exchange appeared to have registered with Sal as he snapped to attention, a new round of invectives flying from his mouth as he screamed that there was no way he’d allow some nobody wannabe half-ass his way through his guitar parts.
Braylin turned away, marching with purpose on stage to follow Zen’s command. Sal could rage all he wanted, but Braylin refused to listen to the insults.
He had a job to do.
Zen struggled to hold onto Sal, more worried he’d chase after Braylin then fall off the stage and break his neck than anything else. He tuned out Sal’s ranting and raving, musing that somewhere deep inside he’d known for a while it would come to this. That someday, they’d be standing in the wings or on stage with a drunken Sal stumbling around and fucking up the tunes. Ruining a show or tour.
A part of him was relieved it had finally happened. While he’d held on to the futile hope that Sal would last the duration of the tour, he now realized what an unrealistic expectation it had been. The US tour would last four months. Then after Rocktoberfest, a two-month break before they hit the road again, playing New Zealand, Australia, Japan then another month in Europe. Sal never would’ve made it.
Zen smiled to himself. Now Braylin had a chance to get up to speed in time for Rocktoberfest. They were filming the show, so it meant Zen no longer had to worry about them sounding like shit for all of posterity. In his fantasies, he’d wondered what it would be like if Braylin was their guitarist instead of Sal, but had decided to let fate call the shots. Thrusting Braylin into the spotlight would be nerve-wracking for his boy—and not how he would’ve preferred it to come about—but he’d be there for Braylin every step of the way.
“Over here!” Gordy called out in his gruff voice, raising it high enough to be heard over Sal’s raging.
Two of the stadium’s beefy security guards ambled over and Zen and Gordy offered up Sal as the sacrifice. Immediately, a struggle ensued with Sal kicking and yelling as the guards easily dragged him away. Zen watched as a huge chapter closed on Glitter Kink’s career. Years of hard work and intense creativity annihilated in an instant.
Yet, that wasn’t entirely true. There had been more years of frustration and stress than fun and exciting ones. The twinge of sadness that hit Zen was quickly replaced with overwhelming relief, with hope for a new stage in Glitter Kink’s story—one that would be filled with different, better times. Even if things didn’t work out between him and Braylin, as long as Braylin wanted to play with Glitter Kink, he’d be welcomed.
Speaking of which…
Zen returned his attention to where it belonged. They had a show to do and an unprepared guitarist who had to be scared out of his mind. The shit Sal had pulled wasn’t fair to Braylin, but Zen felt confident in his boy’s skills. Not that he expected the show to go off without a hitch, but he believed in Braylin.
Gordy leaned in. “Whaddya think? Can the kid handle this?”
“Yeah. I do. He was able to jam with the band on the first day when he was still in the star struck phase. And according to Pete, he can play the new single. We’ll skip the other tunes from Bomb Party to take off some of the pressure.”
A thought occurred to Zen and he turned to Gordy. “Hey, can you write up a new set list? Take out Every Fucking Thing and Your New Paradise then make I Wanna be Your Whip part of the encore instead of at the front. Put the new single there instead. Leave everything else where it is.”
As long as they were taking out two of the new tunes, it would be better to have the recent single in the main set.
“You got it, boss.”
Gordy scurried away, but Zen remained where he was so he could be there for his boy. Otherwise, he would’ve had enough time to go back to his dressing room and put on a new shirt to replace the one Sal had destroyed. He chuckled to himself. The shirts never stayed on that long anyway.
To that end, Zen decided he’d rip it to shreds as he waltzed on stage. Might as well get the party going so the shock of an unexpected change in the line-up didn’t worry the fans. Maybe it would reassure