Page 1 of Contentment
one
FELYX
“Mildred, baby, we’ve got to get your water bowl out,” I whisper to my long-haired, miniature dachshund, currently in my passenger seat, panting like she hasn’t seen water in days. She gets a little worked up anytime we’re in the car, and this has been a long road trip already. The only plus side is we have two hours until we make it to the hotel room for the night.
Dog friendly, of course.
?* Our final destination is Harlem, Ohio, a town in the middle of nowhere where a huge rock music festival is held every year—or so I’ve heard.
Michelle called me on Tuesday to ask if I could be in Ohio by Thursday to take her spot as the resident stylist for the band Obsidian Static. The fact that Michelle made it this far into their tour while being pregnant has been the biggest shock to me. We went to cosmetology school together back in the day, and have always stayed in touch. Recently I’ve been confiding in her about how I’ve grown to hate living in Naples, Florida.
The old ladies in the salon are getting out of hand. The ones that work there, and the damn clients. I’ve been behind the chair, growing my clientele since I graduated from cosmetology school, which I went straight into after graduating high school. And yes, I have some amazing clients, but certain ones make me want to pull an ’07 Britney when I see them on my books. And that’s saying a lot when it comes to my Jim Morrison-inspired shaggy cut I’ve been rocking.
So the first chance I got, I jumped.
People always assume I listen to rock music, but in reality, the closest I get to rock is when R&B or rap songs are overlaid onto rock beats—or whatever the hell those producers do to make those mix-ups.
Now, if the thirst traps of the bands and their members come across my socials, do I scroll?
No. Never.
I know their style and what is acceptable for hair and makeup, especially from keeping up with Michelle the past couple of years she’s been working with them. Obsidian Static’s band members seem laid back and ready to have a good time anywhere they go. I’m not sure I will know how to act without eighty-five-year-old Ethel jumping down my throat for not having her favorite processing chair for her to sit in.
We’re so close to being done with the first half of our drive as I look over to my passenger seat. “I hate that you can’t tell me what you’re thinking, Milly.” She tilts her head at me like she knows how embarrassing it should be that I’m talking to a dog. I huff and roll my eyes at her. “Don’t judge me, Mildred. You’re becoming as bad as the old folks back at the salon.”
I’ve been on a two-lane highway for a lot longer than I find enjoyable, but my phone says I’m five minutes away from the grounds where they’re holding the musical festival. Mildred passed out in her dog bed in the passenger seat hours ago, and truly, I wish I could be a passenger princess at this stage. A seventeen-hour drive isnotfor the weak.
?* I think about all of my clients at the salon that I moved over to the other stylist at the salon for the next month. The last thing I wanted to do was jump in headfirst and hate this. But with Michelle being on bed rest due to her high-risk pregnancy, that will leave them needing a stylist for the rest of the tour. Which happens to be a couple more months.
Let's hope they like me.
If they don’t, I would have had to return to nothing back home and start fresh rebuilding clientele, but I have a deep sense of feeling that this wild, on-the-road experience is what I’ve been missing. And it truly wouldn’t be the worst thing if I did have to rebuild…I’ve had most of my clients since the first salon I ever worked in out of school, and one thing I learned quick was that the older gals with their grey hair were always sure to be at their appointments every four to six weeks. Rain or shine, they’re busting through those front doors.
But with how the world is today, and the state of Florida, it’s become more and more life-threatening to be an openly bisexual man. I’ve been leaning towards moving out of state, so what’s better than road tripping with a band?
Nothing.
This could also very well be a quarter-life crisis, or whatever you go through when you turn thirty.
Either way…I’m figuring my shit out.
* sTraNgeRs - Bring Me The Horizon
* forget me too (feat. Halsey) - mgk, Halsey
two
SCOTTIE
We’re in the middle of our music festival tour, and to say it’s grueling is an understatement. Summer and fall are always dedicated to festivals, and then we end up touring venues. This next year will be our first time touring arenas worldwide.
?* On performance days, I try to wake up early and do some form of stretching or yoga, and then put my body through the wildest HITT workouts known to humans.
Being a drummer for a band that tours the way we do was always my lifelong goal, but as I get older and older, I start to really question how much longer I’ll be beating these sticks. But until I physically can’t anymore—this is where I’ll be.
My happy place.
Well, it’s my happy place most of the time.
