“What time is it?” she asked.
“About one thirty.”
“Ugh, I can’t sleep. Too much to do tomorrow.” She began to sit up. “How was the show?”
“Good. Bungie puked again.”
“The fuck, Gray—really?”
“Everyone is fine. Miranda brought some friends. The friends got puked on.”
“Miranda? She’s so sweet!”
“Don’t get mad at me. I’m not the puker. I’m the drive-people-home guy, remember?”
“How’s Nico?”
“Nico is good. He probably appreciates you asking that.”
“I like Nico. He said I was his favorite of all your girlfriends of all time.”
“He did?”
“Yup. I win.”
I laughed. “You sure do. Don’t get up though, I’m a stinky mess. I’m going to shower and eat; then I’m coming straight to bed.”
“Ice pack.”
“I don’t need an ice pack. You should try to sleep, girl.”
She was right. I needed the ice pack, but I was too lazy to bother.
“Ice pack, Grayson.”
“Shhh...go to sleep, Natalie.”
“Ice. Pack.”
“Okay. I’ll ice pack when I’m eating.”
“Good. I love you, then.” She laid back down and rolled over.
“Oh, okay, you only love me when I ice pack?”
“I love you when you listen.”
“Wow.”
“Good night.”
“I love you too. ‘Night.”
“Gray.”
I opened one eye, then closed it.
Natalie was getting ready for the day, fussing with her hair and straightening out her sundress while I lay snoring in a small pond of drool.
“Gray, your phone is ringing.”
I rolled over and put the pillow over my head. Suddenly, Natalie’s face was inches from mine.
“Pick up your goddamn phone!”
“Alriiight. Fuck. Damn.”
I sat up and reached for my phone on the nightstand.
“Ah, fuck my fucking neck hurts. Damn.”
Natalie pinched a bobby pin in her teeth. “Did you ice it last night?”
“I...um...oh, shit—it’s Doug! I gotta take this.”
“Obviously not.” Natalie sighed, then walked away.
I cleared my throat quickly before answering. What was Doug calling about? I had just seen him less than twelve hours ago.
I groggily answered. “Hello?”
“Oh hey, Grayson. It’s Doug. Sorry if I woke you up, dude.”
“Nah, it’s cool. What’s up?”
“Listen. Ben Watts, a promoter with Green 90 just outside Burlington, Vermont, called me looking for bands to fill in on a show tonight. I know it's short notice, but AngerFM is playing and a band just dropped off.”
Adrenaline shot through my entire body.
“AngerFM? Actual AngerFM—not an AngerFM tribute band or something, right?”
“The AngerFM.”
I'd grown up listening to AngerFM. They were part of the first-wave punk legacy, circa '77. They weren’t the Sex Pistols or the Ramones, but they still managed to play all the bigger punk festivals worldwide. They were in all of the punk rock documentaries we watched. We were being asked to play the biggest show of our career.
“Holy shit. Are you serious?”
“Yup. If you guys can be there by seven p.m. it's your spot. You'd be on second, too.”
“Yes! We'll take the show. Hell yes! I can't believe it. Thank you so much, man. Thank you. You really hooked us up.”
“Hey, you're welcome. I'll let Ben know you'll be there.”
I hung up.
Natalie was fuming. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
I got out of bed and started grabbing my clothes.
“Can you believe it? Trouble Bored. Playing with AngerFM. Us!”
Natalie shadowed me around the apartment. “You...fucking...asshole! You promised to help me today!”
Shit.
“Yeah, but that was before! You can’t honestly think I knew this was going to happen. You were right here when I got the phone call!”
“I don’t care! You promised you'd help! You promised...Fucker!”
I turned to face her. “Natalie, I’ve been waiting my entire life for a chance like this. What if it’s my only chance? Our only chance? The band needs this! What if they like us? What if they take us on tour?”
