Page 9 of Accidental Fire
But something inside me wanted to see that blasted concert. What made me want to see River Ashe in action?
The Offbeat Bar was a small venue on York Boulevard in northeast Los Angeles. The oddly shaped building was located in a strip mall with very little parking. It hosted an eclectic mix of performances, such as DJs, live bands, comedians, and drag performances. The venue held about a hundred people, I was guessing, and it seemed to be a popular place. The concertwas advertised asMystery Bandon the marquee, with the designation21+in small letters at the bottom.
I parked in the lot behind a MedSpa while I waited for the van to arrive with the roadies. I walked into the business and asked if I could park there until the concert was over. At first, the manager was skittish, even though the place was closing in ten minutes. When I pulled out my wallet and Ben Franklin made an appearance, he was only too happy to accommodate me.
When the van carrying the roadies pulled into the lot, I got out and unlocked the back of the trailer for them. Allen Pace, the equipment manager, escorted everyone over, and two of them pulled down the ramp to unload the trailer.
I felt like an idiot just standing there watching, so I picked up two of the guitar cases and joined in. So much for not doing any heavy lifting.
We emptied the trailer, except for the backdrop, and when the bartender offered us water, I took one. Allen walked to the end of the bar and sat on a stool. “Thanks, man. You don’t have to help us, you know, but we were a man short, and we really appreciate it. Thanks again.”
“Sure. Glad to help. I was just standing there anyway. I was thinking about hanging around to see the show. Think that’s okay?”
“I can’t see why not. You wanna come backstage and watch?”
“Nah. I don’t want to get in the way.”
Robert Wilder came over to the bar, signaling that the band had arrived, and I felt a little flutter inside my gut, which was unusual. I hadn’t seen River Ashe since the dinner at Nate’s, and I was looking forward to this concert.
“Hey, Hansen. You ready for this chaos?” Wilder asked.
I chuckled. “Am I?”
Wilder laughed. “I say I’ll never do another tour with a young band at the end of every tour with a young band. Then, we’reapproached to do another one, and the money is good, so I end up saying yeah. It will be hell by the middle of the tour, I promise you. The bandmates were already arguing on the ride here from the studio, so this might be more contentious than others, but I blame it on their ages. We might have to have a few bitch sessions after we put them to bed to get the anger out of our systems.
“I’m hoping they’ll be too busy with the tour and writing new music so they won’t have too much time to get into it. Anyway, you’ll be sheltered from it more than us because we’ll be rotating traveling on the bus. Are you staying at the same hotel or elsewhere during the tour? Some of the tour stops are for more than one night, so you won’t be able to leave after every show,” Wilder explained.
I knew there would be multi-night tour stops, but I hadn’t looked beyond Ensenada at the schedule. I really needed to do a little research and plot the route on my GPS.
I was about to go outside to my truck to do just that when the door opened and River Ashe stepped right into my chest. I grabbed him to keep him on his feet. “Hello, River,” I said.
He glanced up to meet my gaze, his cheeks flushing as his hands ended up on my chest, the warm sensation burning through my T-shirt even after he moved them. “Hi, Kit.”
“You guys excited about the show?” It was a lame question, but I wasn’t sure what to say.
JD pushed River to the side so he and the rest of the band could get by us, so I stepped to the right with him. He swallowed, his Adam’s apple catching my gaze as it bobbed.
“I, uh, I usually throw up before we take the stage, but please don’t tell anyone. The guys won’t let me live it down if they know.” He cast his gaze at the floor as he began wringing his hands.
“I was in the Coast Guard, and one of my fellow Coasties used to get seasick when we were confronting an emergency situation. I can teach you some breathing techniques I learned to try to help him get through it. It’s a symptom of stress. Do you see a therapist or take anxiety meds?”
One of my friends, Jared Boatman—an ironic last name for him—used to puke his guts out when we were called to an emergency. Regular patrols never bothered him, or if we came upon an emergency while on regular patrols, but if we were called out for a boating accident or any other maritime emergency, he’d start puking the minute he got into the response boat. The guy was fucking miserable.
I took him to the Naval Medical Center in Pearl Harbor to talk to a doctor, and he was recommended to an anxiety workshop. I attended with him so I could help if he needed it. I learned everything he did and went through the exercises with him when he needed me.
“No, I don’t. I, uh, I don’t know if what’s wrong with me is worth seeing a doctor. Usually, if I smoke a bowl, I’m fine.” His cheeks turned pink, which stirred something in my soul.
“And you’re able to play after getting high?” I’d smoked weed back in the day, and all I could do was fucking eat.
Now, I had to keep my system clean because I was subject to random drug testing to maintain my CDL. Plus, if I were to get stopped for speeding or being over my weight limit—it happened from time to time—I didn’t want a DUI charge on top of it.
River’s expression fell. “Not as well as I usually play, but it gets me on the stage, and once the fog clears, I’m okay.”
It wasn’t my business, but… “Okay, let’s try my way this evening, and if it doesn’t help, I’ll never bring it up again.”
What the fuck was up with me? I was no fucking doctor or guru. I practiced yoga to counteract the effects of driving a truck for hours at a time, and I worked out whenever I could. I stillsurfed when I was home, but I wasn’t a licensed professional. Why was I trying to help the kid?
“O-kay. Sure, I’ll give it a try. We’re doing a sound check in an hour, and then we’re going back to the hotel. We go on at nine. Do you want to meet me here, or should I come to you?” River asked.
