“What? Oh, yes, a Bloody Mary, please.”
“Were you sleeping?”
“I must’ve drifted off. Sorry.”
“You’re here to relax, as you keep reminding me, so quit apologizing. I’ll be right back. And put on sunscreen before you fall asleep again.”
Liv hadn’t been asleep. She was thinking about Ben Rice, again. She pulled out her phone and checked the social media feeds. Nothing. He wasn’t here yet, he had a show tonight. Wait, was it tonight, or last night? She checked again. Shit. It had been last night. Now she’d never relax. He may be there already.
4
Ben Rice started skiing and playing guitar before he learned to read, as his dad and grandfather had before him. In high school he formed a band that he named CB Rice, in honor of his hometown, Crested Butte, and his family. It confused people. They’d call him CB. That was his band, he was Ben. It didn’t take long before he got used to it. If someone called him CB, they were a stranger. If they called him Ben, they were a friend.
All he’d ever wanted to do was make music. Twenty-five years, hundreds of shows, and a half dozen albums later, he was still doing it. He loved it more than anything.
Performing, hearing the crowds, watching them get into his music—there wasn’t much in life that did it for him the way being on stage did. He’d perform until the day he died. Yeah, that was attention you got addicted to. It was the only addiction he couldn’t live without.
He toured as often as possible with his band. They averaged a hundred shows a year, most in Colorado, but he expected that to change. The band was solid. They’d even played Red Rocks last summer, which had been the fulfillment of a dream.
Ben considered himself an average guy, even if his grandfather had been one of the original developers of the Crested Butte ski area. He’d worked for his family all his life. He didn’t mind hard work. When he wasn’t touring, he spent a lot of time at The Goat, his family’s bar and restaurant.
Ben learned the importance of giving back to the community from his parents and grandparents. He and the band played at countless fundraisers for medical research, and for patients faced with life-threatening illnesses, like cancer, who didn’t have insurance.
When he was thirty-seven he had been diagnosed with cancer himself. That same year, he and his wife divorced. He fought the disease and an ugly custody battle at the same time. He’d gone through the standard treatments, and to this day, remained cancer-free. When he was home, his two boys lived with him half the time.
A little over a year ago, his family and bandmates staged an intervention. He spent a couple of weeks in rehab and quit drinking. Battling alcoholism was the hardest thing he’d ever done—harder than fighting cancer, harder than watching his marriage and family fall apart. But, he had a year of sobriety under his belt, and he’d never felt better.
It was harder to fight the urge to drink when he was on the road with the band and they’d arrive at a gig to find a case of beer and a bottle of bourbon waiting for them. He didn’t struggle with it as much at home, especially when he was at his family’s bar. He’d get distracted by conversation, or if he was tempted to drink, he’d pick up his guitar, and start to play. Once the crowd got into the music, the adrenaline rush took the cravings away.
Singing brought him back. It reminded him not to give up, or forget how far he’d come. Performing reminded him not to give up on his kids, himself, or his life. Giving up on his marriage was hard, but he and his ex were better off apart. Ben believed, deep in his soul, there was someone out there for him, someone he could spend
the rest of his life with. Fate would put her in his path—all he had to do was keep his eyes open and recognize when it happened.
The band was in Las Vegas to play an event. It had started out as a fundraiser for a hometown girl who’d relocated from Crested Butte to Vegas. They’d gone to high school together, and she was a bartender at the House of Blues. When the manager found out how hard she struggled to make ends meet, he called Ben. Sandy Smith had lost her fight with the disease, but the event continued annually. In its fourth year, it raised funds for cancer research. The owners of the hotel complex kicked in a hefty amount, as did the House of Blues. Last year they’d raised over two million dollars. This year they were hoping to double it.
It would be an all-day event, and tickets were one hundred dollars each. CB Rice would go on right before the main headliner, who Ben asked to play when they opened for them at Red Rocks. The lead singer’s wife had battled cancer herself, so the band was quick to agree to participate.
He didn’t have much to do today, but he flew in early anyway. It wasn’t his event, or even his fundraiser anymore, yet he still took responsibility for it and wanted to be here to help if needed. It meant an extra day away from home, but it was for a good cause.
He pulled out his cell and dialed his son Jake’s number as he walked through the casino in the direction of the pool.
“Hey, Dad.”
“Hey, man, how’s it going?”
“Okay.”
Typical tween on the phone. He should have texted him. “I’m good. I’m headed out to the pool. This place is a giant water park. I should have brought you and your brother with me. Next year. Remind me, okay?”
“Okay, Dad. Sounds good. Wanna talk to Luke?”
“Yeah I do, but, Jake, wait. I miss you, and I love you.”
“I love you too, Dad. I’ll see you in a couple days.”
“Okay, man. Behave.”
“Dad?”