Chapter 23 #2
Cy said, “Zack’s right, Dani—that guy wasn’t bitching about us. He was bitching about our road crew. He didn’t say anything about us taking too long or—”
“He called us a kid band.”
Braden said, “Technically, we are. We’re barely out of high school. And I think we should be proud of that. We have—”
“You guys are impossible.” And, with that, I went into my dressing room and slammed the door.
I calmed myself by checking out some of our socials, excited that people were already posting pictures of tonight’s concert.
By the time I heard Bleak Viper playing, I had calmed down.
Maybe I was blowing it all out of proportion.
And I made myself feel lots better by telling myself that Bleak Viper’s roadies were probably jealous of our success—so they had to make themselves feel superior by cutting us down.
I could live with that.
But I wanted to watch Bleak Viper play. Zack and I had loved exchanging some of their videos back when we were cutting our teeth to old rock and metal, and I loved a bunch of their songs.
Their roadies might have been assholes, but that didn’t change the fact that we were touring with the legendary Bleak Viper.
I also tried to put out of my mind that they were also a band who’d had a few videos back in the day that denigrated women.
Feeling relief that none of their road crew was onstage, I pushed earplugs into my ears to protect them from the intensity of sound blaring from their amps, leaned against the wall, and just watched. At first, I was jamming a little bit…but that didn’t last long.
These guys sucked.
The lead singer, Don Horton, could barely sing. Every single time he should have been singing the chorus, he was holding the mic out to the crowd, having them sing while he stood there. Was he catching his breath? And, half the time, I could barely hear him, even with the amps.
Still, the crowd was cheering for them. Now I wondered about the audience’s taste in music, and the high I’d felt earlier from their reaction to our set faded into nothing.
I wished the guys were here.
But that wasn’t all. The bassist seemed to play just two out of the four strings on his instrument. Meanwhile, the guitarist was sloppy as shit and didn’t seem to care if he could play the right notes.
After the third song, while the audience was cheering, the drummer stood up, holding his drumsticks in front of his crotch as if they were his dick. And then he started stroking them, acting like he came, and finished by “throwing” out his invisible cum toward the audience.
Gross.
I’d seen more than enough. Was this some of the shit they’d done during their concerts back in the day? And why did these old geezers think anyone wanted to see that today?
Not to mention they’d played like shit.
Now I was embarrassed to be on tour with them—and I wanted the guys to know.
When I went backstage, I found them in the green room.
There were several couches and comfy chairs, and all three guys were lounging as if they’d just worked out.
Braden was drinking from a bottle of Fiji water while Cy munched on an apple.
Zack, of course, had a bottle of some kind of beer I’d never heard of, but it had the word IPA in big letters on the front.
I’d never been a fan of beer, but Zack had never met any kind of alcohol he didn’t like.
I grabbed a bottle of water out of the fridge and sat among them, but I leaned over, hoping to keep my voice low in case someone walked by.
The last thing I needed was to give their road crew another reason to hate me.
“Have you guys been listening to their set?” I all but whispered.
In the green room, their music was barely audible.
“Not really.”
“I was backstage. The audience loves them, but they suck.”
Zack sat up, getting ready to respond, when the big beefy asshole roadie walked in. “What the fuck do you guys think you’re doing?” Several other Bleak Viper roadies piled in behind him.
Zack frowned. “We’re chillin’. What’s it look like?”
“Let me ask again. What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”
It gave me chills how all three of the male members in my band stood up, detecting the threat in that guy’s voice. And why was he such an asshole?
Cy said, “Are you deaf? Zack just told you.”
“All this shit in here belongs to Don and the boys. It’s part of their rider. This shit doesn’t belong to you.” He turned to the roadies behind him. “And yet these green little kiddies thought they could just come in and act like they owned the place.”
One of the other roadies, a guy with greasy blond hair and a beard that wouldn’t quite fill out, said, “Yeah. Did you guys specifically ask for Fiji water and organic Gala apples?”
Although I couldn’t see Zack’s face, I could sense his anger.
We had just as much right to be in the green room as anyone else—and even though we’d made the mistake of taking food that didn’t belong to us, these guys didn’t have to be such dicks about it.
Dropping the bottle so it fell to the rug on the floor, Zack said, “My bad.” Surprisingly, the bottle didn’t break, but what little beer was left drained into the rug.
Without even turning, he said, “Let’s go, guys.
We don’t want to stay where we’re not welcome. ”
I didn’t quite have the nerve to drop the unopened bottle of water in my hand but Braden did and his water mixed with Zack’s beer.
I placed my bottle on the coffee table and hurried to follow Zack out of the room.
I was shocked that the roadies just let him walk on by.
Braden and Cy were right behind him and I took up the rear.
The big roadie started barking orders at the others to clean up this mess and Cy slapped the half-eaten apple into one of the guys’ hands as we exited the room.
It wasn’t until we all congregated in the guys’ dressing room that we started laughing—and I breathed a sigh of relief. “You’re so lucky those guys didn’t beat you up.”
Zack shook his head. “You think they’d be stupid enough to do that? They might think they’re hot shit just ‘cause they’re working for Bleak Viper, but give it a few years, and they could be working for us.”
“Why were they such dicks?” Braden asked.
“Because of Bleak Viper.”
Cy added, “I’m guessing Bleak Viper is full of themselves. I’ve read that online. They think they’re God’s gift to music.”
“I’m telling you they are not,” I said. “They’re phoning it in just to rake in more cash.
I don’t know why the audience is acting like they’re so great.
I’d be pissed if I came to watch them, thinking I’d be getting a good show like when they were younger, but they weren’t even breaking a sweat.
And I’d be embarrassed to get up on stage and not make an effort. ”
Zack said, “As long as crowds keep paying them and cheering, they’ll keep doing it.”
“They’re probably one of those bands that sounded good in the studio and shitty on the road,” Cy said, leaning against a counter.
“And that’s why we practiced our asses off. Like Dani said, these people are paying good money and they deserve a good show.”
I said, “At least we gave them their money’s worth.”
“Damn straight.”