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“Well, it clearly seems like you’re not aware that Wade is here at the Rocktoberfest event, and he’s been announcing to the world that this would be the site of his reconciliation with Deviant Angel.”
It was a red head that fired that question at him. She was dressed in some gothed out version of classic journalist garb, complete with a tiny black rose hat perched on the top of her heat. It was a little off kilter, probably on purpose, and the glittering black and red glasses she wore just rounded out the show.
“Let me make one thing clear,” Riley said. The only one who wasn’t standing yet was Dez, but with two people between him and their singer, Zakk couldn’t tell what his reaction was now. “Deviant Angel died the day Wade decided he was bigger than the band and his ideas were better than the rest of ours. Wade walked away from us, and it was you people who splashed all of his lies across your websites without ever giving us a chance to tell our sides. Now you’re doing it again.”
“All we’re after is the truth,” someone called out.
“And we’re giving you that!” Zakk yelled. “Dez is our front man. Wade’s just old news. You keep an eye out for what happens if we cross paths at this event.”
He could feel his hands shaking. Even hands clenched into tight fists couldn’t keep the tremors at bay. Damien put a hand on his shoulder and leaned close.
“Tone it down before we get kicked out of the whole event for making threats,” Damien hiss-whispered. He was right, not that Zakk wanted to admit it to himself. For all he knew, he could be barreling headlong into a trap set for them by Wade, with consequences that could affect the band for years to come.
“Dez, we’ve heard rumors about a reconciliation between you and Saint’s Seduction. If Deviant Angel truly intends to….”
“Tattered Angel!” Damien barked; lips so close to the mic that it gave a little screech. “The name of our band is Tattered Angel, and it has been for the last year. You fuckers are unbelievable.”
“If you weren’t paying attention last year, maybe someone should look into pulling footage,” Zakk said. “We blew the people away just like we’re going to do Saturday night. Wade got in a water balloon fight with the fans and crawled off the stage with his tail between his legs.”
“Do you think he deserved it for bailing on you guys that way?”
“Hell yeah!” Damian said.
“Riley, is it true you two used to date?”
“Yeah, do you make it a habit of dating all your singers?
“What, me and Wade? Fuck no. Never.”
Some of the questions came faster than Zakk could register. The one thing that was still concerning to him was that Dez still hadn’t said a word, not that they’d given him the chance to answer the question thatwasdirected at him. All Zakk could see was Riley’s arms resting on the table and Damien’s bare chest since he’d been the only one running so far behind, he never had managed to put a shirt on.
What he could see was the shadow of movement, slow, as Dez rose from his seat. With his height, Zakk could finally see him. He’d been terrified that he’d see a look of hurt and betrayal there. The last thing he’d wanted was to have to reassure Dez where the world could see, especially when some people believed the stories of Dez’s inability to fully connect with a band.
“Here’s some truth for you,” Dez declared. Finally, the barrage of questions silenced while everyone eagerly waited to hear what he had to say.
Truth be told, Zakk was desperate to hear it too and to know, once and for all, that all the doubts had been laid to rest.
“Learn to verify your sources like real journalists do,” Dez told them. “Stop adding fuel to rumors and stop trying to create stories where there aren’t any. I play with Tattered Angel, that’s all you need to know.”
“With your history, what do you expect people to think?” someone in the crowd asked. Zakk was beginning to wonder how many of the people interviewing them were actual fans of the music and how many were just shit stirrers looking for any way to make themselves relevant. It might explain the sheer amount of unsubstantiated bullshit that was being lobbed their way.
“I don’t. They’ve already proved that they can’t. They’d rather be led around like sheep.”
There was a collective intake of breath as the bloggers paused and the photographers flew into a flurry of activity following Dez’s statement.
“Why don’t you ask us what we’ve been working on? Or when the next EP will be released,” Dez said, his voice having grown low and almost cold. “You could ask what our creative process is like. How we write our songs. What bands we might like to tour with. You could ask us anything about the music but that doesn’t really grab people’s attention these days, now does it?”
“Is there gonna be a new album,” someone yelled.
“Yeah, are you writing anything?”
“Will you be performing new songs Saturday night?”
Zakk wanted to roll his eyes at the sheer lack of creativity as they lobbed Dez’s suggested questions right back at them.
“We’ll have a couple surprises in store for you on Saturday, including some new material, so don’t miss the set,” Riley said.
“What about the shred-off?”
