No Holding Back

by Dresden, Amanda

  “Why are you talking like that?”

  “Like what?” Joe asked in a hurtful fashion.

  “…like you just got done smoking a fat one.”

  Just then, Joe’s grin became even wider, if such a thing were possible.

  “Because maybe I did just get done smoking a fat one!"

  He giggled uncontrollably and tried keeping her laugh to a full roar. At least it explained the weird stench.

  “You wanna hit? I still got some left…” he offered, but Chris shook her head.

  “No, thanks. I’m cool. I have other ways of getting high.”

  “Right on, chica,” he said, making a fist. “Right. On.”

  Chris laughed through her nose and bumped Joe’s fist in return. She was starting to get hungry and thought about looking around for some food, but Joe interrupted her thoughts.

  “I gotta know what your secret is, man!”

  Joe’s question caught Chris by surprise.

  “What? Secret? Joe, I already told you-.”

  “C’mon, Chris! You can’t be a musical genius without some reason! How the hell did you get to be so damn good?!”

  “Ok, just shh!”

  Chris wanted nothing more than for Joe to quiet down without waking Wade, but it was too late. Unbeknownst to either of them, he had already been awake for quite some time, but instead of revealing it, Wade continued to pretend to be out cold. He knew that if anyone could get Chris to open up, it would be Joe.

  Chris waited a few moments to ensure that Wade was still sleeping before she relaxed and spoke in a low voice.

  “Well, ever since I started going to school, the band instructors always let me play drums in the band room until they had to leave. I did that shit for years,” she explained while trying not to let the bad memories of her past show on her face. “My dad never knew any better. He was always deployed somewhere and when he asked, I just said I had tutors. If he had known the truth, he wouldda beat my ass.”

  “Yeah, right," Joe teased, waiting for a punch line.

  “I’m serious. Even now…if he ever found me…” Chris’ voice dropped so low, Wade had to strain just to hear. “I’m pretty sure he’d ship my ass off to basic training in no time.”

  Joe shifted uncomfortably in his seat almost afraid to ask any more questions, but curiosity prevailed.

  “So, why didn’t you join band practice or some shit?” he pressed.

  “Because Whitesnake isn’t exactly in their curriculum,” she answered back, unable to understand why he couldn’t grasp such simple things.

  “Oh…right…” he said.

  “So, after too much music and failing grades, I dropped out. My dad wasn’t exactly thrilled when he found out. Heh. He made a call to get me into the Army the very next day, but it never got that far. I ran away that night and I’ve been runnin’ ever since.”

  Chris held a thousand-yard stare until Joe came at her with another question.

  “How the hell did you make a living?”

  She shrugged her shoulders. “For a while, I didn’t. I just lived on the streets until a friend hooked me up with a place to live. And the best part was, the guy I lived with had a drum set in his basement that he never used. I didn’t have to pay bills and I only had to give him a pack of smokes every once in a while,” she admitted nervously.

  “Awesome!”

  Joe made another fist and put it in front of Chris to which she obliged him yet again.

  “I got a part-time gig at a music store. I didn’t make much, but I bought some tunes every chance I got. That’s how I learned your stuff an-.”

  Joe’s head sunk so low to the table, he was almost looking at Chris through his eyebrows.

  “Whoa. Whoa. Whoa, whoa….whoa. Just stop right there.”

  “What?” Chris wrinkled her nose.

  “Learn our stuff? Whaddya mean you learned our stuff. Don’t tell me you became a badass with drums just by listening to us.”

  Chris was puzzled. “Well, yeah. What other way is there?”

  Joe shook his head in disbelief “Well, most people read music!” he chuckled.

  “Oh. Well, I dunno how.”

  Joe’s eyes widened even more.

  “Please tell me this is just the weed fuckin’ with me, right?”

  “No? Why?”

  He snickered and buried his head in his hand and for a moment, it seemed he was talking more to himself than Chris.

  “I can’t believe Miss Bad-Ass Drummer here doesn’t even know a single note of music!”