I’m not sure exactly where that rationality came from. I think it’s something you buy into as a teenage musician, a folktale that follows you into your twenties: some label rep discovering your band at a random show in a small club in your shit town, or playing with a massive band that for some reason just decides they like you enough to snap their fingers and take you on tour. Steve, Wolf, and I were obsessed with music documentaries where that stuff had actually happened. We were hopeless romantics.
Natalie was a bit more realistic. “You think so, Gray? You think AngerFM are going to take you and your bum-fucking-friends on tour? Don’t you think you would have been asked to play the show before a band dropped off if AngerFM were gonna give a fuck about your stupid fucking band?”
“Holy shit. Don't have a goddamn stroke.”
“Luna’s fucking baby shower is today!”
Shit.
“Listen,” I started, “it’s not Luna’s first baby shower. It probably won’t be her last, either, honestly.”
Natalie’s eyes started to tear up. “Fuck you—and you promised! You promised me! You can break your promises to your mom. You can break your promises to yourself. I am not around so you can break your fucking promises to me, Grayson! Get your goddamn shit together!”
“My shit is together,” I yelled. “This is my shit. It's my job. It's what I do. This is my hard work paying off. I’m not sitting around this fucking town to work at Mega Bread for the rest of my life.”
“Yeah, no shit,” Natalie said. “Most people move on from their starter jobs.”
“Wow. Okay.”
“What are you going to do when all those guys drop you on your ass? Where are you going to be, Grayson, when you realize you could have put all this work into getting a degree and a job that could get you out of this town you hate so fucking much?”
I had gotten fully dressed while we argued. “I’m sorry. If I don’t play this show, I’m letting down the entire band. I have to call everyone right now. We have to be there by seven. It’s almost nine now, and the venue is four hours away.”
I grabbed my backpack and hoodie and headed for the door. “I’ll make it up to you. I’m so sorry, but I need to go. I’ll call you tonight. Bye.”
Thirteen
“Come on, Bungie.”
I was fucking up. Don't think I didn't know that. But it was hard to tell me I was wrong—especially when everyone I was about to call was going to tell me I was right.
I pulled out of Natalie’s apartment complex and began the process of tracking down everyone who’s day I was either going to make or fuck up, knowing damn well I should have confirmed with everyone first before telling Doug we were good for the show. Still, I had pulled off some less probable stunts on a minute's notice before, and I was confident I could pull this one off too.
I started by dialing Steve, who would somehow be fully recovered from his night of debauchery, functioning on four hours of sleep and teaching seven-year-old children Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu. My man answered on the first ring, too.
“Grayson of the Wild Frontier. You’re up early. What’s up, buddy?”
“Bro! Doug just called and said we can play at Green 90 in Burlington tonight with AngerFM. A band dropped off the show. Now it's our show. It's our fucking show, dude!”
“AngerFM? What? Fuck yeah, it's our fucking show. This is great news—aw, come on, you fucking pussy! That wasn't even a full choke!” Steve shouted.
Clearly, one of the seven-year-olds had tapped
out too soon. Steve Murphy wasn’t having that shit.
He continued, “So when do we have to be there by?”
“Seven. I'm calling everyone now and doing the thing.”
“Nice. Let's fucking do it. I'll call you when I'm out of here. Oh—remind me to call out of the airport tonight, I guess.”
“Sounds good.”
“Alright, you little shit bastards, clean these fucking mats. I got shit to do today.”
Wolf was next. He was on a job site, cutting trees down with his dad. He wasn’t exactly thrilled about the news.
“Ugh, fucking really? Yeah, I'm down, but damn. This is no-fucking-notice. Now I have to bail on my dad.”
“It’s the dream, dude,” I stated. “I bailed on Natalie too.”
“I don't even have my car right now, man. Can you pick me up? I need to get home so I can shower and shit.”
“Where at?”
“Not far. We’re on 4th Street, a block up from Carmen Little League Park.”
“On my way now.”
