Getting Wade’s full attention, he plucked the earpiece from his ear preparing supervise Joe’s mannerisms.
“I wanna know how the hell a girl can learn to play like that.”
Wade interjected at once. “Joe…”
“What?! Seriously! I still have a hard-on from that shit! C’mon, man! You can’t tell me you don’t wanna know either!?”
Wade slumped his shoulders and shook his head at his friends’ commentary. If anything would scare off their new drummer, it would definitely be Joe’s personal humor.
“I do. But that doesn’t mean I’m jumpin’ up ‘n down like a damn cheerleader. Get a hold of yourself, man.”
Chris broke into a cold sweat while her face flushed in response to Wade’s comment.
“Pfft. Whatever, man,” Joe said, waving off Wade’s criticism. “Look, Chris. I know plenty ‘a guys that’er good - but not like you. You gotta tell me what your secret is.”
Chris all but buried her face into her baggy clothes while she peeked shyly at Wade. Meanwhile, Os pretended not to hear anything and only continued to strum on his guitar.
Chris cleared her throat and tried to keep her wits together.
“There is no secret. I first saw Whitesnake on TV when I five,” she explained. “And as soon as I saw Ansley Dunbar on the drums, I knew that’s what I wanted to do.”
“You like Whitesnake?” Joe asked, dumbfounded and rightly so.
All of this was difficult for Joe to grasp. After so many concerts, late nights, backstage passes, and all the girls practically throwing themselves on them, very rarely did they possess any real knowledge of the kind of music they were into.
“You mean love Whitesnake? Yeah,” she corrected him. “And Judas Priest, Metallica, Pink Floyd, Black Sabbath, Slayer, Megadeath-.”
As Chris continued to rattle off her favorite bands, Joe’s eyes widened in disbelief.
“Far out.” Joe said, but then he shook his head, sending his dreads flying in all directions. “But…how did you learn to play?”
Chris shifted uneasily in her seat. Never before had she been the center of attention for anyone let alone someone famous from a band she idolized. Rather, a band at the top of her favorites list, but she felt it best to leave that part out. At the very least, she didn’t want to come across as some annoying groupie.
“When I was six, I asked for a play drum set from my dad. He didn’t know any better, so he got it for me. But when he came back from deployment a year later, he found out what I was doing and threw it in the dumpster.”
As she started to relax, Chris unfolded her legs and turned to face Joe directly before she continued.
“So, on my next birthday he got me a tea set instead. He said, ‘that’s what little girls are supposed to do.’”
Right away, Joe broke into laughter. “Dude, that’s fucked up! What’d you do?”
Chris paused for a moment and as she studied the empty plates, cups, and mugs on the table and then, she had an idea.
Chris began to rearrange the items into what Joe recognized as a mock drum set. She turned a few mugs upside down and positioned the plates until she had them exactly where she wanted them.
“The only thing I could do,” she said, bringing out her sticks from her back pocket. “Improvise.”
Without missing a single beat, Chris began to rap on the side of one of the plates. Then, she tapped on the cups, glasses, mugs, and even the side of the table as well. She may have been playing with kitchenware, but the sound coming from her ability to play with such ease was no less amazing. She banged and chimed on the objects with such discipline that not even the bumps in the road caused her to miss a beat. She maintained her stone-cold concentration until soon, even Os stopped what he was doing and looked at her - slack-jawed. All the while, Wade knew his goose bumps didn’t come from the air conditioning.
When Chris finished her kitchen solo, the front of the bus sat in silent awe for the next few minutes. When she put her drums sticks away, Joe was the first to say anything.
“Whoa.”
“Yeah,” Chris sighed. “My tea set found the dumpster, too eventually.”
Joe broke into a roaring laugh and Wade chuckled to himself as well. While Chris re-adjusted her sleeves, Joe noticed tattoos around both of her wrists.
Sporting the same look on each arm, barbed wire curled itself cruelly around her skin. Joe cringed when he saw how real they looked – down to the very lifelike drops of blood. Unbeknownst to Chris, Wade had took notice of them too.
