Rocked Up

“Welcome,” Roar says as he climbs out of the vehicle and is promptly greeted by a large Mastiff.

We all climb out except Lael who’s struggling with her seatbelt. Before I do the gentlemanly thing of lending her a hand, I take advantage of her vulnerable state and tickle her.

She laughs, swatting my hands away and goes back to struggling.

“What kind of mess is this?” I think out loud. I press the rusty button but nothing happens.

Roar comes over, scratching his head, and says, “I didn’t know I had seatbelts.” He leans in to look closer and continues, “I mean, this is literally a couch I found that I tied down to the floor, so how the hell is this possible? Hang on. Hey, Switch, can you grab the knife in the shed?”

“Knife?” Lael asks with big eyes.

“The big one,” Roar shouts to Switch.

“Okay…” Switch says, walking into the rickety shed.

Lael and I are looking at each other with equal parts amusement and fear.

“Seriously, how did you manage to do that?” Switch asks, pulling down on the back of the couch and looking behind to where she could have possibly retrieved the old seatbelt.

I can feel my phone vibrating in my pocket, so I pull it out to see who’s calling.

Ronald Ramsey flashes on my screen.

Oh boy, I say to myself, stepping away from Lael who is strapped to a death machine.

I answer. “Ronald.”

“I thought I would check in to see how you’re taking care of my daughter,” he says, his voice just as brusque over the phone as it is in person.

“She’s good, no problems at all,” I say as Roar begins to lower a large machete to her seatbelt, Calvi and Switch standing over them as if they are in a surgery observatory.

“Look. I’m hearing things, bad things, some things I don’t like,” Ronald says.

“Well, I don’t know, Ronald. You can’t believe everything you hear.” I try to sound as casual as possible while my mind flips through the Rolodex of all the things he could have heard.

“I heard Lael on the radio. Why is she doing press?” Ronald asks. Roar is violently sawing away at the seatbelt, putting his weight into it as he leans over Lael. Calvi and Switch adjust themselves to get a better view of what’s happening.

“Oh, that. Right, fine, no more press. No problem, Ronald. Won’t happen again,” I answer as the seatbelt snaps and Roar and Lael fall over with the couch. I rush forward to see if she’s okay but the sound of her laughing is the evidence I need, so I back off so Ronald can’t hear the commotion.

“And the bus. This one amazes me. Seriously, Brad, if this is true…I’m hearing that her bus is traveling empty and she’s traveling in your bus.”

“What?” I answer, trying to sound innocent.

“Don’t fuck around,” he snarls. “This fucking tour is something she needs to do and I’m letting her do it so she gets it out of her system. Don’t let her get carried away, got it? When this tour is done, she is done. I don’t want her spending her life around people like you. No offense.”

“Um,” I say, slightly offended.

“Look, Brad, I’m thinking long-term, and for her, it’s just not a good life. It’s different for you,” Ronald says.

Bang-bang-bang.

The deafening sound of a firearm rings through the air.

“What the fuck is that?” Ronald asks.

“Hold on,” I tell him quickly, rushing around the corner of the shed to see Lael with a massive gun pressed against her shoulder.

Bang!

She fires and an old television falls over about a hundred feet away.

“Um,” I say into the phone, “we’re at the history museum. There is some war re-enactment thing, sorry about that.”

“We? Is Lael with you?”

“No, no, she’s back at the hotel. She said she wanted to stay in and read her book.”

“Yeah, well, don’t forget there are lots of young people that can play guitar and sing, but there aren’t many who have the most successful record company in America supporting them. I support you, Brad. You know this. But…if something happens to Lael, I will drop you and make sure no else picks you up. From now on she rides in her own bus and she doesn’t do press. Don’t fuck around.”

Ronald hangs up.

Lael turns to me and asks, “Who was that?”

I dive for cover because she is carelessly pointing the firearm directly at me.

“Whoa, easy there,” everyone says at once. Roar takes the gun away before she can do any damage.

“No one,” I tell her, not wanting to upset her in case that gun gets back into her hands.

Over the next few hours we hang out in the sunshine taking turns shooting televisions and beer cans, ripping around on Roar’s homemade dune buggy, and just lying around being lazy. There is a large trough full of beer that everyone helps themselves to, everyone except me. Even at this stage of my life my own friends treat me like an alien when I’m not drinking.

Sometimes I feel like I don’t drink now for the same reason I drank my face off in my teens and early twenties—rebellion. Whether it’s a business meeting, a family function, or just watching a movie, if you don’t have a drink in your hand people judge you. But I can’t be feeling like a dirty dishcloth when I’m performing for a sold-out arena. I don’t mind when the gang gets wasted—well, until I do. Today, anyway, at Roar’s sunny little compound, I don’t mind that my mates are letting loose. They work hard and they deserve it.

Lael is having a ball. I can barely see her face behind her large sunglasses, but she’s clearly happy.

And always near.

She’s only had a few drinks but when she talks to me her voice is at a slightly higher pitch and she’s playing with her hair.

“Do you think I should cut my hair off?” she asks me, twirling a strand around her finger.

“No way,” I answer.

“Why not?”

She’s fishing for a compliment, I know it. “Well, you’re young and hot so I’m sure—no, I know, you could get away with it if you really wanted to, but your hair is a part of your look. It’s your signature.”

Lael smiles at that, appeased. “Do you want to take a stroll?”

“Sure, I’ve been lazing around long enough,” I say with a sigh.

We get up and head toward a trail opening as I yell back to the fellas, “We’re heading back into the wilderness, don’t shoot us if you can help it.”

Roar has a rather large piece of land, and walking down this trail reveals its diversity. This little nature walk is doing me well. No buzzing amplifiers, no buses, no invasive fans. I can only hear our footsteps and the occasional bird.

And, of course, Lael. I’ve already discovered that she has the gift of gab and apparently when she has a few drinks in her, this is amplified. She’s clutching my arm as we slowly make our way down the trail, the sandy path lined with sagebrush, the sky above a clear blue, while she chats away with little to no direction.

I enjoy spending time with Lael. She’s just so easy to be with. She’ll even take the liberty of answering her very own questions that she asks me. I walk, listen, smile.