15. Rocktoberfest Day One

fifteen

Rocktoberfest Day One

I ’d been to Rocktoberfest before. I knew what it would be like, but for some reason, this year was…well, it was more.

We arrived by bus early Thursday morning, having traveled through the night. The whole band elected to ride together. And as the sun rose, turning the sky above the festival grounds pink, everyone had noses pressed to the window like kids peeking in on Santa on Christmas Eve.

“The Mastersons are running this thing now. Think that means Social Sinners will already be here?” Miami tried to squeeze in between Jinx and Wolf, who were so close to each other that they were sharing the same space in the window.

Jinx shoved him. “Look out of your own window. What are you, four?”

“Fuck off. I want to see what’s on this side.”

“Same fucking thing as that side.”

“Desert and buses and RVs.” Wolf looked back only long enough for Miami to flip him off. He retaliated by sticking his tongue out before turning back to the window.

Ziggy was as bad. Hopping around from window to window, and any time he was still for more than a minute, his fingers tapped against any and every hard surface. “My friend’s band Blacksmith Sugar is playing tonight. They should totally be a Saturday band. They rock.”

“Oh, I know them.” Wolf turned fully around and sat on the couch. “Who do you know?”

“Actually, I know one of the roadies. Brock Preston.”

“But you’re not wrong about the band. Anton Sweet started them. Thus, the sugar part of the name. He’s the guitarist. Super good.” Wolf knew a lot of musicians and listened to a variety of music. He was classically trained and could play anything with strings. He also had a cool demeanor, so he was easy to admire.

I was curious about this band and Ziggy’s friend. “What’s the Blacksmith part of the name?”

“Beats me.” Wolf folded his hands in his lap. “But they are good. Why the hell are they on Thursday?”

“It was a last-minute add. They weren’t supposed to be here at all. They were on the East Coast touring, but their manager got them squeezed in.” Ziggy knew a lot about this. “I think someone else dropped out.”

“And who is this roadie you know?” I could not keep from asking, though I wanted to shoot myself the second the words came out of my mouth. I was sure my eyes were leaning more toward green at that moment.

Ziggy plopped down in my lap. “An old friend from way back when. I ran into his wife in Reno. You remember the ones I got tickets for at the resort?” He leaned forward and kissed me.

“Right.” My jealous monster settled back down. No need to worry about past lovers. But I did wrap my arms around him a little tighter.

We spent what felt like the next hour, but was only like twenty minutes or so, talking about bands and who everyone wanted to see. Finally, the bus was parked in the right spot where we’d camp out. I should have followed through on my tent idea, but no, we were going to cram into the bunk, but we would live through it. I didn’t mind being closer to Ziggy at all. And I thought the bunk would be better on his back than an air mattress.

The bus door opened, and everyone headed to the front. Drake and Clark handed each of us lanyards as we got off the bus. “Do not leave the grounds. And make sure you check in at your own bus to pick up Dale before heading off.” He pointed at Wolf. Dale was his guard for this gig, while Drake was with us and Clark with Miami and Jinx.

Ziggy grabbed my arm. “Let’s see if they have breakfast set up. I’m starving.” We made our way to the food areas and there were obviously a lot of people working, but no food was out and ready. There were trucks again as well, but none of them were open either. “Fuck no. I’m hungry. Let’s see if we can finagle a Sammy or something.”

“We have snacks on the bus.”

“Fuck that.” He stepped over the roped-off area and leaned his head into the back of the concessions area. “Hey. Anyone here?”

After a bit of clanging, which sounded a lot like pots and pans, a man stepped out. Not just a man, though. This guy was stunning. Petite with a touch of makeup that made his eyelashes seem like they were a foot long. His hair was pulled up under a net but looked long and platinum. I could imagine it flowing around his shoulders. “Can I help you?”

“I’m like starving, dude. I know it’s early, but can we get something to eat? Anything?” Ziggy bounced on his toes.

The guy put a hand on his hip and for a second, he seemed like he was going to go off, but he relaxed instead. “I do have a Sausage, Peppers, & Arugula Ricotta Linguine that is far enough along to serve. How’s that?”

“Sounds fantastic…” I thought my man was going to explode, he was so hyped up. Was he drooling?

“Okay…” Before the guy turned around, I noticed his lanyard.

“Ely? Do I know you?” He suddenly looked familiar.

“Yeah.” Ziggy screwed up his face. “You do look familiar. Ely?”

Ely glared, but not in a totally unfriendly way. “Well, I do run the food services here. If you’ve been here in prior years, you’ve seen me. I’m sure.”

“Maybe, but…”

The guy sighed. “ETF.”

“ET what?” I wasn’t sure what he was talking about, but Ziggy clued in fast.

“Oh. You’re with ETF, Rhone, right?”