  “You didn’t seem to care last night,” she shot right back at him.

  But Wade caught himself laughing at the irony of it all. One thing was for certain: he couldn’t believe Heretic’s luck. Chris’ ability to play like she was born to do it was something divine. It’s not often anyone comes along sporting real talent. Sure, Wade knew he was talented, but he had to work hard to get to that point. Chris made it look easy. In fact, when it came right down to it, it reaffirmed his own envy. However, Wade continued to listen intently to their conversation.

  “True.”

  “So whenever I got off work, I just went down into the basement and I played until my hands hurt. Sometimes, I had to play in the dark when the power got shut off. But even then, I still got in about fourteen hours a day.”

  “Whoa! Seriously?! You can play in the dark?” Joe asked excitedly.

  Chris shrugged her shoulders and couldn’t understand why Joe was getting so wound up. After all, her hobby came as naturally to her as breathing.

  “Not much choice when the guy you lived with was always late on bills. I don’t even think he had a job. Not unless you call drug-dealing a job,” she stated with a roll of her eyes. “Come to think of it, I think that’s how I got away with playing so much. I guess you don’t really care what’s going on if you’re passed out cold all the time from drugs and booze.”

  “Man, I know the feelin’!” Joe’s face contorted into a silly grin making Chris laugh outright just as Joe began to massage his gut with this hand. “Fuck, I’m hungry… Hey! We might have some Funyuns left!”

  Joe darted to the cabinets and started rummaging through them noisily hoping to find something to sate his munchies. But Chris shook off his odd mannerisms and short attention span.

  Meanwhile, Wade was hard at work processing all that he had heard. He couldn’t help but remember some of the first words that came from her at the audition.

  “I can play your shit in the dark.”

  Wade doubted this ability outright at first, since there was no one he knew that could actually perform such a feat. But hearing Chris reveal her talents to Joe with such candidness lead him to believe that she was telling the truth. But he hardly had time to think about anything anymore because soon, sleep crept upon Wade and he drifted off, this time for real. All the while, he couldn’t help but think about their next gig in San Diego.

  Chapter 8

  Although Wade’s anxiety and fears dissipated after their first performance together, unfortunately, a new one took its place: fear of Chris being discovered.

  Even as Wade led Chris yet again through a thick crowd of people after another successful concert, he knew that if he let his guard down for even a moment, it could mean the end of them - again. And Wade knew he couldn’t risk that. You would think that after three months of performing with Heretic and dozens of shows later, Wade would have caved under the pressure and Chris too, for that matter. But Wade was careful, always on the defensive - their drummers’ ever-protective watch dog.

  Every night after each show, he’d make certain Chris was behind him, either grasping her hands or the front of her hoodie, as they made their way to the bus. He knew that one second of complacency about protecting Chris could mean the difference between success and utter failure in the music world forever.

  Wade was always on the lookout though, searching for the right time to reveal Chris to the world. Heretic may have been popular with the
metal community, but popularity wasn’t always a good thing. Every time Wade seemed confident enough to take a step forward and reveal Chris to the media, he ultimately took two steps back and he owed it all to Hess. It happened sooner than Wade anticipated - just after their second concert.

  On their way back to the bus, an over-exuberant fan lunged at Chris, as she walked unassuming within her protective triangle, and tried to attack her. Wade was furious as the guy came at her with a full water bottle and if it hadn’t been for her hoodie and beanie, she would have had a nasty bruise or a concussion. Wade remembered seeing the guy with a black T-shirt in messy hand-written scrawl that read, Bring back Hess!

  He sighed and inwardly cursed Hess’ fans and wished to God he had the opportunity to visit him in prison, but he neither wanted to nor wanted to join him; believing beyond a doubt that he’d kill his former band mate. Show after show, Wade couldn’t find a foothold big enough to reveal Chris and began to wonder if he ever would.

