September 1993 #8
They all took turns driving—Zane was the worst at it, Kitty the most reliable, and Mike the fastest. Dean kept careful track of their expenses in a notebook that was originally purchased for calculus homework.
They ate gas station food, and budgeted for one diner meal per day, but occasionally let themselves have two.
The closer they got to New York, the less Mike ate and the quieter they all got, until finally, on August 7th at three o’clock in the afternoon, they pulled up in front of The Bitter End in near silence.
Smoke from a wildfire hung in the sticky, hot, still air, and it felt like the kind of place you hurry to get away from, not the kind of place at which you arrive.
It was a different planet altogether, closed in by towering buildings and concrete, and they all felt lost and a little scared, although none of them were about to admit it.
The club itself looked smaller from the outside than they’d built up in their minds, but within those brick walls, history had been—and would be—made.
“Well, this is it,” Kitty said, pulling the keys from the ignition.
“Yup,” Rusty answered.
“We made it,” Steven added. “Good job, everybody.”
Mike said nothing. Instead, he opened the back, passenger-side door and puked into the gutter.
They were all silent for a few seconds, then he said, “I got that over with. Let’s go wow a music producer.”
“Listen, before we go in there, I want to say something,” Zane said, his heart pounding in a strangely slow, hard way he’d never felt before. “I’ve been thinking about what Todd said. About saying our vows to each other and figuring out what our rules are.”
Steven held up one hand dramatically. “I, Steven Moore, take thee, Zane, Mike, and Rusty, as my lawfully unwedded band. I promise to give it my all every night on stage and show up for rehearsals and recording on time, every time.”
Zane pursed his lips. “Very funny. I’m serious though. This is it. Right now. We have to know who we are before we walk through those doors.”
“Zane’s right. It’s important,” Mike said.
Dean, who was squished in the middle of the back seat between them, gestured for Mike to get out. “I say we see if this band even has a future first. Or maybe talk about it when we’re inside. They might have air conditioning.”
“No, Dean,” Zane answered, his tone somber. “What if Mr. White only likes one of us?” They all knew he was referring to Rusty. “Or he wants everyone except one of us? What would we do?”
“Oh man, I never even thought of that,” Steven said.
“We say no,” Mike answered firmly. “He either takes all of us or none of us. And no matter what he offers, we don’t say yes until we’ve had a chance to discuss it.”
“Agreed,” Rusty said. “We’re all equals and we make decisions together, Dean and Kitty included.”
Steven wrinkled up his nose at the idea. “I don’t think my sister should have a say. She’s not even in the business. She sells makeup, for God’s sake.”
Kitty rolled her eyes at him while Rusty gave him a hard look. “Kitty’s my wife. I’m not going to say yes to anything unless it’s good for her too.”
“I can agree to that,” Mike said. “Kitty’s been a rock for us this past year. She deserves to have some say.”
“Fine,” Steven muttered. “But if anyone else gets married, the new wives just have to fit into what we’re doing.”
“Okay, that’s fair,” Zane said. “We make decisions as a team. No one person is more important than the rest. Everyone writes songs to the best of his ability, and you get credit for what you contribute.”
“Agreed,” said Mike. “We’ve got no room for big egos either, okay? We promise to keep our feet on the ground.”
“You know what?” Steven said, “I honestly don’t think any of this is going to be a problem for us. We’re best friends. We’re all starting out with nothing, and none of us are the type to forget where we came from.”
The guys offered murmurs of how ‘it wouldn’t happen to them, no matter what.’
“Oh, and Dean isn’t our employee and he’s not our boss,” Rusty said. “He’s our partner, just like Kitty is my partner.”
Steven pulled a face. “Oh brother, she already married you, you don’t have to keep trying to impress her.”
Rusty leaned over and gave his wife a kiss on the lips. “Sure, I do.”
Dean wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. “Okay, you’ve said your vows. Let’s get the hell out of this stupid wagon before I lose my last marble.”
They all clambered out and unloaded the equipment from the back. “That’s a good name for a band—My Last Marble,” Steven said.
Rusty and Dean chuckled, but Mike stood perfectly still on the sidewalk, his eyebrows furrowed. “Wait, I think I’ve got it.” His forehead smoothed out as he smiled at his friends. It was the smile of a young man with all the answers to life’s biggest problems. “The Vows.”
SEPTEMBER 1993
S?O PAULO, brAZIL
ZANE
The Vows. Zane had broken nearly all of them over the years. He’d taken credit for work that wasn’t his, he’d let his ego take over, and now he was coveting the woman Mike loved.
Regret replaced every ounce of anger Zane had when they were on stage a few minutes earlier. He grabbed a box of tissues and brought it over to Mike, pulling three out for him. “I’m sorry, man,” he said, his voice breaking. “Fucking hell, look at your face. You know I’d never want to…”
“I swung first.”
“Yeah, but I’ve been such a dick.”
“You have.”
“I’ll do better.”
Mike took the tissues and dabbed at his lip. Zane rubbed the back of his neck, his stomach in knots at what he’d done. “I would never try to take Claud. I know how much she means to you.”
Mike offered him a hint of a smile. “Don’t worry about it. So, I got in a little tussle with a grizzly bear. No big deal.”
Zane’s throat felt thick. “No, it is.”
“It’s over now. Let’s get to work. We’ve got a show to put on."