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The venues were always packed, and we make a more than decent living—none of us need a side job to pay the bills, although we all do some session work and take on students from time to time.
Now, we are nearly home and down to the last three shows of the year.Two before Christmas, and the last one on New Year’s Eve.Then, after six weeks in the studio recording our new album, we’ll be back to our regular local gigs until we kick off the new album tour in late spring.
I shudder at the thought of yet another tour.Months on the road with a steady diet of fast food, alcohol, and anonymous sex.
Fan-fucking isn’t really my thing, but who am I to turn down the occasional piece of choice pussy when freely offered?I’m single, and when a quick wank isn’t enough, a little human contact gets me through.
What I really need is some stability in my life.Waking up every morning in my own bed, the love of a good woman, and home-cooked meals.And if said good woman occasionally helps with the cooking?Bonus.
Instead, I’m living the rockstar lifestyle with none of the glamour and a fraction of the money.Our contract with the label is up at the end of the next tour, and I’m not entirely sure I want to renew.
My condo is dark and silent.The loneliness of it hits me hard.
My thoughts drift to another time in another place and the woman I wanted to spend the rest of my life with.
The one I can’t forget.
THREE
Erin
“You’resure it’s okay, Mum?I don’t have to go out tonight.”Maybe it’s guilt by omission that had me hoping my mum would give me an excuse to not go.I’d only told my parents I was going to check out a band.
“Oh, Erin, stop fussing.Of course it’s okay.It’s about time you went out and had a little fun.Chloe can help me make mince tarts.Now, go get ready.”
I head upstairs to shimmy into a pair of black, boot-cut jeans and slip on a paisley blouse before finishing off my outfit with the pearl-grey cashmere cardigan my parents gave me on my last birthday.It’s like wearing a warm hug, and with my nerves jangling, I need all the comfort I can get.
I could just bail and hang out with Molly.Or stay home.I don’t need an excuse.
Why am I so nervous?It’ll be dark, and he sits at the back of the stage behind a massive set of drums.And even if he could see into the audience, he probably won’t recognize me, let alone remember me.
I slide my feet into my well-worn Blundstones.Nobody is going to be looking at my feet, and if I am going to open myself up to an uncomfortable situation, I may as well be wearing a comfortable pair of shoes.
When I finish hugging and kissing my parents and Chloe, dad pulls me aside.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to drop you off and pick you up?”
The last thing I need is for my dad to find out who I’m going to see.The first time I got pregnant, he blamed Mick for nearly ruining my future.Then he blamed Mick for causing me such pain when I miscarried.My dad refused to accept that I was as much to blame.
“I’m sure.Transit this time of night is no big deal, and I’ll grab a cab to Molly’s after and sleep there.”
Dad gives me another hug.“Have a good time.”
Forty-five minutes later, I’m standing in front of Frets.
After a deep breath and a mental pep-talk, I walk inside, pay the cover, and get my hand stamped.
The place is surprisingly full.Apparently, Rogue’s Union is popular among the locals.After scoping out the space, I find an empty table near the front just to the side of the stage.Perfect.
FOUR
Mick
Standingin the back corner just off stage, I survey the room just like I do before every show.
I like to see what kind of people come to hear us play.Are they old, young, preppy, hipster, punk, goth?Then I do a double take and my heart stutters.I probably wouldn’t have noticed the woman sitting at a table off to my right, except she’s alone and looking decidedly uncomfortable.
And she’s a dead-ringer for Erin Zepeda.What are the fucking odds?
