We’re in New Mexico and everything is lined up for total chaos. I have witnessed self-annihilation my entire life and do not have the capacity to put a romantic slant on drugs. We have the day off and Switch and Calvi keep on exchanging mischievous looks, which can only mean one thing. Arnie also feels what’s in the air and makes an attempt to keep them busy, flipping through his iPad, looking for something to do in New Mexico.

“Aye, how about this,” he says. “The Sandia Peak Tramway, or wait, a history museum. That could be interesting, aye boys?”

“What do you say, Calvi? Want to go to the museum today?” Switch asks sarcastically.

“Oh, that sounds just wonderful,” Calvi answers, matching his sarcasm, then they both break out into laughter.

Arnie throws his iPad to the side and says, “Okay, ya bastards. Do your own thing. Just remember tomorrow comes fast and we have a show to play.”

Our bus stops at our hotel and Arnie hops out to get everything sorted at the front desk. Lael is reading a book in her little corner in the back, trying to ignore us. Every now and then she and I exchange a private glance and a smile, but at the moment she has all her focus on her book and her coffee.

To their credit, Switch and Calvi always seem to be able to dust themselves off and show up for work the next day, no matter what drugs they do or how much they drink. And it’s not like they go on a tear every time we have a day off. Our schedule is too intense and expectations are too high. There’s no way anyone could keep this pace up while getting wasted every other night.

But this isn’t just any day off. We’re in Santa Fe, New Mexico, Switch’s home town. Strangely, And Then has never played Santa Fe so I haven’t been here with Switch before. I have heard the stories, though.

In the past, it seemed to make things worse when I tried to stop Calvi and Switch from partying too hard. They would get defensive. Case in point, at this very moment, Calvi is looking my way, waiting to see how I’m going to react to the impending doom.

“Hey, man, it’s none of my business, as long as you’re ready to go tomorrow,” I say, trying not to rile them up.

“Why don’t you come along? Roar is going to pick us up and take us to the country,” Switch says.

“Roar?”

“Yeah. Fucking Roar. You met him like ten times. The Norwegian guy with the beard,” Switch replies. Testy, testy.

“Right-O, ladies and gentlemen. Here are the room keys. The day is yours, so try to stay out of trouble,” Arnie says as he hands out envelopes to each of us.

We’re all getting our things together when a rather large Viking-type character steps into the bus. We all stop what we’re doing and stare at the imposing figure.

“Roooooar!” Switch yells.

Roar responds with a Viking warrior yell, fists raised and clenched, his eyes wild.

“Oh, right. That Roar,” I say to no one in particular.

The bus seems to get smaller as everyone moves around, greeting Roar. Arnie waits for the moment that Roar moves so he can get off the bus, muttering something under his breath as he goes.

“How have you been, old friend?” Switch asks.

“Good, man,” Roar says.

“Still in the same place?”

“Yup. I thought we would head that way, have a barbecue…I have some new toys to play with.”

“I’m sure you do,” Switch says then gestures to Lael. “Roar, meet Lael, the newest member of And Then.”

“Pleasure,” he says with a polite nod that is at odds with his crazed appearance. He then addresses everyone else. “I hope you all will be coming along.”

Silence follows. I don’t want to go to the country with Roar to play with his new toys, whatever they are. As I’m trying to find the words to get out of this social corner, Lael breaks the silence. “All right. Let’s do this thing.”

I guess I can see how she would be intrigued, or perhaps she couldn’t stand the silence and wanted to be polite. Either way, if she’s going then so am I.

We pile into Roar’s old Suburban with the roof cut off. It takes some effort to get the engine started, but once it gets going he revs it and turns his head back to look at us, laughing like a wild man. Then he looks at Switch in the passenger seat and they exchange more crazed laughter and a fist pump, a sort of primal communication that does not require modern language.

Roar fishtails out of the parking lot, creating a wall of smoke and dust behind us. Their laughter is getting louder, as if they’re competing with the engine.

