Day 4 Wilmington, DE
MAX
“WE CAN’T GO OUT THERE. They’ll eat us alive.”
I’m standing in the doorway to the green room, staring out at the rough-looking crowd that is gathering to watch us perform.
Beside me, Sam doesn’t say anything, but his eyes are wide and he’s picking at his nail polish, which is one of his tells.
But Roxie is impatient, her drumsticks clutched in her hand.
“I don’t see a problem.” She rolls her eyes. “Blake’s been out there selling merch for the past half hour, and he’s having a grand old time.”
Indeed, I can see him in the corner, smiling politely as he sells one of his zines to a dude with a shaved head and platform Docs laced all the way up to his knees. Blake could fit in anywhere.
That doesn’t stop my insides from trying to turn themselves into my outsides, though. “I’m calling Sage.”
I duck back into the room and flip open my phone, taking it to a quiet corner and finding Sage’s number.
“Hey, little brother. Is everything okay?”
Even when I’m jittery, my sister’s voice cuts through all the bullshit.
“Um, Sage? We’re in Wilmington — did you know you got us a booking as the opening act for a hardcore band?”
“Yeah, that was the only opening in their schedule that fit your itinerary. Is there a problem?”
“I just —” I lean against the wall. “I dunno, we’re just a little college band and our main influences are NOFX and Green Day. I feel like we’re gonna go out there and they’re gonna call us a bunch of pop punk posers.”
Sam leans against my shoulder, and the warmth is comforting, so I let my hand slide into his, like I did sometimes when we were kids. He squeezes my fingers, and I’m grateful he’s here.
On the other end of the line, Sage sighs. “Are Sam and Roxie there with you?”
“Yeah?”
“Put me on speaker.”
I find the button for the speakerphone and hold the little clamshell up in the middle of our circle. “Okay, Sage, they can hear you.”
“All right, you three, here’s the thing — if you all want to keep doing this, touring around and playing music, sometimes you’re going to end up playing to crowds that aren’t your usual scene.
Sometimes they might be scary. But still, you just have to do it.
Max, you’ve heard so many of my stories —”
“Yeah, I have —” I agree.
“— And it was so much harder for me, being a young girl walking into rough bars on my own. You have no idea how much harder.”
“Course they have no fucking idea,” Roxie drawls.
Sage chuckles. “I bet you’re not scared — right, Roxie?”
“Of course I’m fucking not. I just want to go out there and bash some fucking drums.”
“See?” Sage says. “You don’t want to prove that Roxie has the biggest balls out of the three of you —”
“She does, though,” Sam pipes up. Roxie shoves him, but I can tell she’s pleased.
“That may be, but let her lead by example.” A piercing wail comes through the line, and Sage sighs. “Shit, your nephew just woke up, so I have to go. But you guys are going to be great, okay?”
“Tell him Uncle Max loves him!” I call before she hangs up.
I know she’s right. And I know I have Sam and Roxie, and that we can all count on each other.
So we order three shots of whiskey and we down them in the back room, because a little liquid courage never hurt anybody.
And when we run out onstage, I know that we can do this, that all we have to do is make it through our set.
Roxie counts us off, and Sam keeps the bass steady, and I play my guitar like I’m possessed.
And the crowd is thrashing, everybody’s sweat nearly pouring off the walls, and Sam is drenched and I am drenched and Roxie is drenched and this is the best fucking time.
It doesn’t matter that our amps are turned all the way up, that we’re screaming into the microphone, that nobody can understand a word we’re saying.
What matters is the rhythm, the pulse that keeps us all together.
Can’t wait to tell Sage all about it.
SAM
I’m glad that’s over.
Max and I are sitting at the bar, nursing a couple of beers after our set.
We’re not talking, because there’s no hearing each other over the racket that the headliners are making.
But he looks over at me from time to time, raising his eyebrows and grinning.
I know he’s as relieved as I am. And Roxie is across the room, sitting on Blake’s lap behind the merch table, one arm slung loosely across his shoulders.
She tries so hard to put up a front like she doesn’t care about anything, but it makes me feel good, watching her being just a little bit soft with Blake.
Like there’s hope for all of us out there, even me.