  But despite the pressure, Wade couldn’t understand why Chris was so miraculously calm Chris was about everything; the hiding, the secrecy…the hate mail.

  “Fuck them!” she’d say, and she’d go right back to what she was doing.

  Wade was amazed at her confidence, but she was hardly arrogant - a far cry from Hess’ cockiness and ‘holier-than-thou-art’ attitude. It didn’t matter where they went or where they performed - she rocked the house and never let the dozen or so signs that surfaced in the mosh pit alluding to her predecessor ever stop her. In fact, Wade swore that the more signs there were, the better she played. The only thing that kept his fleeting sanity in check was the fact, that over time, the people who loved her outnumbered the people who hated her.

  Wade remembered one night in particular; they had just finished a show in Arizona when they were walking back to the bus when out of nowhere, a fight broke out in the crowd. The brawl was a little too close to Chris for Wade’s liking and just as someone was about to slam a fist into Chris’ face, another fist shot through the arms and bodies and knocked the guy out cold. The concrete was flush with bright red blood from the guys’ nose and only when Chris was safely back on the bus did Wade find the guy who saved Heretic’s drummer from a hard knock and thank him. He now gets into all of their shows for free.

  Wade made his agent upset at times when he came to signings without Chris. He couldn’t get Mike to understand why Chris was ‘sick’ all the time or why their drummer didn’t want to mingle with her growing fan base, sign autographs, or why he turned down interviews for Chris on Metal Madness. As much as Wade hated giving excuses to his agent, he hated lying to him even more. But to appease Mike, Wade finally gave in to just one photo shoot, but it was something that he wasn’t exactly itching to do again. Other than never letting Chris out of his sight, he wouldn’t let the photographers or makeup artists touch her or go anywhere near her. One-on-one interviews were out of the question and Wade didn’t even want to think about bathrooms.

  He tried to avoid gender-specific commodes and hated making Chris wait under they were safely back on the bus before she’d be allowed to pee. Showers were something that drove him crazy as well. The bus may have been big enough for all of them to live in, but Wade was still trying to get used to seeing Chris emerge from the bathroom in nothing more than a towel. On more than one occasion he had to tear himself away from her shining legs just before Chris looked back at him.

  Just one of the guys. Just one of the guys, came his usual chant as stopped himself yet again from staring at her glistening skin and force his attention back to his music. And that’s exactly what Chris tried to be.

  One day, on the way to their next gig, Wade spotted Chris in her pajama bottoms and wearing one of Joe’s favorite t-shirts. Without knowing why, his face grew warm, and a small pang of jealousy assaulted him, just enough to irritate him as the duo went at it again on the XBox.

  “Thanks for letting me borrow your shirt, Joe. Next time we stop and do laundry, I’ll wash it for ya.”

  Wade tried to pretend he wasn’t listening, when in reality, he breathed a small sigh of relief, hoping that they were just becoming good friends and nothing more. The last thing he needed were the two of them sleeping together.

  “No problem, chica. It was the smallest I could find and-hey-hey! Watch where you’re pointin’ that thing!”

  “Aww, what’er you afraid of, Joe-Joe? This?”

  And with a melodramatic click of a button, her avatar in the game loosed a rocket and killed Joe’s own avatar in a streaming show of blood and gore.

  “Aww, dude! How did you do that?!” he cried, pulling mercilessly at his dreads. Wade snickered at Joe’s defeat as the words ‘game over’ blared itself on the screen. “Fuck this game!”

  “Well, why don’t you pick another so I can blow your ass up in that one, too?” Chris smiled widely without showing her teeth while blinking her eyelids a little too fast.

  “Fuckin’a! You’re lucky I don’t beat up girls!”

  “Well, lucky for me…I do!”

  And with that, Chris pounced on top of Joe, easily grappling him to the ground. Wade watched as she expertly twisted one of his arms behind his back with a painful crack. With her other arm, she got him around by the throat and tightened her grip.

  “Who’s the girl now?!”

