Chapter 15
Early the next morning when it was still dark out, we were all crammed in the bus headed for San Diego.
Our road crew, after actually hearing and watching us play live, clearly had a newfound respect for us.
Well, for the guys at least. The jury was still out in my case.
Still, they seemed more willing to work hard for us because, I supposed, they thought we’d proven ourselves to be legit.
We all felt a little hung over—yes, even those of us who were underage, because we’d been invited to Last Five Seconds’ opening night party.
I didn’t expect it to get rowdy, because all the men in that band had their girlfriends and wives with them, but they and their massive crew really knew how to knock back the beverages.
And Once Upon a Riot partied like the rock stars we now were. We knew, based on the fan reactions, that we had officially made it.
The roadies, too, had overly indulged and most of the people on the bus that next morning were trying to sleep.
I wasn’t in as bad a shape as most of the guys.
All I had was a mild headache—so tame, I hadn’t bothered to find a pain reliever, although I suspected Mick would have had something if I’d asked.
Still, even though I’d seen a nicer side to him the day before, I didn’t want to push it.
He sat near the front, talking to the driver as the bus got on I-5 for the trip south. The roadies took up most of the seats in the center, and the four band members took up the two back seats. Cy and Zack were in the very back seats, while Braden and I were in the second-to-last.
As the bus rolled on, the roadie in front of me started snoring, so I knew there was no way I’d be able to sleep, even if I’d wanted to. But I was in a dream-like state, still figuratively pinching myself.
Yes, this was real.
After thirty miles, I unlocked my phone and decided to look at our social media.
Holy shit.
Overnight, our TikTok followers had doubled.
And the comments.
Sitting up, I started scrolling and reading. If last night had made me feel like a real rock star, what I was looking at right now reinforced that sensation tenfold. So many people commented that they’d seen the show and loved us.
But there was more.
There were comments from a couple of our old followers telling us they had tickets for our upcoming Denver show.
And then there were other remarks—and I had to share one in particular with my fellow band members, whether they were awake and listening or not.
“Cy is so sexy the way he plays his guitar, all broody and angry looking, and Braden is charming. (BTW bad ass woman drummer! Represent!) But Zack won my heart tonight. The way he bared his soul through his lyrics absolutely killed me. ZACK, I’LL BE YOUR GF! ”
The guys were barely stirring, so I read it again, this time a little louder. One of the road crew stirred, and I just dared him to say something to me.
Surprisingly enough, he didn’t.
Braden said, “What is that?”
“It’s a comment on TikTok. Mick had one of the guys take some pictures and send ‘em to the social media people, so they uploaded a collage from last night—and some girl left that comment.”
Cy asked, “What did it say about me again?”
“Cy is so sexy the way he plays his guitar.”
“Sexy?”
Zack lifted his head, his eyes mere slits in his face. There was still plenty of streetlights shining in the windows for me to discern facial features, and it was easy to see he was tired. “Don’t let it go to your head, man. Don’t let it go to either head.”
Braden chuckled. Cy said, “Kinda hard not to.”
“Oh, yeah. I forgot to tell you guys. When you get famous—and we’re on our way—you get an all-you-can-eat pussy buffet.”
“Jesus, Zack. That’s gross,” I said, turning in my seat and sitting down, irritated.
I was probably even angrier because I knew he was right. He and Cy laughed and even Braden joined in. “At least you guys weren’t called charming. What does that even mean?”
“It’s like when someone asks you if you think a girl is cute and you tell them she’s got a good personality.”
I couldn’t help myself. Turning around in my seat again, I practically yelled. “Do you know how sexist that sounds, Zack?”
“Yeah, I do—and it was just a joke, Dani. Get over yourself. And keep your voice down. My head feels like you took your drumsticks to it.”
Although I didn’t say it out loud, I thought good.
He deserved it.
Ah, but he didn’t. Last night, he’d drunk enough to drown a lifetime of sorrows—and that was a reminder to me that he was suffering inside. But why wouldn’t he talk about it?
Now wasn’t the time. All three guys went to sleep shortly after settling back into the seats.
Meanwhile, I fumed over not just the TikTok girl but all the others who, last night, had decided that they too loved Zack Ryan.
And they thought they knew him, based on a few lines in some songs, but those lyrics barely scratched the surface.
