10. Hayden
HAYDEN
We’re backstage, and UC’s performing for the sold-out crowd in Barcelona.
They sound as amazing as ever, and the photos I posted of our outings earlier have already garnered thousands of likes and interactions.
At least my job doesn’t require I also respond to comments.
That’s the social media manager’s responsibility.
Nese approaches me. “You’re looking mighty fine in your new dress.”
I run my hands down my sides. “I had a … mishap this afternoon. Río bought this for me.”
“Someone with good taste must’ve picked it out for you.” She bumps my arm. “They get better every night.”
Happy not to be talking about my unaffordable attire, I agree, “Sure do.” I point to the stage. “I love their new performance wear.”
We watch the call-and-repeat, still being led by Río. “Except Río. He refuses to perform in his new shirt.” Nese watches the crowd respond to him. “Or any shirt.”
Shirtless, he cuts an amazing figure. “True. However, have you watched his workout behind the drum set? I swear, he doesn’t have to hit the gym.”
As if to prove me right, Río scrambles up the riser and takes his seat once more. The band launches into Tris’s song, “Take a Ride with Us” and the stadium goes wild. Coop steps forward, his guitar taking center stage. “I wish I could get him to take those sunglasses off,” the stylist notes.
“They’re his thing,” I remark. “Like Bennett’s black leather pants, and Río performing without a shirt. Even 007 wears that studded belt all the time.”
“Because it was Darren’s.”
I turn toward my friend. “Really?”
She nods. “I tried to switch it, and that’s when he told me they were tight ever since elementary school.
This is why he and Jenna don’t mesh as well as she does with the other band members.
I think he’s harboring some bad juju against her because he remembers she was dating Darren when he overdosed. ”
I had wondered, chalking it up to personality differences. “I didn’t realize.”
“They’re better now, don’t get me wrong. Just not as close as the rest of them. Tris and she are the closest, which makes sense since he’s new to the band.” She fiddles with some towels. “He did walk her down the aisle at their wedding.”
We watch the performance, this image replaying in my mind, a soft smile on my face. I’m pulled out of this happy place when an email pings on my phone from the Philadelphia Drummers Society. Must be something forwarded from Río’s phone. “Excuse me, I might have to respond to this.”
Leaving Nese on the sidelines, I return into the greenroom and sit down, then open the email. I skim through the preliminaries, then jump to where they’re waiting to hear back if he’ll be able to accept their award in person.
Award? What award?
I read the email more thoroughly. Seems like Río’s been named the Drummer of the Year, and they want him to come to their awards ceremony this Thursday. As in the day after tomorrow? The email chain shows they’ve been reaching out to Río for several months. Why didn’t he reply already?
I check UC’s calendar. He would be able to make the ceremony, thanks to the private jet, since there’s a short break in their touring schedule. Figuring he didn’t realize the timing could work, I reply he’s thankful for this award and will be honored to attend.
I swear, this man never replies to emails. I go through about fifty unopened ones before giving up. This is his job. Mine is to make sure he doesn’t get into any mischief. Or alcohol.
My mind returns to the small place we went for lunch.
He literally wasn’t doing anything and a whole bunch of people surrounded him.
Things could’ve gotten much worse, but we managed to get out of there with only a promise I’d post the photos, which I did.
For the first time, I realize perhaps not all of the antics covered by the media are generated by him.
Still. The drinking doesn’t help.
Truth is he’s been one hundred percent sober for a few days now.
I circle back to his drum award and do some research into the host. This is more prestigious than I imagined.
Río’s from New Jersey, outside of Philly.
I bet his family would love to support him.
Pulling up their info from the PR portal, I shoot off a quick email to them.
If they come, I’m sure he’ll be excited since he hasn’t been home in ages.
His mother is listed as living in Texas, so I leave her off the invitation. Notes indicate the two sides aren’t friendly. Still. She should know about the award her son’s won, so I send her an informational email.
Next, my PR hat falls into place. Better get a press release and blog post ready, so I write both and shoot them off to the PR team. Within minutes, I get their go-ahead, send the press release out to our media contacts, and post the blog to the website.
Río’s mother responds. She says she’s excited for him to receive this award, but cannot make it due to the long distance. Understandable. The next line of her email gives me pause:
Last week, I pressed a wrong button on my phone and lost all my contacts. I would very much appreciate it if you could send his contact info to me so I can reenter it. Thanks!
What harm can this do? I reply with his phone number, since he clearly doesn’t do email. I bet he’s wondering why he hasn’t heard from her over the past week.
Getting to my feet, I return backstage, where Nese has towels and new shirts ready for the guys (except for Río) when they come off the stage. Jenna’s standing next to her, towels for Bennett at the ready, and I bump my shoulder against the stylist’s.
Nese hands me two for Río. “Here you go. Make yourself useful.”
“They were great tonight,” Jenna remarks. “Like always.”
“Agreed,” Nese replies.
I simply nod. Even though the guys are the ones performing, we’re on an adjacent high, especially Jenna.
She’s bouncing on her toes. It’s nice to see someone in love.