I hung up, pulled a quick U-turn, and took off in Wolf’s direction. Bungie didn't answer his phone. Up next, Nico.
“Yoooo.”
“Hey. What are you up to today?”
“Ryder is over. You know that jar of weed we used in the vaporizer that’s, like, not burned all the way?”
“Yeah.”
“We smoked some of it this morning, and it’s not as potent but the shit still gets you high,” Nico declared.
“...I’m listening.”
“So we’re rolling that whole motherfucker the fuck up!”
“Into one joint?”
“No, into mad joints. We’ve got, like, fourteen so far, and we aren’t even halfway through the jar.”
“That’s awesome!”
“Innovation, my dear Grayson.”
“Anyway, are you guys doing anything besides rolling joints today?”
“Not really. What are you doing? I thought you we’re going to that baby shower with Natalie.”
“Change of plans, brother. We got a last minute show with a big band. Four hours away. You guys wanna come?”
“A big band? What band?” asked Nico.
“AngerFM. You probably don’t know them.”
“Definitely don’t know them. So this is big enough to piss off your girlfriend?”
“Ah, this is a major opportunity. I think she’ll get over it.”
“She’s gonna get over you, dude.”
“Come on, Nico. You’re going to give me shit too?”
“I’m just saying. Don’t be surprised if she dumps you over this.”
I knew Nico wasn’t bullshitting. I was just trying to ignore the pit growing in my stomach.
“What was I supposed to do? Everyone else needs me to play.”
“Hey, I’m just looking out for you, dude. Don’t forget I knew you before Steve and Wolf. Natalie is a good one. Don’t fuck that up.”
“I’m not. So are you guys down?”
“Where’s the show?”
“This place called ‘Green 90.’ It’s in Vermont.”
“Damn. That’s a fucking road trip!”
“Yeah. We have to be to Steve's by at least two if we're gonna make it on time.”
“Hell yeah, dude, we're there. What are you doing now? You want to chill over here before we go to Steve's?”
“Yeah. I gotta give Wolf a ride, but then I'll stop over.”
“Alright. Hey, Ryder—roll faster!”
“Come on, Bungie.” He still wasn't picking up.
But I didn’t have time to think about what we would do if we couldn’t get ahold of him. I was too busy trying to pick up Wolf from his job site without his dad kicking a hole through my car. I could hear him going off on Wolf as I pulled up.
“You lazy asshole! Goddamn waste case son-of-a-bitch. Don't expect to fucking work with me on Monday!”
Wolf staggered towards the car, muttering, “Yeah, yeah. Whatever. Fuck.” He slammed the door. “Get us the fuck out of here.”
We drove in silence for a few minutes.
“Ah, when doesn't he give you shit? Duty calls, bro. Anger-fuckin'-FM tonight!”
Wolf perked up. “I know, dude! I remember when you first had me listen to them off one of those $5 compilation CDs we used to get in middle school. How is this happening right now?”
“Fate. It has to be fate. We've been dogging it for years now, and we're finally getting our chance.”
“I hope it works out. They have to at least check out a song or two.”
We daydreamed the rest of the ride. It was almost perfect weather: dry and sunny but not too hot. A soft, cool summer day. Clear blue skies.
We talked about what songs we hoped AngerFM would play, wondered if we’d get to hand them our CDs. We were so confident too—our set the night before had been damn near perfect. All we had to do was put on the same show tonight and make sure someone who mattered caught a glimpse. We were absolutely positive we could execute, and we almost had a feeling like we had already done it. Our euphoria was the perfect distraction from the small-town problems we would try to ignore for the rest of the day—letting down a girlfriend and a father.
I pulled up to Wolf’s place and dropped him off at his car.
“Steve’s good?” he asked as he got out.
“Steve is good. He’s calling me after work.”
“What about Bungie?”
“Nothing yet. You can try him. I called twice already.”
“Aw, come on, Bungie.” Wolf grunted.
“That’s what I said.”
“Steve’s at two o’clock then, right?”
