Page 50 of Shame Me
As he played the first chords, my feet were playing the bass drum, my sticks occasionally striking the snare. Zack had written this song back in January and we’d all fallen in love with it, a tribute to our lives at the time—struggling to make ends meet in our dead-end jobs, living for those nights wherewe could share our art with appreciative fans. It was when we played that we truly felt purpose, and that was why he’d named the song “Alive.” When we’d put together the setlist, that was the song Zack insisted go first. It had been another one he’d wanted as a single, but the label had said it was too slow, too brooding.
The compromise was that we’d play it first on tour.
Once we started, I settled into the familiar and, although I was still marveling at the crowd and loving what felt like thunder-like applause, I finally relaxed and appreciated the moment.
This was where I and my friends belonged and we were finally reaping the benefits of our hard work.
CHAPTER 15
Early the next morning when it was still dark out, we were all crammed in the bus headed for San Diego. Our road crew, after actually hearing and watching us play live, clearly had a newfound respect for us. Well, for the guys at least. The jury was still out in my case. Still, they seemed more willing to work hard for us because, I supposed, they thought we’d proven ourselves to be legit.
We all felt a little hung over—yes, even those of us who were underage, because we’d been invited to Last Five Seconds’ opening night party. I didn’t expect it to get rowdy, because all the men in that band had their girlfriends and wives with them, but they and their massive crew really knew how to knock back the beverages.
And Once Upon a Riot partied like the rock stars we now were. We knew, based on the fan reactions, that we had officially made it.
The roadies, too, had overly indulged and most of the people on the bus that next morning were trying to sleep. I wasn’t in as bad a shape as most of the guys. All I had was a mild headache—so tame, I hadn’t bothered to find a pain reliever, although I suspected Mick would have had something if I’d asked. Still,even though I’d seen a nicer side to him the day before, I didn’t want to push it.
He sat near the front, talking to the driver as the bus got on I-5 for the trip south. The roadies took up most of the seats in the center, and the four band members took up the two back seats. Cy and Zack were in the very back seats, while Braden and I were in the second-to-last.
As the bus rolled on, the roadie in front of me started snoring, so I knew there was no way I’d be able to sleep, even if I’d wanted to. But I was in a dream-like state, still figuratively pinching myself.
Yes, this was real.
After thirty miles, I unlocked my phone and decided to look at our social media.
Holy shit.
Overnight, our TikTok followers haddoubled.
And the comments.
Sitting up, I started scrolling and reading. If last night had made me feel like a real rock star, what I was looking at right now reinforced that sensation tenfold. So many people commented that they’d seen the show and loved us.
But there was more.
There were comments from a couple of our old followers telling us they had tickets for our upcoming Denver show.
And then there were other remarks—and I had to share one in particular with my fellow band members, whether they were awake and listening or not. “Cy is so sexy the way he plays his guitar, all broody and angry looking, and Braden is charming. (BTW bad ass woman drummer! Represent!) But Zack won my heart tonight. The way he bared his soul through his lyrics absolutely killed me. ZACK, I’LL BE YOUR GF!”
The guys were barely stirring, so I read it again, this time a little louder. One of the road crew stirred, and I just dared him to say something to me.
Surprisingly enough, he didn’t.
Braden said, “What is that?”
“It’s a comment on TikTok. Mick had one of the guys take some pictures and send ‘em to the social media people, so they uploaded a collage from last night—and some girl left that comment.”
Cy asked, “What did it say about me again?”
“Cy is so sexy the way he plays his guitar.”
“Sexy?”
Zack lifted his head, his eyes mere slits in his face. There was still plenty of streetlights shining in the windows for me to discern facial features, and it was easy to see he was tired. “Don’t let it go to your head, man. Don’t let it go to either head.”
Braden chuckled. Cy said, “Kinda hard not to.”
“Oh, yeah. I forgot to tell you guys. When you get famous—and we’re on our way—you get an all-you-can-eat pussy buffet.”