A wistfulness for what my parents shared brushes by me.
I don’t have any room to add in the responsibility of love with my financial duties, and I promised I’d take care of my sister. She comes first.
The guys bound off the stage, and Bennett wraps his wife in a big hug.
She pretends not to want it, but soon they’re kissing.
Río materializes in front of me and I give him the first towel, which he uses to dry off.
Then he pours a bottle of water over his entire body, spraying everyone when he shakes out his hair.
“Dude!” Coop jumps backward. “Are you a drummer or a dog?”
Río barks, “Woof!”
Next thing I know, Coop’s swatted Río with the towel. We’re about two seconds away from a full-on towel fight when Luke appears. “Seriously? Do this later.” He confiscates both the guitarist’s and the drummer’s towels.
“Don’t think this is over,” Coop readjusts his sunglasses.
“Never!” Río looks around for another towel, which I hold up. He approaches me, and I hand him the terrycloth, which he runs over his body.
These guys really are more like children. No wonder Río needed a babysitter. Although he was pretty awesome this afternoon.
Luke gets everyone’s attention. “Alright, guys. Are you ready for your encore? The crowd is fantastic. Río, they loved your call-and-repeat. What do you think about making this a permanent part of the show?”
Before my eyes, Río stands taller. It’s not like he doesn’t get enough adoration—both from the stage and off it—but this validation seems to reach him in a new place. The stunned and proud look on his face tells a bigger tale.
He turns to Bennett. “Would that be okay with you?”
“Hell yes. I could use that time to rest my throat. Maybe even sneak some lovin’ from my girl, too.” He squeezes Jenna again.
“Then it’s settled. Congrats, Río, you’re taking over that portion of the gig. Right now, though, let’s go out with a bang!”
The band whoops it up, then returns onstage. Bennett and Jenna lag behind for another kiss until he runs out.
When he’s center stage, Jenna joins Nese and me on the side. “I like you two together,” Nese notes.
“Thanks,” Jenna replies. “Been a long road, but we’re right where we should be.”
The light show accentuates the beat Río plays. Coop and 007 stand back to back, playing their respective guitars. Kieron Malone, the guitar tech, stops by to watch their performance. “They’re putting on a brilliant show out there,” I note.
He nods. “Yeah. They often play back to back, and the crowd loves it.” We enjoy the show for an extended minute. Then, on the keys, Tris does a run. Kieron turns, scowls, and walks backstage.
“That guy gives me the creeps,” Nese notes.
“He’s not my favorite either,” I agree. “Not sure I’d want to be in a dark alley with him.”
“Stop it,” Jenna chides. “He may be a little different from the rest of the band. But that doesn’t make him a mass murderer.”
“Fine,” both Nese and I grumble. Our attention is diverted when Río wails on the cymbals, marking the end of the encore. He tosses one of his sticks up to the rafters, then catches it. He spins it through his fingers and ends by pointing it directly at me. The lights cut out.
Nese leans over. “He has the hots for you.”
Tingles set off throughout my body, which I tamp down. I slow blink. “I don’t think so. I’m his babysitter,” I protest.
The stylist laughs. “And Jenna here was only Bennett’s physical therapist.”
“Leave the poor girl alone,” Jenna chides as the guys take their bows center stage. “She has her hands full with keeping Río under control. We both know that’s not a small ask.”
Truer words have never been spoken.
The band comes backstage and Jenna’s swung up in Bennett’s arms. Coop and Tris tease 007 about a few of the signs held up in the audience wanting to do dirty things with his belt. His fingers caress the studded belt around his waist, which I now know belonged to UC’s original keyboardist.
Río leaps like a ballet dancer across the area, causing the rest of the guys to laugh. What’s gotten into him now? I don’t have to wait long for my answer. “Best. Concert. Ever!” He punctuates his assessment by spinning in the air, landing about three-quarters of the way around.
Tris jokes, “Baryshnikov doesn’t have anything to worry about!”
Río puts the keyboardist into a headlock. “Dude’s retired. Show some respect.”
Tris pulls free and rubs the top of his head, ending with pointing the middle finger at the drummer.
Coop steps in. “Let Río perform all the pirouettes he wants. Fact is, this was a great gig.”
“We fly to Madrid tomorrow,” Luke tries to reign in their antics.
Bennett remarks, “Which means it’s our last night in Barcelona! Río, want to join us at a club that’s supposed to be hopping?”
Jerk. He’s deliberately trying to make me lose his bet. I scowl at the lot of them. Truth is, Río needs to be flying all the way to Philly tonight. I need to stop him before he makes plans to paint the town red.
“Actually, Río and I have a previous engagement.” I replay what I’ve said—and coupled with Nese’s stupid observation before—I rephrase. “Luke, can we use UC’s jet? Río has an awards ceremony to attend tomorrow night.”
A hush falls over the group. Awards still hold a lot of sway with them. Good to know.
“Award?” Luke asks. “Of course. The jet’s all yours. What is it?”
I stand straighter. “The Philadelphia Drummers Society.”
Río yells, “What?! No way am I fucking going to that!”