Prologue - Reed

PROLOGUE - REED

“MARRY BACARDI” - REED WALKER

“ O ne minute to walkout, Walker," my assistant says, her voice steady despite the frenzy around us.

I nod, adjusting my guitar strap and taking a deep breath. The energy backstage is electric, a mix of excitement and nerves. The roar of the crowd seeps through the walls, a constant reminder of the thousands waiting to see us play. I glance around at my bandmates—Nate on bass, Axel on drums, and Casey on keyboard. We've been through countless gigs together over the past couple of years, but tonight at Red Rocks feels different. It’s a milestone.

“Ready to make history?” Nate grins, slapping me on the back. His confidence is infectious.

“You bet,” I reply, feeling the familiar rush of adrenaline.

Axel twirls his drumsticks, a ritual he’s perfected over the years. “Let’s give them a show they’ll never forget.”

Casey nods, her fingers dancing over the keys in a silent warm-up. “Time to rock their world.”

The stage manager gives us a thumbs-up. "Thirty seconds."

I take one last look at my guitar, the custom black Fender that’s been with me through every high and low. It’s like an extension of me, and tonight, we’re going to make magic.

“Walker, you got this,” my assistant whispers, a rare moment of encouragement.

“Thanks, Mel,” I say, meeting her eyes. She’s been with us from the start, the backbone of our chaotic world.

The stage lights dim, signaling our imminent arrival. The crowd’s chant grows louder, a pulsating wave of anticipation.

“Alright, let’s do this,” I shout, feeling the surge of energy from my bandmates as we move toward the stage entrance.

The moment we step out, the roar of the crowd hits us like a tidal wave. Red Rocks Amphitheatre, with its natural acoustics and stunning backdrop, stretches out before us, a sea of faces illuminated by the stage lights. The sheer magnitude of it all sends a shiver down my spine.

Nate hits the first note on bass, a deep, resonant thrum that echoes through the amphitheater. Axel follows with a powerful drumroll, and Casey’s keyboard joins in, layering the sound. I step forward, the spotlight catching the gleam of my guitar.

“Good evening, Red Rocks!” I shout into the mic, my voice carried on the wind. “Let’s go! Are y’all ready?”

The crowd’s response is deafening, a wall of sound that reverberates through me. I strum the opening chords of our first song, feeling the music flow through my veins. This is what we live for—moments like these where everything else fades away, and it’s just us and the music.

The show flies by.

The night is a whirlwind, a symphony of power chords and drumbeats, of sweat and raw energy. I look out at the sea of faces. My fans. Every one of them alight with the shared ecstasy of the music. It’s a dream. It doesn’t feel real.

“This is our last song for tonight!” I shout, and the crowd’s roar is a wave crashing over us. “It’s called ‘Marry Bacardi.’”

The crowd goes nuts. This is our classic finisher song.

Nate starts the intro, his bassline a heartbeat that drives the song forward. Axel’s drums join in, a steady, relentless rhythm. Casey’s keys weave through the sound, adding depth and texture.

I step up to the mic, my guitar slung low. The first verse spills out, the words etched into my soul:

She waits for you

To take her by the hand

Take her out on the town

Like a real man

Tell her you love her

Make her understand

Take her out on the town

Like a real man

The chorus hits like a freight train, and the crowd sings along, a thousand voices lifting us higher:

When she wears that dress

Looks like a Goddess

Levis with Bacardi

She gets a little naughty

When she’s kissing on you

And you’re loving on her

Don’t be a fool

Throw a little party

Past 1 a.m.

Go and marry Bacardi

The final notes hang in the air, a perfect echo of everything we’ve poured into this night. I look at my bandmates, each one a part of this incredible journey.

“Thank you, Red Rocks!” I shout, my voice raw with emotion. “We love you!”

The stage lights dim, and the roar of the crowd is a deafening crescendo that follows us offstage. We’ve done it.

We’ve played Red Rocks.

That night, I’m at a party when a well-known Tik Tok influencer, a friend of the host, asks me if she can interview me.

It’s a little irregular, but Teresa is one of my favorite influencers, and always tells the story like it is. On the day I’ve fulfilled my life-long dream, I can’t say no to an interview.

“Are any topics off-limits?” She asks.

“No,” I say.

“You sure?”

“I’m sure.”

“Alright then.” She brings me to a room with a ring light and asks me if I’d sit down.

“So hi, Reed Walker. Most famous band out of the punk-folk scene in the past two years.”

“After the Red Lemons,” I say.

“Well, obviously.”

The Red Lemons helped me get my start, and I’ll never not be grateful to them for that.

“You’ve written one of the most romantic love song albums of the past year. But you’re notoriously private about your dating life. Can you explain that? Where do you get these ideas? Marry Bacardi? Who are you writing these songs about?”

I look down a little, then lift a smile.

“I was afraid you might ask that.”

“I’m trying to get to the heart of the matter. It’s what everyone wants to know.”

“I just sit down and write. And what comes out, comes out.”

“Come on, Reed,” she says. “We don’t even know if you’re single or not. Give me a little something. A name, maybe.”

I pause for a moment, and clear my throat.

I can hear her talking, but now I’m thinking back to that fateful weekend that changed it all for me.

“Is this short form, or long form?” I ask her, knowing she does both forms of content.

“It can be whatever you want it to be.”

I lean back in my chair, and take a sip of my Bacardi and coke. My preferred drink these days.

“I’ve never talked about this stuff. I think it might kill the mystery if I do.”

“You’ve already got the most successful album of the year.” She counters. “I think the way to build your legacy is with some authentic vulnerability, which is what my podcast is all about. Come on, Reed. In two years, you’ve gone from a nobody to playing at Red Rocks. That story is inspiring. And I want you to be able to tell me—and the world—about it.”

She’s known for ‘telling all’ when it comes to her own story. So if there was a time to tell it, it’s now.

“All right. What do you want to know?”

“Well, besides knowing who these songs are written about , I’d love to know if there was a turning point. How did you get the balls to just start putting out music three years ago, when no one was listening? You were just playing bars in Chicago before that, right? Sorry. Two questions at once. But my heart is actually racing finally getting to know the answers to these questions. I have goosebumps, Reed.” She holds up her arm to show me she’s not lying. “I’ve given some great interviews, but I’ve never gotten goosebumps from one.”

I chuckle lightly, staring into my drink. “It all started when my best friend dragged me to a music festival Zach Bryan was heading. And we had one extra ticket. So we ending up bringing along this girl we met at the bar.”

“Oh. A girl. Now we’re talking. Who was the girl? Does she have a name.”

“So, funny story…she didn’t give us her name, actually.”

“She…doesn’t have a name?”

I nod. “That’s right.”

“Well, obviously I’m curious to know more. If you’re willing to share, of course.”

Taking another hefty sip of my Cuba Libre, I let my mind drift to that fateful summer weekend in late July. It was only two years earlier, but it feels like lifetimes ago.