  “Ahhh!! AAHHHH! Wade! Wade! Help a brother out, man!”

  Wade laughed outright and there was no way he could concentrate on his music anymore. Even Os lifted his guitar up and out of the way while he rolled his eyes and sighed, irritated at their rough-housing.

  “What’d you expect, you jackass? She’s an Army brat. You’re on your own. I’ve got a reputation to uphold,” he said with a slight chuckle.

  “GAH! Okay, okay! I’m sorry!”

  “No! Say it like a girl!” she commanded, throttling Joe even more.

  “AAAGHH! Okay, Okay! I just…c-can’t reach my balls!” he admitted as best he could through his chokehold.

  “Ugh! Gross!”

  Disgusted, Chris released Joe and let him fall to the floor and watched as he panted in an exhaustive stupor.

  Os just shook his head and went back to his guitar. Wade laughed so hard, he started to cry. He thought of his own quarrels with his brother, although Chris and Joe’s play-fighting was much less severe. Whenever Joe was brave enough to instigate, it usually ended up with him on the floor gasping for air. But regardless of their sibling-like behavior, Wade kept a close eye on the two of them.

  Over the week, he took more and more notice of how Chris kept to herself, never spoke unless Wade or Joe asked her a question, and oddly enough, she never stirred up any drama. And that was something Wade definitely wasn’t used to, but thanked his gut for that one too.

  Wade also began to decline the groupies’ entrance onto the bus much at the behest of Joe.

  “Oh c’mon, man! I have needs!”

  “Well, you’re gonna have to take care of your needs elsewhere. The only safe haven for Chris is on this bus. So, the last thing we need is another close call,” Chris overheard him saying one night, along with, “Just make sure you card her ass first before you fuck her brains out.”

  She didn’t ask him to change their ‘routine’ but was thankful for it all the same. Other than Wade, the protective confines of the bus were what kept her safe from the rest of the world. But through all the shows, hiding her face, people screaming her name, close calls, and regular annoyances that came with the territory, Chris never asked Wade to be revealed. He never heard, “Hey, when can I be a girl again?” or “When are you going to tell Mike that I’m a girl?” or “How long do I have to keep scratching my make-believe crotch?” Chris didn’t say a word, but if he would have asked, her answers would have been much different.

  Truth be told, Chris felt lucky enough just to live her dream each time she played on Hess’ drum set. She didn’t care about signings, fans, money, or even popularity. She loved her home-on-wheels and her new
way of life so much, she’d do anything to hang on to it - even if that meant pretending to be a guy for the rest of her life.

  To Chris, she didn’t care if baggy pants were the price she paid. She was doing what she was born to do, what came naturally, and she did it with such intensity that Wade knew they caught attention from other mainstream bands and when he discovered they were jealous, it made him smile. Wade finally caught on to her nonchalant attitude, and gave up trying to search for a way into fans’ hearts and decided to wait until the doorway found them. It would take time - and he finally grew to accept it.

  For now, his mind and body ached to play, to sing, and to feel the strum of the guitar as the music became a part of his heart and soul. But a lingering concern never left Wade.

  Just how long could Chris hold out pretending to be someone she wasn’t? No one could know, and so he thought of ways to get around it.

  One afternoon, just a day before their next show, Heretic’s bus pulled over to some nameless town in Wyoming. Chris was playing on her make-believe drums again while lying on her back at the booth until Wade purposefully slapped one of her knees. By now he had grown accustomed to her drumming deadlocks, always having to snap her out of it just to ask what she wanted to eat. Fries. Always something with fries.

  When she woke up from her drum trance, she sat up, looked around and wrinkled her forehead.

  “Why’d we stop?” she asked.

  As she looked about the bus, she saw Os in his seat wearing headphones and messing with his guitar while Joe was lost at video games again trying desperately to beat Chris’ score at Halo.

  “No particular reason. Just thought you might want to get out and stretch your legs,” Wade explained while he fidgeted around in his pocket.

  “What for? What’er we gonna do?”