16. Rocktoberfest Saturday

sixteen

Rocktoberfest Saturday

I was barely high. Barely. Did I stress barely?

I would have liked to have had more pot. I scored some from Brock, but it was little more than a pinch. It made two joints. Two.

Of course, I was trying not to partake. I knew I had to get off of it, but I hadn’t even begun to explore meditation, and this festival was a lot. It was fun and we saw a lot of kick-ass bands. And we hung out with Social Sinners a little bit. I swear if Miami fan-boyed over them a little harder, he’d be wearing their shirt on stage. That would be a hypocritical riot, and Jinx might kill him over it.

Coleman was incredibly cool. Way too cool, if you asked me. Even when we were hanging out with Surf Sons. At one point, Tad took him to the side and, according to Coleman, confessed that he did not have a thing for me at all. Yay. Well, we fucked around a little back in the day, but it was never anything. And I couldn’t even remember most of it. I had totally been high all the time. As opposed to fucking now. Huh .

Miami banged on the side of the bus. “Come on, princess. Time to go.”

We had done our soundcheck and double-checked our set-ups earlier in the day. We were now headed to the actual show. I was ready for it. I needed to let this pounding energy out the best way I knew how.

As a homeless teenager living at the local lgbtq shelter when I was a kid, I’d been reacquainted with the power of the drums. I had started playing before I’d been kicked out of the house, but it was only banging around. At the shelter a guy volunteered to teach us once a week, and I practiced a lot. Eventually, he said I was better than him, and he gave me a guy’s name who was putting together a new band. I was grateful for the shelter. Things could have been a lot worse, but when I joined Cloven Dogs, I left the shelter to live out of the band van as we toured all over the southeast coast from Daytona to Myrtle Beach, playing any shit hole bar that would take us. Those were the fucking days. I was young and dumb, but I learned fast. And my outlet for my frustrations quickly became my livelihood.

Until one day when we were playing in a little beach bar outside of Fort Lauderdale. Everyone complained about going so far away for a gig, but the lead singer, Joe, swore it would be the best thing ever for us. That a lot of bands were discovered there, and he’d heard a record exec was going to be there. Well, there was no record exec in attendance, but there were three new musicians on the scene who were looking for a drummer. They’d all been at some music school, so I felt they might outclass me or not play the type of hard metal I thrived on.

But when they talked to me after the show, Midnight Hunt was born. I left Cloven Dogs and never looked back.

All these years later, the drums were still my outlet and my livelihood, and I was incredibly grateful for another round with my Midnight Hunt brothers. But I was also about to explode out of my fucking head with all my personal bullshit. And I didn’t even know what it all was. I had a plan for my back. Coleman and I were in a solid place. The first solid relationship I had ever had. And Midnight Hunt was dominating again.

But something was wrong. I couldn’t put my finger on it.

As we walked up to the stage and the security guard checked our credentials and lanyards, my collar felt too tight around my neck. It was just an old T-shirt. Sleeveless, but not the normal button-up I tended to wear for performances.

I pulled at it, grumbling under my breath.

“Hey. What’s up, my man? You okay?” Miami slung his arm over my shoulders.

“Where’s Coleman?” I couldn’t tell him that I felt like ants were crawling up my back. Or that I needed another hit of pot like I needed to breathe. “Where’s my fucking brace?”

“Uh…not sure. Are you two okay? Fighting?”

“No. I just want him here.”

The roadies were finishing up on stage, and we were almost ready to go on. But I could not fucking do this. I dropped to the stage floor and put my head against my knees.

“Fucking hell. Get Coleman. Someone get Coleman now.” I knew it was Miami bossing everyone around as usual, but that was only on the surface. Below that, I felt like I was sinking.

Drake’s deep voice thrummed beside me, but I couldn’t make out the words. Someone put my brace in my hands, but I didn’t even look up.

Warm arms were around me. Familiar ones that felt like home. “Zig, babe?”

“Coleman.” I gasped and stuck my nose against his throat. I felt like a teenager again. Being kicked out on the street. “This is crazy.”

“Babe. I think you’re having a panic attack.”

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

Coleman kissed the side of my head. “I’ve got you.”

“I love it when you do that.”

“Do what?”

“Kiss my head.”

Coleman grabbed my face and planted little kisses all over it. “I love you to death, Zig.”

I took a deep breath. “Okay. I’ve got this.” I exhaled a little easier. “Maybe.”

“Take your time, Zig.”

I took a few more deep breaths. The world started coming back into focus. Coleman’s arms around me helped ground me or center me or whatever the fuck you want to call it. I felt better. “I’m going to go bang the fuck out of my drums now. I don’t know what’s after that, but this I’ve got. Right now.”

“You sure?”

