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Marci held her hand up. “Yo! Meet and greet happening now. Come on.”
Coleman helped me take off the brace, and we gave it to Mick until show time. I jogged down the hall to the conference room set up with fans ready to get merch signed. I was in a much better mood and able to enjoy this more than normal. I even remembered to give Coleman Pam’s name for tickets. She’d skin me alive if I forgot.
I was looking forward to playing the show and realized it was the first time in a long time that I truly was.
When it was finally showtime, we all ran out on the stage. But I had to put the fucking brace on. So, I figured I would do it in Ziggy style. I grabbed it and stomped up to the front of the stage.
Miami stared at me for a minute, not sure what I was going to do. Well, I didn’t fucking know either. So I shrugged and pulled my T-shirt off and tossed it hard into the audience. I leaned into Miami’s mic. “Hey, Reno!” I had to wait for the noise to die down before going on, as usual. “We’re going to get started in a minute, but I need to get this brace on first.” I held it up over my head. I moved away from the mic and spoke to Miami. “Help me get this bitch on.”
We finagled it in place and adjusted it. When it felt right, I grabbed the mic again. “Thank you for your patience, Reno!” And pause for the screaming to stop—a little. “This is new.” Itapped the front of the brace. “But it’s going to let me keep playing for you a long, long time!” I yelled louder with each word, and the crowd responded. I motioned for them to get louder, and they didn’t let me down.
Miami mimed kicking me back to my kit, and I played it up a little before heading there. Of course, the crowd loved that. Miami had the mic now. “Our fabulous and infamous drummer…the Zig-meister!”
I ran through a complicated riff before easing it back into our first song,The One About Fighting.
Miami came in at the right time, “It happens more than I like, it’s a whirlwind of spitfire…”
And we were off on our own whirlwind, and we put out a fucking kick-ass show.
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 tosqueeze 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 wordscame 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.
