Bullet

chapter Seventeen



HOLY SHIT. THIS was exciting stuff. I stayed for the meal but didn’t eat, and the guys started talking about the shows they had lined up for the summer, already acting like I was going to be joining them. They had some in the big cities—another two dates for Colorado Springs, several dates for the Denver Metro area, and even a show in Pueblo—but they had a few in smaller towns too. They were going to be busy, and that told me Brad had been a booking machine. He even had presale tickets for some of the shows that he hyped at work and on their Facebook page.

Oh, yeah. I’d forgotten Brad worked too, and surely he’d had that in mind when he’d put the schedule together. Unless, of course, his rock star passion had taken over…which wouldn’t have surprised me. I was already acting giddy and hopeless, forgetting I had to clear the idea with my parents.

So I told them I wanted to talk to my parents about it alone. I don’t know that their presence would have hurt, necessarily, but I didn’t think it would have helped. For starters, I had Brad to contend with, and between his hair that was to his shoulders and the half-sleeve tattoo started on his arm, dad wouldn’t care for that and would have serious reservations about the kind of boys I would be hanging with. And if Brad got that look in his eye like he did for just that moment at lunch, the one where I knew he could remember what I felt like under my shirt while grinding into him…well, then, my dad would say no on principle. Ethan and Zane weren’t much better. In fact, Nick would probably be the only one of the bunch that my dad would look at and think was a “nice kid.” But Nick probably wouldn’t say a word…and silence wouldn’t help either.

So, yeah…I had to do it alone, and I chose to do it over dinner. I promised Brad I would text him later and let him know, but I told them all not to get their hopes up. Too late, though, because I already had. Those two nights onstage had fueled my inner desires that I hadn’t even known existed, had awakened a dream that likely could have stayed dormant my entire adult life. Never mind any money I was expected to make. The guys said they’d do a five-way split after expenses. But I didn’t imagine that would add up to much, even though Brad had said they were starting to make money on merchandise too.

That night at dinner, mom asked how my afternoon had gone, which provided me the perfect opportunity to bring up what I needed to ask them. “About that…um…I told you I sang a song each night at the concerts, didn’t I?”

Mom looked surprised, and dad actually smiled. Danny was unimpressed, not that I’d expected him to be. Mom said, “That sounds like fun.”

“Was it a real song or was it some of that music you listen to?” Dad had never made his displeasure with metal unknown to me or anyone else within earshot if he happened to hear it.

I needed to win him over, though, so now was not the time to argue the merits of metal. It might come to that, but, for now, I just had to patiently present them with the proposal. “Well, I’ve been writing some lyrics for their band, and it happened to be a song I co-wrote, so it was a lot of fun. And, to answer your question, dad, yes. It was metal.”

He smirked as if to say, “Yep. Figured as much.” But he didn’t say a word, instead kept eating his dinner.

Time to bite the bullet. “Anyway…they wanted to ask me if I could sing in their band full-time.”

Mom smiled, but dad put down the bite he was getting ready to put in his mouth. “What would that entail?”

“Well, I have no details as yet, but they’re touring all over Colorado this summer. I already told them I have a job through the first week of August, and I don’t want to mess that up, but they said we could work around that.”

Mom joined in. “So what would be involved?”

“It would probably be weekends, overnight in several places.”

“How many girls are in this band?”

Oh, here was the hard part. I swallowed. “I would be the only one.”

“And you’d be overnight in other places with strange young men.”

“They’re not so strange, dad, but you’re right.” No sense lying about it. But I started thinking, Wait a second. I am an adult now. I was at college all by myself for a year…and it involved lots of overnights.

Mom said, “It’s not a good idea. But tell us more. Would you all be sharing a room or sleeping in a vehicle? What kind of arrangements will be made?”

“I’m not sure. We didn’t get that far in talking. I knew I’d need to run it past you guys first. When they performed their shows in the Springs and here, they stayed in a motel overnight. I could get my own room. That wouldn’t be a problem.”

“Do you have that much money, Valerie?”

“I’d be making money on the road.”

Mom let out a deep breath. “Sweetheart, it’s just not a good idea. Being with four teenage boys constantly—”

“Your mother is right. Not a good idea.”

“But dad—”

“No.” His voice was firm.

But I wasn’t about to give up. Not yet. I had one more thing I wanted to say. “Look…I was away at college for a long time. I was surrounded by teenage boys and even guys older than that. The thing is at some point you have to trust me. I didn’t get into trouble in college, and I wouldn’t while touring with these guys either.” Never mind what had happened last night. Over all, I had a solid track record. “I’m a good girl.”