Ely nodded but I still didn’t know who he was talking about.

“Dude.” Ziggy smacked my arm. “The band. ETF. Embrace the Fear. Rhone is their drummer. Ely is with him. Sorry, I don’t know if you’re dating or engaged, married, or what, but they’ve been together a while now. I saw you hanging with them last year.”

“Yes. That’s me. So food?”

“Please, please, please.” Ziggy dropped to his knees and held his hands in front of him like he was praying.

“Rockstars, I swear.” Ely rolled his eyes. “Wait here.”

I smacked the back of Ziggy’s head. “Get up, you goof.”

He cackled like a fiend, but he stood. “I’m super stoked for this festival, and I’m starving.”

Before he finished his sentence, I copied his words with, “You’re starving. I know.”

Thankfully, Ely quickly brought us to trays loaded with the pasta dish he’d described. “Enjoy.”

“Thank you so much.” I never forgot my manners. “Hopefully, we’ll see you later.”

“I’ll be here, cooking and making sure there is plenty of food all weekend long.” He spread his arms out dramatically.

Ziggy bowed and took his tray, dashing to the closest seat to dig in. Ely had even supplied forks, thank God, or Ziggy probably would have eaten with his hands.

“Bye, Ely.” I turned and followed my man. The food was delicious.

We spent the rest of the day walking around, chatting with other bands who had arrived, and watching a few newer bands. There was a kick-ass group that even I loved on a smaller stage. They were called One Way Street, and I made a note to check them out later and see who represented them.

Butler Collins was headlining Thursday night, but the band we were really after was Blacksmith Sugar, Ziggy’s friend’s band. They were on two bands before Butler Collins. His friend Brock was one of the roadies, so we were going to wait around for him to finish up and say hello.

Brock was probably on the stage setting up when we got there, but Ziggy managed to get us to the side of the stage. He pointed out Brock who was setting up the drums. “He helped me out back in the dark days when the Hunt wasn’t together.” I should have guessed he was the drum roadie. Everything with Ziggy was drums. Sometimes, I didn’t think he even realized there were other people in the bands we were watching.

Brock finished up and jogged over. “Zig-man!” He gave Ziggy a bro hug.

“Brock, this is my boyfriend, Coleman. He’s a promoter.”

“Coleman Hicks? Shut the front door.” He shook my hand. I was always surprised when people knew who I was since I was totally a behind the scenes guy, but I had made a name in the rock world for putting together some of the best shows.

“Nice to meet you. I don’t get to meet Ziggy’s friends much.”

“Friends? He told you we were friends? Oh, I don’t think so.” He shook his head and took a step back.

And Ziggy attacked him, smacking his arms. “You mother fucker.”

They both burst out laughing and hugged again, and I had the feeling they’d done that routine before. Brock put his arm around Ziggy’s shoulders. “You’re going to have to tell me how a low-life second-rate drummer like you landed the best promoter in the business. He’s cool.” He jabbed his thumb toward me. “You’re not.” He poked Ziggy in the chest.

“Mother fucker. I sure don’t have a chance of getting an inflated ego around you.”

Brock laughed, throwing his head back. He was big, bigger than Ziggy, and boisterous. “After the show, we’ll catch up. The guys are about to go on.”

The band passed us as they took the stage, and we turned to watch them play. Blacksmith Sugar was not bad at all. In fact, their music grabbed me quickly. Surprisingly, the bass player was a woman. She was totally rocking out, too. I didn’t think she was as good as Wolf, but not many were. I’d learned earlier that the guitarist was Anton Sweet, but I didn’t know anything about the others.

Brock leaned into me and whisper-shouted as he pointed to each one. “Guitar is Anton Sweet. Lix Ward is the singer. The bassist is Piper Lee Morris, but uses they and them for pronouns. And the badass motherfucking drummer is Carl Amsel.” Said drummer pounded out a killer rhythm. Piper slammed their head back and forth, hair flying as they played. And the singer, Lix, was wailing. Holding long notes and showing vocal dynamics that I’ve rarely seen in rock bands. “They’re good, right?”

I nodded. “Yeah. I want to meet them after.”

“You got it.” He did a gun-finger thing at me, before he squatted down and eyed the drums. I didn’t know what he was doing, and I didn’t ask.

After the set, the band ran off the stage, did some high-fives, and settled down. They drank water and poured it over their heads. But they were going back up for one more song, so no one moved to grab the equipment. They formed a circle and chanted. “Blacksmith fuckyeah Sugar kick ass!” On ass they got super loud and raised their hands over their heads. Many bands had matras like that before going on, so it wasn’t unusual. Normally, I’d seen it before the show, not at the end, but I wasn’t judging.

