Page 109 of Revel

Why is everything “mine” to a two-year-old? “Navy, I mean it. Don’t touch.” Navy Rome Slade is my world as is her mother, my queen, is doing everything in her power not to laugh at me trying to teach our daughter to respect my collection of guitars.

From the first time she heard me play, Navy has been utterly obsessed with guitars and she’s destroyed three so far. You wouldn’t think a two-year-old could destroy a guitar, would you? You would be wrong. She has my blood running through her veins.

“I touch it?” she asks again, her hand on the neck.

“I know you did.” I kneel next to her, tapping my finger to her chubby little hand on the guitar. “I’m telling you no.”

Now she resembles her mother and defiantly crosses her arms. “No.”

I pick her up off the floor. “Okay, crazy, let’s move onto something else.”

“No, pretty!” And then she lunges for my Gibson. It’s not my original. I destroyed that, but this one, Red gave me, and it’s just as special.

I didn’t have a memorable childhood, nor do I remember much. Maybe it’s my way of blocking it out. I’m not entirely sure, but I do remember that guitar and I hate that I destroyed it over something so stupid.

Red approaches, smiling at me. “I got her.” I hand her over when the guys enter the dressing room. Leaning in, she kisses me. “Good luck.”

Navy pushes Red’s face away from mine. “No, Mommy. No kiss.”

And when I try to kiss Navy, I get the same response.

Hardin smiles when they leave. “You’re so fucking whipped, man.”

I shrug. He’s no better. “I’ll tell ya who’s gonna be whipped. You, if you touch that goddamn amp again tonight. You’re drowning me out on stage.”

“Believe me, Rev, it’s for the better.” And there we go, arguing like we’ve always done.

He fucking wishes it was for the better because my performance has never been fiercer. It’s why ten years after we started the band, we’re still at the top of the charts and touring all over the world with multi-platinum records.

As we wait for the opening band to finish and we get the call to make our way to the stage, I’m reminded of why this venue holds memories for me.

It’s the first place Red and I performed “Roses of Revenge” together, and though this place holds memories for me, good ones, it holds a lot of bad ones too. That night after the show, that’s when I truly understood how deep it’d gotten with Red, and knew the only possible way to end it—to make her see she was too good for me—would be to treat her like she wasn’t good enough. I hate myself for it now, but somehow, she forgave me.

You’re probably wondering how all this happened, the kid, the forgiveness… it happened slowly. After that night in Paris, Red finished out her tour in France and then I went on tour. It was six months of late-night flights only to see each other for a few hours and then onto the next city. We lived out of suitcases and the brief moments in between that, we were able to see each other. That summer, I married her in Vegas. She didn’t want a big wedding, nor did I, so we just did it. I got her pregnant that same night and nine months to the day, Navy was born.

And now here I am, pouring my heart out to a sold-out show at Madison Square Garden, and it’s the two girls in the front row who keep taking my attention. It’s still a rock concert, but me and the guys, we’re different now. There’s no drugs, some drinking—no, not by me—and we’re all married now. Even Hardin. But the music, it’s just as amazing as it’s ever been. I still get the same high as I did the first time I played in front of someone as I do now, only it means something more because I finally appreciate it. I have a girl to thank for that.

“I wanna introduce you guys to someone,” I say into the microphone, motioning Red forward. Confusion crosses her face. Security helps them to the stage, Navy securely on her hip.

“What are you doing, Rev?” she whispers, keeping her hand on her stomach, smiling at me as she waddles the rest of the way to me.

As soon as she’s within a foot of me, Navy practically jumps in my arms, her wild red locks falling into her face. “Hi, Daddy!” she screams, the slaps her hand to my cheek for no apparent reason at all.

Laughing, I adjust the microphone in my hand and hold my daughter to my chest. When she lays her head on my shoulder, I kiss her forehead only to have the crowd sigh. Do you see that guy standing on the lip of the stage holding a squirming little girl with red hair? That’s me. Revel Slade. Lead singer of the biggest rock band in the world, and he’s full of unconditional love for two girls who own his heart.

“Sing with me.”

“Now?”

“Why not? It’s been a while.”

Red pulls her bottom lip between her teeth, her eyes on Navy. Turning to the crowd, I smile. “You guys wanna hear ‘Roses of Revenge,’ don’t you?”

They scream in response so I hand the mic to Red and whisper in her ear, “Eyes on you, princess.”

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