Page 23 of Echoes of a Muted Song

“Hell yeah, my treat!” I declared, chuckling when Oscar shot me a look as if to say,no shit.

If he did manage to get the van driver to come forward and tell the truth of what happened that night, I’d happily feed his whole extended family, right down to second cousins twice removed. I just wanted my life back and the freedom to be with the man I loved.

Chapter 14

(Draven)

While the official start of the tour would be Seattle, we’d decided to do a soft launch at the place where it had all begun for us. Portland. Our steak dinner had left us so stuffed that we’d lingered, sipping coffee and listening to the band, especially after we’d topped it off with chocolate lava cakes heaped with fresh churned vanilla ice cream. Real fuckin’ vanilla, too, with vanilla bean specks in it and so much flavor I’d wished Johnny had been there to kiss it off me ‘cause he’d have never stopped. Instead of going back to speak with management about a potential booking somewhere down the line, management had come to me, asking if the whole band was in town and if we were available for Friday night because he was in a serious bind after the band he’d had booked had imploded and canceled.

It was an easy yes, especially after the waythey’d given us the opportunity to be heard. Now here we were, with Blissfully Immune minutes away from taking the stage to warm up the crowd. As much as I loved seeing my own boys up there, rocking it out with songs I’d had a hand in creating, it always felt like a privilege to see Johnny perform. Fridays and Saturdays always featured harder rock with a sprinkle of grunge, and we had a packed house of flannel and leather-wearing patrons to prove it. I could barely make out the band in the low light of the stage, the blue tones giving the impression of ghosts as they took their places. Johnny and Rebel shared a fist bump, then Johnny lowered his head as Ozzy tapped out the opening beat. Rebel’s guitar roared to life, Dash joined in on bass, then Johnny growled and holy shit, the room exploded.

Leave it to my badass boyfriend to launch into one of the grittiest songs they had.

Goosebumps cropped up along my arms and every nerve ending tingled, causing a shiver down my spine that nearly sent me to my knees. Then I glanced over to see Jagger, leaning against the opposite wall with a cocky smirk and devil may care attitude, waiting for the second song, when they planned to truly blow the roof of the case when Jagger joined him for “Walking Rage.” Half the people at the tables had food in front of them that they’d completely forgotten about, and full steins of beer they lifted and greedilydrank from. Just to the left of the stage a girl was using her knife and fork to drum along with Ozzy, while the pink-haired girl seated across from her played air guitar. Johnny had them eating out of his hands as he strutted across the stage, banging his head and snarling as he growled out the words.

I can make your whole fuckin’ world disappear

I can make your whole fuckin’ world disappear

Every thrill, every dream, every fear

Down to the last fuckin’ thing you hold dear

I can make your whole fuckin’ world disappear

Was gonna be a hell of a tour if this was how Johnny intended to play it. I was just glad I got to be behind the scenes to see it all unfold.

And make it possible.

Damn, now that was an amazing feeling, too.

Pride filled me as I watched him launch us on this amazing journey we were kickstarting together. That all of them would put their faith in me to make this happen was humbling, exhilarating, hell, it was the greatest feeling in the world.

Halfway through the set my phone started vibrating and I had to step away so I could take the call. It felt odd having a shadow at my back, but I knew I’d get used to having Christine with me wherever I went. Out back, on the other side of the service entrance we’d used to load in, was a private space they’d set up for the talent a longtime ago. Steel was guarding it, but stepped aside so I could go in, my ears still ringing from the show as I sat to see who the hell was blowing up my phone. Christine took up a position along the far wall and leaned, sipping from a bottle of water.

Turned out it was several people trying to get ahold of me.

Holy shit, someone was live streaming the show and the result was that three promoters I’d reached out to more than a week ago were suddenly eager to give a range of dates they had available. Damn right they wanted us.

As much as I wanted to go back in and listen to the rest of the show, I wasn’t a fan or a roadie, my job was to get my guys paid, so I immediately pulled up the schedule I already had laid out to where things would line up. Boston and Worchester we could play one after the next with a good two-day rest between shows. That was home territory for Blissfully Immune so they’d headline there the way we would when we played Bangor and Lewiston.

Two other promoters hit me up for dates before I finished working on the first three, and an email came in from a club I didn’t recognize. They’d need vetting, which was something I couldn’t do from here. I was just about to head back in when the phone vibrated again and I checked the time. Damaged Saints would be taking the stage any minute, and Johnny wouldbe jumping up there with Jagger to do the song they’d written together. I was not missing that.

Okay, this wasn’t a venue, it was a guy claiming to have gotten my card from Rebel at Rocktoberfest. They were looking for a manager. What the hell? What made Rebel think that would be a good idea? The message was long, so I read a little more, squinting at the tiny fuckin’ icon photo, but I couldn’t tell whose face that was framed by a mop of blond hair. He looked familiar, though.

Holy fuckballs, how long was this message?

Whoever the fuck it was, they’d sure had a run of back luck lately, and seen the need to lay out everything in detail before telling me who the fuck they were. Screamin’ Demon told me nothing about who was behind the screenname, but before I could reach the end of what turned out to be a string of messages, my bandmates burst through the door and I had a moment to realize I’d lost the chance to see Jagger and Johnny debut their song before a live audience before I wound up with my arms filled with a sweaty, laughing Johnny.

“They are kicking ass up there!” Johnny whooped as he climbed me like a spider monkey.

“No doubt, I’d expect nothing less. How’d the new song go?” I struggled to type around Johnny, letting my device speak for me over the restless energy, high fives and backslaps that filled the room.

“Dude, they slayed it!” Rebel declared, fist bumping Ozzy who winced and started rubbing his hand.

“You good?” I typed over Johnny’s shoulder.

“Yeah, man, just stiff from clutchin’ those sticks.”

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