“Wow. Cool tats,” Joe remarked.
Chris quickly hid her tattoos with her sleeves and even fisted the ends of them, desperate to keep them from showing again.
“Thanks,” she whispered.
Os resumed his complacency and returned to make unneeded adjustments to his guitar just as Wade’s phone rang. Wade looked down and found his agent calling him again.
Meanwhile, Joe noticed Os’ reaction and flung an empty plastic cup at him.
“Hey! Watch it!” Os yelled.
“Yeah, hey Mike,” Wade stuck his pinky finger in his ear to drown out the noise while he continued speaking with his agent.
“Dude - Os. Didn’t you see that shit, man?”
“Whatever.”
“Pfft,” Joe huffed, looking to Chris to explain. “Don’t sweat him. He’s ‘Mr. Nice Guy’ to everybody.” Then, he turned back to Os, speaking in a louder, more obnoxious voice. “Isn’t that right, dickweed?!”
“Fuck you, bitch,” Os muttered.
“See?”
Chris laughed but only a little. Somehow, she knew that getting Os’ acceptance into Heretic would be no small feat. But she shook off the pessimism as best she could, scratched her nose and became lost out of the window.
“Alright, man. We’ll see you in Cali.”
After Wade finished talking with his agent, he turned and faced Chris.
“Ok, Chris. Here’s the deal…”
Chris peeled herself from the window and reluctantly turned to give him her full attention. After all, subjecting herself to Wade’s soul-dividing stare brought chills that even her thick hoodie couldn’t ward off.
“Yeah?”
“As of right now, we’re the only people who know who you really are,” Wade explained, motioning to the four of them.
“What about him?” she asked meekly, pointing bus’ driver.
Ever since she came on board, he didn’t so much as look at her or even acknowledge her existence – or anything else for that matter.
He was a big guy and old – that much Chris strained to see from where she sat. But he never said one word as he sat in his leather clad biker gear as he drove in complete silence. The only thing more absurd was how he wore sunglasses all the time – even at night.
“Who? Pete? You don’t need to worry about him. He’s been drivin’ us everywhere since we scored a record label and the best part is: he’s half blind and half deaf. And I can’t remember the last time he’s even said anything. So, he’s pretty handy when the media tries to come and knock on our door.” Wade turned to the front and cupped his mouth while yelling, “AIN’T THAT RIGHT, BIG PETE?!”
No sooner than Wade bellowed his remark, than Pete raised one of his hands and made the sign of the devil’s horns before resuming his driving. Wade and Joe seemed accustomed to this sort of reaction and chuckled at his emotionless enthusiasm.
But then, Chris’ eyes seemed to widen in fear as Wade’s explanation finally sunk in.
“Whoa, whoa… what? You mean to tell me this grandpa is drivin’ us around and his vision isn’t exactly twenty-twenty?”
Wade burst into laughter. “Chill. For years he was in a motorcycle gang called Divine Apathy. He’s been ridin’ his whole life ridin’ across this country more times than I can count. He knows these roads better than anyone.”
Chris relaxed somewhat and accepted his answer, but then she thought of something else.
“And why can’
t he talk?”
Wade thought for a moment before answering, “Swallowed too many bugs?”
Christ tried to conceal another small laugh and when she looked back at Joe, he broke into a wide grin. She smiled back politely before she buried herself again under her hoodie while debating on whether or not to pinch herself. Despite telling herself numerous times that she made it into the group, she still couldn’t believe it. She was certain that if anyone told her years ago what she’d be doing now, she’d do the pinching.
“Anyway,” Wade continued, almost forgetting their original conversation to begin with. “I just got off the phone with our PR guy and even he doesn’t know you’re a girl. Long story short? All he knows is that you’re one badass musician.”
Chris cleared her through and shifted in her seat uncomfortably again. She’d never received compliments before in her life, let alone a singer from a band she idolized. She peered as long as she dared into his penetrating blue eyes before she was the first to blink.
