Road Rash (31 page)

I was late. Not for the gig itself, thank God, but I’d missed preflight.

“Sorry,” I said as I ran up onstage. “Uh, my friends are flying back and I was saying goodbye and …” Suddenly I felt like I was back in the Sock Monkeys, making excuses for myself all over again. God, I hated that. “Never mind, it doesn’t matter. I’m just sorry.”

Glenn and Danny were totally cool with it, and Brad acted
like,
Drummer? What drummer?
But Jamie came over and talked to me as I was getting my stuff together to play. “Hey, how’re you doing?”

“I’m good. Thanks.”

She just looked at me for a second. “You’re a terrible liar.…”

The gig sucked. Not because I played poorly. To be honest, I was on autopilot, but I played fine and I doubt anyone could tell I was less than a hundred percent engaged. I saw Billy Ward at a local drum clinic once and he basically said that the mark of a professional is that even on their worst night they’re still at least acceptable.

No, for the most part the band sounded fairly good. But Brad was doing his patented pissed-at-the-world thing, acting like he didn’t really give a damn about anyone or anything. Even though he’s the supposed leader of the band, I’d say he was the one who most often let his mood affect his performance.

But tonight something was definitely up with Glenn, too. His playing was technically fine, like always, but he hardly said a word the whole night. He just did his job onstage without any interaction with the rest of us, and he sat off by himself during breaks. I tried joining him between sets, but he sent the message loud and clear that he didn’t want company. And all I got from Jamie was a shake of the head.

Even Danny seemed a little subdued, which was pretty unusual.
I don’t think I heard a single joke out of him all night, and during breaks he just hung at a table with Amber.

Something had clearly happened during the day, but I didn’t have a clue what it was. So I basically spent the evening with my head down and my arms up.

Near the end of the gig things finally heated up, but not in a good way. We’d just finished “Long Walk Home,” by Neverland, when Brad walked over to Glenn’s side of the stage.

“Hey, man,” he said. Only he said it more like,
Hey, maaaaannnn!
“I know you’re a frustrated lead singer, but that’s no reason to noodle your guitar all over my vocals.”

Glenn looked honestly surprised. “What are you talking about?”

“Don’t give me that. You were just wailing away right through all my verses, way too frickin’ loud. You got a problem with something, keep it off the stage … at least when
I’m
up here singing.”

I thought it was funny the way he phrased it:
all
my
verses
. Like when he’s singing, nothing else exists. But the weird part was, Glenn wasn’t doing anything wrong. I mean, yeah, sometimes lead guitarists get all ego’d up and do that look-at-me thing. But Glenn was just laying down a solid foundation behind the vocals and then stepping out when he was supposed to.

But I guess Brad didn’t see it that way. In fact, he was
still
going off on Glenn, who wasn’t saying anything back. I couldn’t help myself …

“Dude!” I finally said. “He’s playing it just like he always does, and it sounds fine with your vocals.”

Brad looked over at me like I was a fly he’d found in his beer.
“Oh. So now little miss I-don’t-need-no-metronome is telling me about singing, too. Hey, you wanna give Danny some bass lessons while you’re at it?”

“Knock it off!” Glenn said. “They’re not paying us to stand up here and bitch. Play now, talk later.” He looked at me. “Zach, count off the next song.”

So I did. And those were the last words spoken onstage.

“We’ve got to stop meeting like this.”

“Yeah, and we’ve got to stop having gigs like this,” I replied.

Jamie just shook her head and blew out some air.

“This really sucks,” I said. “Big-time.”

“Yeah, tell me about it. I don’t know what to think anymore.”

“I think you do—you’re a lot smarter than you let on.”

“Yeah? Why don’t you enlighten me?”

What could I say to that—that the guy she was hooking up with had turned into a flaming jerk? Because he’s insecure about whatever? Good luck trying to get
that
across in one piece …

“Well, first I’m supposed to believe that suddenly I forgot how to play drums and need tutoring on how to keep time. And now Glenn Taylor, of all people, needs to be told how to control his dynamics onstage? Gimme a break.”

“Have you tried talking to him about it?”

I snorted. “That’s like pissing into the wind. Somehow it
always ends up all over you instead of him.” I paused. “You should know that better than anyone.”

She let it go and changed the subject. Or maybe not. “You’re missing your friends, aren’t you?”

I just nodded.

“You’re serious about that girl—Kimberly—aren’t you?”

“Yeah, I think I am.”

“Good for you. She seems real sweet.”

“She is.” I paused for a second. This was one of those 2:30 a.m. things and I didn’t want it to be misunderstood. “She actually reminds me of you. Quite a bit. She’s smart as a whip.” I grinned. “She just doesn’t hide it as well.”

