Page 87 of Under the Ink

“What’s it about?”

“It’s about being called names and being bullied.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. The band is Korn. If you listen closely, you’ll figure out the name of the song in a minute.”

And, sure enough, she figured it out just like Sage said, a derogatory term for a gay man. “Well, I’m pretty sure that’s why I’ve never heard this song before.”

“Yeah, I bet youneverheard this shit in church.”

“Exactly.”

“I don’t know if you caught it, but basically that’s what the bullies called him. And what you’re listening to is how Jonathan Davis dealt with that shit—writing and screaming about it. At least he has the last laugh. All those assholes get to see his success because he stayed true to who he really was. I think that’s why I like a lot of their songs, because he sings a lot about being bullied—not just this one, but ‘Hater’ and others. You might like them.”

“I might.” After a bit, her mind drifted back over the weekend, no longer focusing on the song. “When’s that show in Winchester you were telling your parents about?”

“It’s after the dates in Canada. We have to drive back to Colorado anyway and the metalheads in Winchester love when we do that shit. Bobby just booked it, like, a week or so ago. It’ll be at Bad Boys to finish off the first leg of the tour and then we’ll have some serious time off.” As he slowed the car at a curve, he said, “Hey—you should be my tech one last time for that show.”

“It depends on the date—if it’s during Ginny’s wedding or the stuff leading up to it…”

“Yeah. I hear that. We should check.”

Naomi nodded, listening to the music again. As she considered Sage’s offer, she didn’t know that she’d want to have anything to do with a concert in Winchester. It was hard enough passing through the place now. In fact, the closer they got, the more her stomach roiled.

Sage’s voice cut through her thoughts. “Oh…thisone is fucking amazing. I think you’ll love it.”

While Naomi was looking at the trees beside the road as they started thinning out, their presence didn’t jibe with the pounding drums, an incessant beat that felt so angry.

But something about it spoke to her.

Sage said, “It’s called ‘March of the Pigs’.”

“Hmm.” In her head, Naomi was trying to imagine playing the drums for the song—and then she pictured Sage in her head doing it.

“Nine Inch Nails. Ever heard any of their stuff?”

“I don’t think so.”

Finally, the song was filled with an explosion—vocals and guitars blasting. But that wasn’t all there was to it—there were softer spots, almost even gentler.

Still…the anger coming through was visceral, planting a seed in the back of Naomi’s head:maybe music could provide some sort of release for her—like how Sage had said that other vocalist had dealt with the pain from his past.

As the song ended on a softer, yet somehow sinister, note, Naomi took a few deep breaths as they approached Winchester in the rental car that she hoped might shield her from this place.

Somehow, it seemed different.

As Sage drove through town, she tried to not be emotionally attached while also looking to see if she saw any faces she recognized.

Like her mother or father.

“Need to stop for a bathroom break or a drink or something?”

“No way,” she said, a little too quickly.

“No problem.”

After cruising through a green light, Sage nodded toward a gas station on Naomi’s side of the car, one last offer.

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