“Steve’s at two. I’m headed to Nico’s until then.”
“Nice. Alright, then. Peace, bro.”
I waved a peace sign at Wolf and drove off.
Over at Nico’s, I finally got a chance to sit and think about everything that had happened since Doug’s call and everything I was going to need to pull off for the rest of the day.
Faraway shows are considerably more stressful than shows twenty minutes down the road. There’s just more logistics to it all. You need more gas, more food. Trying to keep everyone in a good mood for longer, which usually meant more drugs. More drugs meant more chaos. More chaos meant more babysitting.
On top of that, we had a big job to pull off. Besides making the show on time, we had to have our shit together enough to impress AngerFM. A lot could go wrong before the day was through, and I had to start running every possible scenario and backup plan.
Trust me when I say I had already seen 80 percent of these disaster scenarios play out in real life. The remaining 20 percent kept me up at night.
What made this trip worse was the guarantee of a fight with Natalie when I got back. I tried not to imagine how I would justify blowing her off if something went wrong and we didn’t even manage to play the show.
I’d learned to kind of meditate during any pre-show downtime. Nico’s house was a great place to do that. He must have spotted me on his security camera, as he had opened the door before I even knocked.
“Road trip!” Nico smiled.
“I guess. Still can't get ahold of Bungie.”
I walked inside and shook hands with Ryder. He was sitting on the couch in front of a tall pile of joints, rolling up the last of their vaporized weed.
Nico handed Ryder a short wide medicine bottle. “Put as many as will fit in here.”
Nico and I collapsed on the couch.
“Fuck Bungie,” Nico said. “You see that dude throw up last night? What the fuck was that?”
“That’s Bungie,” I stated.
I faded back into the couch and exhaled deeply, combing my fingers through my hair. The back of the couch felt strangely...moist.
“Is this couch wet?”
Nico and Ryder started cracking up. I sat forward and investigated the damp fabric with my hand, confused.
“What’s so funny? Why is this couch we
t?!”
“Remember that girl with the nose ring from Cumby’s last night?” Nico asked.
I started to remember. “Aw, bro, noooo!”
“Talk about a fucking mess, dude. She practically gave me a shower. Soaked the whole back of the couch. I barely made it out of the way. Don’t worry about it, though, I shampooed the couch.”
“The fuck, dude! She pissed on your couch?” I started laughing too. “You gotta throw the whole couch out now.”
“It’s not piss,” Nico yelled, “it’s squirt! It’s different!”
“Oh my fucking god.”
I moved to a chair. Ryder was crying from laughter.
“Damn, Nico. Try to warn me next time. What is your obsession with squirters?”
“Hey, they’re obsessed with me.”
Nico lit one of the vaped weed joints. “It was like picking a lock. Sprinkled half a gram of coke on it first. Almost lost a finger.”
He passed me the joint.
“Hey, this is actually not bad.” I exhaled.
“Yeah. You just gotta smoke more of it,” Ryder added as I passed the joint off to him. “Fortunately, we’ve got a fuckton for this road trip.”
The day's first high made me feel introspective.
“Natalie is pissed,” I said. “She thinks Luna's baby shower is more important.”
Nico scoffed. “Natalie's gonna dump your shit one of these days. I say that as a friend. You should stop blowing her off.”
“But this is, like, some bucket list shit, though, dude. AngerFM songs were the first songs I ever learned to play on bass.”
“Natalie is your first girlfriend who isn’t a cunt, Gray.”
“Fuck.”
Nico was right about almost everything, always. When his phone started vibrating, he flashed the screen at me.
“It’s Bungie.”
“Neat.”
Nico answered it. “Nico...Yeah. I might have that, but I'm gonna be out with Gray in Vermont all day...Yeah, well answer your fucking phone, idiot.”
Then he handed me the cell. “Here.”
I drew a long deep inhale, trying to center my internal shit before hearing how Bungie was going to fuck my day up.
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