open and then two guys walked inside. They were chatting with each other while they walked over to the urinals against the far wall.
“That was a great set,” a guy with a deep voice said, “and the audience was all cranked up too.”
“It’s a relief to have it done,” the other guy said. “Now we can relax and party.”
“Do you know which band is closing out the new band lineup today?” Deep voice asked.
“Uh, a band called Chaos.”
“Never heard of them,” Deep voice commented.
“They’re Dagger Drummond’s pet project,” the second dude said. “Need I say more?”
“I guess that explains how they managed to get top billing among the newbies this year,” Deep voice scoffed.
And there it was. One of my biggest fears was being realized at the worst possible time. This was one of the reasons why I was nervous about coming to this event. I wanted to be selected to Rocktoberfest based solely on the merit of our music and talent and not because Dagger had helped us to the degree he had. In a matter of a minute, all that was ripped away from me, and I was left feeling like I didn’t belong or deserve to be here.
I heard the two guys leave the bathroom just as the contents of my stomach lurched up into my throat with an urgency to come out. I barely made it over the toilet in time before I tossed what little I had in me down the bowl. I threw up again and again until I was straining to puke up bile. I felt so defeated and unworthy to be here with all these talented bands. I wished I could somehow slink out of this bathroom and go back to LA and forget I was ever at this venue.
“Fletcher? Are you in here?” Dagger asked.
“Yeah, I’m not feeling well,” I grumbled. “I don’t think I’m going to be able to perform.”
“Are you really sick or is it anxiety?” he asked.
“Does it matter either way?” I said irritated with by his question.
“Come back to the dressing room with me so we can talk,” Dagger suggested.
“I don’t feel like talking,” I mumbled. “It wouldn’t change anything.”
Christ, I sounded like a fucking brat.
“Is this about Dallas?” he asked.
“No, for once this is all about me,” I said. “I never should have agreed to come here.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because we don’t belong here, and everyone knows it,” I argued.
Before Dagger could respond again, Mike came into the bathroom. “Is he okay?” I heard him ask Dagger.
“He said he’s feeling sick,” Dagger said quietly, “and I don’t think I need to remind either of you the time. We have one hour before we have to move down to the holding area at the side of the stage.”
“Let me try and talk to him,” Mike said.
I heard the main door open again, which I was guessing meant Dagger had left the room. Why did I feel so relieved about that? I heard the shuffle of Mike’s feet, and then he was outside my stall and tapping on the door.
“Can you come out of there so we don’t have to talk through a metal door?” he asked me.
I sighed loudly to be sure he knew I was annoyed with his request and opened the door. His eyes met mine, and the concern I saw there bothered me. I felt like I was letting him and everyone else down by my low self-esteem.
“You look like shit,” he said.
“If that’s your idea of a pep talk, you’re missing the mark,” I said and leaned up against the wall of the stall.
“Tell me what’s going on, and no bullshit, Fletch. We don’t have the time for that,” he stated firmly.
“Have you ever wondered how much Dagger’s influence went into us being here—and getting top billing for the new bands?” I asked Mike.
“I’m not sure I care about that right now,” Mike remarked. “I just want to get out on that stage and show them what we got. Maybe Dagger played a huge role in us being here, maybe he didn’t. It doesn’t matter. Our music is going to speak for us, Fletch. By the time we leave that stage, everyone is going to know who we are and why we were invited to be here—and that’s all that matters.”
I thought about what he said for a moment before I told him what happened. “I heard a couple of guys in here talking smack about us,” I admitted. “They didn’t know I was in