Liam
#WeAreTheMotherFuckingBestBandEver
It’s been two days since Yivi vomited in the restaurant, and she hasn’t been the same since. She’s become withdrawn and quiet, and I’m worried about her. I even had Zoey give her a pregnancy test just in case we messed up during the first time we had sex and were now expecting, but it came out negative.
All I can assume is she’s caught a bug, and it’s taking a little longer to get over than normal. I guess that’s to be expected as she’s been sheltered from the real world most of her life. She’s probably not had the plethora of childhood diseases most of us have been subjected to. If she’s not better by tomorrow morning, I’ll take her to the doctors to get her checked out.
“Are you coming to the concert?” I ask Yivi as she lies on her bunk, reading a book.
Tonight the band are performing in Alabama.
“Of course, why wouldn’t I?” she replies, trying to smile at me, but it doesn’t reach her eyes.
“If you’re still feeling bad, you can stay here and rest. No one will mind.”
She shakes her head. “I’m feeling better today. Just a little tired. I’ll go, and if I feel bad, I’ll come back to the bus.”
“Make sure you get a guard to accompany you. You aren’t to be alone. My detail would be the best choice. I can always double up with the others if necessary.”
“I will.” Yivi looks at the time on her phone. “I hadn’t realized it was time to go. I’m sorry.” She jumps out of bed, and I see she’s already dressed for the concert.
I’m a little happier knowing she feels well enough to come with me tonight. Hopefully it means she’s getting better. I take her hand and bring her to me for a kiss.
“It’s good to see you smiling.”
“I’m sorry.” Yivi’s eyes well with tears.
“Why are you apologizing?”
“Because I worry you so much.”
“Don’t ever apologize for that. I worry about you because I love you.”
“We should go. You’ll be late, and Tate will give your balls to Zoey as earrings,” Yivi repeats the phrase Tate threatened me with earlier. “And I kind of like them attached to your body.”
“Don’t worry, I like them there as well.”
I help Yivi down the steps of the bus, and we greet a few fans who couldn’t get tickets for the concert.
“I’ll be back to sign autographs later,” I tell them, and they cheer and part like the sea in the story of Moses, allowing us to walk through the middle of them toward the venue.
The opening act has finished, and the crew has swapped around the instruments. One of them hands me a new set of sticks. I’m renowned for breaking them. I kiss Yivi on the top of the head before falling silent as the beats in my head take over. I do a quick mental run down of the set list, identifying any solos I have and where I need to go fast or slow.
The lights start to twirl around the stage before going dark. Tate, Austin, Cameron, and I are in a line, and we run to take up our positions. I place my sticks on the drum and count the beat in my head, ready to start. We all come in within a few bars of each other until finally Tate strides purposefully across the stage, singing at the top of his voice.
Water flows deep under the bridge of my soul,
A torrent of emotions twisting to bring me pain,
For I’m a demented devil in disguise,
A plague on the society welcoming me into their world.
No death, no feeling,
In my core I’m numb,
Bring me back to life.
Fire’s rage in the vessel I’ve become,
Twisting me into a bitter pill to swallow,
My mind is never fucking silent,
It’s corrupt against all feelings of hope.
No death, no feeling,
In my core I’m numb,
Bring me back to life.
The air is heavy with the blackness of the night
Promises to myself left to fly away forever,
I can’t be this person anymore,
I want to soar around a world full of love.
No death, no feeling,
In my core I’m numb,
Bring me back to life.
The earth grounds me to the plains of existence,
It gives the feeling of belonging to someone,
But I’m scared of what follows behind me,
One day I’ll be able to enjoy all of you in paradise.
No death, no feeling,
In my core I’m numb,
Bring me back to life.
Bring me back to life.
Tate wrote this song during a particularly difficult time for him after his sister’s death. He was in a very dark place, and I know this song talks about his depression. It was one of our very first hits and resonated with a lot of people. We received so many letters, emails, and social media interactions, thanking us for giving them hope. I’m glad he wrote it.
Maybe Yivi’s right, and I should see if Tate needs any help with song writing if I’m developing a way with words. One day the lyrics I write could be the difference between someone surviving a tough time or not. I’m so glad we have that sort of influence with our music.
“We’re going to speed things up a bit now. Liam, are you ready?” Tate asks, and I hit the drums at a frantic pace. Even though I’ve got a fan blowing directly on me and I’m wearing a sleeveless t-shirt and jeans, I’m already sweating buckets after the first song. The drummer fitness program is the best ever for looking good.
Tate counts us in, and we launch into one of our more edgy songs, during which I have a solo. My head gets lost in the music, my body dancing as I play to the crowd, and I sing along with Tate into the microphone when required. The piece in my ear allows me to hear myself individually as well as the band as a whole.
It reaches the middle of the song, and I’m just about to launch into my solo when I look over to where Yivi is standing, to get a smile of encouragement from her, but she isn’t there. All I can see is my bodyguard. The man Yivi was supposed to take with her if she left the concert.
Worry instantly flitters through me, and I miss a note. To an untrained ear, it doesn’t sound bad. To me, it’s completely off. Cameron must hear it as he looks at me confused. I don’t miss beats. It’s bragging, but I am that good. He must see where my attention’s been drawn because he glances over to the spot where Yivi should be. Tate now turns to face me as Cameron repeats his last set of chords, and Austin automatically follows.
There’s a part of me that wants to run from the stage and check on Yivi to make sure she’s all right, but I know the band will kill me if I do.
Cameron makes his way toward Tate and must tell him what’s going on. Tate raises his eyebrow and looks across at Zoey. I know he feels my dilemma as well. If the shoe was on the other foot, he would want to go after her, but we can’t keep letting the fans down. Yivi’s had a bug, and she’s probably tired.
Reluctantly, I grip my sticks harder and launch into the drum solo when Cameron and Austin finish their repeat. Tate normally rocks out when I play, but out of the corner of my eye, I see him walking off stage. Zoey hands him a towel, and he wipes his face with it before saying something to her. I come to the end of my solo, and Tate returns to the stage and starts singing. Zoey winks at me and runs off with my bodyguard following her.