I nodded, and Coleman helped me to my feet and getting my brace on under my shirt. It felt tight and constricting, but it was supposed to feel that way. And maybe it felt a little bit like it was helping to hold me together, too. I shook out my arms and looked around at the concerned faces of my brothers. Miami, Jinx, and Wolf. I stuck my hand out to do our mantra. The guys stuck theirs on top of mine and Miami counted off the one, two, three, and we yelled, “Fuck yeah!”

The guys made their way out, and Mick slapped a set of sticks in my hand. “Thanks, man.”

“You got it, boss.”

I twirled one stick above my head and headed to the drums. When everyone was in position, I whooped and started counting out our lead song. I was fine, sliding into the zone.

We played it like it was a dream. We moved straight into the next song on the line-up, More like a Ballad. The third was Tattoo You . By the time Miami screamed out the last, “Standing on the brink, Tattoo you,” I was hot and sweating.

I stood and grabbed a towel, but my shirt was soaked. I set the rhythm for this show. They followed me like ducklings. That’s how it went. So, if I needed a second, I got it. I looked around, making sure everyone was okay. They all took the time to get a drink while I walked out to center stage.

Miami chuckled into the mic. “This is becoming a habit, Ziggy.”

“Fuck yeah!” I yelled, and it was picked up by Wolf’s mic. The crowd screamed as I tugged my shirt over my head. Of course, I tossed it into the crowd, followed by one of my sticks that I still had in one hand. The crowd always loved shit like that.

Jinx flipped a guitar pick out. And Miami laughed again. “Well, hello, Black Rock.”

The crowd screamed.

I gave them a salute before heading back to the kit. I wasn’t going to take up too much time, and I felt cooler now.

“As a big hello to all you Rocktoberfest lovers, let’s go ahead and pull out one of the big guns. This one is called Whiskey Gone .”

Dropped the bottle

In the trash

Another bottle of whiskey gone

There's an itch

Like a rash

Never be the same

Now you're gone

I kept the beat up, but the words to the song hit me harder than ever. But the you that was gone in the song was not a person for me. It was an intangible thing.

Drinking again

Thinking again

Wondering where you are

Who you doing?

Where's the ruing?

Seize my day

Not begging you to stay

Need another drink

Where's the bar

Whiskey's in the trash

Another bottle gone

I can't stop the scratch

Whisky gone

If I could name that thing, maybe I could figure it out. I wasn’t asking where’s the bar , but where the fuck was my joint? It was drugs. But it was more than that. The drugs were more. They kept me cool, calm. They made me feel like I was the rockstar I wanted to be. It represented something that I wasn’t sure I was ready to let go of. Or I was making this shit up in my head. It was an excuse.

You're never the same

Drinking till I don't…

Know my own name

Feels like you're gone

You've been gone for so long

Dropped the bottle

In the trash

Another bottle of whiskey gone

There's an itch

Like a rash

Never be the same

Now you're gone

Fuck the rest of this shit. I concentrated on the beats and my marks for accent. I changed up the downbeat at the exact right spot. I couldn’t get in my head. I had a fucking show to do.

After playing a few more songs, Miami addressed the crowd again. “You have been kicking ass with us out here! I have a surprise. But I bet you saw this coming. I have someone to introduce you to.”

It was time for Dip and Grind , and I looked to the side stage to see Pierce standing there with Coleman and Harrison.

“He’s going to come out here and help us knock out this next song. We got a mic for him?” The sound guys brought out the second mic that was already prepared. “Okay. Let’s get to rocking. Black Rock, I give you Pierce Lawrence.” He held his hand out toward the side stage.

Pierce strutted out onto the stage like…I don’t even know what. The only thing that came to my head was a giant cock. That led to thinking about the Giant Purple People Fucker that Coleman had in his dresser at home. I burst out laughing. I couldn’t help it. Pierce turned and glared at me, but the audience was still going nuts, so they didn’t seem to notice. I gestured for him to go on.

“Hello again, Black Rock. Thank you. Thank you. You were amazing for me and Surf Sons earlier. And I heard you all the way back at the busses for Midnight Hunt.” Of course, that made them scream again. And the only thing worse than a front man of a rock band was two front mans—or men. What-the-fuck-ever. I was tired of Pierce’s voice already, so I started tapping out the beat, cutting him off.

“Well, all right.” Miami took over. “Ziggy says he’s ready to go. Let’s get this Dip and Grind going.” He made a lewd hip thrust that had the audience going nuts again.

Pierce had never sounded better, but I kind of hoped this would be the last fucking time we ever played this song. It was worse than 21 st Century Fuck Up .

After the song, Pierce and Miami hammed it up before Pierce left with Miami pretending to kick him off the stage. We played one more song before leaving the stage for the break before the finale. We planned on performing two songs for our encore. But one of them was supposed to be Whiskey Gone , which Miami moved to the front of the show, so I had no clue what he wanted to do.

