Page 82 of Shame Me
Still…so many of them were simple but could add a complexity and tension to the music that I’d felt was lacking from my corner. The guitars, bass, and vocals all managed to add those creative touches all the time but my drumming was plain old boring. A four-year-old could have learned the songs and played them as well as I could.
Too basic.
I wasn’t looking to outshine any of the guys. That wasn’t my intent at all. I was perfectly content sitting behind them while they wowed the crowd—but I could help make our music even better, and it wouldn’t take a whole lot to do it.
So I decided to practice one fill during the soundcheck later that day—and I’d keep practicing one at a time until I got good at it before moving on to another.
And that was exactly what I did in Atlanta—except something strange happened. After practicing it a couple of times and then air-drumming while the sound tech would ask us to pause, I knew that although this particular drum fill wasn’t second nature yet, I could do it tonight—and I knew exactly where…in the last verse of “Where I Belong” before the last line.
I knew Zack had started day drinking again, even though I hadn’t seen him doing it—another concern, because he was actively hiding it now. But I knew because he gave me a soulful kiss before we went onstage that night—and I could taste fresh vodka on his tongue. A lot of vodka, so much I felt like I could get buzzed from the kiss.
Oh, God…was he going to fuck up tonight?
But he didn’t. Although he still had the same old vocal problems thanks to drinking—cracking voice, inability to hit some of the high notes or sustain longer ones—the fans ate it up.
During this leg of the tour, “Where I Belong” was the last song on our setlist and I could hardly wait to throw in the new drum fill. It was just one and at the end of the show, so I suspected none of my bandmates would even notice—and then I could sneak in more and more as time passed.
When we got to the right spot, I did it—and nailed it. It sounded exactly as it had in my head in all the hours between soundcheck and now. The audience didn’t cheer for it, but that didn’t mean they didn’t appreciate it. I thought of all those times my favorite songs had something unusual happen as the tension built or as the song wound up—like a vocalist singing the end of a line in the chorus differently from the first time he’d sung it at the beginning or a guitarist throwing in unusual riffs between the lines that were sung, building the song to its climax.
That was what I could do in the drummer’s seat—and it would all be fairly subtle but fun for me and, I hoped, everyone else listening.
So when we exited the stage, I was proud of myself, but I kept it inside, not wanting to draw attention to what I’d done.
But, of course, Zack had noticed. Even had he been near blackout drunk, I suspected he would have caught it.
We were barely in the hallway, could still hear the noise of the crowd as they began leaving the auditorium to purchase drinks, snacks, and merch, when Zack held my arm to make me stop walking. “What the fuck was that?”
I knew exactly what he was talking about—but I was going to make him say it. “What the fuck waswhat?”
“That burst you did in ‘Where I Belong’.”
“Oh, that,” I said, hoping I sounded innocent, but I removed my arm from his grip just the same and started walking back down the hall. “I was just trying a little something.”
“Goddammit, Dani. We’ve had this discussion before.” I stopped because his voice demanded it. I didn’t know that I’d ever heard so much anger coming out of his mouth—even Braden and Cy paused because of his tone. Worse yet, all five guys from Ashen were heading down the hall to get ready to play. “This ismyband, which means you play the shit the way I told you to. If you want to play it differently, you should join another band.”
I didn’t know if I was angry, embarrassed, humiliated, or devastated—but I was probably all of those and then some. On top of it, I felt shocked that he would lose his shit like that…and so publicly. He knew the grief the guys of Ashen gave me all the time, and he was just painting another huge fucking target on my back.
I couldn’t help the goddamned tears that welled up in my eyes—but I could still try to save some of my dignity. “I just might do that,” I said and then stomped off, walking near the wall by Cy so I wouldn’t have to be near Ashen as I walked into my dressing room.
And, once there, I let the tears fall. Sure, I’d talked a big game in the hallway to save face, but I couldn’t imagine myself in another band. All this shit was hard enough with my best friends. What the hell would this business be like with complete strangers?
Still…when we were on the bus later, I couldn’t sleep—and late into the night on our way to Nashville, I turned around in my seat and watched Zack for a bit in the dim light. Had his outburst been thanks to the alcohol or simply fueled by it?
When I turned back around and rested my head on the pillow, I found my thoughts were too heavy for slumber. I wasbeginning to feel stifled in a way…trapped in a box of my own making. I was stuck.
If I were to go to hell, would this be it? Stuck in a bus…and trapped in a band that didn’t appreciate me…stuck with Zack slowly killing himself.
And smothering me.
CHAPTER 25
Aweek later, we were in San Francisco getting ready to play a mid-sized show. I was still quite unimpressed with Bleak Viper, a bunch of pot-bellied unwashed over-tattooed wrinkled old men who clearly didn’t give a shit about their fans. They just wanted the money and the ego strokes.
I hated to admit that Ashen Retribution was a really good band, especially live, because they continued to be assholes. They mostly left me alone because I tried not to let it show that they were getting under my skin—but I still heard their occasional shitty comments.
Still, I kept telling myself we only had a little over a month to go and then we’d be home again—and, once there, I planned to have a long talk with Zack, with or without our other band members. He couldn’t keep drinking like he was, because I was pretty certain the last time he’d been sober was part of the day after Christmas. I prayed that his mood, usually grumpy, and his attitude, often distant, were because of the alcohol…because that could be fixed if he wanted to.
If he was becoming this person regardless, I didn’t know that we’d have a chance.
