Page 43 of Behind the Lights

“Hey guys, meet the rest of Double D.” We chuckled at his bands nickname. “Total pun intended, kinda how we came up with the name. Brent over here is our pretty boy and is always buried face first in a pair.” Everyone laughed. “To his right is our drummer Chase and Tommy there is our lead singer.”

They signaled their hellos as we each introduced ourselves. When Stoli said his name, it was their turn to laugh. “I suppose there’s a story behind that one?” Nate questioned.

“Yeah, and I’m sure it’s exactly what you think it is,” I said, even Stoli snorted in response.

“Which band are you guys?” Tommy asked us.

“Social Sinners. We’re new to the tour so we hit the stage first,” Stoli told him.

“Think you guys will make it through to the end?” Chase snickered.

“Ignore him,” Nate said. “It’s in his nature to be a dick.” That had the rest of their band cracking up, including Chase so he must be comfortable being an ass.

“Yeah, we’ll make it just fine,” Diamond seemed to want to go head to head with their drummer. Automatically, the three of us stood behind him with our arms crossed assuming our brotherly stance. Not that we could do much, but we’d go down standing up for one another – no matter what.

“It’s all good guys,” Nate said, attempting to cut the tension. “Chase is all bark and no bite. Ignore him, we do.”

“I’m just busting your balls, newbies. Relax. Grab a beer with us later,” Chase offered.

We relaxed but I still uncertain about the guy.

“All right guys, time to rock it,” Tommy told his team. “See you guys on the flip side,” he said before hopping up on stage.

“Do you guys still want to watch them or wander around through the crowd?” Stoli asked.

“I’d like to see if they are worth a shit or not,” Diamond piped up, so we stayed. They ended up being damn good. We watched how they handled their signing at the table and what they offered for sale and even grabbed one of their CDs to check out before walking through the crowd to check out the merch tents.

Being virtually unknown had come with its positives, only a couple of people stopped to talk to us which left us to our own vices. I’m sure at some point in our career we’d no longer be able to roam around freely without being flanked by security guards. But that was a bridge we were willing to cross as a rite of passage into the life we’d worked so hard for.

As the capacity of the crowd increased, it became harder and harder to check out the front of the scene action which kept us backstage watching the bands and roadies do their thing. Outside by the trailers, the antics were well underway with groupies draping themselves over willing band members. We spotted a couple cases of Jack Daniels that were open and guys walking around drinking straight from the bottles they had in hand. If tomorrow’s concert wasn’t as close as it was, we’d probably have headed out by now since we were on at noon again tomorrow. But the adrenaline was still pumping through our veins and we needed that to subside before we could even think about trying to relax.

The DD tour bus was parked about halfway down the line. The headliners were parked at the front closest to the band entrance and the exit gate and we were at the end of the pack. As we got closer they whistled and called us over.

“Here,” Nate reached into a cooler they had sitting out, “grab a beer.”

We looked at each other, Diamond reached in first and popped one open. “Thanks,” he said, taking a drink. Not wanting to look like pussies had the rest of us to following suit.

Each respective player paired off and started talking about their equipment and what works best for them. Tommy and I started chatting about voice exercises he used, something I hadn’t even thought about and for obvious reasons needed to.

“Do you smoke?” he asked me.

“Not cigarettes and pot only occasionally,” I replied.

“That’s a good thing, smoke isn’t great for the vocal cords. If you want before we take the stage tomorrow, we could meet up and I’ll show you what my pre-show warm up is?” he offered.

“Yeah, that would be cool. Thanks.” I was excited about this, it seems I needed to do some research and check out different options to keep my voice fresh. Just as we were finishing our beers, Stoli’s phone rang.

“Sorry guys, gotta take this. Thanks for the beer,” he said before walking toward our van to answer his phone. The three of us said our goodbyes and followed behind him. Considering his phone was the one used for all the band shit, we wanted to know what was up.

I grabbed a couple slices of bread and put some mustard on them to munch on while waiting for him to hang up. He hated when I did that, said it was disgustingly ghetto and no sooner had I thought that and looked up to find him giving me a look that clearly told me what he thought. I laughed and took a huge ass bite just to get a rise out of him. “Mmm, so good.” After gloating I turned to grab a water bottle and leave him to his phone call.

When he hung up, he walked up behind me and smacked me in the back of the head. “Ouch, what was that for?”

“For your gross ass sandwich display, jackass.” He reached in, grabbing the bag of chips and shoveled a couple in his mouth. “Brett got the CDs done and shipped. The hotel said we can check in at eleven, but I know we’ll be at the arena setting up then. We should have enough CDs for tomorrow’s show, so we can grab those when we check in after we get done. I don’t know about you guys, but I’m jonesing for a shower.”

“Yeah, Diamond’s fucking ripe,” Mickey joked, and Diamond punched him in the arm. “Dude, I was joking,” he whined, rubbing the spot.

“Let’s finish watching the bands and try to get some shut eye and head out around two a.m. Does that work for you guys?” Stoli asked.

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