Pete switched cables, slung his guitar strap back around his neck, and stepped up to the lead mic. “‘Confusion to You All.’ Ready?” He tapped the count-off with a fingernail on the soundboard and the whole band came in together with the crashing intro.
Fuck, they were good. I’d almost forgotten how good, forgotten how I’d been blown away, sitting in a little bar with a friend who’d said,“Check these dudes out.”They were a hell of a lot better now, but even then they’d had that wild energy and yet impeccable timing, like Pete’s brain was hooked up to the others and they played off him perfectly, matching his switches of tempo and mood without missing a beat. Lots of rehearsal, obviously, but it seemed spontaneous.
I clapped when they were done and Pete blinked and said, “Thanks,” as if he’d forgotten I was there.
“Free concert,” I told him. “Priceless.”
“Uh-huh,” Shondra said. “Now you get to listen to us argue about going more minor key on the second bridge.”
“Music to my ears,” I said and meant it. As long as my body vibrated with the drumbeats and my mind raced through the chords, that stupid voice in the back of my head was silenced. The one that kept saying,“Go back and apologize.”It was too late.
I’d decided at some foolish hour of night that, as much as Lee worried, even broken up, he’d probably appreciate hearing that I’d arrived okay.
I’d texted,~delayed but safe flight.I hadn’t been able to help adding,~miss you.
I’d told myself I didn’t expect any reply, but still, each time I’d checked my unresponsive phone since then, a pang hit me. Lots of phony messages with scams and politicians and give-me-money. Nothing from Lee.
Unable to help myself, I pulled out my phone again and scrolled to our conversation. Nope. Nothing.
As I tucked the phone away, I looked up and found my gaze meeting Pete’s. He gave me a slow nod I refused to read as pity, then signaled for Quinn to lead them into the next song. I set myself to listen and pay attention, not to fan-boy but to analyze and critique and give them some value for including me.
Four more days of rehearsal and then we’d be on the road, chilling out on their luxury bus while the driver whisked us eleven hours northward. Four days, a drive, and we’d be at oneof the best outdoor rock festivals in the world. I might’ve fucked up my heart in ways I wouldn’t get over, but I was going to enjoy the hell out of Rocktoberfest.
Chapter 20
Lee
What the fuck am I doing here in Nevada?That question had been bouncing around in my brain from the moment I got into the Uber on the way to the airport through the bumpy flight, the two long delays and the plane change in Denver, till now, as I stood in the Reno airport looking for the Rocktoberfest shuttle.
I could’ve done a thousand better things with my days off work. The house needed painting and weeding and crap hauled off to Goodwill and recycling. I could’ve read a good book or gotten a massage or taken that online course on geriatric skin care I’d been eyeing. Or slept. Well, maybe not. I wasn’t sleeping for shit lately. But I’d had options.
I’d walked out of Griffin’s life for a reason. Sure, the plane tickets were non-refundable, but I could’ve found somewhere I wanted to fly within the next year. I might’ve sold my Fest ticket online, the same way I bought it. The hotel would only charge one day for a cancellation, an ouch of money wasted but it wouldn’t break me.
So it was anyone’s guess why I was standing here in line, carry-on bag over my shoulder, waiting my turn to climb the bus steps and sit in another cramped seat for an hour and a half, to see a concert I’d never planned to go to in the first place.
Griffin. Only answer.
I found a window seat and ignored myself.
The desert had its own stark beauty. Once we cleared the Reno suburbs, the pine trees and green spaces began to dwindle. Tufts of sagebrush and other plants I couldn’t identify dotted the landscape like prickly pompoms. A bright clear sun shone down on the dusty roadside. We’d been warned by the driver that we were in the high desert and that some folks might feel the altitude, although most wouldn’t. I wanted to blame my lightheadedness on being four thousand plus feet above sea level, but if I was honest, oxygen levels had nothing to do with it.
The concert venue didn’t have housing, although I gathered most folk came with tents and campers and vans to stay in. The nearest town was small but it offered a hotel, a couple of motels, and part-time B&Bs. By the time I’d made reservations, the only place not booked was a motel in what I took to be a dodgy part of town. Still better than a tent for this boy. I was not built to go days without a real shower.
The bus stopped at the town center to drop off those of us being civilized, then headed on out toward the venue. A silver-haired woman ahead of me in the crowd on the sidewalk called, “Anyone else for the Desert Flower Inn? Want to share a cab?”
“Sure!” I called and hustled her way. She eyed me over, reasonable caution since I was six inches taller than her and a lot bigger, but I guess I didn’t ping her serial killer radar. She flagged down the next cab in the row and we handed our bags to the driver before getting in the back.
“First time at Rocktoberfest?” she asked as the driver pulled out.
“Yeah? How could you tell?”
“Just a guess from the way you were looking around. There’s a lot of really cool scenery but the local bus stop ain’t part of it.”
“You’ve been here before?”
“Four years in a row. I was here when Midnight Hunt got back together, when Grindstone broke out of the pack. I saw Hellsbane and Blade do the hologram thing. Rocktoberfest is always a great show. And oh my God, when Lane Bennett did a full song with Corvus Rising in drag.” She fanned herself.
“Seriously?” I’d thought the big rock bands playing these festivals would be determinedly het. Although Griffin had always been out, so maybe not. “Are they back this year?” I’d always make time for a drag queen.