I wasn’t the only one. Wolf took a long drink of water and asked, “What are we doing?”

Jinx started with, “We could throw Twenty-first —”

“Hell no,” Miami interrupted and the rest of us echoed that. It wasn’t so much we hated the song, but we hated hearing Miami incessantly bitch about it. “Besides, we haven’t played that in so long.”

“We’re ending on With This Song , so maybe Still A Person would work? It’s super simple,” Jinx suggested. “And we can do all our solos leading into it, morph straight into With This Song . Sound good?”

We had played Still A Person a few times during the tour. So it worked. We all agreed. And as we jogged back out onto the stage, we all did stupid shit to rev the crowd back up. They were chanting Hunt. Hunt. Hunt. Before I got back to my kit.

“Miss us?” Miami shouted into the mic. He paused when he had to, and this was one of those times. The crowd was insane, and I wondered exactly how many people were out there. It looked like a sea stretching out as far as I could see. “Well, I know you know who we are…” He turned and laughed. “But I’m going to introduce you all the same. Starting with…” He put his arm around Jinx and kissed him, but he shook his head and walked off. The first time we toured, I didn’t think kissing Jinx like that would go over well, but everyone knew they were together. It was old news. And it didn’t hurt our popularity at all. Miami pointed at Wolf. The crowd was going nuts again.

Wolf started thumping out some of the most intricate bass work I had ever heard. He was capable of shredding as well as Jinx on guitar, if not better, but he loved the bass. And what he played was amazing. When he was done, he raised his hand over his head. “Wolf!” Miami yelled.

We had agreed we would do this between the songs, but as usual, Miami felt the vibe of the crowd and changed it up. We could adjust on the fly, though. So, not surprisingly, once the crowd died down, Miami gestured behind him, and I started in with a rudiment that included a drag. I repeated it a few times as Miami did his thing. “One of the craziest mother fuckers around. He beats the skins with the best of them. He keeps our rhythm, and I’m proud to call him brother. The one. The only. The fucking best drummer here. Ziggy!”

I kicked into my solo, which was long and intricate and fun. I hit every tom, every cymbal, and high hat I had. At one point or another within the solo, I touched every single thing in my kit while keeping that bass pounding double time with both feet. And going back to what we said we would do, I blended the end of it right into our song. Wolf jumped right in with me. He could always pick up right where he needed to be.

“We are Midnight Hunt,” Miami shouted.

And with a single riff from Jinx, Still A Person was on.

I'm still a person and I burn

You think I'm plastic and reactive

But I bleed like any other

And I need…

Like every other

I'm still a person and I learn

You think I stopped and maybe dropped

But I think like any other

And I need…

Like every other

It turned out to be a better than good show. One of our best.

We ended on With this song, but before we started that up, Jinx did an incredible solo to open it. The song was all about the love between Jinx and Miami. They wrote it together, if I remembered correctly. The words were so fucking sweet, but we played it as hard as any of our other songs. It was no fucking ballad.

With this song

I want to tell you I love you

With this song

I want to show you how I go on

With this song

I need to give my freedom

I need to share my life

Na na nah, butta Bum

My own butta-bum, rim shot followed. We paused a beat before jumping back in with perfect timing.

Old times, they're long gone

You see a new sight

With eyes that want what's beyond

And there's no light

Showing the way

And I give you what this song will say

There were three more timed-out rim shots, and we hit every single fucking one perfectly. The song rocked so fucking hard, but the words made me think. I was doing entirely too much of that lately, but this time, I thought that I had never told Coleman that I loved him. And I needed to change that.

We finished and took our bows. And as we walked off, I remembered when Coleman and I met. He had been hitting on me subtly, and I was anything but. So I went up to him and got right in his face. We had a funny conversation about being freaky and swinging from chandeliers. Ha! I was so full of myself.

Well, we never swung from any chandeliers, but we had a great time. All the time. I was a lot harder on him from the start than I ever had to be. I wasn’t sure why he stuck it out, but I didn’t scare him off the first time we talked, and he was still there waiting at the sidestage for me.

I launched myself into his arms. He took me in, sweaty as I was, and everything broke loose like a fucking damn. I bawled. And he held me still while chaos moved around us.

Eventually, someone came and asked us to move off stage for the next band, and we went back to the bus. But not for long because some of the best performances were about to start. Masterson’s bands. Embrace The Fear, Social Sinners, and Maiden Voyage. I washed my face in the sink and changed, putting on extra deodorant. And we headed out.

Embrace The Fear was about to go on when we got there. And the guys from the other bands were hanging around. Joey and Stoli waved us over and gave us bro hugs. “Hey,” Joey said. “I want to talk to you, Ziggy. But this obviously isn’t the time. But let’s get together for a few before you take off tomorrow.”