“Um, thanks? Then you guys should be a good match. So do me a favor …”

“What’s that?”

“Pay attention to her.”

That’s it? I nodded and started to say
Sure
, when she cut me off.

“I know it sounds easy, and you’re going to say
Yeah, yeah, of course
. But it’s
not
that easy. She’s not a guitar or a microphone or whatever that you can just play with for a while and then put down. She wants to be a part of your life, and I’m sure you’re cool with that. But she also wants
you
to be a part of
her
life. And that’s a little different.”

I nodded again, slower, and this time I didn’t try to say anything.

She came around and gave me a hug, then surprised me with a kiss on the cheek. “I want you to be happy, Zach. Really.”

Jackson Hole, Wyoming, is one big room with a view. I mean, you step outside the door anywhere in town and turn north and you’re looking at the Grand Teton. (Yeah, the name is worth a grin the first time—I can imagine the report home from the explorer who originally discovered them:
Your Highness, today in this new land we have discovered a range of beautiful mountains, pointed and firm and well proportioned as no other. We have decided to call these majestic peaks … the Big Titties. Uh, the men and I have been on the trail a very long time …
)

And beyond the view, the town of Jackson itself is also very cool. There’s this amazing square right in the middle, with giant arches on each corner made of elk antlers that you walk under to enter. At first the girls were freaked out, thinking that thousands of animals had been shot to make the arches. But after they found out that those antlers were actually
shed
by elk in the nearby preserve, they were good with going to the square. And shopping …

The place was a
serious
tourist resort—there were tons of good restaurants, and the club we were playing in was a great venue called the Wild Frontier, with a huge western-style bar that must have been eighty feet long and a big balcony that would hold a bunch of additional people on a busy night. So all in all, it was a first-rate club in a cool town in an absolutely amazing location.

But all of that doesn’t mean squat if everything around you is falling apart.

It only took us three hours to drive down, but it was the longest trip of the summer. Talk about the silence just hanging there … I probably said ten words the whole way, which was nine more than Jamie. And Glenn may as well have been a rock—he just sat there, staring out the window. Even Danny and Amber were subdued. But for some weird reason—even though he didn’t really talk, either—Brad actually seemed kind of cheerful.

The club was part of this big complex that was a ski destination in the winter and a golf and tennis resort in the summer. When we got there, I helped unload the gear. Then I took my duffel to my room and got the hell out of there. I ended up at this great little place near the center of town that had a bookcase running the length of one wall, a chessboard at every table, and interesting indie music coming from the speakers. They specialized in coffee and
chocolate
. I swear, Kimber would have set up residence and never left.

So I ordered a mocha in her honor, took a quick flick of the place, and gave in to a sudden urge to write her.…

The next morning after breakfast I was setting up my gear onstage when Brad and Jamie walked in. I didn’t really want to talk to them, especially together, but I also didn’t want to hang around all day just waiting for someone to finally call me.

“Hey, Brad,” I said. “What time you wanna sound-check?”

“Don’t worry your little self about it. We’ll be fine.”

Jamie shot him a confused look, then said to me, “We’ll figure it out later and let you know, Zach.”

I made some final adjustments to my drumset and left. I didn’t know where I was going, but anywhere was better than there.

In the lobby they had a ton of brochures about all the different things you could do. Hmm … Most of them were either pretty pricey or didn’t really interest me, but there was this chairlift that went to the top of the mountain on the south end of town. During the winter it serviced the ski slopes, but in the summer you could ride up for a few bucks and take in the view or go hiking or whatever.

It was turning out to be a great day, weather-wise, so I changed into some hiking clothes, grabbed a bottle of water, and headed over to the lift. And the view from the top
was
pretty freakin’ outstanding. There’s the whole town laid out below you, like a pic from Google Earth or something. Beyond
that is the Grand Teton, clear as a bell. And beyond
that
you can actually see Yellowstone in the distance. Wow—talk about a photo opportunity.

I got off at the top and started on a trail that wound along the ridgeline. I went out a few miles, then stopped and took more pics before I headed back. When I got back near the lift station, I found a tree and sat under it in the shade, just leaning against the trunk and taking in the scenics as I finished my water. I didn’t know if it was the environment, the posthike lift, or just being up there by myself, but it felt great. I didn’t really care
what
it was, I was just glad to feel human again. After a minute of this—or maybe an hour, who knows?—I took out my phone and punched in a number.

Hi. I can’t answer the phone right now, but leave a message and I’ll call you back soon. Beeeep …

I looked at my watch. It was before noon in California—she was still in class. “Hi. I have something important to tell you. I love you. Like crazy. That’s all. Bye …”