“Now comes the hard part,” Wade went on. “How tough is this gonna be for you? Reason is…” Wade paused long enough to glance at Os before he continued. “I’m just not sure if fans are ready to accept a female drummer - especially from Heretic. Get my meaning?”
But Chris pulled off a macho huff as best she could. “You don’t think I can do it?"
“I never said that,” Wade calmly retorted. “I just want to be sure you realize that you’re steppin’ into some pretty big shoes.”
The bus became silent again, sending a raking chill over Chris’ nerves. But somehow, she knew that if she ever were accepted into Heretic, she’d pay any price. A small price to her. What she wanted more than anything was the chance to play drums and to do it alongside one of the most idolized bands in the country was just an added bonus. In no time at all, Chris resolved that it would be a cold day in hell before she’d go back to her old life. So, she became resolute and surprisingly fast which aroused Wade’s curiosity.
But catching Wade’s suspicions was the very least of her worries. Right now, if Joe was going to stare at her anymore with a goofy look on his face, she’d die laughing.
“Whatever, man,” she pulled off with a roll of her eyes. “I just wanna play.”
Joe jumped up and down in his seat a few times as if someone had invited him to a girls’ sleep over. Chris thought that if she had to act more like a guy than him, then it shouldn’t be too hard.
Wade nodded. “Good. Joe!”
“Sup!” his band member answered back enthusiastically.
“It’s up to you now, man. Make a man outta her.”
But Joe’s head jerked absent-mindedly at the magnitude of such a task.
“Whoa-whoa-whoa-what!? The hell do I know about teachin’ chicks to be dudes?!” he shrieked. “W-What am I supposed to do if like…chicks-start-hitting-on-her?!”
Despite Joe’s spirited anxiety, Wade remained absolutely calm. “Grab a camera.”
“The fuck for?!"
"Because that would be so hot!”
Wade could hardly contain himself and burst into laughter along with Joe. Os merely sighed and shook his head.
Meanwhile, a disgusted Chris grabbed an empty plastic cup, the only thing within arm’s reach, and flung it at Wade. Wade raised his arms in defense and it bounced off harmlessly and onto the floor.
“You even throw like a girl,” Wade teased.
“You guys make it sound like I didn’t have you fooled from the word ‘go’!” Chris stated, trying anything to defend herself from the harassing onslaught.
“Maybe you did. Maybe you didn’t,” Wade remarked, leaving Chris confused at such a statement. Regardless, Wade propped his legs back up on the couch. “You can hide under your hat all you want, but in the end, we’re just three people. You’ll need to fool thousands.”
But as Wade was ready to put his earpiece back in, Joe interjected with, “But dude!”
“But ‘what’?!” Wade asked, annoyed.
“I’ve never had to teach a chick to be a guy before! What the hell am I supposed to do?!”
Despite Joe’s obvious fear, Wade only smiled at him and then looked directly at Chris. Already, she could feel her skin burn under his death stare.
“Improvise.”
Finally, Wade stuck in both of his earpieces, focusing completely on his music and on the notepad in front of him. Chris watched as his head bobbed up and down a few times while he jotted down some words, shutting out everything else in the process.
“What’s he doing?” Chris asked Joe as quietly as she could. After all, she wasn’t completely sold that he couldn’t hear them despite the blaring music that came from his earpiece.
She wrinkled her nose when she saw him shove his free hand into his pocket and jingle something that sounded like a coin.
“He…is prolonging…our continued…success!" Joe said, pointing at make-believe objects in the air.
Chris raised an eyebrow and looked at him confusion.
“Huh?”
“He’s writing songs,” Joe explained, somewhat upset that Chris wasn’t quick to catch onto his oddball humor. “Alright!” Joe said, clapping his hands and rubbing them together. “Let’s do this!”
Chapter 4
For the next six and a half hours, Chris watched and listened with mind-numbing despair at the goofy kid in front of her that was Joe Bedden. She did her best to pay attention to him but mostly, she stared at him in angst wondering how the hell he ever got into Heretic in the first place. Of course every die-hard fan knew Heretic got their start in Wade’s basement - that was a given.
