Page 59 of Wildfire
Me:What is that? How do I do it?
Zoe:This seems like a longer convo but basically let yourself be moved. I saw you perform last week. You got this babe.
Me:Fuuuuuuck
Zoe:Just close your eyes and let the rhythm take you.
Me:What if I fall on my face?
Zoe:They'll probably love it. You know, rock star antics.
Me:HA! I'm so screwed.
Zoe:I have faith in you. Just picture me out there and pretend we're dancing like we used to in my room.
Me:K. I think I can do that.
Zoe:I know you can. If not, pretend you're being sexy for Cole
Me:This isn't a strip tease
Zoe:They don't need to know that
Me:Byeeee. Love you forever
Zoe:Love you always
I dip out of the women's toilet and head back behind the stage in my full makeup and clothes.
"Damn, Renée. You look… don't take this the wrong way, but you look hot."
"Jordy, how would I take that the wrong way?"
"I don't want you to think I'm hitting on you. You know, being the Chief's girl and all. Besides, I have a girlfriend."
I blush, thinking about Cole. "The Chief's girl. Yeah."
A waiter brings us a tray of beers on the house, and I slam mine to soothe my nerves. We chat for a few minutes, and then they let us know it's time to start.
I bounce on my heels like a runner about to get on the starting blocks, and then follow my bandmates on stage. The lights in the bar are low, with a few big ones pointed at us, so I can barely see any of their faces. I feel my body relax, and pick up my guitar to prepare for Jordy's countdown. I catch his eye, we nod, and then it happens.
"One, two, three, four."
My body starts moving without me thinking about it. The groove takes over as the bass and drums lead us into the first song, and I join them on rhythm. I am transported when I open my mouth to sing the opening words. I'm flying high on adrenaline and all the other feel-good hormones that course through your body when you're happy.
I don't remember much after that. The crowd loves us, and I walk off the stage, covered in sweat and feeling like I'd just come down off the best drug possible.
The guys pat me on the back, and we hurry to get our gear off the stage so the next band can start. I hoped to have another beer to wind down, but Trevor insists we load up and hit the road.
"Gotta get to the next city. We'll grab a motel when we get there."
I am exhausted, and luckily, it isn't my turn to drive because I pass out as soon as we hit the road.
A few hours later, I wake up as we pull into a dark, deserted-looking motel parking lot. We get one room with two double beds, and I help the guys load all our gear and bags into the room before I pass out again. The nice thing about being the only woman on tour is getting a bed to myself, even if I'm not going to get my own room.
We play our gig the next night and do the whole thing all over again. And again. And again. Drive, sleep, drive, set up, play. In between, we manage to eat and shower, but sometimes, there isn't much time for that.
I chat with Cole as much as possible when I'm not driving or sleeping. Still, I get very little privacy, so our conversations feel distant and hurried.
