Chapter 7 #2
I had a lot to learn about Braden Mitchell, but I felt like I was on the right track.
A week later, Tom, my editor, called. “What’s on your agenda for this Friday?”
I knew I would be home, but I couldn’t remember any details. Pulling up my calendar, I said, “Looks like I have a Zoom interview with an up-and-coming band called Intent to Murder in the morning and then a—”
“Can you reschedule?”
“Maybe.”
“I’ve gotten permission for you to spend the day with Once Upon a Riot in Las Vegas—we’re talking soundcheck, backstage pre-show, and the show itself. Are you game?”
Hell, yeah. I never missed a chance to hang out with rock stars, especially when one was my best friend. “Yeah. What will I be doing?”
“I was thinking a sidebar piece. We’ve got your article—it’s long. I know a lot of fans will read it, but let’s also give a snack to the readers who want just a taste and want something about all the band members.”
So I was excited to write more about Braden—not to mention Dani and her band that climbed the charts more with each album they released.
But I didn’t need to be in Vegas until that afternoon—so I booked a cheap flight for late morning so I could keep my early morning interview.
At the time, I’d hated having to interview a band at eight in the morning, but they were on the east coast—meaning it was eleven o’clock there.
I did have to reschedule a couple of lightweight things in the L.A. area, but that was easy enough.
I wasn’t sure what I was feeling—it was a mixture of excitement and maybe even a little apprehension, because I hadn’t seen Braden since our dinner after I’d interviewed him.
Our text messages and phone calls had been all business—but I could still remember the outline of his face in my dark car when he’d told me he didn’t trust himself.
I hoped maybe he was in a better place now.
I was at the venue after the road crew arrived—not just for Riot but for another band as well—and Riot’s crew were hauling large cases over concrete through the back doors.
I introduced myself to someone who looked like he might be in charge, a big guy with a huge beard.
He said, “The band’s not here yet. They weren’t too far behind us. Maybe fifteen minutes?”
After I thanked him, I stood and leaned against a wall, out of their way.
It was pleasant out, not stifling like it often was in Vegas as the summer months approached.
I snapped a few pictures with my phone, doubting I’d use them, but they would be good for sparking my memory. And then I took a few notes as well.
Waiting was making me nervous, so silly, because after having been in this job for a few years now and loving most aspects of it, I’d relaxed a lot—first, because my editor respected my writing, but also because being around famous people a lot had taken the edge off it.
No longer was I in awe or feeling inadequate, even with the guys who had ridiculously large egos.
But here I was now, my palms damp, my heart beating a little faster than it should, all because I couldn’t wait to see Braden in the flesh once more.
When their tour bus arrived, it took a bit for the band to get off. First was a guy I was pretty sure was their tour manager, followed by Zack, then Dani and Cy, and Braden exited last. I said hello to all of them, but Dani practically ran to embrace me. I told her, “You look great!”
“Huge difference being on a tour bus like this compared to the old days.”
By then, the rest of the band approached. Zack said, “You’re gonna be following us around all day, right?”
“Yeah. And I might take a few pictures but it’s mostly just being present so I can tell your fans what this tour is like.”
“Oh, I can tell you,” Zack said, his green eyes shining behind glasses that I had no idea he ever wore. “We’re playing to arenas—and headlining is a trip.”
Cy said, “There’s nothing like it. It’s nice seeing all our hard work and patience rewarded.”
Shit. I should have been recording this—because, from what I knew about Cy, that was a hell of a sound bite and not what I would have expected.
But I reminded myself that this was a piece about the whole band and overall impressions…and those were duly noted. Braden and I shared a glance and he appeared calm and centered but quiet as he often seemed to be in public.
Soon, they were on the stage for the soundcheck.
I didn’t want to get in the way, so I moved out into the open area where people would be moshing later, and just watched, taking a few notes, snapping a few pictures.
Braden was the first to put the monitor in his ears before strapping on his bass and standing at a mic.