The journey is shorter than I thought it would be. We barely have time to listen to more than a couple songs of a Metallica album Roar has blazing. The song “Struggle Within,” is playing when he pulls into the dirt driveway and kills the engine.

“Welcome,” Roar says as he climbs out of the vehicle and is promptly greeted by a large Mastiff.

We all climb out except Lael who’s struggling with her seatbelt. Before I do the gentlemanly thing of lending her a hand, I take advantage of her vulnerable state and tickle her.

She laughs, swatting my hands away and goes back to struggling.

“What kind of mess is this?” I think out loud. I press the rusty button but nothing happens.

Roar comes over, scratching his head, and says, “I didn’t know I had seatbelts.” He leans in to look closer and continues, “I mean, this is literally a couch I found that I tied down to the floor, so how the hell is this possible? Hang on. Hey, Switch, can you grab the knife in the shed?”

“Knife?” Lael asks with big eyes.

“The big one,” Roar shouts to Switch.

“Okay…” Switch says, walking into the rickety shed.

Lael and I are looking at each other with equal parts amusement and fear.

“Seriously, how did you manage to do that?” Switch asks, pulling down on the back of the couch and looking behind to where she could have possibly retrieved the old seatbelt.

I can feel my phone vibrating in my pocket, so I pull it out to see who’s calling.

Ronald Ramsey flashes on my screen.

Oh boy, I say to myself, stepping away from Lael who is strapped to a death machine.

I answer. “Ronald.”

“I thought I would check in to see how you’re taking care of my daughter,” he says, his voice just as brusque over the phone as it is in person.

“She’s good, no problems at all,” I say as Roar begins to lower a large machete to her seatbelt, Calvi and Switch standing over them as if they are in a surgery observatory.

“Look. I’m hearing things, bad things, some things I don’t like,” Ronald says.

“Well, I don’t know, Ronald. You can’t believe everything you hear.” I try to sound as casual as possible while my mind flips through the Rolodex of all the things he could have heard.

“I heard Lael on the radio. Why is she doing press?” Ronald asks. Roar is violently sawing away at the seatbelt, putting his weight into it as he leans over Lael. Calvi and Switch adjust themselves to get a better view of what’s happening.

“Oh, that. Right, fine, no more press. No problem, Ronald. Won’t happen again,” I answer as the seatbelt snaps and Roar and Lael fall over with the couch. I rush forward to see if she’s okay but the sound of her laughing is the evidence I need, so I back off so Ronald can’t hear the commotion.

“And the bus. This one amazes me. Seriously, Brad, if this is true…I’m hearing that her bus is traveling empty and she’s traveling in your bus.”

“What?” I answer, trying to sound innocent.

“Don’t fuck around,” he snarls. “This fucking tour is something she needs to do and I’m letting her do it so she gets it out of her system. Don’t let her get carried away, got it? When this tour is done, she is done. I don’t want her spending her life around people like you. No offense.”

“Um,” I say, slightly offended.

“Look, Brad, I’m thinking long-term, and for her, it’s just not a good life. It’s different for you,” Ronald says.

Bang-bang-bang.

The deafening sound of a firearm rings through the air.

“What the fuck is that?” Ronald asks.

“Hold on,” I tell him quickly, rushing around the corner of the shed to see Lael with a massive gun pressed against her shoulder.

Bang!

She fires and an old television falls over about a hundred feet away.

“Um,” I say into the phone, “we’re at the history museum. There is some war re-enactment thing, sorry about that.”

“We? Is Lael with you?”

“No, no, she’s back at the hotel. She said she wanted to stay in and read her book.”

“Yeah, well, don’t forget there are lots of young people that can play guitar and sing, but there aren’t many who have the most successful record company in America supporting them. I support you, Brad. You know this. But…if something happens to Lael, I will drop you and make sure no else picks you up. From now on she rides in her own bus and she doesn’t do press. Don’t fuck around.”

Ronald hangs up.

Lael turns to me and asks, “Who was that?”

