Page 7 of A Little Campfire Blues
In the final days of the band, our manager reached out to a promoter putting together a festival being headlined by one of the individuals we’d turned down the chance to work with several years before. Needless to say, we hadn’t been awarded a spot. In the days that followed, with few bookings and little revenue trickling in from our failed album, we’d been forced to face the reality of our situation.
We were no longer relevant or even welcome in many of the spaces we’d once dominated.
The fall came far faster than the ascent, leaving us all with a serious case of bitterness and pissed-off frustration as we’d come together in that last band meeting. None of us had the heart to write new material without the motivation of a tour or festival circuit looming on the horizon. Especially when it wasn’t just the one promoter who turned us down, it was several, all in a long line. Each time we realized that the people telling usnowere the very people we’d saidnoto in the past.
The fates had spoken.
We were done.
A southern rock flame-out story
That was the legacy I’d spent the past two years back here in Oregon trying to erase. Every day on the docks I did a little more than was asked of me, picked up the slack when others fell behind, and stayed late when management needed it. It had gotten to where I’d started shaking my head, saying,no, sorry, you must have the wrong guy,whenever anyone recognized me from my days with my band.
Maybe it was a lie, but in my heart I knew I wasn’t that guy anymore and would never be that guy again. Best to hold on to the pieces of the past that had been amazing without having to answer questions about what I was doing back there, why I was working at the factory, and if I was still making music.
I wasn’t.
At least not for anyone but me and the few houseplants my sister had given me that I’d managed not to kill. I might not have a black thumb when it came to them, but the stubborn little buggers who survived did so out of sheer tenacity. Alternating between forgetting to water and forgetting when I’d watered and overwatering, I’d drowned more than a few or left them with a bad case of fungus and root rot.
Some Daddy, right, can’t even take care of a houseplant.
Shit, that was not the mindset I needed right now. Thinking about my failures on the way to what I wanted to be an inspiring and motivational two weeks was not the right way to kick things off. I had sixty-five miles of driving ahead, a little more than an hour once I factored in the speed limits on the backroads once I pulled off the highway. Only there was nothing on the radio to hold my attention, and the few things that did just got me thinking about a mood or a moment in time that I didn’t want to focus on right now.
Maybe an audiobook. I’d recently broken down and gotten a subscription, then loaded up on queer fantasy novels, where everyone, even the beasts, found their mates, close bonds of friendship, and their happily ever afters. I’d barely heard fuck all from any of my bandmates since we’d split up. Hell, the last time I’d gotten a message from anyone, it was Terry, our old bass player, asking if I could hook him up with some cash since he’d spent his rent money on bail. I’d had it, so I’d sent it. Received athanks, manin response, and nothing since.
Shit, okay, stop thinking, fucker. Stop thinking.
I told my phone to cue up the poly pride cruise book I’d snagged because the smirking boy on the cover had been positively adorable, and I’d been curious to see what kind of story the author had written for him.
As the words of the opening scene filled my truck, I could picture Daddy Duncan sitting in his car, fretting over whether or not it was too early in the relationship to take his little and pup on a Caribbean cruise vacation. Little Ember answering the door with Boo, his boa constrictor, over his shoulders while he fed Bump in the Night, his bearded dragon, a cricket, made me laugh and wonder how he’d come to name them the way he had. If he was my boy, I’d want him to share those stories with me and any others that let me get to know him better.
And Rusty, the pup who expressed his worries about having too dominant a personality for a handler to want to take the time to learn what he needed, left me just wanting to hug him and tell him that a competent handler who was secure in who he was as a Dom would never have an issue with his pup being proud, confident, and self-reliant when he needed to be. I hated seeing that shit when I did visit clubs and tried to spend time with the pups and littles who didn’t seem to be receiving much attention from anyone. Unfortunately, all the clubs close enough to where I lived were still too far for me to visit as often as I needed to forge lasting relationships, but still. On the nights I was there, they were the ones I focused on, hoping that in some small way I’d made the evening better for them and left them with the hope that someone else would come along and see how wonderful they were.
Maybe if one had truly grabbed my heartstrings and left me with a burning need to see them again, I’d have made it a point to visit with more frequency and even invest in a membership instead of a weekend pass, but I’d yet to feel the burning spark I’d been yearning for.
Was I waiting on something that only happened in the stories I listened to—that thing so many others claimed to have felt the moment they metthe one?
You’re damned right I was.
With the same desperate desire I’d always felt when I took to the stage, I waited for my forever, all while struggling to believe it would ever happen for me. Did I fail to connect time after time because I couldn’t fully believe in it, or trust that the fates had something amazing in store for me? Or was I simply letting the failures of the past color my expectations of the future? Had I created one of those self-fulfilling prophecies people talked about when they said that someone’s fear of failure had led them to fail spectacularly after they’d done something to sabotage themselves?
Hell, in my time with the band, we sabotaged ourselves over and over again, with that ego of mine playing a big part of it on more than one occasion. Failure had taught me to tame it, but it had also taught me how easy it was to let my dreams slip through my fingers.
As I listened to the moment in the story where Duncan explained to Rusty how much he enjoyed sitting back and watching their little, Ember, submit to him, I was reminded of how much I’d always loved watching a little and pup play together. The dynamics of the relationship in different headspaces was something few ever got to experience. I had and I craved it like those bottles of tequila I’d learned to leave alone.
Tequila and me wasn’t a good combination, much like me and loneliness. At least at the camp, with so many others around, the only reason I’d have to be alone was if I wanted to be.
Chapter Five
Axis
Damn, the cabins were far apart. As I navigated my jeep along the winding road that ran around a wide, shimmering lake, that was the first thing I noticed. It was nice, though, the lake and the distance between cabins. Mornings spent splashing around in it had already become part of the daily itinerary I’d been forming in my mind on the last part of the drive. Not only was the cool water sure to wake me up, but there had always been something appealing to me about staring at a glistening body of water. Maybe it was because there was always inspiration to be found in it.
Thirteen, fourteen, my cabin assignment was seventeen, so I pressed on along the road, excited to see if Roman had arrived yet. If so, then my first suggestion would be fuck unpacking; let’s just dive in, soak up some sun, and enjoy the warmth of this perfect summer morning. Now I was glad I’d left Portland as early as I had. The idea had been to beat traffic, but it looked like I’d also beat most of the other campers, as there were only a few scattered vehicles around.
Including a blue Challenger that looked just like the one in the photo Roman had shared after he’d bought it. He’d looked proud as hell, leaning against it, hand lovingly stroking the hood as sunlight shimmered off its gleaming cerulean surface. I pulled up next to it and barely got the Jeep in park before I spotted him racing towards me. Out the door I tumbled, my arm getting tangled in the seatbelt in my haste. Laughing at my clumsiness, I fell into an embrace that was all broad shoulders and muscles. The fact that he could still make me feel small felt amazing. Relieved, I sunk into it and let myself be held.
“Tossed and turned half the night, waiting for this moment,” he murmured and squeezed me tighter.
