Total pages in book: 195
Estimated words: 185573 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 928(@200wpm)___ 742(@250wpm)___ 619(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 185573 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 928(@200wpm)___ 742(@250wpm)___ 619(@300wpm)
I was dumbstruck and speechless when he asked us if we had finished our album. Even more so when he actually listened to it with us. During the long, painful silence that followed, I was pretty certain he was about to tell us to get the fuck out of his house. Even though he had a long track record of helping new artists, I was convinced he’d tell us to go back to the drawing board or find a new day job. I nearly fell over when he told us he’d lined up some local venues for us to perform at. He said he wanted to see us live to decide whether we were cut out for a real stage.
After that, it all happened at warp speed. One day, we were sitting on our asses eating Pringles and talking about labels, and the next, we were playing at The Mint. I threw up twice before we performed. I didn’t think I was going to pull it off, so I swallowed a couple of Valium my new doctor prescribed me and washed it down with a shot. The first song was admittedly a little rough, but it took the edge off, and we fell into our natural rhythm. The faces in the crowd blurred under the bright lights, and at some point, I remembered Bianca’s suggestion to turn the spotlight back on the audience. So that’s exactly what we started doing.
As it turned out, they went wild for it. And I went from wishing I’d never had this dream to feeling like I had a purpose again. For the next three weeks, we played at different venues Asher lined up for us. Then he dropped a fucking bomb when he told us he had an in for us at Coachella after one of the bands dropped out. We had exactly two days to get ready, and it would be the biggest show we’d ever played. We all knew this was the one that would make or break us.
The performances were already taking a toll on my body. I was in pain every second of every day, and I honestly didn’t know if I’d be able to pull it off. But one look at the guys’ faces, and I knew that I had to. This was it. The culmination of all our efforts. Everything we’d been working for. And it was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for guys like us. Without Asher’s connections, I knew we wouldn’t be this fortunate. Plenty of bands with talent and catchy songs never made it to a stage like that. He’d gone out on a limb for us, and I couldn’t let any of them down.
So I took a few more Valium, and we went out on stage and played our asses off. Apparently, we did something right because the crowd fucking loved it. It was surreal hearing them chant our names, begging us for an encore when we finished. I was still trying to come to grips with it when a mob of people surrounded us as we were leaving, asking for our autographs.
A wave of nausea rolled over me as they closed in on us, and I began to sweat. My body responded to the threat like I was still at war, spiking my heart rate and activating the instincts hardwired into me. I wanted to take cover and shut down, but I was trapped in the madness, forcing myself to scribble down names for faces I could no longer see. I managed that much before I left the guys standing there and headed for Colt’s van, sliding into the back seat. I choked down a couple more Valium, leaned my head back, and waited for them in the pitch-black silence.
Nobody gave me any shit about my quick departure. By the time they got into the van, they were so amped up it was all they could talk about. I heard their praises for my performance, but it didn’t sink in. Like everything else, it rolled off me, leaving me empty after the crash. And so, the roller coaster continued with every performance.
On stage, I chase the high, but in the aftermath, darkness always follows. I’ve been eating Valium every day now, but I tell myself it’s fine. I tell everyone it’s fine. Ranger can see that I’m not. At night, when he curls up next to me, I can sense his worry as he senses mine. I feel like a fuckup for making him stress over me, and I try to make it up with belly rubs and treats. But he isn’t as interested in the food anymore, and belly rubs are only a short-term glory.
It isn’t until moments like this, when it’s just him and me, that I truly come back to myself. These stolen minutes feel like the only real part of my days. When I can sit in stillness and think about the things I don’t say out loud. The dark thoughts that still plague my mind. The pain that never goes away now, and the fear of letting my bandmates down if I don’t pull this off.