The others slowly settled in around him at their places on the stage and they played through the chorus of one of their newer songs and then, when they were done, the monitor engineer started checking with each of them about the mixes in their in-ear monitors.
I’d seen this process a few times so I knew what to expect, but not with Riot.
After they were done playing, the engineer asked each one what they needed changed. Braden said, “Can you turn down the vocals and turn up the overheads a bit? There’s something about this space that feels kind of tight, and it’s overamplifying the vocals.”
“Yeah, no problem,” the engineer said, adjusting a few knobs on the board in front of him.
Zack said, “Yeah. Same here. I need you to turn up the guitars.”
After Dani and Cy weighed in, the engineer asked them to play the chorus again. When they finished, he asked, “How does everything sound.”
Braden said, “Better, but can we bring the overheads up a little more?”
Zack asked for a couple of tweaks again and then they played the song one more time.
When they were finished, they left the stage and I joined them in the back.
We had a little bit of time before they had some interviews scheduled in a press room backstage—so Dani wanted to take care of her makeup and hair.
I knew I could have asked to join her…but I wanted to check in on Braden.
We stood backstage in a long spacious hallway.
There were several people scattered throughout, and I wondered if Braden was hanging back so he could talk with me.
I had no problems being alone, and I knew I could begin solidifying my notes while the band did their thing—but it would be nice to connect with Braden again.
His brown hair was tied back, allowing me to see his whole face—those chestnut eyes, the round cheeks, firm jaw covered in stubble.
I couldn’t help but notice that his expression, one that, in the beginning of his career had been hopeful and optimistic, had changed to something else.
Sadness wasn’t quite right…but it was close.
Some might say it was neutral, but I could see in his eyes that it wasn’t.
“How are things going?” I asked, aware that my question was ridiculously generic—but I hoped it would be open enough that he’d be comfortable answering however he wanted.
“Not bad. This tour has really proven to us that we’re here to stay.”
“Yeah. You guys have had a lot of sold-out shows.”
Braden nodded. “Not all of them, but a lot. And I have to say it’s really different when you’re a headliner.”
Shit. Still not recording. I almost asked him if I could quote him but I changed my mind. I didn’t want to be Roxy the rock reporter right now. Instead, I wanted to be a friend. “It was fun watching your sound check.”
“You didn’t think it was boring?”
I laughed. “Hell, no. I learn more about the music business every time I’m allowed to watch this kind of stuff. And the fans gobble it up too.”
Braden nodded. “Yeah, I sometimes forget what it was like before I started doing this for a living.” Before I could ask him a question, he asked me one of his own. “How was your trip in? Did you fly or drive?”
“I flew. It was cheap enough and fast. And I arrived in one piece which is all I care about.” But I could see it in his eyes.
He actually cared about me. So I asked, “What about you? How was your trip?”
Shrugging, his eyes seemed to lighten a bit. “It’s a ride. It gets us here. But I’m used to it.”
“I, um…should be sending you the final draft of my article probably next week. Did you want to review the sidebar too?”
“Sidebar?”
“Yeah, that’s why I’m here. My editor wanted me to add a sidebar to give fans a little taste of what your tour’s been like. I know there have been some other articles, but we try to stuff each edition with as many of the hottest touring bands as possible. That way, there’s something for everyone.”
“No, I don’t need to see that.” I couldn’t read his eyes, but I felt a pull when he spoke again. “Thanks for coming here today.”
“Thanks for having me. I get a free show out of this.”
Braden grinned then, bringing a light to his eyes I’d rarely seen in the past year. “Well, if you’re gonna be reporting about that too, I better make sure my playing is top notch.”
“I know it will be.” Because he was a solid guy…but I’d never say that out loud to him. It was part of the mold he was trying to break out of.
“I appreciate your confidence.” His words meant far more…although I wasn’t sure exactly what he was trying to communicate, but it didn’t matter. All I knew was that, the more time I spent around Braden, the more connected to him I felt.