They stomped back up on the stage, threw hands and horns, and got the crowd riled up. “Hey-hey, Black Rock! We love to rock you!” Lix yelled into the mic. “On bass. Piper Lee Morris.” They pounded out a killer riff on the bass while shuffling their hips back and forth in a showmanship tease. “Our baddest of badass drummers…CarlAmsel.” He made the name one word. And the drummer pounded out a killer solo. When he was done, he kept up the rhythm and Piper added her part.

“And you all know our founder, the sweetest guitarist on the planet. Anton Sweet.” Anton started plucking out some notes that weren’t incredibly dynamic.

Brock bumped his shoulder with mine. “Watch this shit.”

And I did indeed watch as what Anton was playing slowly grew in complexity, building riff on riff, until he dropped to his knees and leaned back, positively shredding. He was good enough to go up against the big boys in the shred competition they’d done in prior years. That was something I’d like to see, though I didn’t know if it would happen. And when he was done. He stopped playing and leaned forward over his guitar. After a beat, he stood and picked up the opening of their song like he’d only been strolling around the stage instead of shredding a killer solo.

“I am Lix and this is Blacksmith Sugar.” He started screaming the words to their song. I couldn’t tell what they all were but something about blasphemy and death and winding up walking the streets of hell. Not my favorite theme, but the crowd seemed to go crazy over it.

“That was their last release. Topped the charts.” I could barely hear what Brock was saying, but I got the gist of it. These guys were too good, with a solid following. I would have been surprised at the early billing had I not heard about the last- minute changes. But I totally wanted to book these guys on a tour. I needed to meet their manager.

After their final song, they left the stage. “That’s my cue. Catch you after, Zig-man?”

“You bet.”

“Hey, dude.” The drummer, Carl Amsel, came up. “You’re from Midnight Hunt, right?”

“Yeah, I’m Ziggy.” They did a fist bump thing. “You fucking killed it out there.”

“Thanks. You’re friends with Brock, right? I thought he said he was friends with you, but I didn’t believe him. He’s such a fucking show off.” But the guy laughed. It was just the way they teased each other. “Come to our bus and hang while you wait. Brock will be by when he’s done. Seriously, he’s a good guy.”

“Sure. Sounds good.” Ziggy turned to me and grabbed my hand. “This is my boyfriend, Coleman.”

“Rad.” I got a fist bump from Carl.

The guitarist, on the other hand, came up behind him. “Coleman? As in Coleman Hicks, the promoter?”

“One and the same,” Ziggy answered for me, crossing his arms over his chest and looking incredibly smug. I took his expression as being proud of me.

“Yes.” I reached out and shook his hand. “After hearing your band, I’m incredibly interested in meeting your manager and maybe setting something up for you all in the future.”

“Cool, man. He’s, uh…” He looked around. “Hmm…probably back at the busses. Come on.”

We walked through the festival grounds as Anton introduced me and Ziggy to the rest of the band, and we ended up next to a tour bus with their logo wrapped on it. Yes, they were doing well. But I could still probably help them. Maybe cut them a better deal.

Anton held up a finger. “Wait here.” He got on the bus.

The rest of the band pulled folding chairs out of the bottom storage compartments and set them up in a semi-circle. “Hey, have a seat dudes.” Piper gestured to the chairs at the end.

Ziggy and I sat to wait while Lix popped up, having been in the bus, and held up a joint. “Who has a light.” The group cheered and Piper handed over a lighter.

Anton returned with a bottle of Jack that he held out to Carl. “This will get us started. Our manager will be here in a minute. He was scoping out some other bands.”

“Sounds great.” I took the offered bottle and downed a swig. Jack Daniels wasn’t my favorite, but I could drink it.

The rest of the group passed the joint around, and Ziggy did not refuse. I knew he wouldn’t. After he released his long toke, I handed him the Jack. He took a very short sip and passed it on. He wasn’t a huge drinker unless he was trying to get fucked up, and I knew he preferred Crown Royal. At least most of the time.

After a few more passes of both bottle and joint, the manager came up. “Hey, all. Heard the show was great.”

The band all made appreciative noises and such, but Anton stood. “Hey, this is Coleman Hicks. Coleman, this is our manager, Jackson Spivey.”

I stood and shook his hand. “I’ve heard your name around.”

“And I’ve heard yours for sure. You’re interested in talking business?”

“Yes, but let’s exchange numbers and do it later. This is a fucking party, right?” When I said that, the band hooted and someone else pulled out a bottle of vodka and someone else held up a bottle of champagne.

I thought that was a hell of a party until the roadie crew showed up. It was crazy after that.

At some point, Jackson handed me a business card with a wink.

When I sat back down, Ziggy slid into my lap to make room for some of the others.