My dad didn’t say another word, which meant his mind on the matter was made up. The rest of the meal was eaten in silence, and I kept it together, but all I wanted to do was cry. Finally, I’d found something in my life that had set me on fire, and my parents were forbidding it. But as I sat there pushing the peas and carrots around my plate, I decided I’d let them sleep on it. Then, tomorrow, I’d tell them that I was an adult, and I had made up my mind. How could they stop me?

So, after dinner, Danny and I loaded the dishwasher and cleaned up the kitchen, and then I went to my room, feeling disheartened, even with my plan in place. I tried not to give up hope yet, because just hours earlier I’d been thinking how much fun my summer would have been—singing, performing onstage, dressing up, rocking out, not just banging my head but leading a crowd of headbangers. Please don’t let it be just a dream, just a hope, a penny cast into the wishing well, never to be found again.

I decided my mood needed a little Three Days Grace, so I played some on my laptop and just started writing poetry, as I often did when something bothered me. I wasn’t going to text Brad, not yet, not until I’d given my parents the ultimatum.

There was a knock on the door later, and when I said, “Come in,” both my mother and father entered my room. I was lying on my bed. My mom sat on the edge, and my dad sat on the chair at my desk. I could tell something was bothering him. “Valerie, you’re right. You’re an adult now, and you spent the last year in college without anyone there telling you what to do. You got good grades. You stayed out of trouble. We need to trust you. We have to allow you to make decisions, and sometimes that means you’ll make a mistake or two along the way. But you won’t learn if we don’t give you the space to try. So…your mother and I have discussed it, and the decision is yours. We can’t financially support this endeavor, but we will support whatever decision you make. We love you.”

Mom nodded in agreement.

“Thanks, mom. Thanks, dad.” I hugged them both. I wanted to tell them they wouldn’t regret it, but I figured I shouldn’t push my luck…or make any promises I wasn’t sure I could keep.

* * *

Late that night, I was in bed and texted Brad. If u guys r serious, I’ll b ur singer! He didn’t text back.

Instead, he called. “F*ck, yeah! I’m glad you agreed, Val. I’ll email you the show dates tomorrow morning, and you can let me know how that fits in your schedule. Then I’ll email you all the songs we’ve recorded so you can learn them. I can do a couple rough cuts of the newer ones that we haven’t recorded.”

“Shouldn’t we practice together?”

“Yeah, but…look over the schedule first, and then maybe we can figure out some times.” When I agreed, he said, “Seriously…glad you decided to do this.”

“Me, too.”

I hardly slept a wink that night. All I did was imagine myself in Fully Automatic. I pictured myself onstage, engaging the audience, pulling them in. What would I wear? How would I do my hair? My makeup? I knew from what little high school theater I’d done that I should wear my makeup heavier and darker, but how would I know when I’d gotten it right?

In spite of all the worries, I slept well once I drifted off, but I had to get up early to watch the girls. Brad texted me midday to ask if I’d gotten the emails he sent. I told him it would have to wait until I got home, because I was at work.

He must have been up half the night, because I knew he’d had to work too. He emailed me every piece of music they’d recorded with a promise of more on the way so I could start learning the songs. He also emailed documents of the lyrics. Then he put together a list of shows. As I glanced, I was glad to see that most of them were weekend gigs, but there was one on a Thursday night at some place in Denver. Brad must have made arrangements with his job already for that one. I guessed that would be one they could do without me, and I emailed him back to say that.

I also noticed that the schedule went through October. Surely, though, they knew I would be back in school that last week of August. But, I supposed, it wouldn’t hurt to remind him about that either.

So I did send an email about both those concerns but told him I thought the rest were fine. They had quite a few Friday dates, but they were all nearby…Colorado Springs and the Denver Metro area mostly, so I would be pushing it, but it was doable. I told Brad all of that in the email.

I started toting my laptop with me to work. I didn’t hook up to my employers’ wireless, but I did use my computer to listen to songs. I’d get one looping in my head enough that my subconscious could start to work on it. By the end of the week, I was already feeling better about the songs. I had a week to go before my first show.

That weekend, on my first paycheck, I paid my mom back what I owed her and then went shopping. I went to consignment shops and secondhand stores, looking for vintage clothing, Goth-type outfits, leather, lace, and anything I thought I could convert into cool stage clothes. I also assessed what I already had. I had a lot of things I could use—some leather already, jeans, concert t-shirts. After shopping, I felt like I had enough different outfits for the summer so I wouldn’t get bored.

