Page 88 of Shame Me
It wasn’tuntil the next night, back in Seattle, that I spoke to anyone in my band.
It was Braden—hard to avoid, now that we had a hotel room together. Still, I tried prolonging the silence. Curling up on my bed after showering and putting on the t-shirt and sweatpants I slept in, I tried reading an ebook on my phone.
But Braden said, “Hey, Dani. Can we talk?”
And there came the vitriol. “Now?You want to talk now? You had plenty of time to tell me what the hell was going on before. Why do you want to say anything to me now?” I hadn’t raised my eyes from my phone and I wasn’t about to.
He was silent for a while but he finally said, “I guess I deserve that. And I could sit here and tell you all the reasons why I didn’t tell you but that doesn’t change the fact that I probably should have.” There was something about his voice that made me look up.
Genuine remorse.
It was a quality Zack’s voice had lacked that night in San Francisco in my dressing room.
“I’m sorry.”
Putting down my phone, I sat up and shifted so that my legs hung over the side of the bed. My voice was gentle when I asked, “So why didn’t you say anything?”
“Jesus. There were a million reasons, depending on the day. I…care about you, Dani, and I didn’t want you to be hurt. And Cy and I kept ragging on him, and every time he’d swear it was the last time.”
“Yeah, well…Zack’s proven he’s a hell of a liar.”
“Yeah, but I believed him several times until he proved it was just lip service. And then, every time I considered telling you, I chickened out—and I wondered what would happen if I told you. Would the band split in the middle of the tour? Would you even believe me?”
He was staring down at his hands, struggling to get the words out as I absorbed them. Unlike heartless Zack, Braden was completely torn up for his complicity.
And I couldn’t stay mad at him.
“I forgive you.” When he lifted his face, those warm light brown eyes of his reminded me of a puppy, sad that he’d made his master angry and wanting nothing more than love and affection. Braden truly was a kind and gentle soul, and I was so fucking angry at Zack again for putting him in this position. Letting out a long sigh, I reached out and took his hands in mine. “Just, for the record, know that I’d rather you risk hurting my feelings than leave me in the dark.”
“Yeah, I know. I won’t do it again.”
And, unlike Zack, I believed Braden one-hundred percent.
CHAPTER 27
Another week on the longest leg of our tour passed and not much had changed.
Well, that wasn’t entirely true. The guys of Ashen Retribution hadn’t said another snide word in my presence. That was huge.
But Bleak Viper was still an embarrassment, making me glad we were first on the stage. More than that, though, I was tired of being on the road. Most importantly, I still wasn’t speaking to Zack—and he seemed perfectly fine with it. Of course, he had his alcohol to drown out any emotions he might have had about the whole thing. I wasn’t talking much to Cy, either, and the four of us no longer played cards together during our downtime. But we played for our audiences who continued eating up our live shows, and there was no way they knew about the turmoil beneath the surface.
I didn’t see this version of our band making it past our first album, though, regardless of the good show—both literal and figurative—that we were putting on.
In defiance, I started adding more and more drum fills to each song, practically daring Zack to say a word to me, but he didn’t. I wasn’t just doing it to get back at him. I was alsoasserting my independence and creativity—and if he wanted to fight about it, I was game.
Of course, he didn’t say shit.
Braden and I spent time bonding when we stayed in a hotel room. We played card games for two, like double solitaire and gin rummy, and watched movies as we fell asleep. Just having him as a friend helped me get over the initial shock and pain of Zack’s betrayal.
Nearing the end of the tour, we found ourselves playing in Denver. Because we were back home, it should have been a huge celebration, but the fractures among us kept it from being anything close to festive or joyous. We played a good show, thanks to all the practice we’d had in the past, but it was getting harder to act like we gave a shit about each other.
That night, Zack and Cy left to party—and Zack’s arm was draped over a groupie’s shoulders as they walked out of the backstage area into the night. Inside, I thought mean things about the woman, but as Braden and I walked to our hotel in silence, I realized my venom was misdirected. The woman was doing what many hometown female fans might have considered. Even though Zack was drinking himself to death, he was still a good-looking guy—tall, with haunted features, and those emerald eyes. More than that, women felt like they knew his soul because of the words he wrote and sang. This particular woman had no idea that Zack was a cheating manwhore.
Well, good riddance. She could have him.
Except I really didn’t feel that way deep down, and I realized that I still wasn’t over him. Not at all.
It was pretty cold outside, but spring was just around the corner—and, knowing Colorado weather, I hoped it would be sunny and on the warmer side the next day. Without looking at a forecast, it was hard to tell, but we were used to the cold here, unlike some of the places where there was humidity in the air. Iwas better able to handle the chill in Denver as opposed to places we’d been to recently, like Chicago, Minneapolis, and Boston.
