Page 32 of Accidental Fire
“The drive was boring. I tried to listen to a podcast, but it annoyed me because the guy’s voice was too nasal. So I turned on an audiobook, but it was boring as hell.
“Finally, I turned on music—this band I found called Accidental Fire. I’m waiting for them to release their first album, which I hope comes out on vinyl, but I haven’t seen anything on social media about the release date.
“Basically, I was sorry you weren’t here in the truck with me. I hate that you’re flying back to LA tonight. It’s a ten-hour drive to Salt Lake City, and it’ll be boring as hell if I’m all alone in here.”
My heart pounded faster at hearing that he wanted me to ride with him, and I couldn’t hold in my smile. “Me too. I’m hoping like hell we can get this album recorded and just be on the road to enjoy it.”
We were standing in the wings as Vic Fever walked out on the stage and clapped as the previous band exited. The sound system came on as our guys moved in to set up our stage.
The place wasn’t packed—it held eighteen hundred people—but the crowd still looked huge to me. Maiden Voyage had been playing over the speakers, and the crowd was vibing to it. That was cool.
We’d met the guys from Maiden Voyage at Rocktoberfest the previous year, and they were cool. They were the big-time weaspired to be, but my bandmates and I needed to work some shit out. That was what was holding us back, I was convinced.
“You ready?” Warm hands were on my shoulders, gently squeezing and massaging the tense muscles. When I turned my head to the right, I saw Kit standing close behind me.
His hair was down and sexy waves framed his face. He had natural golden highlights that complemented his gorgeous face. He was wearing a light-blue sweater that buttoned up the front and hugged his muscular form, along with a pair of black jeans and boots. I nearly swallowed my tongue.
“I’m nervous, but Hardy led us in some meditation exercises, and I think I’m fine. Are you sticking around, or are you going out?” It wasn’t my business to ask him anything about what he did while we were playing, but I couldn’t help myself.
We had no claims on each other, no commitments, which I reminded myself constantly. We were just hanging out—as we’d done before I had to go for sound check.
After we’d moved the truck to the church parking lot, I’d gone back to the bus and grabbed my acoustic. For two hours, we’d sat on the bed in the sleeper cab, and I played some of the music I’d been writing while he read his book that I’d seen on his shelf when I was nosing around in Ensenada.
Glancing up a couple of times, I saw Kit’s eyes were closed as he listened, sometimes bobbing his head to the beat. He seemed to enjoy listening to me play, and the smile on his face was everything I needed and had never had before.
As we stood in the wings together, waiting to take the stage, Kit leaned forward to whisper in my ear. “You’ll do great, Riv. I’m not going anywhere because I can’t wait to see you in action.”
The lights went down, and we walked out, picking up our instruments where the roadies had left them on stands after they were tuned. The low rumble of the audience had my spinetingling. Ensenada had been great, but the crowd in Phoenix was already sparking.
“How’s everybody doing?” It was Vic Fever.
The crowd roared and strobe lights began moving around the room, lighting up the floor. My heart was pounding.
I turned to look behind me, seeing Kit standing next to Clancy. I strummed the opening chords to a Bon Jovi song, though we weren’t planning to play it that night. The crowd went wild, and I felt like I was riding a lightning bolt.
Vic turned in my direction and laughed. “Yeah, we have an anxious crowd here, guys. The Van Buren is proud to present…Accidental Fire!”
And we rocked.
We played everything in our arsenal, and the crowd vibed with us, applauding and screaming as we transitioned from one song to the next. It was like nothing I’d ever expected. For the first time in my life, I felt like a damn rock star.
I was soaked in sweat when I walked off the stage and handed my Fender to Coaster, the guy who took care of my baby after the encore. “Great job, River. She sounded sweet.” I couldn’t agree with him more.
“Thanks, man. Thank you for tuning her. You do a great fucking job,” I responded.
Coaster grinned. “Thanks.”
I went back to the dressing room, where Lauren was waiting for my clothes so she could have them cleaned for the Salt Lake gig. “Hi Lauren. I hate this shirt, by the way. Can I get something with some cotton?”
Lauren smirked. “I thought you’d hate it. You had time to voice your opinion when we were in LA, River. You just went along with everything I suggested, but I expected you’d have opinions once the tour started.”
“Yeah, well, I didn’t have a lot of thoughts about it because I had no idea how it would be. Now that I know, can I have something else?”
“Of course you can. All I ever wanted was for you to tell me what you liked.” Lauren smiled.
I sighed. “Thanks, Lauren. I appreciate how patient you’ve been with me—hell, with all of us. I promise, we’ll be more honest going forward.”
Lauren laughed. “You guys are the easiest band I’ve ever worked with, and trust me, I’ve worked with some assholes. We’ll figure out your vibe before we get to Black Rock.”
