Page 55 of Shame Me
“Will he be okay by showtime?” Never having kept tabs on how much Zack drank or precisely how much made him drunk or how long it took him to sober up, I had no idea what to expect. And I had so many questions, but I suspected Zack had simply walked inside a liquor store and purchased it himself. Because he was so tall and he’d let his facial hair grow out a bit on tour, I knew he could easily pass for over twenty-one, especially since he was almost that age anyway. Then again, he might have encountered someone who didn’t really care what his age was.
It was also possible he’d gotten someone else to do it for him, but Zack probably wouldn’t remember by morning how he’d gotten it.
“I don’t know, kid. All I know is I’m getting too old to be dealing with this kind of shit.”
Jesus. Did that mean he was considering bailing on us? Despite Mick’s often gruff demeanor, he’d been exactly what we needed—on so many levels. If Zack would open himself up to the possibility, Mick could even be a bit of a father figure.
Well…maybe not, but I knew we could have gotten stuck with much worse.
“Out of you, Cy, and Braden, who knows the lyrics best?”
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t know if Zack will be able to sing tonight—and it’s way too early in your career to start pissing off fans you don’t even have yet.”
I wasn’t about to throw my band members under the bus, but Braden’s voice was sometimes flat. He was great as a backup singer, but he’d need vocal training to take center stage. And there was no way I wanted to be under that kind of pressure, even though every word of every song was emblazoned on my heart—even the songs that made me angry at Zack, like the one about getting it on with a girl he barely knew. And Cy? No way. It had been hard enough talking him into singing backup vocals. There was no way in hell he’d sing lead.
So I lied.
“I don’t think any of us know the songs as good as Zack.”
“Fuck.”
We continued walking a little further, and I felt inspired. “What about cutting off his mic and playing the lyrics from one of our CDs?”
Mick’s laugh filled the hallway, bouncing off walls as it reverberated in my ears. “That takes planning—and you guys aren’t doin’ that Milli Vanilli shit, not on my watch.” Pausing outside my dressing room, he said, “If you’ve ever prayed in your life, pray now. I’m gonna have him take some Tylenol and down a big glass of water, find something for him to eat. The rest of you will deal with the press, but I’m not gonna have him talking to them in the state he’s in. Then I’m gonna have him sleep until half an hour before showtime. A cold shower and some strong coffee after that—and then we fuckin’ pray he can pull it off.”
And pray I did.
CHAPTER 16
We survived that show. Although Zack was still feeling the effects of the alcohol, we managed to play a good show.
A great show, actually.
And I knew Zack would probably only remember bits and pieces…but the venue felt so raw in the best of ways and our sound matched--meaning the audience just ate it all up. They were my favorite audience of that tour.
And Zack, still numb, likely didn’t experience it the way the rest of us did.
Knowing that I’d have to broach the subject at some point, I wanted to wait for the right time—and I’d be alert for it. Although I’d considered talking with Braden and Cy, I didn’t want Zack to feel like we were ganging up on him.
For his part, Mick lectured the hell out of him the next day—our day off. He told Zack that, for the rest of the tour, he would not be allowed to be alone. “You did this to yourself.”
I’d expected Zack to fight back—but he didn’t. He simply nodded and looked to the floor like a dog who’d gotten in the trash and made a mess, only to be chastised by its owner.
I thought that might be a good sign—not just that Zack respected Mick but that he cared about our growing fanbase…and cared enough about himself to try.
Hung over, Zack asked to spend the day in his room and Mick actually put a couple of roadies on guard duty outside his room to take turns keeping an eye on our frontman. They bitched about it until Mick offered them extra pay.
Again, I bit my lip because it reminded me about all the money we were spending, and I had no idea if we were recouping it in earnings. So even though I tagged along with Cy and Braden to see some of the sights of Chicago, my mind was racing, my gut churning as I wondered about the money and worried about Zack.
Early the next morning, we were all packed in the bus heading to Detroit for our next show. Almost everyone went back to sleep except for one of the road crew on his phone and Mick at the front, chatting with the bus driver.
This was my opportunity.
After walking to the front of the bus, I sat in the seat across the aisle from Mick. I said “Hey” to both him and the bus driver.
“You’re not gonna get more sleep like the rest of your gang?”
