Fast Lane - Kristen Ashley Page 0,22

when I saw him walk into my garage, the way that big man moved, looked, held a guitar.

I was right.

And he was right.

It is not vain to say it.

Preacher was right.

I was a rock star.

That was why he put me in the middle. He never said it, but that’s why.

Him to my left.

Tim to my right.

Lead is usually in the middle.

Preacher never moved from his spot except to come to the middle and sing with me in my mic. But that was rare.

That was also why every song he wrote was all about the bassline.

Even before I started writing with him, Preach was all about the bassline. There was nothing ever simple about a Roadmasters’ bassline. It was always complex.

He gave that to me because he knew I could do it.

He gave that to me because he knew it’d make me shine.

We had our little fiefdoms.

I don’t know how other bands did it, I’d seen a lot of acts, and I watched how they worked the stage, but I didn’t know how they did it among themselves, you know?

And I never asked because I didn’t want their thing to mess with our mojo.

Dave had his space. Tim his. Preach his. Me mine. And yeah, Josh behind Tim, he had his, he just didn’t know how to use it.

You watch footage, we interacted with eyes and smiles, nods of heads.

And we each ruled our little fiefdom.

It worked.

We weren’t running around the stage.

We weren’t each trying to reach out to every inch of the audience.

We also didn’t just stand at our mics and sing.

We engaged.

And that’s it.

What no one could put their finger on, but we knew.

Critics. Fans.

They couldn’t say what it was.

But that was it.

We didn’t need to run around, and we didn’t need to get up in each other’s space.

We were tight.

A team.

A squadron.

We did not come to you, you came to us, and you took what you got depending on where your seat was.

And it was our job, together and individually, to make you love it.

But tell me this, Tim’s doin’ one of his edgy, punk-like solos and Preacher McCade walks out from behind his mic and stands close to the edge of the stage, his side to the audience, his eyes glued to Tim, where do you look?

He’s not part of the audience.

He’s king, man.

And he doesn’t want you to look at him.

He’s also not showin’ you where to look.

He’s telling you where to look.

That’s command.

He gave that to Tim. To me. To Dave. And fuck him he says different, but watch the footage, it’ll tell you, even to Josh.

I did too. I gave that too.

We did that because it was our band.

And it was ours to give.

Right. We’re in Chicago and Bobby’s already done with us.

I mean, it’s his tour, and he starts to get boos when we only do one encore and his band comes out? And we’re doin’ fuckin’ encores as the lead-in act?

[Shakes head]

He should have worked that. He could have worked that. He could have fed off that.

It’s the opener who’s supposed to start to build the frenzy. It’s the headliner who brings it home. And if they gotta use the opener in part to do that, they do.

He could have included us in his set, played the big man. We did that all the time with openers who were up and coming and caught the crowd during their set.

We’re brothers-in-guitars, man.

Everybody’s got an ego.

Use yours for good.

[Shakes head again]

Wasted opportunity.

Anyway, we’re done and backstage and we’d all tagged our girls, right? Security knew who to pull from the audience. We had that signal down, sister, let me tell you.

[Smiles]

First thing most of us learned how to do on the tour.

So, Tom’s back in our dressing room with us, and I’m close, ’cause, see, I still have that girl in Indy who I think’s the one and Chicago is close to Indy and she’s with me so I’m bein’ good.

[Grins]

Preach is sitting, holding court, girls all over him, he’s close too.

We both hear a security guy come up to Tom and say the name “Lyla.”

Now my throat kinda constricts. I remember that because it was a weird feeling.

But Preacher…

Preacher’s face goes stone-cold.

Tom looks to Preach, and Preacher shakes his head.

Then Tommy takes off with the security guard and you know, at that time, I’m not her biggest fan. Right?

So, do I give a fuck?

No.

I don’t.

But I forgot, yeah?

I forgot, you do not wrong Preacher McCade, be it through someone he cares about, or