Bam
MY JOB IS supposed to be easy. I’m the drummer. I hit things. I typically stick to drums, cymbals, and the occasional cowbell, however, the last thing I remember hitting was our manager. Things were very cloudy after that. My head was spinning and my ears were ringing louder than they ever had in my life. This, of course, was saying something given that my chosen profession often leaves me ear level with Marshall stacks and floor monitor speakers cranked to ten. Through my blurred vision, I could see my manager and the mystery redhead hovering over me. Chas was clearly pissed, but what was he saying?
I struggled to make sense of the all the words coming out of his mouth, but managed to make out two things very clearly over the ear-splitting din. “RatHound” and “world tour.”
Shit.
As soon as the words registered, I understood exactly what was going on… who the mystery redhead was and how colossally bad I had screwed up. The woman I had just humiliated myself in front of was Lucy Haddon, daughter of Rex Haddon, lead singer and bassist of RatHound. Lucy had recently been made the band’s new manager after the recent announcement of their long awaited reformation.
I sprang to my feet as quickly as I could, and a wave of nausea hit me.
Don’t throw up, dumbass. That’s the last thing you need.
I extended my right hand to Lucy, which ended up six inches to the left off the mark.
“Hey there… uh… pleased to meet you, you’re Bam,” I stammered.
She blinked slowly.
“No wait,” I continued, trying to recover. “I’m me, and you’re Bam.”
Before I could clear my head, she turned on her heels and started to walk, with great purpose, out of the room.
“Wait!” I called.
I took one step forward and my feet instantly gave out from under me. Chas had clearly not pulled back on his punch, and I was likely concussed. It wasn’t the first time and I was already dreading the headache I was going to have in the morning.
“I thought your guys were ready, Chas. Thanks for wasting our time,” Lucy called out over her shoulder without looking back.
“What the fuck was that all about?” Zeke bellowed as he charged toward me. “Like we need more of this viral video shit from you.”
“Back off him, Zeke.” Jimmy shouted, and threw himself between the two of us.
Zeke shoved Jimmy. “Fuck you, man, stop protecting him.”
“He’s already hurt you asshole, just back off!”
By now the crowd around us was swelling with people pouring into the suite from all around the backstage area. Including Sexy Sheila. She pushed her way through the crowd, pulled out her phone and, click. She flashed me a quick smile, and was gone.
I could see the cover of SPIN now. A picture of me on the floor, with my left eye swelled like a cantaloupe, half my band on top of me with the headline: “Maniac redneck drummer storms out of interview and attacks manager in front of rock icon’s daughter.”
“Lucy. Miss Haddon!” I shouted, trying again to scramble to me feet.
I had gotten used to the band being pissed off at me lately, but this was different. I knew I deserved their wrath, and I felt lower than I ever had in my life. RatHound were our heroes. This was the band that made me want to play music for the first time.
“I’m sorry, guys. I didn’t know who she was. How was I supposed to know?” I pulled myself up, my feet shaky.
I steadied my stance and started for the door, pushing my way through the mass of people. Security had already begun removing people from the building and collecting as many cell phones and cameras as they could. It was no use, the story, and likely video of the fight would hit the internet within hours.
I continued to push my way through the hallway, desperately searching for Lucy. I had to find her. I had to somehow explain myself. I could feel the left side of my face getting hotter as the knot above my eye continued to swell. I checked for blood above my eye, but felt nothing.
At least he didn’t cut me.
“Lucy. Lucy! Miss Haddon!” I shouted unsuccessfully. Either she couldn’t hear me, or she was ignoring my pathetic howls… I was guessing the latter. She couldn’t have gotten too far, but the busy backstage area of the theater and the double vision were not making my situation easier.
Having covered most of the theater’s backstage and lobby, I decided to look outside. I found a side door, pushed through it and was met with a cold blast of February air. It felt good on my burning face, but being dressed in only jeans and a t-shirt, stung almost everywhere else. I was ill-equipped for the Washington weather. I ran around to the front of the theater just in time to see Lucy walking down the steps in front of the box office.
“Lucy. Miss Haddon. Stop!” Fuck. I couldn’t see straight and grabbed my head and I walked toward her. “It’s me, Bam Nelson. Please let me explain.”
Lucy continued her quick stride, her kitten heels angrily tapping out a steady cadence. She was now dressed in a bright red wool pea-coat and a white scarf. Her red hair flowed out from underneath a matching white beret. She looked amazing.
“Miss Haddon… Lucy… damn it, woman, stop!” I shouted as a grabbed her shoulders and spun her around.