I dive for cover because she is carelessly pointing the firearm directly at me.

“Whoa, easy there,” everyone says at once. Roar takes the gun away before she can do any damage.

“No one,” I tell her, not wanting to upset her in case that gun gets back into her hands.

Over the next few hours we hang out in the sunshine taking turns shooting televisions and beer cans, ripping around on Roar’s homemade dune buggy, and just lying around being lazy. There is a large trough full of beer that everyone helps themselves to, everyone except me. Even at this stage of my life my own friends treat me like an alien when I’m not drinking.

Sometimes I feel like I don’t drink now for the same reason I drank my face off in my teens and early twenties—rebellion. Whether it’s a business meeting, a family function, or just watching a movie, if you don’t have a drink in your hand people judge you. But I can’t be feeling like a dirty dishcloth when I’m performing for a sold-out arena. I don’t mind when the gang gets wasted—well, until I do. Today, anyway, at Roar’s sunny little compound, I don’t mind that my mates are letting loose. They work hard and they deserve it.

Lael is having a ball. I can barely see her face behind her large sunglasses, but she’s clearly happy.

And always near.

She’s only had a few drinks but when she talks to me her voice is at a slightly higher pitch and she’s playing with her hair.

“Do you think I should cut my hair off?” she asks me, twirling a strand around her finger.

“No way,” I answer.

“Why not?”

She’s fishing for a compliment, I know it. “Well, you’re young and hot so I’m sure—no, I know, you could get away with it if you really wanted to, but your hair is a part of your look. It’s your signature.”

Lael smiles at that, appeased. “Do you want to take a stroll?”

“Sure, I’ve been lazing around long enough,” I say with a sigh.

We get up and head toward a trail opening as I yell back to the fellas, “We’re heading back into the wilderness, don’t shoot us if you can help it.”

Roar has a rather large piece of land, and walking down this trail reveals its diversity. This little nature walk is doing me well. No buzzing amplifiers, no buses, no invasive fans. I can only hear our footsteps and the occasional bird.

And, of course, Lael. I’ve already discovered that she has the gift of gab and apparently when she has a few drinks in her, this is amplified. She’s clutching my arm as we slowly make our way down the trail, the sandy path lined with sagebrush, the sky above a clear blue, while she chats away with little to no direction.

I enjoy spending time with Lael. She’s just so easy to be with. She’ll even take the liberty of answering her very own questions that she asks me. I walk, listen, smile.

And hold her hand.

She was holding my arm, but that seemed more of a way for her to keep her balance. This is different. I’m suddenly overwhelmed with a foreign feeling.

Lael has stopped talking and breathes in slowly while taking in her natural surroundings. If the handholding bothers her, she doesn’t show it.

“So what is the deal with you and Lindsay?” she asks.

I shouldn’t be surprised she’s asking about that since we’ve talked about everything else, but I’m wondering if I detect a hint of jealousy in her voice.

“Lindsay? She’s a friend,” I answer.

“She’s very pretty,” she notes.

“Your father and his team like to make it look like we have a relationship for the press,” I tell her. “That’s all there is.”

“I guess I knew that, I just thought maybe there was something there. Though I can imagine it would be tricky having a girlfriend with your lifestyle.”

“I guess so,” I say with a shrug. It’s something I try not to think about.

“So, who was the last one?”

“The last what?”

“Girlfriend, silly. You’re Brad Snyder. I’m sure you’ve had a few.”

“Not really,” I tell her, wanting to be completely honest. “I mean, I’ve had women in my life but never anything that serious. I’m constantly on the road, and you’re right, it would be hard having a real, meaningful relationship with this life.”

She stares at me for a moment, and I can feel her eyes searching me underneath her sunglasses. “Okay, who is she?” she asks wryly.

“What do you mean?” I say as I catch Lael from a little stumble over a rock.

“The bitch that broke your heart,” she says.

