and my friends belonged and we were finally reaping the benefits of our hard work.