Page 21 of 4-Ever

FAISE

AGE 21

Another year, another city, another performance.

Me and the guys were finishing up our third year on the road, heading into our fourth, and while we’d had steady work, we were also dealing with frustration.

We had gigs lined up for the year ahead, two a week, almost every week, but always as the opening act, not the headliner. And we’d been invited to a few summer music festivals, but only as a backup if others cancelled.

The big break we were working for, well, it still hadn’t happened.

Don’t get me wrong, we were having a blast. No one to answer to but ourselves. The freedom and excitement of the road, new places, and people. Hanging out with other musicians, getting drunk, getting high, and having sex whenever and however we wanted. And never having to deal with a clingy hookup since we were usually out the door the same night and on to a different city.

And we were always working on improving our sound, and our performance. Brodie wrote all our songs, with input from the rest of us, and he had a talent for catchy lyrics. Most of them raunchy as hell.

But performing live every week was physically grueling and so was traveling. Not to mention, trying to get our demo in front of any contact at any record label was no easy feat. The few so-called talent scouts that did approach us after our recent shows turned out to be nothing more than predatory assholes. Sign here and give us all the rights to your songs and we’ll take most of your money. No fucking way.

Three years in and no record deal.

Personally, we were having the time of our lives, but professionally, frustrating was the least of it.

Plus, we lived together. Twenty-four seven. Either in our van, or in shitty motel rooms we had to share. And every month or two, there would be arguments. Not that we stayed mad for long. But still, living and breathing in the same tiny space was only possible when you loved what you did. And when you loved the people with you.

Holls, Brodie, and Ronin weren’t just friends, they were my band brothers.

Well, Ronin was more than that. I didn’t even have to speak to him half the time. He could just look at me and he knew exactly what I was thinking. Or feeling. The kinetic energy between us needed no explanation.

He was my ride or die. Platonically speaking.

Or so I kept telling myself. The older I got, the more complicated my feelings were for my best friend. Not that I would screw things up by making a move. All four of us made a pact not to fuck with group dynamics by, well, fucking each other. It was one rule we stuck to.

Curiosity was just that. Better left alone.

Besides, we were never short of male attention on the road.

And I wouldn’t trade this life for a nine to five, no matter what. But earning just enough money to keep going meant we were barely getting by. It wasn’t easy, but it was the life we’d chosen.

It’s gonna happen. We’re gonna make it. One day.

And it could be tonight. We were in Seattle, opening for Havenstone, one of the most popular local bands in the city. It was a sold out show so hopefully we would garner good press. At this point, any press at all was good.

Our dressing room wasn’t much bigger than a closet. At least it had a lock on the door, and it was clean. Not like some of the dives we’d played in. Fucking hell, they were grunge. Like, literally, they hadn’t been cleaned since the 90s.

When my phone buzzed, I glanced at the message. It was a notification from my socials. Most of our high school classmates were graduating from college and starting their first jobs. Or going to grad school. Including my brother. He was finishing his MBA and at twenty-four, he already had a job lined up at some fancy-ass marketing firm.

I glanced at the pictures, graduation photos with happy smiles and proud parents.

Not that I envied them. Well, maybe a bit.

My parents still thought I was going through a phase, refusing to grow up. I knew they loved me, but their approval was something I wanted. I believed in my dream, and I wanted them to believe in it too.

“Hey boo, we’ve gotta finish soundcheck. You coming?” Ronin called out from the other side of the door.

“I’ll be right there!” I yelled back.

My pre-show ritual was important. I started off with stretches to warm up my shoulders and legs. Then I relaxed with a hit of coke, my drug of choice. I’d tried a lot of different ones, but I always came back to it. It helped me loosen up, and by the time the show was done, I was on top of the world and ready to party. For an introvert like me, it was a game changer.

I snorted the white power, wiped my nose, and took a shot of tequila. Then I put my phone in our lockbox, finished fixing my black eyeliner, and did my final stretches before heading out to join my bandmates.

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