I laugh and try to think of who that might be. The simple truth is I haven’t let anyone get close to me. I’m surrounded by fans who are trying to get as close as possible, but I know better than to get caught up with one of them. I’ve had a few relationships with women that are in show business, but deep down they’re all narcissistic socialites that inherently use people. I’ve learned the hard way to stay away from them.

But even though I laughed when Lael asked the question, I can’t help but give it some thought. I keep thinking of my fans as one person, as if my relationship with them as one collective unit is a healthy meaningful relationship. Clearly that doesn’t count. In my line of work, you have to protect yourself and that’s what I’ve been doing my entire career. Before life with Ramsey Records I was basically a kid trying to survive. I don’t think I’ll ever stop doing that.

It’s sobering walking along this trail with Lael, no press, no fans, only nature and the truth. I want to be open with her and answer her question, but I can’t think of a defining moment, so I turn it around and ask her.

“How about you? Who broke your heart?”

She sighs, kicking a rock. “I dated the same guy through private school. We split up afterward but there were no tears when we said goodbye. He was a nice guy and all, but that’s where it ended. You know how it goes.”

We stop walking along the dusty trail and stand facing each other. There’s a patch of brush beside us where birds sing and chirp, and we look at each other in a quiet standoff, our expressions natural, our breathing slow.

Lael glances at me over her glasses, looking inherently innocent.

“Who knows,” she says softly. “Maybe you’re the one who will break my heart.”

Silence hangs in the air as I search for the words.

“Relax,” she says, smirking. “I’m messing with you. Can you believe this place?” she asks and turns away from me to look at this little desert oasis we stumbled upon. Lael walks off the trail to explore the area, letting her open hand graze over the top of the grass.

“When do you stop?” she asks, glancing at a bird flying past.

“What do you mean?” I ask as I follow her meandering route.

“You’re always on. You always seem to be Brad Snyder the rock star. When are you just Brad Snyder?” Lael pauses at an overlook that looks down over some rocky crevices.

I breathe in slowly and consider her question. “I don’t know. If I seem that way it’s because a lot of people are listening and I have to be careful.”

“Yeah, and I’m the only one listening to you right now. There are no photographers, no microphones, and you’re just a guy lucky enough to be here with me.” Lael puts her hand on her hip in a display of sass. “Have you stopped now?”

“Yes,” I tell her, though it’s a tricky thing to figure out.

“Hmmm,” she muses. “I don’t know if you have. Lie down.”

“Lie down?” I question.

“Do it!” she says, poking me in the ribs. “I want to try something. See if you can just be.”

I put my arms up in submission. “Okay,” I tell her, looking around until I see some flattened grass. We both get down until we’re on our backs and we stare at the midday blue sky.

“I know it’s hard to stop and just be in the moment, but we must. We’re here and then we’re gone,” Lael says softly as she starts running her hand over my hair. I close my eyes.

“That’s pretty deep for a nineteen-year-old,” I tell her.

“Twenty-one,” she corrects me.

I keep my eyes closed and ask her the same question. “What makes you stop? You know, being on. What makes you stop and be you, be in the moment?”

“I don’t know. I love my dog,” she says. “Maybe when I’m petting my dog I stop.”

“Is that what you’re doing right now?” I ask, referring to her running her hand through my hair.

She laughs and answers, “No, but I have to admit I’m very much in the moment right now.”

“Me too.”

“I believe you. It’s good to feel good,” Lael says, and nestles into me. We just lie there and say nothing for a while. My eyes are closed. Her scent is a mixture of whatever products she uses in her hair and fresh, dry air. I’m thinking of nothing, and I don’t have a worry in the world. I run my hand up and down her arm and fight back some familiar primal feelings, as this isn’t the time for that kind of intimacy. This is a sweet moment and I don’t want to ruin it.

I’m calm, I’m happy, I’m in the moment. Everything stops and I fall asleep.

Pssst.

Pssssst.

I open my eyes to see the light has changed. I must have really dozed off. Lael is in my arms sleeping. It would be a peaceful moment, but it’s Roar that woke me up. I look up at him and he motions for me to stay where I am.