She faced me with fire burning in her deep brown eyes. “Get your hands off me!” she demanded, and continued her stride.
“Just give me second to explain.”
“I’ve given you far more than a second, Mr. Nelson. I came here tonight to personally extend an invitation for you to join us this summer. I was told that you were on the rise and had your act together. Clearly, I was given bad information.”
She was beautiful beyond words. So beautiful in fact, it was hard to look at her for too long. For some reason, in that moment, I didn’t care about letting the band down or fighting with Chas or TMZ. I only saw the look of disappointment on her face, and I knew I never wanted to see that look again.
“Bam,” I bit out. “Please call me Bam.”
“Mr. Nelson, please get out of my way so I can deliver the bad news to my father. I need to let him know we have to find a new opening act.” Her voice took on a breathy quality to it and she raised her nose slightly, which gave her a regal air.
“Please, don’t do that.” I let out a frustrated sigh. “You have no idea what RatHound’s music means to me. Give me a chance to show you that. What happened back there is not who I am, not who we are as a band.” I tried to sound like my normal confident self, but this woman made me feel very exposed. I couldn’t figure out why I cared so much about what this complete stranger thought of me. It wasn’t just about the gig. I actually cared about what she must have been thinking of me. Chas was way out of line about what he said about me and Melody, but I still shouldn’t have swung at him. I lost control, and that’s something I was trying really hard not to do. “We’d love to do the tour. We’re ready. I assure you we’re ready,” I stressed.
Lucy studied me for a few, tense seconds. “You should know, my parents saw you at the Gunnach Pharmaceuticals Christmas charity concert and said you “blew them away” after only two songs. They knew right then you were the right band to be the support act for the entire summer tour of the US. I was inclined to believe them, but after what I saw back there, there is no way in hell I’m bringing that kind of drama into my father’s world.”
RatHound’s issues with drugs and alcohol in the past were legendary, so I was well aware of her concerns. I took a deep breath and focused on using my charm. “Look. What you saw back there was the perfect storm of a lot of things coming to a head. But I can fix this. I just have a few things going on.”
“Yes, I’m aware of those “things,” Mr. Nelson, the whole world is aware,” she said sarcastically.
My flesh crawled. Last summer, several minutes of video footage of Melody and I fucking like rabbits made its way to the internet. We’d made it together intending to delete it later, but the video went viral quickly and brought a lot of unwanted attention on me and the band. Melody was somewhat used to the attention, and it didn’t really seem to bother her, but it bothered me, and it sure as hell bothered the band.
I tried to change the subject. “Please call me Bam. Mr. Nelson sounds like you’re talking to my dad or something.”
“Mr. Nelson,” she said in what I sensed was her driest “professional” voice. “Let me be very clear.” She paused, for what looked like dramatic effect, and straightened her coat. “Roses for Anna will not be opening for RatHound this summer or on any other subsequent tours. Good evening.”
Good evening? Who was this adorable woman?
She reminded me of a little girl playing dress up in her mother’s coat, pretending to be in the topsy-turvy world or Rock and Roll world of SHOW BUSINESS. But this was no little girl. I couldn’t believe how beautiful she was. Her skin was pale and lightly freckled and her brown eyes were bright and intense. She was sweet looking, but sexy as hell.
“I understand why you’d say that, I really do. I’d probably feel the same way. But if you give me one more chance to make a first impression, you won’t be sorry.”
“That’s not how life works. You don’t get a do-over on first impressions. You screwed up and I’m out of here. Now please don’t waste any more of my time.”
“I get it.” I crossed my arms and raised an eyebrow. “I’m an asshole. It’s clear I can’t change your opinion on that, but please don’t punish the rest of the guys in my band just because I lost it tonight. For their sakes, please meet me for coffee tomorrow morning and hear me out. If you still hate my guts, I promise I’ll leave you alone.”
She paused, and I could see the faintest smile begin to creep up on the right side of her mouth, which she quickly stowed away before speaking again.
“Nine a.m. at the coffee place next to the theater. I’ll give you twenty minutes. Don’t be late… Mr. Nelson.”
She walked away and left me standing alone feeling puzzled by what had just happened… and very turned on. With my half frozen body and my throbbing head, I made my way up the stairs, back toward the side entrance. I needed ice for my head and a drink for everything else.
What was I doing? I couldn’t think about Lucy Haddon right now. I shouldn’t have been thinking about any woman right now, let alone the daughter of the guy who I essentially wanted to work for this summer, and whose band’s music changed my life. I had to get back to the band and Chas right away and let them know about the coffee meeting rescue mission I had set up for the following morning.