Joe was a few years older than Chris and on more than one occasion, she had to stop from laughing as he went on tangents several times. She did her best to ignore the bouncing blonde dreads that banged into his face and remain serious about the situation, but it wasn’t easy. Sure, she had been to some of their concerts, listened to their music, but one-on-one was something else entirely. Now she knew why Wade was the only one that did interviews for Heretic. She had to stop herself from asking him if he was on drugs.
But despite her first impression, Joe taught Chris everything there was to know about being a guy - things she practically already knew; crotch rubbings, belching and other forms of noxious gases, reading dirty magazines, watching porn, how to stand, how to pee, how to eat, how to sit, how to sleep. But after a while, Chris was sure Joe was making up some of it and inwardly remarked that his absurdity knew no bounds. She tried insisting that she knew what to do but Joe was on a roll.
Instead, he went on to tell her how to look at other girls from now on - especially at concerts, but Chris became disgusted and flat out refused. Shortly after, she begged for a reprieve but only after she had ran out of things to throw at him.
Thankful that the ordeal was over for now, Chris leaned her head back onto the couch and exhaled for ages. After their lengthy lesson, she was certain that if any other girl would have been in her shoes, they would have up and left hours ago regardless of who she was with. But despite her angst at what they wanted her to do, she would have done it, no questions asked.
Because Chris had only one thing in her heart and on her mind. And she squeezed them so tightly in her hands, they nearly hurt.
Her drumsticks.
Hell, she would have shaved her head if they asked her to, but she was secretly hoping they wouldn’t. But what they asked of her hardly came as a surprise. She was more than willing to do it, or anything else for that matter, just to do something that came naturally to her.
She couldn’t help but reminisce her first night in the band bus. The whole ordeal gave her goose bumps and she still couldn’t shake the butterflies from her stomach. She remembered listening to the three of them snore in their rooms as Pete drove the bus like a veteran truck driver.
She studied the plush living area in which they all sat, and couldn’t get over the luxury of it all. At least it was luxury to her; the microfiber couches and c
hairs, the self-sustaining bathroom complete with a full shower, a vanity, and a sink with more buttons than any TV remote she had ever seen. The kitchen was smaller to accommodate their home on wheels, but it boasted a fridge full of food and cabinets packed with every road snack imaginable. When Chris was sure everyone was asleep, she swiped a stick of beef jerky like a thief in the night and practically inhaled it.
The 30 inch flat screen TV that loomed above them constantly aired Metal Madness, MTV, or some other show that played music videos, interviews, concerts, etc. But Chris was quick to pick up on something right away; whenever news about Heretic came on, no one said anything - not even Wade. She thought for sure they would delight in any news that expressed how popular they were, but no one stirred. Instead, Chris found it odd that Wade only stared at the television when news about Dark Water came on - Heretic’s long-time nemesis.
Unlike Hess’ crime, the band’s arch rivalry was no secret. Every rock enthusiast knew the silent war over which band boasted the most fans and with wars comes choosing sides. It became a common occurrence for followers to start fights at concerts, signings, and other special events. But there wasn’t a doubt in her mind that Chris made the right decision about what she was doing.
It had been a while since her last ‘meal’ and Chris was getting lightheaded and a little hungry again, but pushed aside the escalating pangs for now. She was much too scared to go and get any more food.
She sighed and fell back onto the couch. And as her eyes closed in a daze, she couldn’t stop herself from smiling like an idiot.
Soon, she thought, she’d be up on stage with Heretic while she pounded away on her drums. Well, Hess’ drums, but who gives a damn? The thought alone of being able to just touch the drums of the guy she once idolized made her shake with excitement. She kept asking herself what it would feel like.
Soon, very soon.
Her sticks moved in her hands; they itched, they ached. She tapped lightly at first and then she began to go harder, faster, and she banged on the toms until she heard them ringing in her ears. She heard the overwhelming shatter and crash of the toms and cymbals as she went up and down the line.
No Holding Back Page 3