“Don’t. Move,” he says in a concerned whisper.

Before I can question why, I hear the unmistakable sound of a rattlesnake.

I don’t move a muscle.

Then Lael wakes and begins to make a stretching motion.

Roar swoops in with a stick and pins the snake down. It’s dangerously close to us. I reach over and grab it near the head, making it impossible for its venomous fangs to make contact with my skin.

“Ahhh!” Lael screams and scrambles to her feet before scurrying away from the flailing snake in my hand.

Snap! Another snake strikes and misses Lael as she runs through the tall grass.

“This way, come on!” Roar shouts, running toward the trail as Lael follows.

“What do I do with this?” I ask, referring to the ravenous snake in my hand. I have no experience with reptiles and I’ve gotten myself into quite the situation here.

“Throw it!” Roar yells.

“Throw it?!” I would like to say I’m concerned for the snake’s safety, but the truth is I don’t see how it won’t try and bite me the moment I relax my grip. “I have never handled a snake before!” I yell back, frozen in fear.

“Well, how the hell did you end up with one in your hand? You looked like a fucking professional when you grabbed the thing!” Roar shouts back.

“I don’t know, man. I just reacted, and now I don’t know what to do!” To say that I’m panicking would be an understatement.

“Throw it!” Roar shouts again.

“I can’t!”

Roar mumbles something and heads back toward me.

“Look, just set it down, point it away from you, and let it go.”

“Okay.”

“Okay!”

I bend over, and to Roar’s credit he’s right beside me, speaking in a calming whisper. “Okay, you ready? Yeah? Now just let it go, man. Just let it go.”

Snap! Another snake strikes from within the brush, and as quick as a wink Roar once again pins it down with his stick.

“Ahh, grab it, grab it!” His high-pitched Norwegian accent has the sound of genuine fear.

“What?” I question.

“Last time you grabbed it!”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” I ask. “I just said I don’t know what I’m doing!”

“Oh my god, it’s coming for my leg. The stick isn’t working! Ahhhh!”

“Ahhh!” I join him and we yell cowardly together.

Without thinking, I grab the snake with my free hand.

“Thank you, thank you, Brad,” Roar says, breathing hard, his eyes wide with fear and relief.

“Well, fucking hell,” I say, trying to keep both snakes as far from my body as possible. “What the fuck do I do now?!”

“Let go of them. But let me get a head start,” he says, turning around and running back along the trail to his house.

“Oh fuck that! Coward!” I muster up some courage and run through the grass following him while both snakes slither and whip themselves back and forth, wrapping around my forearms.

I don’t stop when I see Lael, I keep on running with my arms high in the air and snakes in hand. I run along the trail all the way back to the house with Roar and Lael close behind me.

When I get there I see there are at least twenty people hanging out in the back area.

“I could use a little help here!” I shout to the small crowd, showing them the angry snakes.

“That’s Brad Snyder!” someone shouts.

“And he has rattlesnakes in his hands!” someone else yells.

Everyone oooohs and ahhhs as if I’m Alice Copper and this is my theatrical entrance. I try and quickly explain my situation without ruining my sudden mystique when a young bohemian girl steps out and gives me a dirty look.

“You’re hurting them.” She carefully takes them from me and walks far into the brush, disappearing. I don’t get her name but that girl is my fucking hero.

Lael sidles up to me with wide eyes. I glance at her, my chest rising and falling from being out of breath, the adrenaline pumping through my veins. Better that than snake venom.

“Okay, I am totally in the moment now,” I tell her.

She gives me a broad smile and a quick hug.

Roar comes in and hugs the two of us, then lets us go and says, “I have never seen that, my friend. I mean, first, I have never seen someone take a nap in the middle of Rattlesnake Valley. Seriously, guys. There are like hundreds of snakes out there. Second, I have never seen a guy run full-tilt waving snakes around like a wild man. You really are a rock star, Snyder.”