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“There were a few terrifying moments, not that they registered that way when they happened,” Dez admitted. “We got there, checking into this cheap ass motel that I swear, should have been the kind of place that charged by the hour. He was nervous, the auditions were the following day, so we did the whole, let’s explore and check shit out thing, until we were exhausted enough to crash.”
“Sounds reasonable,” Zakk remarked, steadily trying to determine if Dez was stalling or just setting the stage for the main event.
“There was this flyer, well, the print-off anyway, that he’d been carrying around in his wallet. It said that auditions would start at ten the following morning. We were up at six, trying to get to the continental breakfast before all the good stuff was gone.”
Chuckling, Tripp leaned back a little, fingers lightly caressing the wooden side of Dez’s guitar. “I remember those days. The little Danishes and coffee cakes are always the first things to go.”
“No shit and they know that too, so why they don’t stock more is beyond me.”
“Exactly.”
“Once we’d stuffed ourselves, we decided to head down there, maybe check out the neighborhood and stuff since who knew when or if we’d ever have the chance to visit Chicago again. Turned out there was already a line forming. So, he got in it, and I was gonna wander a little before keeping him company, only, as I’m turning to walk away, he said it was a good thing I didn’t have the guts to give it a shot, ‘cause now it was going to be infinitely easier for him to blow them away. I should have seen it for what it was, him trying to bolster his own courage, ‘cause shit had just gotten real, and we were there, and there was nothing left but the waiting.”
“Only…. you didn’t.”
“Nope. And the rest is history.”
Chapter 13
Bonding exercises: twin style
“Alright, bro, it’s just you and me, and these.” Winter declared nudging a snowboard in Tripp’s direction.
Tripp grabbed it out of reflex, staring down at it in disbelief. “And what are we going to do with these in the desert.”
“Sand surf.”
Vaguely, Tripp recalled Zakk mentioning something about sand surfing, but at the time he was certain the lingering anesthetic fog had distorted the words.
“If I wanted to take a tumble down a hill of sandpaper, I’d…” Tripp began, scratching his head when he couldn’t come up with a metaphor to match the visual in his head.
“Take rock salt to one of your tattoos?”
Cringing, Tripp stared at Winter. His brother’s mind was always an intriguing place, a little dark and to the left of the way most people thought, but it was part of what made Winter so creative. That, and his unabashed way of saying whatever the hell was on his mind, even when others might not be ready to hear it. It took a type of courage Tripp, in his longing to placate others and avoid conflict, lacked. No, he was the one the band sent when tact was required. And Winter was the one they sent when being nice wasn’t getting the point across.
“Here, put this on.”
Tripp barely caught the long-sleeved shirt before it smacked him in the face. Black, in the desert. He fought the urge to roll his eyes as he struggled into it while still holding on to the board. He popped his head through the neck hole to see Winter bouncing on the balls of his feet, looking as excited as he had the first time they’d gone snowboarding.
Their snowsuits had been so puffy they’d waddled like penguins, trudging through the snow between their sisters. The hill had seemed impossibly tall to him at that age, and it was different from when their sisters had pulled them to the top on sleds. He remembered careening down that hill, arms flapping as he tried to stay upright, while Winter rolled past, board lost somewhere around the mid-point. He’d looked like a yeti with the snow clinging to his face and clumped all over his suit.
“What’s so funny? We haven’t started falling yet.”
Snickering, Tripp shook his head at his brother. “Don’t worry about it.”
“Then come on, we’re burning daylight.”
Tripp let Winter lead him out into the sunshine and growing warmth of the morning, the dunes just a short trek in an ATV. Tripp took a moment to take it all in, from the high ones to the shorter mounds.
“Let’s do this!”
Winter rushed up the first dune, sand sliding out from beneath his feet. He face-planted twice before reaching the top, laughing, and shaking the sand from his hair. Tripp followed far more cautiously, trying to pick the best path up the sand hill. It didn’t keep him from sliding or being as dusty and sand-covered as Winter when he reached the top.
By then, his brother had slipped his feet into the bindings on his board and was busy tightening them.
“You’ve done this before, haven’t you?” Tripp asked as he sat beside him and went to work attaching his own board to his feet.
“Only on snow.”
