Rock All Night

57




He strolled over to us, smoking a joint and strumming his guitar.

“‘Ello, luv,” he smiled at me, then looked at Derek. “We still on for tomorrow, yeah?”

Derek stared at him blankly – and then closed his eyes and winced. “Oh, shit, I totally forgot…”

I frowned. “Forgot what?”

For the first time ever, I saw something other than a look of placid contentment on Killian’s face. He looked flat-out disappointed. “Aw, c’mon now… I’m happy you two are in the midst of connubial bliss, but you promised, mate.”

“Connubial…?” I slurred, now firmly in the grips of the champagne. “I don’t think that means what you think it means…”

I giggled, realizing I sounded a lot like that quote from The Princess Bride:

Inconceivable!

You keep using that word. I do not think it means what you think it means.

Which I thought was hilarious.

Come on, cut me a break. I was drunk.

Everybody else, though, was ignoring me.

“Killian…” Derek said, sounding like he was about to try to weasel his way out of something.

“You promised,” Killian said, standing firm.

“Promised what? What’s wrong?” I asked, now slightly alarmed.

“Bring her along! I’ve got more than enough – the more the merrier!” Killian turned to me and asked enthusiastically, “You want to go to Joshua Tree tomorrow, luv?”

“I don’t know,” Derek said, suddenly far more adult and wary-sounding than I’d ever heard him before.

“Joshua Tree?” I frowned. “Like… U2?”

Killian chuckled. “Yes – exactly! They named the album after it. Joshua Tree National Park. We’re going tomorrow for an overnight stay.”

“Don’t you have a concert?”

“Nope. Specifically for this reason,” he said, frowning at Derek like You PROMISED.

“Get Ryan to go instead,” Derek suggested.

Killian snorted derisively. Compared to what he normally acted like, he was a full-on riot of emotions. “Ryan’ll never do anything. You know that.”

“Ryan’ll never do anything what?” Ryan said, suddenly materializing beside Killian from out of the crowd.

“Where’d you come from?” I asked, surprised.

“You guys looked like you were having a band conference. Ryan’ll never do anything what?” he repeated.

“Joshua Tree,” Derek said simply, as though that explained everything.

Apparently it did.

“Damn straight Ryan’ll never do anything,” Ryan agreed.

Killian pointed at Ryan but made a face at Derek – like, See? What did I tell you?

“And he’s trying to get Kaitlyn to go along,” Derek explained.

“Oh, hell no.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you use this much profanity, ever,” I teased Ryan.

“There’s a good reason,” he said darkly.

“Bah,” Killian said, flapping his hand dismissively. “Just because you’re a prissy wanker doesn’t mean the rest of us can’t partake.”

“You prissy wanker, you,” Derek repeated. Ryan just rolled his eyes.

“Partake in what?” I asked. “Why doesn’t anyone want to go to Joshua Tree with Killian?”


“Yes, why doesn’t anyone want to go to Joshua Tree with Killian?” the guitarist said plaintively, like a five-year-old child who only got a package of underwear for Christmas.

Derek sighed heavily. “It’s not that I don’t want to go, it’s just…”

“It’s just what?” I asked.

Derek paused, then gave me a mischievous grin. “He wants to do shrooms while we’re there.”

“…shrooms?” I repeated, not quite understanding in my drunken state.

Then I got it.

“MUSHROOMS?!”

“Say it a little louder, luv,” Killian griped. “The coppers outside the stadium didn’t hear you.”

“You want to go take drugs out in the desert?!”

Killian seemed to consider that a baffling question. As in, who wouldn’t want to?

“…yeah!”

“It’s an annual thing,” Derek explained. “Ever since he came to Athens, he has to go to Joshua Tree every year and trip on shrooms. It’s like his annual ritual or something.”

“Exactly,” Killian said, sounding comically dignified. “It’s my annual ritual.”

“And every year Derek goes with him,” Ryan said.

“And trips his balls off,” Killian added.

“And every year he tries to get Ryan to go, too – ” Derek said.

“But Ryan’s a prissy little wanker who won’t partake,” Killian sniffed. Then he leaned in close to me. “Don’t be a prissy little wanker, luv.”

“I… uh… I’ve never dropped shrooms before,” I said, a little bit frightened. Okay, a lot frightened.

“You ‘drop’ acid. You just ‘take’ shrooms,” Derek said.

“You can drop shrooms,” Killian said.

“Yeah,” I said, annoyed at being corrected.

“Nobody says that,” Derek scoffed.

“Well, Kaitlyn can drop shrooms if she wants,” Killian said magnanimously, and then gave me puppy dog eyes. “Please, luv? Do it for Queen and country.”

“She’s not British,” Ryan pointed out.

“Pretend you are.”

“The f*ck’s going on over here?” Riley shouted as she stumbled over. “Is this a band conference?”

“Unofficial one, yeah,” Ryan said.

“Why wasn’t I invited?!” Riley roared.

“It’s about Joshua Tree.”

