Rock On (Bad Boy Bandmates & Babies)

It was unseasonably hot that fateful night when I had walked in all dressed for the show. I was wearing a beautiful gothic themed dress that my mother had made for my undergrad recital.

The dress was perfectly tailored, and it definitely suited the overall theme of the music and ethos of the band, and it was as if it was hugging me by the way that it showed my curves and particularly with the direction the fabric was going.

I hadn’t planned on the dress being a visual cue of new things to come, but if that was how it was seen, then, all the better, and I just went with it.

If the band’s first few impressions of me had been strong, that night I think I left a much greater impression on them, even. Hank and Jim were doing their best to busy themselves, Adam was snubbing me as usual, but Derek was sporting a very impressive trouser tent, which I tried not to think too much about.

The only one who seemed unaffected was Thom, who was his usual amiable self. I could only imagine what the source of his bottomless calm could be, but I hoped he would teach me one day.

Once everyone was ready, we played through the set list twice, just to make sure we had it down perfectly. Derek certainly had a close attention to detail, which definitely worked out in his favor. He really wasn’t so bad once you could read him. And there was still the fact that he was hot as fuck.

It felt weird thinking about him that way, seeing he was my bandmate and he seemed to be a begrudging one at that, but it was hard not to. I would have liked to get along with him, if only his ego would allow it. He might say the same thing about me, but I’d only been acting on pure logic.

“Right, good, I think that will do it,” Derek said after we had played a practice song, while the final note was still resonating through the air.

“Ya think?” Adam snarked, taking off his bass like punctuation.

From there, we filed into our respective vehicles, the convoy soon converging on the venue and then pulling up around the back.

“Wow,” I whispered.

The theater was far from the nightclubs and dive bars I’d imagined Metal bands played, with the occasional festival in Germany or Norway for flavor. The grand hall before us was more like those I had only seen in my wildest dreams.

“Impressive, no?” Thom asked, coming up beside me.

“Yes,” I agreed. Then, I realized something was missing and asked, “Whereyou’re your drums?”

“Inside, I assume.”

“Wait, who owns the drums in the practice area? They aren’t yours?”

“Nope, Seth hates inconvenience more than expense so there are kits everywhere. At least three, anyway. We need a lot of them to move around to the different venues. They’re transported and set up by a crack team of techs. It really is amazing to see them work.”

“I see. What happens if the drums aren’t there?”

“The show doesn’t happen, the tickets are refunded, the label has to get involved, and people get fired.”

“Oh.”

I wasn’t sure what to think, especially considering I would have to be seeing the famous Mr. Black in the next few days. All was likely to become clear after the fact. My impression up to that point was interesting if a bit contradictory. Seth seemed less of a boss than a cool big brother with lots of money and a bit of a temper when it was called for.

The doors parted, allowing us entrance to Shangri-La. The very smell of the place nearly brought a tear to my eye.

I loved it all so much, even in its dormant state. Whether rehearsing or in performance, I was a theater kid, by blood if not career. I saw a lot of plays while I was a kid. And I was in quite a few, partly at my mother’s encouragement. I loved it but it was clear where my talents lay, and we silently agreed to go in that direction.

However, I still got stage freight when I played music, but I hadn’t gotten it when I was acting, for some reason. I took some deep breaths and told myself that this wasn’t any harder than that.

With time tight, we went right out onto the stage, the air changing as we emerged into the open expanse, row upon row of red velvet chairs facing us.

“How many people will be coming to see us play?” I asked.

“A couple thousand,” Thom said, from behind the kit he had picked up.

“Oh.”

Suddenly I tripped a bit and felt like an idiot. I didn’t think I’d make it without completely falling over but, by some miracle, I hit the chair, not the stage, which would have ben even more embarrassing.