I reached the side door and began pounding out a steady, familiar rhythm. Years ago, when we were playing crappy nightclubs, it was a common occurrence for a band member to get locked out of the venue during load in or a smoke break. We’d devised a kind of “secret knock” that we could all bang out in case of such emergencies. It’s pretty amazing how good we all got at hearing that particular knock over all manner of noise.
After a few minutes of my epic door solo, I began to shout. I was freezing in my jeans and t-shirt, and my fingers and toes where completely numb.
“Hey! Let me in! I’m with the band!”
Thump… thump… thump.
“It’s Bam with Roses for Anna, let me the fuck in,” I yelled louder.
Thump...thump.
A few moments later I heard a muffled, yet familiar voice on the other side of the thick metal door.
“Bam? ‘Zat you?” a raspy voice called out.
“Winston? Winston, hey man let me in.”
The door swung open and the man who had been on the road with us since the very early age of the band, stood before me wearing his trademark ratty bell-bottom jeans, red flannel shirt, and an ear to ear grin.
“What the fuck you doin’ out there, brother?” he asked jovially, as he stood aside.
“Trying to change a woman’s mind.” I scurried in, welcoming the overheated air of the backstage area.
“Shit, brother, that’s dangerous work. How’d it go?”
“Well, I’ve only got the one black eye, so there’s that. Where’s the band?” I asked, as I started walking toward the party suite.
“We’re almost packed up.” Winston’s pace quickened in order to match mine.
“Chas got the band on the bus right after whatever the fuck that was that went on earlier. We didn’t know where you were. Chas is flipping out.”
“It’s okay. I’ll take care of him.”
Winston was the only member of our road crew that had been there from the beginning. He saw our very first bar show and said we “had something.” Until then, we were too young to play twenty-one and over venues, so we rehearsed a lot and only played the occasional all-ages show. We didn’t have much stage experience, but we were tight, and took the music very seriously. Winston was a retired roadie who had toured with The Black Crowes throughout the 90s. He said he saw something special in us, but that we were “green as a frog’s bare ass.” He became our Obi Wan Kenobi, and our most loyal friend.
“I hate that limey prick,” Winston said, his raspy voice barely pushing through his thick whiskers. “I heard you hit him? ’Zat true?”
“Yeah, but I shouldn’t have. I lost my cool.”
“Well, good for you anyway. Things haven’t been as fun since he came on board… until tonight that is.”
I could clearly hear in his voice that Winston was smiling from underneath his scraggly mess of a dirty blonde beard that covered most of his face.
We reached the loading dock and could see the band van, and Chas’ car pulling away.
I ran up to the van and banged on its side right as it started to accelerate.
The van screeched to a halt, followed by Chas’ black Bentley. Chas flew out of his car, followed quickly by Zeke and then Jimmy. Edward stayed in the van. I knew the new guy was smart.
“Where the fuck have you been?” Chas demanded.
“Before you say anything, I’m sorry and I’m going to fix this,” I said.
“And how the hell are you planning on doing that, sunshine?” Chas growled.
“Lucy Haddon has agreed to meet with me. We’re having coffee in the morning,” I explained.
“What?” Zeke yelled. “You think we’re going to let you meet with her alone after what you just pulled with Sheila tonight?”
“He’s right,” Chas said. “You aren’t doing a thing, and you’re not meeting with anyone. You’re gonna get your ass in that van and pray that I can fix this.”
Who the hell did Chas think he was? This was my band, not his. I took a deep breath and stowed my anger for the moment.
“I understand how you feel, Chas, but the meeting is set. I’ve smoothed things over for the moment and she’s agreed to meet me for coffee, so that’s exactly what I’m going to do. This is my band, and I don’t need your permission.”
“But you will need a straw for that coffee after I knock all your teeth out.” Chas started toward me when Winston stepped in.
“Hey there brother Chas,” he said in his signature slow, steady tone. “Let’s hold on for one second.”
“Stay the fuck out of this you dirty hippie,” Chas snapped.
They were now standing chest to chest, Chas towering over Winston’s straw-like frame. Winston may have been scrawny, but he’d been around the business as long as Chas and knew how to handle himself. He was also fiercely loyal to the band, hated Chas, and was certifiably insane.
“Sure thing, brother,” he responded coolly. “I’m just gonna need you to go ahead and back away from my drummer first.”
He took one step backward and slowly lifted the front of his “undershirt,” a ratty 2012 European tour t-shirt, revealing a revolver tucked into his jeans waste band.
Just when I thought this night couldn’t get more interesting.