Rocked Up

Ronald leaves the room and his thugs follow. I turn to the window expecting to see Lael climbing back into the room but the curtain waves in the breeze and she’s not there. Leaning out the window, I see her sitting on the platform with her back against the wall.

“Hey,” I say, resting on the window’s edge.

“I’ve never heard him talk like that about me before,” she says looking pensively to the sky.

I don’t know what to say, we both need time to process, but she should be inside.

“Come inside,” I tell her.

“I can ruin everything for you. I think I already have,” she says, ignoring my suggestion.

“You know that’s not true.” I hate hearing this from her.

“I think it is true,” she says shaking her head and then climbs through the window. Once she’s inside, she looks up at me, her eyes full of emotion and frustration. “He has the next ten years of my life planned out, what’s that all about?” She sighs heavily. “Look, maybe I should walk away from all of this, you, the band, my father, everything,” Lael says with an air of defeat.

Something inside me is expecting her to leave. I’ve been falling for her carelessly and now I will pay the price. History is repeating itself. I try to imagine her walking out the door and never seeing her again and I can’t bare the idea.

I reach out and grab her, needing her now more than ever.

“Don’t do that,” I whisper to her, trying to meet her eye. “I need you. I need you tonight on stage, I need you for this tour…”

She doesn’t respond. Instead, she begins to get dressed and I sit down. I’m not afraid of Ronald but I will never underestimate him. He owns the rights to all my work. I’ve been told that even if I leave he will profit off of anything I do in the future. I don’t own my property, I don’t own my cars.

My life is a house of cards.

Ronald was right about one thing though – I’m still the same street kid he met a decade ago. Even after all these years I have not lost the sense of who I am. I don’t need these luxuries, and try as he may, I will always have a fan base and a career. I’m afraid of nothing, except one thing: Lael walking.

“You must regret messing with the boss’s daughter now,” Lael says, standing in front of me with her hands tucked into her pockets of her sexy leather pants that she’s put on for the show.

“I regret nothing,” I tell her, standing up. “And I’m not afraid of your father. You got that? So – let’s make this a show to remember.”

“Alright, alright,” she says, her head hanging for a moment. Then she looks up at me, fire in her eyes. “Let’s do it.”

***

Backstage is a beehive of activity, a show with multiple acts like this one always is. Lael and I fight through the narrow halls trying to find someone from our crew to guide us. Even though many of the people lining the hall greet me as a friend, I don’t recognize them. Finally, I see just the man I’m looking for.

“Arnie!” I shout to get his attention.

“You two twits nearly gave me a heart attack,” Arnie answers then looks at his watch. “You’re on next, you literally have ten minutes before you hit the bloody stage, let’s go, the other lads are waiting for ya.”

I look back at Lael and we exchange smiles as if we are mischievous children. There is no band playing at the moment, only the rumbling sound of thousands of people. The smell of leather jackets, cigarettes, pot, and smoke machines lingers in the air.

I live for these moments. I feel like I belong. The air is electric and it lights me up when it fills my lungs. Arnie leads us to a corner where Switch and Calvi are waiting. It’s normal to not have a proper dressing room for this type of gig.

“Look who decides to show up,” Calvi says shaking his head in disapproval.

“Boys,” I say, greeting them casually.

Switch is artfully combing back his hair seemingly unconcerned by our late arrival but his eyes look past me with concern, which causes me to turn around and see who has his attention.

Ronald is walking toward us with another tall grey-haired man in a suit. Ronald stops and stands with his back to me in a disrespecting way.

“John, I want you to meet my daughter Lael,” Ronald says pointing to her like she’s a piece of meat on the menu. “You are going to do great tonight, sweetheart.”

Lael gives a peculiar smile and puts her attention back to our guitar tech.

Ronald doesn’t take notice of her dismissiveness and moves on with his acquaintance.

I try not to let him bother me. I can see my guitar on the rack, I can see the route to the stage from where I stand – for me the show has already begun. I have learned when to change, when to become selfish and become that other version of myself that takes over for the show. It can’t happen too early, there are too many people ready to make judgments. If I ignore someone’s smiley hello it could have repercussions, for all I know they could have millions of followers and my dismissive reaction would turn into a long article of how awful I have become. Then their millions of followers would copy and paste to others who would copy and paste, comment, destroy.

I know better, learned a trick or two. When I’m in a large room full of people who want to talk to me, and it’s impossible to connect with each of them, I make sure to connect with only a few. Not in a fake way, there are always interesting people to talk to. I look into one person’s eyes and ignore the rest of the room. I don’t try to make eye contact with everyone, only who I’m speaking to. I know the rest of the room is watching my every move, secretly wanting me to mess up so they can have a story to tell. As long as I treat who I’m speaking to with respect, it’s noticed by everyone else in the room.

It’s a part of the job, it’s a balancing act. When to turn off, switch gears, when it’s too soon. I used to start the show, in my head, hours before. I can’t blame people for not understanding really, the opening act hasn’t hit the stage and I was a pacing wild man who couldn’t be reached. The larger the venue, the larger the crowd, the further from reality I go.

Now, at this moment, I am gone.

There is no sound, everything and everyone around me are blurred out, they don’t exist. I can see the route to the stage, my bandmates, and nothing else. I can hear Arnie’s voice but I don’t see him, I don’t need to see him, I’m selfish and only take what I need.

Someone hands me my guitar and I strap in for the ride. We’re using a wireless system tonight so I make sure the guitar doesn’t make a sound that will rocket out of the main speaker to the crowd.

“Alright boys!” Arnie shouts.

The lights go dark and a faceless man with a flashlight guides Switch, Calvi, and Lael along the route to the darkened stage. I always go last.