“Oh, F*ck THAT.”

“I’m trying to get Kaitlyn to come along and join in,” Killian explained.

Riley about busted a gut laughing. “Yeah, right!”

I drew myself up in indignation. “What does that mean?”

“It means you got a stick so far up your ass, you’re not gettin’ any mushrooms down there with it,” Riley snorted as she walked off.

“I do not,” I said in a petulant little voice that nobody else heard. Then I called after her, “That doesn’t even make sense!”

Now I kind of wanted to do shrooms, just to show Riley up.

Kind of.

Sort of.

Maybe.

“You can come if you like,” Killian called out to the drummer.

“Are there gonna be hot naked chicks?” Riley shouted over her shoulder.

Killian paused to consider.

“…most probably not, no.”

“Then f*ck off!” Riley yelled as she walked into the crowd.

“Alright, that’s one off the list,” Killian said.

“You didn’t seriously expect her to say ‘yes,’ did you?” Ryan asked. “You ask her every year, and she never says yes.”

“I ask you every year.”

“Yeah, and I never say ‘yes’ either.”

Killian shrugged. “I try to be polite.”

I looked at Ryan in alarm. How bad did something have to be for Riley to refuse to do it? “Why doesn’t she ever say ‘yes’?”

“Riley’s drug of choice is booze,” Ryan explained. “She’s not interested in anything else.”

“Except p-ssy!” Riley shouted, popping back into the conversation just long enough to scare the shit out of me, laugh maniacally, and disappear again.

“Except that,” Ryan conceded.

Killian turned back to me. “You’ll come along, right, luv? Pleeeeaaaase?”

“I… I don’t know, Killian,” I said, when what I really meant was closer to Riley’s F*ck NO.

“But if you don’t do it, then Derek won’t do it… and if Derek won’t do it, he won’t even come… and then I’ll be all alone, and it’s no fun all alone,” he whined.

“Miles is going to let you do this?” I asked, shocked.

“It’s in the unofficial contract,” Killian said as he puffed on his joint.

I looked at Derek in bewilderment.

He shrugged. “That’s Killian’s term for stuff Miles can’t say shit about. One is trying to stop Killian from smoking weed – ”

“Forbidden to even mention it,” Killian said seriously.

“ – and the other is Joshua Tree.”

“You actually scheduled your concerts so he could do this?!”

Derek and Ryan both nodded in resignation.

“Please, Kaitlyn,” Killian said, putting his free hand – the one not fingering chords on the guitar – on my arm. “It’ll be grand. It’ll be like… Fear And Loathing In Las Vegas.”

He paused upon seeing my alarmed expression.

“Except in Joshua Tree,” he added hastily. “And no fear, no loathing. Just… love. And enlightenment.”

“And a shitload of shrooms,” Derek chimed in.

I remembered Hunter S. Thompson coming up in Derek’s and my first conversation, back in my dorm room in Athens four years ago. I remembered Derek talking about him being a great journalist for the ‘greatest music criticism magazine in the world.’

Which I now represented, too.

I didn’t know if I should take that for a sign or not.

And then something happened that made me have to take it for a sign.

“I’ll give you a proper interview,” Killian pleaded. “With long, expansive answers. Details galore.”

Oh God.

I just knew I was going to regret this.

“…okay?...” I said nervously.

“Yes!” he crowed, and wheeled around and did a victorious windmill swipe at his guitar, just like Pete Townsend in The Who.

“Oh God,” Ryan said, and put his head in one hand.

I looked at Derek fearfully. “Be honest: is this a really, really bad idea?”

He grinned. “It’ll be memorable, I can guarantee you that. But it’s your call.”

I chewed on my lower lip, then closed my eyes. “Okay.”

“Then I’m going, too,” Ryan announced. He didn’t sound happy about it.

Derek did a double-take. “What? Really?”

Ryan sighed, rolled his eyes, and nodded.

“YES!” Killian howled, doing two Pete Townsend windmill swipes at his guitar.

Other than when he was up on stage and totally in the moment, it was a hundred times more emotion than I’d seen him display over the last three days, combined.

“Why?” I asked Ryan.

“Yeah, why?” Derek asked, sounding just a tiny bit suspicious.

“You think I’m going to let Kaitlyn go wandering out there in the desert with you two while you’re high on shrooms?” Ryan said disapprovingly.

“Trippin’ our balls off!” Killian said happily, and continued doing his Pete Townsend imitation.


Ryan glanced at Killian, then turned back to Derek. “Yeah. Think again.”

“So you’re going to do shrooms with us?”

“HELL no. Somebody has to babysit you people.”

“…babysit?” I whimpered.

“What’d she say?!” Riley shouted across the room.

“She said yes!” Killian called out happily as he kept windmilling away at his guitar.

Riley cackled. “Your funeral, Blondie!”

Now I was considering changing my mind.

“You should stay here instead and f*ck me!” Riley hooted.

Okay, that decided it.

I was absolutely, positively going to the desert and doing shrooms.