DRASTIC (Book 4 of the Soundcrush Series)

Chapter 64: Drummer Boys Switch Hats

Bodie

I'm standing outside the venue loading dock, flipping my Best Parent's Trophy between my hands, watching two girls pull up in a rented convertible right to the side entrance where the security guard automatically steps forward to them.

I stop fidgeting as the girl in the driver's seat—who is wearing a hat with her hair tucked up inside— turns her head and I recognize her profile. I stare hard at her dirty blonde companion in the passenger's seat.

Well, fuck a duck.

A lucky break, her being here. Maybe that's a sign.

I send the passenger a quick text. I see her look down at her phone, see her typing the reply and looking around. She spots me.

Chili waves at me. I shoot her another text. She looks at her phone, talks to Row, then gives me a thumbs up.

I bow thanks to her with folded hands, but then I put a finger on my lips to let her know to keep it on the DL for a minute, when she goes inside. Chili is always chill; she gives me a furrowed brown and the chin tip to indicate she's got my back.

A shaggy bleached blond haired kid careens past them in a white van, screeches to a halt in front of me and leaps out like there's a fucking house fire. He races toward me with a large expensive duffle bag.

"Thanks for this, man," I tell Garvy as I pull my attention from the girls and take my go-bag from him. "But you can chill a minute," I slap him on the arm as he breathes heavily. Somebody told this kid not to keep the talent waiting and he took it for Gospel.

"Everything good at the hotel?"

"Yes sir. Your suite's set up just like you like it," he assures me. "All your riders are fulfilled. Doc Gor...I mean...Dr. Watkin's dry cleaning came and I put in the closet. The kid's xbox is set up. Your Red Bull is in the fridge. And I picked up your package from the desk and put it in your room in the fridge."

I frown. "I didn't order anything."

"I think Dr. Watkins did. Some super-special arthritis cream. It came from Switzerland on dry ice?"

I look down at my hands. They hurt—all drummers hands hurt on tour, or during an intense period of playing like recording an album—but I don't complain. How in the hell did she know?

She's incredible.

I smile at Garvy. "Thanks, man. Everybody else's shit set up? I mean the band..."

"Yes sir."

"Cool. Why don't you hang here for soundcheck? Grab some food, then see Tig and tell him I said for you to help Darius tilt all my drums ten degrees back towards level. Darius knows how, he'll show you."

"I know how, but really?" His eyes brighten. He's a musician I think, but just a hobbyist. He hasn't set foot on a stage in any capacity.

"Yeah."

Why?" he asks.

I grin tolerantly. Kid hasn't learned not to ask too many question from the talent yet.

The why is two fold. First, I actually do need my drums reset, cause I'm not gonna be the one playin' 'em tonight. Marley is not going to need to find a studio replacement for me. I already found a drummer that knows our whole show by heart.

Chili just agreed to stand in for me for the next three shows, and Row apparently signed off on her absence from Strut business for a few days. Strut is on a press tour right now for the album, but let's face it—nobody ever misses a drummer if we don't show up for the radio spot or the trade mag interview.