Usually when we open for another band, Max and I end up dancing for the rest of the night.
And these guys are great, but I dunno — look, it’s not like I can’t hold my own in a mosh pit.
Max and I have been going to Warped Tour since high school, and we know how to take care of each other.
But the guys out there tonight are really throwing down, and I’m not looking to spend the next week of tour with a black eye.
The band is about halfway through their set when I feel it — the hairs on my arms standing up, the distinctive feeling that I’m being watched.
I lift my head and spot him on the other side of the room.
He’s tall and wiry, wearing a black tank top, his arms and chest completely covered in tattoos, his spiky hair dyed blue.
When he realizes I’m looking back at him, he smiles slowly, dragging his eyes along my skin.
I bite my lip, arching my back as I lean on my elbows.
Then he drains his beer, placing it carefully on the bar, and smiles at me before climbing off his barstool and heading towards the back door of the bar.
I lean over to shout into Max’s ear. “DO YOU MIND IF I GO OUT BACK FOR A LITTLE BIT?”
He turns and looks at me, surprised. “REALLY?”
I shrug apologetically. It would take a lifetime to unpack that.
Max grins back, a little wolfishly. “THAT’S WHAT WE’RE HERE FOR, RIGHT? DON’T WORRY, I’LL BE FINE.”
I pat him on the shoulder, then down the last of my beer. As I’m about to go, he reaches out and grabs my arm. “BE CAREFUL, OKAY?”
I nod, and then I’m off, making my way through the bar.
And look, I know this makes me seem like a total slut.
I’m painfully in love with my best friend, and yet I’m willing to fuck the first guy who eyeballs me from across the bar.
I know it seems weird, but maybe one follows the other?
When you know the thing you want is absolutely out of your reach, never going to happen, maybe you do what you can to get a shadow of it.
It’s so quiet outside after the noise in the bar that it’s a little jarring. I rub my ears, blinking as I get my bearings.
The guy is leaning against the wall, lighting up a cigarette. When he sees me, he takes a long drag and blows it out slowly.
I step into his space, plucking the cigarette from his fingers and taking my own drag as I look him up and down. I know, I know — but I only smoke in situations like this. When I hand it back, I touch the three arrows inside a circle tattooed on his upper chest.
“I like this,” I murmur. “Have you punched any Nazis lately?”
He chuckles. “Would it impress you if I had?”
I shrug my shoulders, giving him a half-smile. “Maybe.”
“Hmm.” He takes another drag, chin tilted down as he studies my face. “You know, you guys had some balls playing here tonight. I like that.”
“Is that why you brought me out here?” I ask innocently. “To compliment me on my balls?”
“No, I was thinking of asking you to bounce on mine, actually.” He carefully stubs out the cigarette, tucking it behind his ear to save the rest for later. “That is, unless the skinny black-haired kid you brought with you is your boyfriend.”
“He’s not,” I sigh, and a whole stew of emotions settles in my belly.
“His loss, then.” The guy pushes himself off the wall and starts out into the parking lot. “You coming?”
“Yeah.” I shove my hands in my pockets and follow him.
I have needs, okay?
BLAKE
Sometimes being the only non-drinker means taking the late-night driving shift after a show, but I don’t mind.
If having me around means that Roxie and the boys get to where they need to be safely, I’m happy to take care of that for them.
We decided not to get a hotel for tonight, because Roxie’s aunt offered to let us use her beach house on the Jersey Shore for a few days during the tour.
It’s a two-hour drive from Wilmington, but it’s worth it if it means a couple days of privacy and separate bedrooms.
Roxie is curled up in the passenger seat like a cat, using my hoodie as a pillow, her head leaning against the window. She was amazing tonight, fearless as always. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her rattled about anything. No matter what life throws at her, she takes it head on.
I glance at the rearview mirror. Sam is sitting behind me, and I’m pretty sure he’s awake, but he’s not paying any attention to me. Max is out cold, sacked out across the seat with his head in Sam’s lap, and Sam is looking down at his face, completely lost in his own little world.
Those two — it can be hard to watch them sometimes. I really feel for Sam. But I guess some things just aren’t meant to be.