Rocked Up

I don’t hear the crowd, I can hear Arnie’s voice but it seems like it’s miles away and I don’t care what he’s saying. I follow the flashlight, floating along the route, someone slaps my back along the way. I begin to hear the crowd, I feel the strings of my guitar, the breath in my lungs, the electricity in my heart firing bolts of lightning to my limbs preparing them for battle.

It’s not so dark that I’m not recognized and the crowd begins to roar. My soul has been a few steps behind, but has caught up to me now and steps in.

Here I am, here it comes.

I have my first thought since I left my body backstage.

Turn on your guitar volume, wait for Switch.

I’ve had problems in the past getting too lost in the moment and forgetting to turn on my volume. There is a voice that reminds me to turn it on when I first step on stage, I assume that voice is me, or maybe it’s Mr. Robson.

Click Click Click Click

My heart stops and I hold my breath when I hear Switch click his sticks together.

Then it begins.

I hit the opening note and the lights explode on cue. I hear my guitar thud and shake the room when I hit the strings. It takes only a moment before Calvi, Lael, Switch and I have the motor running. The piston is firing up and down and motor shakes and roars.

The crowd look like a surging sea coming toward me, they are a part of this machine, and they are doing their job well. The fake smoke and colored lights make everything look like a dream, I sing the first line of the opening song and the crowd sings along too.

This is a short set so we hit the ground running, When I turn to face Switch I see he’s already a sweaty mess. Calvi, normally calm, cool, and casual, is standing on a monitor wedge thrashing is body around, wind-milling his arm with each note he hits on his gold-top guitar. It almost feels like the four of us are trying to one-up each other.

Even Lael is performing differently than I have ever seen her. I like it, I think everyone does.

Time passes too fast with these short sets and we are damn near the end, only a couple songs left. Lael is under a single light and to my surprise she’s taken off her shirt. There she stands in her leather pants, bra, and little else. She begins the song “FuzzFace” moving her hips from side to side seductively and has the attention of every person in the venue.

As always, she has my attention.

Lael’s background as a dancer is showing right now. Myself and the rest of the band take a step back and let Lael have the stage and she uses every inch. The end of this particular song is purposely unstructured so we can improvise and it’s at this moment that Lael takes the bottle of whisky from her amp and begins to chug it while still keeping the rhythm happening with her right hand on the bass. The crowd adores it.

That’s when I see Ronald in the wing of the stage, he must have been there the whole time.

I’m starting to have a new perspective on things.

Lael passes me the bottle of whisky, upside down, while it is still pouring out on the floor. I hold it, unsure of what she has in mind. She goes to her knees and begins playing her bass wildly, letting the whisky pour down her throat. The guitar tech must have hit her special teal pedal because I hear the familiar tone kick in at that moment.

The crowd reacts wildly, the front row of people have half of their bodies on the stage, fists in the air, screaming for the moment to continue. Lael lets most of the whisky fall down her neck and stomach, drenched.

On her knees, she gyrates her hips up and down and plays with a mix of skill and ruthless improvisation. Myself, Calvi, and Switch have the good sense to let her take the lead. It’s rare to have such control over a large mixed crowd like this and Lael has them eating out of the palm of her hand.

The song has already gone on longer than it ever has before and now Lael is climbing the PA speakers. I already know we won’t have time to do our closing tune on the set-list. Honestly, there’s really nowhere to go from here so it’s just as well.

Lael climbs higher and higher and the light man follows her the whole way. I have been using the whisky bottle as a slide and take a shot of what’s left in it but when I do my mouth is filled with only pure unsweetened iced-tea.

I can’t help but smile. I look up at Lael dancing in the rafters and wonder what else she has up her sleeve.





Chapter Thirteen





Lael




Well that was a fucking doozy, I think as I walk off the darkened stage with shaky legs, my clothes absolutely soaked with all the iced tea I poured all over myself.

“That was unreal,” Brad says, walking beside me with a giant grin stretched across his face. “I’m in awe of you right now.”

As tired and wired as I feel, I match his smile. After everything that happened between us earlier, I’m more connected to him than ever and all the adrenaline and lust is coursing through me. I feel like I might explode and am wondering if the backstage area is the place to do it.

But before I can say anything to Brad – suggest we go off somewhere for a drink, or just find an empty room – my father looms in the distance, arms folded across his chest. After what I witnessed in the hotel room, he’s the last person I want to see and I know he feels the same way about seeing Brad and I together.

I step away from Brad, putting more distance between us and keep my eyes forward. I don’t even think I can talk to my father at this moment, all those horrible things he said were ringing in my ears for most of the show. That’s partly why I did the whole act with the whisky bottle, to piss him off.

The other reason is because I really wanted to show what I’m made of. I’m not just some replacement on the bass. I’m Lael Ramsey and I bring a whole new deck of cards to the table. I wanted the mouths of every last fan to be open. I wanted the band to look at me with respect. I wanted my father to see that I’m far more uncontrollable than he thought.

I wanted so much.

I think I got it.

“Lael,” my father says. His eyes are warm but his voice is hard. I have to remind myself that he has my entire life planned, that he thinks he controls every last piece of me.

“Hey,” I say to him, trying to keep my voice light as I hand my bass to a guitar tech and wipe the sweat of my face with my arm. I notice his eyes don’t leave mine, not even to glance at Brad who is walking away from the both of us.

“I had to see your show, I had to know,” he says. “You did good, real good. Not sure I like that whole bit with the alcohol but the crowd loved it. They loved it. Look, we need to talk.”

“What about?”

He looks around him to see if anyone is nearby listening. Backstage everyone is bustling to and fro but no one pays us much attention and if they do, they’re subtle about it.

“Everything, Lael. You’ve been on the road for some time now. It’s about time we catch up. How about we grab a drink at the hotel bar?”

I sigh internally. That’s the last thing I want. I can’t possibly pretend that everything is fine, that I didn’t hear him earlier, that Brad and I aren’t sleeping together, but I know I’m going to have to.

Luckily my father loves to hear the sound of his own voice. I probably won’t be able to get two words in, even if I wanted to.