Rock On (Bad Boy Bandmates & Babies)

“Pretty Vacant” had just started when the engine cut.

Darkness reigned and I let it be, regret hitting me like a brick as I knew I wouldn’t be able to dodge it. I knew why it happened, as well as the fact that I could have handled it better. It wasn’t a matter of envy, though I could understand how it would be seen that way. It was an epically immature, knee-jerk reaction to my own insecurities.

I was no longer indispensable, or even really needed, at least in my own head. DSM already had two singers, and great guitar players were a dime a dozen in that town.

The band didn’t need me at all. What I never stopped to consider was why they had stuck it out with me. It probably had something to do with loyalty. We’d gotten together as messed up kids who could barely play, and stuck through it over the last couple decades, only growing strong together.

Pauline was trying to direct the band, but that was nothing new. Adam had been trying to get us into more of a jazz direction for years, and it had almost become cute, even when it was clear he was just a bit better than the rest of us, scaling back to our level. It was still great to have him and his influences helping to make us what we were.

It wasn’t really Pauline’s skill or designs on leadership in a band with no official leader that were at fault. It was all these factors put in the form of a literal dream girl I’d been thinking about since I was 15.

It went against every rule we’d ever had, but I had to tell her. After I apologized to everyone of course. Especially my guitar, which didn’t deserve to get dropped like that, even if I was angry.

Chapter Ten – Pauline

It was a tableau of confusion after I got done playing. Five forms were frozen in place. They were still shocked by Derek’s sudden departure.

“W-was it that bad?” I asked, breaking the silence.

A flood of reassurance came from all sides, including Adam, which came as a pleasant surprise.

“He’s just jealous of your genius,” Jim offered.

“Maybe,” Thom said, as if he wasn’t so sure.

“Maybe?” Hank asked him, but Thom didn’t elaborate.

“Either way, I guess practice is over,” Adam said, ever the practical one.

“Looks like it,” Thom agreed.

Their loyalty was touching. There were still more than enough instruments around to keep things going, something I’d noticed more than once. Imagine forming a band with just Jim, Hank, Thom and Adam.

We could get another guitarist almost anywhere. It was clear that wouldn’t happen.

There was much more to the lineup than sheer practicality. And that was something that showed me I still had a lot to learn.

As I finished packing up my cello, I headed back to the wagon and wondered what the future might hold for me. I’d signed with Suspicious Activity, officially putting me on the DSM contract, but what would that mean if Derek actually left?

Would the band continue, or would I be back at square one?

If so, I couldn’t deny I’d be partly to blame. I pushed too hard, trying to get things where I thought they should go, not paying attention to where they were. Swift kick received, my proverbial posterior still smarting, I did what I should have from the beginning: I looked the band up.

Everything was there once I Googled. The whole strange and terrible saga was laid out like a timeline. There were some questions, because of the source, but most of the entries had citation numbers, and the list of references and external links was extensive. Enough to bring up the benefit of the doubt.

According to Derek himself, drawn from an interview he’d given to a magazine, he had started DSM to keep out of prison or the grave. The band gives him a focus for his relentless energy, which he referred to as a “storm” inside him.

Slowly but doggedly, he built the band up from nothing, with a combination of grit and guile, around the time I was learning how to read. I never really knew how much older than me the other band members were, and I doubted that they knew, either.

There weren’t a lot of people my age with an M.A. since I’d skipped some grades, and I always looked older than I was, passing for 18 and able to buy my mom’s daily pack of cigarettes for her at the corner convenience store on my way home from school when I was still only 14.

I wondered what Derek would think if he knew my age.

Especially if he was already jealous of what I could do.

Would it only get worse if he knew I was 14 years his junior?

I really hoped he wouldn’t mind.