My mind toyed with the idea of getting a tattoo, but I knew my parents would flip out. Maybe I could sneak in a piercing somewhere, though, and I decided to think on that for a while.

One last thing, and I texted Brad about it. Would they pick me up before all concerts, even though Winchester was totally out of the way? Did I need to invest in a vehicle?

I stressed at first but then reminded myself how much I wanted to do this. Besides, I could use a car anyway. Our first show was somewhere in Denver, and it was next Saturday, so I wasn’t worried about catching a ride. It was another thing we’d have to discuss later on, though.

Brad called me that weekend. “Are you as worried as your emails sound?”

I started laughing. “No. Actually, I’m really starting to get into this. Who’s your tattoo artist?”

“Seriously?”

I laughed again. “I wish. No…my parents would kill me.”

He lowered his voice. “If you got one on your ass, they’d never know.”

“Yeah…right.”

“So…the Thursday night show in July. It’s not till eight that night, and I could maybe make sure we’re one of the later bands. What time do you get off work?”

“It depends…but usually between four and six. I could let them know what’s happening to see if they could let me go earlier that day.”

“It doesn’t take long to set up. How long from Winchester to Denver?”

“If you’re not driving through rush hour, two and a half to three hours. Downtown?”

“Not sure. Not a problem, though, because if you got done at work by five and it took three hours and we played a little later, we’d be okay. Pushing it and not able to set up a merch table, but it would be doable.”

“You know what would be easier? You guys just do that show without me.”

“F*ck no, Val. If you’re part of the band now, you’re part of the band. If you can’t make it, we don’t do the show.”

“But no pressure.”

I could hear him chuckling. “The other dates work, though?”

“Yep.”

“How are you feeling about the songs?” I started singing one of the ones Brad had written before I’d even met him, one he’d called “Take You Down.” I’d been working on kind of a growl, which I knew had been done much better by Brad, but some of the words warranted it. So I sang a few lines just so he knew I’d been working my ass off. “Nice.”

“Thanks. So…I’m learning the songs, but I’d feel a lot better rehearsing with you guys a little before we play our first show. Could we maybe Skype some night next week?”

“What are you doing Friday?”

I put a duh quality in my voice to tease him. “Working.”

He matched my tone. “After that…”

“Nothing.”

“So why can’t we do a rehearsal Friday night? Maybe even Saturday?”

“Where?”

He was quiet for a few seconds. “Good question. My garage is always free. Would you be able to drive here?”

That was the problem. “I don’t know. My parents might not have a car they’d want me to borrow for that long a trip. I’m hoping to save enough for a car this summer, but until then…”

“You’re off work around five?”

“Ish…”

“Five-ish. Nice. Maybe I could pick you up and bring you back here. It might be kinda late. We might not feel like rehearsing that night, but maybe Saturday late morning, early afternoon, before we hit the road to go to Denver. Would that work for you?”

I nodded, even though it was only for my benefit. “Yeah. I think so.”

We planned to make it work. Brad showed up Friday evening with Zane in tow. Zane was feeling stir crazy and wanted to come along. I had a suitcase crammed full of everything I thought I’d need (including plenty of cash) and off we went. We stopped and got Taco Bell as we drove through Colorado Springs. Brad sped like crazy, and I was afraid we were going to get pulled over, but we were lucky. After we ate, the three of us sang several of our songs, and both guys were impressed with what I’d learned.

Zane said, “I like some of the things you’re doing kinda different from the douchebags who were singin’ before.”

Brad flipped him off without saying a word. It was still light out, so I was able to see they were both just kidding around with each other.

I hadn’t thought to ask until we were on our way where I would be staying, but I thought it might be good to ask now.

“Oh, yeah. Ethan said, since you’d stayed at his house before and you knew his mom pretty well already, you could sleep on his couch.”

I was surprised to find I was still pissed at Ethan, but as soon as Brad mentioned that he had been so good to volunteer his place, I felt the anger flare a little. “It wouldn’t be imposing on his busy social life, would it?”

Zane said, completely deadpan, “You know about that?”

Before I could retort or even get an upset look on my face, Brad said, “He’s just f*ckin’ with you, Val. Ethan really did mean it as a nice gesture.” He made sure his eyes stayed on the road when he said, “But if you’re not comfortable there, you’re always welcome at my place. I know my mom wouldn’t have a problem with it.”