“Uh, yeah, sure.” I was surprised, but not entirely. Miami and Jinx were good friends with Joey and Stoli. “No problem. We’re going around front. Kick ass tonight.” I fist-bumped both of them and all of our band moved around so we could watch the performance and not be in the way. It could get crowded around the back and side stages.

There were still bands playing on Sunday, and Wolf, in particular, was interested in checking them out. They leaned more toward the alternative or unusual, not the normal things you see in a metal band. Griffin Marsh and Chaser Lost, in particular. Marsh was more of a solo artist, but Chaser Lost was backing him for this performance, and it could be an interesting combo. So we decided to wait until after the last show to leave.

Which meant I was still around when Joey and Stoli from Social Sinners came by. Joey took my arm with a stern expression that I could tell wasn’t going to let me argue about it. “Let’s walk.”

“Okay…”

“Listen. I’m going to jump right in here. There was a time when I drowned myself in a bottle. Drowned the emotions and drowned my potential.”

“I’ve heard something about that.”

“Good. So you know that when I tell you I see myself in you that I’m not talking out of my ass.”

“What uh, what do you see? Exactly…”

“You have a very similar issue that is long overdue from being addressed. I’ve seen you at the festival this weekend, but I’ve known you for a while now, and I can tell it’s only getting worse.”

“I’ve been having issues with my back. I saw a doctor for it so—”

“Let me guess, you’re self-medicating. Or you have been.”

“Yeah. Something like that.”

“Mmm…” Joey led us over to a few empty tables in the back of the food tent. “You’re going to lose everything if you don’t get help. I did. You need to. You understand that? Because it’s not only medicating your back pain. You’re medicating your life.” He held up his hands when I started to protest. “First, it’s just this, later it’s just that. Eventually, it all gets mixed up together, but really it’s just a bunch of lame-ass excuses, dude.”

“I’m not…”

“Not what? Smoking pot? Drinking? Doing whatever else you can get your hands on? Oh, it’s the rock and roll lifestyle? You can’t pull up an excuse that I haven’t used.”

“Why are you here?”

“I’d like to think we’re friends, Ziggy. At least on some level. We’re totally friends with Miami and Jinx. We’ve known Jinx for a while. And you’re family with them. So you’re important. But also, part of recovery is giving back. Maybe that’s what I’m doing here. What I’m not doing is picking on you. Poor Ziggy. Fuck that. It’s time for you to man up, dude. You think Coleman is going to stick around if you don’t get your shit together?”

I exhaled long and slow. How could I argue with that? If the shoe was on the other foot… “He’s been really cool.”

“I know. I can see how much he loves you by how he looks at you, dude. It’s how I look at Stoli.”

“I haven’t even told him I love him.”

“How can you tell? I don’t mean to be a dick here, but you’re so fucked up and high all the time, there’s no way you feel anything.”

“Oh, I feel.”

“Do you?”

“Too much. Maybe that’s the problem. I don’t know.” We sat in silence for a few minutes. I think he was giving me space to think. I tapped a beat on the table. It helped me get shit straight in my head a little. If it was even possible. “I’ve never had a relationship like this before. I don’t want to fuck it up again. But… Yeah, you’re not wrong, Joey. It started as the lifestyle. Feeling like a rockstar. Becoming part of who I am. And numbing me from feeling the failure when Midnight Hunt broke up.”

“The breakup wasn’t your failure.”

“No, but Jinx succeeded alone. Wolf did, though more behind the scenes. I didn’t.”

“Fth…” What the fuck kind of sound was that? “You kept playing. Touring. And you were ready when Midnight Hunt came back. But you’re about to be the failure that breaks them up for a second time.”

I put my forehead against the table. “You think that?”

“Don’t you?”

He really unloaded a bunch of shit on me. And I couldn’t logically argue with any of it. “What the fuck am I gonna do?” I was asking myself and maybe the universe, but Joey had an answer.

“Go to rehab. Get clean. Address these issues that are holding you back.”

It felt like an epiphany. A moment of clarity I’d never had before.

All these issues holding me back. Keeping me from loving Coleman like he deserved. Keeping me from being the brother and performer my band needed. Issues I never dealt with. Being abandoned. Having to fight for everything. Never understanding what love—true love—actually looked and felt like. I hadn’t felt anything but pain or numbness in a long fucking time. And honestly, sobriety, on the other side, seemed like a dark hole.

“I don’t know if I can do this.”

Joey patted my back. “What other choice do you have?”

I hadn’t hit rock bottom. Some said you had to hit that to really get clean. But maybe… Maybe I could be smarter. Learn from others. I didn’t want to hit bottom. Wouldn’t it be easier to climb back up before I fell that far down? “No. I could choose to ignore you. And that would be worse.”

“True.”

“But I won’t.”