I knew the whole man…even if he wasn’t mine.
But that didn’t mean I could save him from himself.
A few nights later, we were in Phoenix. Unlike Flagstaff, Phoenix still felt like summer, even though back at home, leaves were turning shades of yellow, orange, and red. That night behind my drumkit, I was grateful for the fan Mick had insisted on.
That night was a bit of a turning point for me—and not in a good way. We were partying with some fans in one of the roadies’ rooms, and a guy there offered me cocaine—and I was already buzzed from the rum I’d been drinking. “I’ve never tried it before. What does it do?”
“It’s the best feeling. You’ll feel like you’re on top of the world—like you can do anything.”
It was stupid, but I said, “Yeah. Why not?”
While he used a debit card to make a white line of powder on his phone, he said, “Great drumming, by the way. You can hold your own with these guys.”
“Thanks…for coming to the show.”
“Yeah. I never miss LFS when they come to town.” With that, he handed me a short straw. “Just sniff it through there. Hold down the other nostril and just—”
But I already held the straw between my finger and thumb and had it poised at the beginning of the line. Without hesitation, I sucked the line of powder into my nose.
Oh, God.
It almost hurt the way it burned in my nostril and the back of my throat. That lovely sensation was followed by a bitter taste filling my mouth.
And then…wow. My heart started thudding as if I were banging on my bass drums double time and everything around me grew crisp and clear, as if I’d been nearly blind and put on glasses that brought everything into sharp focus.
“What do you think?”
“Holy shit. It’s like someone turned the lights on.”
“Yeah,” he said, laughing, creating another line. I was going to tell him one snort was enough until I realized the next was for him. After he did two lines, he pinched his nose together and then wiped at it. “I never party without blow.”
“I can see why,” I said, as a feeling of euphoria mixed with power began to flow through my veins.
“Hey…you wanna get out of here?”
“I thought you’d never ask.” I really didn’t feel that way—or did I?
I had this sensation of someone else possessing my body, someone far more confident and aware than little ol’ me.
I felt like a goddess, as if I had power untold.
I could do fucking anything. After slamming the rest of my drink, I put my hand on the guy’s chest.
I never found out his name.
He wrapped a possessive arm around my back, nuzzling my ear before leading me through the crowded room.
As we left the party, I saw Zack leaning against the wall, talking to a girl I would definitely describe as a groupie—and we locked eyes.
The moment seemed to last forever, and I felt like I could read his mind.
Too fucking bad, Zack. You can’t tell me what to do.
But that was the last thing I remembered.
When I woke up a couple hours later—on top of my hotel bed fully clothed—a feeling of emptiness sucked all the air out of my body.
As I sat up, my hands began to tremble and I felt confused.
But as I sat there holding my head, some of what had happened the night before trickled through the cobwebs in my mind.
The guy…his car. I remembered insisting he put on a condom.
I was grateful for at least that.
I got up to go pee, also glad that Braden wasn’t in our shared room. I wouldn’t be able to explain what had happened because I couldn’t remember it well. In fact, I was still just this side of drunk, but the effect of the coke had worn off.
One thing that crashed through my brain was when I’d been naked in the back of that guy’s car—how I’d demanded he make me come. And I could remember just a flash of that, more intense than I’d ever felt before.
But the memories were so elusive.
Splashing a little water on my face from the bathroom sink, I looked in the mirror. Who was I becoming? This was not the person I wanted to be. My bra was gone, probably left in that guy’s car, but also gone was my dignity.
Although I’d dabbled before, I vowed as I looked myself in the eyes to never do this again—at least not with a stranger. I was lucky nothing happened to me other than blacking out.
I crawled back in bed, allowing sleep to take me from all my self-deprecating thoughts.
The days and nights began to blur together.
We’d play a show. Then, if we didn’t have a gig the next day, we’d party.
Otherwise, we’d get on the bus. That was followed by a ride, sometimes just a few hours, other times quite a stretch.
Then we’d either go straight to the venue for soundchecks, grab a bite, and come back to play or we’d check into the motel and then do all those things.
We had a routine, only broken up by the occasional day off—but we were still so goddamn poor that we wound up just hanging out in our rooms, watching shitty TV or playing cards.
I got really good at Hearts.