Yes, but he hadn’t offered initially, and I didn’t want to impose. I loved Ethan’s mom, so Ethan’s place it would be. Besides, it was only for one night.

It turned out that June wasn’t there, but the three guys wound up staying up late watching a movie and drinking, and I dozed off on the couch anyway. When I awoke the next morning, my shoes were off, my head was on a pillow, and I was covered with a sheet. Brad was spread out in one of the chairs and Zane was on the floor, a pillow from the couch scrunched up under his head.

I sat up and stretched, wondering how long they’d been up. Ethan was nowhere to be found, so I guessed he was in his own bed sleeping. Since I’d been a guest there before, I knew where the shower and towels were, so I got myself ready for the day, but when I was done, everyone else was still asleep.

I sat back on the couch and rested my head on the back, just running the songs through my head. Yes, I had this. I needed to just trust myself. And once I would run through them a time or two to live music, I’d have the confidence needed to front the band. I’d seen enough concerts, both live and recorded, to know that the vocalist was typically the performer who would make or break the show. A frontman (or woman, in this case) was the one who was usually the most mobile. I’d have to interact with the audience; I’d have to move all over the stage and shine some light on each performer at multiple opportunities. I was responsible for infusing our show with energy. The guys just had to play. I knew a lot weighed on my shoulders, and I hoped I was up for it. I was just grateful I’d have the chance to practice a couple of times live, because I was sure it wouldn’t be like singing along to a prerecorded song. There were variables with live music, and that’s what made it good, but that’s what also made me want to run through the show once or twice, just so I knew what I was doing and had some confidence. I still wouldn’t be perfect, but I’d be relaxed in the knowledge that we, as a group, worked well together.

That was what I was most nervous about too (aside from just feeling inexperienced)—remembering the order we would do the songs in. Brad had sent the playlist to me in a text. Maybe I’d just have to know what song was next by hearing the music, and I knew after doing the show a few times, I’d just know, just like I knew on a CD which song came next after listening to it several times, or I’d remember the order of songs on my iPod after listening to the same list for weeks. It was just something I knew I’d remember once I’d settled in.

I was making myself sick with worry, and I just wanted the guys to wake up so we could get on with it. I wasn’t hungry, so I just got a drink of water and, finally, I turned on the television with the volume low, hoping the sound would stir the guys in the living room. There was no sign of booze around, so I knew they’d had the presence of mind to clean up after themselves. I hoped that also meant no hangovers this morning. I considered letting them sleep late to be sure, but my nerves overruled any sense of empathy I might have had.

I started flipping through channels. I really wasn’t in the mood to watch anything, but I needed to be distracted for a while. I stopped on a channel that showed two women redecorating an apartment using junk store finds. After fifteen minutes of the show (and I hadn’t turned it up louder), I saw Brad stirring. Zane had rolled over when I first turned on the TV, and I wondered how the hell he could sleep on the floor like that.

I glanced over at Brad, but his eyes were still closed, so I looked back at the show. Then I heard him say in a high-pitched voice, “Oh, my God! Doesn’t this lamp have so much potential?”

He was making fun of the show. I glanced over at him, and his eyes were still closed, but he had a smile on his face. “I thought you were sleeping.”

He opened his eyes. “Who can sleep through this riveting programming?”

I giggled. “What else was I supposed to do while you guys were getting your beauty rest?”

He sat up and stretched his neck. “You trying to tell me this is the only shit you could find?”

I got up and handed him the remote. “I just wanted something to do while I waited for you guys. I want to practice.”

He looked at me then, those dark eyes of his understanding. “Val, you’ll be fine. We’ll have a goddamn blast and make a little cash while we’re at it. It’s cool.”

I took a deep breath and smiled. I nodded my head. “When can we start?”

That’s when he stood up. “First, we gotta get these lazy motherf*ckers up.” He walked over to Zane and nudged him with the tip of his boot. “Hey, man…we got a vocalist here itching to try us out.”

Zane muttered something into the pillow but started moving. Brad wasn’t wasting any time, though. He strode to the bottom of the stairs and shouted up. “Ethan! Get your ass out of bed!”

“I’m up.”

“Hurry up. Val’s chomping at the bit here.”

Ethan opened his bedroom door, so I could hear him better. “Gimme five minutes to shower.”

Brad walked back to the living room. “Did you hear all that?” I nodded. “Feel better?”

I smiled a little and nodded, but no, I didn’t feel better…not yet. But this was a good start.