There was a lot of teasing and bullshitting going on. Stories of past tours and some of the high jinx Ziggy and Brock had gotten up to. It was relaxing and fun. At one point, Ziggy said, “Be right back.” He kissed my cheek and headed off with Brock. I imagined he was scoring pot. We would need to chat about it later. I wasn’t going to be his babysitter or his daddy, but he needed to think about his actions.

Friday morning, we all got breakfast and discussed what was happening that day. The guys had an interview with a radio guy mid-afternoon, but they also wanted to catch some other bands.

“Surf Son’s are scheduled to play at one of the smaller stages today,” Ziggy announced. “We have to go see them.” He looked around at everyone, but no one said a word. “Come on. Dip and Grind has been fantastic for us.” Pierce was the singer of that song, and they had to play the video of him along with the audio of his voice singing when they performed. The one time they didn’t, it cost them. A lot. Pierce hadn’t always been the easiest to deal with. “You know he’s going to want to do it with us.”

“Fine.” Miami put his fork down a little forcefully. “But after that, I’m going to find the Social Sinners bus. Those guys are way cooler.”

We left breakfast and headed for Surf Son’s bus, rolling up in force, before the day really got started. As expected, Tad went straight for Ziggy. They had history, and I didn’t like it. Ziggy hugged him and slung his arm around his shoulder. “Where’s Pierce?” They also had history. Ziggy had tried to use Pierce to make me jealous and that ended up in the fan-favorite song that they couldn’t get away from.

Tad banged on the door of the bus. “We’re all just getting up. Got in late last night.”

“Fuck. Off.” Came from the bus. I didn’t know whose voice it was, but it wasn’t Pierce. The guy with the crazy blue eyes and platinum blond hair, sticking up everywhere, came out of the bus. “What the fuck? Oh, hey.” And his demeanor changed instantly, taking in the whole of Midnight Hunt. “Good to see you guys.” He turned to Tad and pointed. “Not you.”

“Fuck off, Aus. Where’s Pierce?” Tad flipped him off.

The guy, who I remembered now was named Aussie, stuck his head back in the bus and yelled, “Pierce.” He came all the way off the bus. “I need coffee.”

“Not a morning person?” Miami asked.

“Hell no.”

“We can go get coffee and food in a minute. They want to chat with Pierce.” Tad glared at Aussie, and it felt like there was serious tension going on there.

Pierce and the last member of the band joined us. “Hey, hey, hey, if it isn’t the Hunt? I was wondering when you assholes would show up.” He clapped hands with Ziggy and pulled him into a hug, glaring at me the whole time. “Coleman.”

“Hi, Pierce. Yes, still with Ziggy.” I felt like I better stake my claim and quick, between the way Pierce shot eye-daggers at me and Tad wouldn’t let go of my man.

The last guy rolled his eyes and stuck his hand out for Jinx, who was closest, to shake. “I’m Scotty. You might not remember me.”

“I got you, dude.” Jinx smiled. I think we all liked Scotty better than the rest of the band, and I wondered what the fuck he was still doing with them.

Of course, that’s when they all started fighting, and Pierce was going to be a total dick. “So fuck these clowns. Am I playing the song with you or what?” He held his hands out wide. “Saturday night, right? I was expecting to see a top billing this year, but you haven’t made it yet, huh?”

“Well, considering the Mastersons are running this thing now.” Miami was never one to take being put down. “They needed plenty of time on Saturday night for their bands. You know? ETF, Social Sinners. Maiden Voyage. Heard of them, asshole?”

“Whatever.” Pierce looked back at Ziggy. “Hanging out with us before the show, huh?”

Tad finally let go of Ziggy and looked at me. “Hey, can we talk a second?”

“Sure.” I did not know what Tad had to say, but I hoped it wasn’t something I was going to have to kick his ass over.

We stepped away from the others, who continued to bicker. “I just wanted to say about me and Zig. That was like a long time ago, and it was nothing. We’re only friends now. And nothing is going to change that.”

“Thanks. But you didn’t have to say that.” I knew my man was loyal.

“I know, but I’ve been…” He made a face. “Reevaluating my life choices. And I haven’t always been so nice about things. So if I gave you any other impression, I apologize.”

“You’re fine.”

“Okay.” Miami clapped his hands. “We want to check out other bands. I think Warrior Black is about to take the big stage. And F-Holes play later.” They’d been at the Richmond festival, and I definitely wanted to check them out again. I thought Legendary from the other fest was also going to be here, but I didn’t know when they would be on. “So go eat and get coffee and we’ll catch up later.” We said our goodbyes and walked away. As soon as we were a few steps away, Miami scoffed. “Social Sinners are better to hang with than these losers.”

Jinx bumped into him. “Knock it off. We need to play nice with Pierce.”

Wolf added, “Scotty is cool. Someone needs to tell him to find a better gig, though.”

But I worried that this was all a bit too much for Ziggy, who was now uncharacteristically quiet.