Fast Lane - Kristen Ashley Page 0,18

her when she’s eighteen,” Preach decrees then looks at Tommy. “Which is when we’re comin’ back to Indy. In four months. When Lyla is eighteen.”

It’s weird, doin’ this.

[Sits back, sighs]

It all comes into focus, doin’ this.

You know, I knew.

Later, I got it.

But talkin’ about it like this now?

Crystal-clear focus.

After we left Indy, Preach tore the lid off.

And I’ll tell you what.

Serious as fuckin’ shit. You lookin’ at my face?

[Points at face]

[Off tape]

Yes, I’m looking.

So, you see I’m serious as shit when I say I was pissed way the fuck off.

I did not get it.

You know?

Lyla, at the booth at breakfast with us being…Lyla.

And Christ, from Lafayette to when it all went down, he’s fuckin’ anything that moves. Booze. Pot. Blow.

Mostly booze.

And blow.

Even let loose, back then, Preacher had a rein on it. It was like he knew. She wasn’t there, he let go, it’d get ugly.

He had iron control, that guy, and he might get loose, he might get laid, he might get happy, but he never let go.

Now, I know that was when we started building our reputation.

Good guy, gentlemen rockers who knew how to blow out a set, have a good time and left the women smiling.

But I still have an issue with it. If he was right here, even now, I’d have no problem getting in Tom’s shit about how he supported it.

Egged it on.

Enabled it.

And okay.

[Raises hands and presses out repeatedly]

It’s rock ’n’ roll.

It’s the life we all wanted.

Freedom.

Be who you are, do what you like and make yourself happy.

I get that.

But this was after Lyla.

Preacher didn’t call her that whole time.

That, I got right in his shit about.

And okay on that too, because he had a good excuse.

But it’d take a while for me to get why he looked agonized when he said it.

“She’s seventeen, brother. Senior year of high school, friends, gettin’ the grades, parties, graduation, she’s set on goin’ to college. She doesn’t need some twenty-three-year-old creep in a rock band two states away callin’ her ass and fuckin’ shit up for her. She’s gotta have her time. She has to live her moments. Not be here with me, when she’s not here with me, not livin’ her moments or mine because she’s two fuckin’ states away.”

I remember the look on his face. The way he shook his head.

First time in my life I saw Preacher McCade look lost.

“I’m givin’ her time,” he finished.

[Off tape]

He was working it out.

[Nods]

He was working it out.

Trying to get all the shit out so it’d be gone when he had her.

[Nods continually]

I get it now.

He was working it out.

Whacked as it is, he was doing all that shit for Lyla.

We cut the demo a few months after Lyla.

And I don’t know if Tom sold plasma, or maybe a kidney, wouldn’t put it past him for either, but he also had singles pressed and tapes made.

Sold them out of the back of the camper.

Extra cash.

Like, a lot of it.

And then, you know, wasn’t a gig we did where people weren’t singing right along with us.

And by then, we weren’t doing covers.

It was before cell phones.

Tommy got us booked at a club in Nashville we could not say no to. Big shit, this club. Scouts were there a lot. The real deal.

And when he did, he got us booked at a couple more down there.

We hadn’t hit Tennessee yet.

Illinois, Wisconsin, Michigan, Indiana, Ohio, Pennsylvania, sometimes Kentucky. Sometimes Missouri. That was our patch.

Tom wanted us wider.

A lot wider.

And he was all in to stretch that patch.

So, Preacher didn’t like it, but he couldn’t fight it, we were in Tennessee when Lyla turned eighteen.

That was when Preach called her.

No one picked up.

No answering machine.

He called again, someone answered, left a message.

She might have called back.

But if she did, we were gone, so she couldn’t reach him.

Tom told him to send her flowers.

I don’t know if he did or if he didn’t.

What happened, I reckon he didn’t.

But he should have.

[Off tape]

Isn’t Tennessee where the Roadmasters were born?

[Nods]

Yeah.

Tommy’s idea, no matter what Josh says. Ask Tim. Or Dave.

But I’m tellin you right here, it wasn’t Preacher’s idea.

He was not only not behind it, he tried to talk it down.

Truth be told, he wasn’t comfortable with it, his name out there, up front.

And I knew why.

Both reasons.

I could tell Tommy was geared up for it. I could tell he prepared. Had all his arguments ready.

And I knew before then he hated the name Zenith.

Said it was hair band name.

Said it was corny.

But, you know,