“Yes. Playing Saturday. Although I don’t think Lane will do drag. He doesn’t usually in their shows. It was specially for the thing they did.”
“Thing?”
“You have to see it first-hand. Google ‘Corvus Rising’ and ‘Rocktoberfest.’”
I made a mental note to do that. “Who else should I definitely go see?” Griffin wasn’t on till Sunday and I’d need to keep busy if I stayed that long. Although who was I kidding? I was here now and I’d see it through.
She eagerly listed bands I knew and some I didn’t. I was a fan of enough of the big names to be getting my money’s worth out of the trip, and my spirits began to rise. She had an encyclopedic knowledge of rock music, but she didn’t make me feel ignorant. Her enthusiasm was exactly the tonic I needed, against all my doubts and feeling ridiculous about not staying home with a good book to burn my vacation days.
Then, right after “Social Sinners always put on an amazing show,” she said, “And if you’re old school like me, Griffin Marsh is doing a set on Sunday right before Chaser Lost. I’ve been a fan since the first time I heard ‘Bite This.’ Ran right out and bought the album.” She chuckled. “Back in the days when we actually bought albums. You’re probably too young to remember that.”
“Thank you. I’m forty. I’ve bought a few. Never Griffin Marsh though.” For good reasons, I reminded myself, my breath catching with a pang that made me wince. Because he ditched me once years ago when I needed him, then swanned back into my life, made me care, and now fucked us up again.What am I really doing here?
“You should check him out. He’s got a big range, more folky stuff on through some pretty hard rock and even pop. He never found a permanent band, and I think his range hurt him. No consistent brand, you know. A lot of folks have narrow tastes, want every album to be more of the same. With Griffin, you never know what you’re getting.”
“But you like him?”
She leaned toward me. “Back in 2012, I was in the middle of a vicious divorce. My son had moved across the ocean and video calls weren’t compensation for never getting to hug my grandkids. Things were… hard. Griffin Marsh put outTangled in Cobwebs. I played that damned album on repeat for two days, and then off and on for the next few months. When I thought I couldn’t get through another day, I played ‘Wipeout’ and sang along full volume until my heart started beating again.” She sat back and snorted a laugh. “My neighbors probably hated that song by the end of the year, but I still play it when life’s getting to me. When Griffin Marsh hits the stage, I’m going to be front and center, screaming my ass off.”
“Oh.” I remembered the times I’d escaped into books, movies, music, when my heart was breaking over Alice. Somehow, I’d never thought of Griffin in that way, but of course he’d put out a lot of hit songs in twenty years. Made sense that to someone, he’d been that escape. “Have you ever told him so?”
“I doubt he reads his social media. Anyhow, he has lots of people fangirling him. He doesn’t need some old rock-and-roll granny telling him I like his work. But I’m glad I get to hear him one more time.”
I wondered how I might get her and Griffin together. Might be a boost for both of them. But I was distracted by the taxi driver pulling over in front of a motel. “Here y’go. Thirty-seven fifty.”
“What?” I asked. We’d driven maybe seven minutes.
The old lady nudged me. “Rocktoberfest rates. The local town puts up with the huge crowds for events a few times a year. They deserve to make some money off it.” She dug in her purse and extracted a credit card.
I located a twenty and two ones in my wallet and gave them to her. “My share.”
“Thanks. This weekend busts my budget for the whole year, but it’s so worth it.” She passed the card up front, then said to me, “I’m Yolanda, by the way.”
“Lee.”
We got out and walked up the cracked pavement to the motel entrance. I murmured, “Two hundred fifty bucks a night, huh?”
“Supply and demand, I guess.” She shrugged.
I’d almost backed out at the prices, but at the time I’d been doing something super romantic and now? Now, I didn’t knowwhat the hell I was doing, other than pure stubbornness. “I guess.”
“Last year, I camped with friends but the price for a campsite combo pass was ridiculous. Not impossible when we split it four ways, but high. And my friends couldn’t make it this year, so I came on my own.”
“I’m not much of a camper,” I said.
Yolanda nodded. “My hips don’t like sleeping on the ground anymore, even with an air mattress, but as long as I can get a bed, I may have a few years of headbanging left in me.” She paused as I held the battered door of the office open for her. “Hey. You want to maybe hang out at the festival? Nah, never mind. I’m sure you have better things to do.”
“No, I’d like that.” Having someone around would keep me from drowning in my thoughts. Griffin would be staying with the Chaser Lost musicians on their bus. I’d planned to let him know I was here, drag him back to my room, make the weekend incredible. Now the extra days loomed empty and I was up for anything that might fill them.
“Shows start at three tomorrow. Meet up here in the lobby at noon? It’ll be a zoo going in the gates. Bring water.” She gestured at a cooler near the front desk selling bottles for the low, low price of five bucks. “There are fountains on site, you can refill.”
“Thanks. I’ll remember.” I waved her ahead of me to the desk.
By the time I made it to my room— a small, stuffy, dark space with an air conditioner that rattled loudly— a bitter mood was settling over me. I’d pushed my thoughts away in the bustle of packing and leaving and travel, and Yolanda was great, but now I was here in the Black Rock desert, about to attend a festivalwhere my ex-boyfriend was a star, to be reminded on every side about how the world thought Griffin was awesome.
Well, hewasmostly awesome, with a few moments of awful. I was glad that one huge mistake hadn’t wrecked his life, while wanting to kick his ass for this new huge mistake.
I flopped down on the mattress, which was hard but I’d slept on worse. Closed my eyes… and remembered the dream that had pushed me out of bed and into the Uber early that morning. Griffin collapsing onstage and I wasn’t there. Blood on his lips.
