Page 87 of Shame Me
I could have lied…but I trusted Mick completely and I thought he’d understand. Still, I wasn’t about to admit that I’d just found out Zack was fucking around on me.A lot.And I didn’t want to find out if Mick had known about it all along too. “I broke up with Zack last night—but he and Braden had a huge argument right before the show because Zack’s behavior has gotten to all of us.”
“I guess I saw that one comin’.”
I gave a short nod, looking around the parking lot. “While we’re on the subject, can I change hotel rooms?”
The understanding in his eyes seemed to confirm he wished he’d thought to ask me that already. “Do you want your own room?”
For two seconds, I considered sayingyes—until I realized that would also give Zack his own room, and I sure as hell didn’t want to make it easier for him to get laid. “No. It’ll save money if I share with someone. Can Cy and I swap again?”
“Have you already asked him?”
“No.”
“Okay. I’ll take care of it.”
And that he did. When everyone had boarded the bus before heading to the hotel for an early check-in, Mick walked to the back. He didn’t ask questions or mince words. Instead, he said, “You,” pointing to Zack and then Cy, “and you are gonna be sharing a room.” Then he pointed at Braden. “And Dani’s gonna be back in your room again. If you have questions, you can shove ‘em up your ass.”
And he strode to the front of the bus without hesitation. I heard either Zack or Cy mutter something and I didn’t care which one did it or what they said—especiallyif it was Zack. Mick was once again looking out for me…and so I needed to return the favor.
That afternoon, I waited around after our soundcheck for Ashen Retribution to arrive for theirs. I’d been thinking about how to approach apologizing and I was grateful for having to deal with that problem, because it kept my mind off Zack and my treasonous bandmates. Braden had tried talking to me once and I could feel Zack attempting eye contact, but I wasn’t giving in to either of them.
At some point, I’d have to deal with them—but I wanted to cool down and finish processing it all.
And, of course, I had to deal with the apparently litigious drummer of Ashen. The problem was I didn’t regret punchinghim. Not one bit. Every guy in that band deserved that and more and maybe the women in their lives (if there were any) put up with their shit, but I would not.
So I waited just off stage as their road crew assembled their instruments and, finally, they arrived. I’d been on my phone scrolling through our band’s socials so it wouldn’t look like I was dying to talk to them—but they had to know I was there for a reason.
When I looked up, I would have sworn that the entire band was looking at me differently…but was that because they thought I was a crazy, unhinged, PMS-ing woman or was it because I’d stood up for myself and maybe I’d earned a modicum of respect?
I’d probably never know.
“Randy, can I talk to you for a second?”
It was all I could do not to smile, because—underneath the stubble—his jaw displayed a visible purplish bruise…where my ring had connected. Seeing it, I realized maybe Ihadactually hurt him and, even though I believed he’d had it coming, I felt bad that I’d lashed out. I knew in my heart of hearts as I allowed myself to remember bits of my early childhood that the fist had been my father’s way of communicating his displeasure.
I didn’t want to be that person. And I also knew that my reaction had been more than anger at Randy’s comment. It had also been all the negative emotions I’d been unable to dispel with close to an hour of drumming for our show the night before. Yeah, these assholes were nuisances, but the force behind my fist had been driven by rage at my bandmates—at Zack, for his betrayal, and at Cy and Braden for their reluctance to enlighten me.
His bandmates said nothing but kept heading toward the stage and Randy stayed behind. It was a good start. Of course, hehad to save face. “Were you wanting to deck me on the right side too?”
“No. I actually wanted to apologize. I shouldn’t have hit you…and I’m sorry.”
His brown eyes seemed to soften—but that must have been my imagination. Or was it? In my mind, the five men of Ashen had seemed two-dimensional—but I had really hurt this guy. Not his jaw, so much, but perhaps his pride?
He seemed to consider it but still didn’t say another word.
So I kept talking. Despite my questionable beginnings with Once Upon a Riot, having known nothing about drumming but working hard and figuring it out—and even going beyond what Zack would have me doing—I knew I belonged there. “I earned my place on that stage fair and square and it has nothing to do with being a woman.”
I could practically see so many emotions swimming through his dark eyes like fish behind glass—and I suspected I’d never know a single one of them. He finally said, “I don’t know why you didn’t hit Derek—he’s the one who’s always saying shit to you.”
I wasn’t going to correct him—allof them had gotten in plenty of verbal jabs over the last few weeks. But I realized then that maybehehadn’t been quite as obnoxious as the rest. “You just happened to be the last straw. And, again, I’m sorry.” And, even though I knew he wouldn’t take it, I stuck out my hand.
Shockingly, he took it so we could shake—and practically crushed my hand, making me wonder how the hell my tiny hand had done that much damage to his jaw. Of course, it was the big ring that was biting into my other fingers as he shook my hand. “Youarea good drummer.”
When he let go, I said, “Yeah—same. You guys are fucking amazing out there night after night.”
Lowering his voice, he said, “Bleak Viper makes us all look better.” And, with that, he turned and walked through the opendoorway up the stairs to the stage. I heard his bandmates giving him shit and, as I walked down the hall, I thought I might have heard more bullshit about “girls,” but it was like water off a duck’s back.
I had far bigger mountains to scale.
