I walked into a club, getting ready for my job as a stagehand. I worked with the guitarists, loading their stuff out of their vans and buses and setting it up inside. I just worked with random small rock and metal bands around town. I've been working a lot lately, more and more metal bands sprouting around the San Francisco Bay Area.
"Hey there, Angel!" one of the bartenders, Sammy, waved from behind the counter. Sometimes I like my name, sometimes I don't. My parents named me that when I was born, cause I had the brightest blue eyes and the lightest blond hair, unlike my parents, who both have dark brown hair. I'd honestly say I'm more of a devil though.
(𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘐 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘪𝘮𝘢𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘺'𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸, 𝘢 𝘣𝘪𝘵 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥-𝘪𝘴𝘩 𝘪𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘐 𝘮𝘦𝘢𝘯)
𝗖𝗥𝗘𝗗𝗜𝗧 𝗧𝗢 𝗪𝗛𝗢 𝗘𝗩𝗘𝗥 𝗧𝗛𝗜𝗦 𝗕𝗘𝗔𝗨𝗧𝗬 𝗜𝗦
............................................................................
"How's it goin' Sam?" I asked, sitting down at the bar as she handed me a beer.
"Oh, y'know. The usual. Who's playing tonight?"
"Eh, I think it's just some small local band." I shrugged, taking a drink of the beer.
I saw what looked like a band walk in, a couple of dudes dressed in denim and leather. They went behind the stage to get ready, and me and a few of the others went outside to their van.
I picked up one of the amps, and carried it inside, up the steps, and onto the stage where I set it up. I repeated that a few times with the other equipment. For some reason, I felt like someone was watching me the whole time. A dude probably in his way 30's, wearing a simple black shirt and jeans. Nevertheless, I continued to load all the gear in, doing the best I could to haul all the heavy gear.
We finished getting everything inside, and I was hooking the guitars and amps up when that guy walked up to me.
"You one of the stagehands?" he asked, looking down at the amps I was plugging in.
"Uh, yeah. For a while now, I work with the club." I nodded, standing up and turning to him.
He held out his hand, and said, "I'm Mark Whitaker, I'm looking for roadies and guitar techs for a band I'm managing. What's your name?"
I shook his hand, pretty confused.
"Oh uh, Angel. A roadie? I don't know, What band is it?"
"A little thrash band you may have heard of, Exodus."
My eyes widened in surprise and my jaw just about dropped. Exodus? 𝘛𝘩𝘦 Exodus? They've really just started getting popular, but they're definitely well known around here. They recently released Bonded By Blood, which is an 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘢𝘯𝘦𝘭𝘺 great album.
"Exodus, really?! I-I don't know."
"Well, we're getting pretty desperate for roadies, and you seem to be stronger than even some of the dudes here." he chuckled. Damn, okay, I just might have to take this. It's the opportunity of a lifetime.
"Well, I don't know. I have this job here, but that sounds so fuckin' cool." I was torn between two options. I could either stay with this job I've had for almost two years now, where I know everyone and everything, or I could be a roadie for one of my favorite up-and-coming bands.
"If you change your mind, here's my number. Call before the end of the week, the 28th, that's when the tour begins." he said, taking a card out of his pocket
"Wait..." I said before he handed it to me.
"I'll do it. I'll join. How long is the tour?"
His face lit up. "Almost three months. You could come by and meet the band beforehand if you want?"
"That's nice, but I've gotta deal with work for the last remaining days I'm here. Thank you though, I'm sure it's gonna be great." I smiled in excitement, thinking about how I was gonna tell my boss I was quitting.
"Alright then, here's my card anyway, if you have any questions you can call." he nodded, before walking out the building.
Wow! I was actually gonna be working with Exodus! This is a dream come true.
♡♧♢♤
The days leading up to the 28th flew by, and before I knew it, I had my bags packed and I was waiting to be picked up by the band in their bus. I nervously paced back and forth across my floor, racking my brain trying to figure out what I should say to try and make a good first impression. 𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘥𝘰 𝘐 𝘴𝘢𝘺? 𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘬 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘐'𝘮 𝘴𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘢 𝘩𝘶𝘨𝘦 𝘧𝘢𝘯! 𝘕𝘰, 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵'𝘴 𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘦𝘴𝘺. 𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘬 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘰𝘱𝘱𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘶𝘯𝘪𝘵𝘺. 𝘌𝘸. 𝘕𝘰, 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵'𝘴 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘮𝘢𝘭. 𝘜𝘨𝘩, 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘥𝘰 𝘐 𝘥𝘰?! My racing thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door. "𝘚𝘩𝘪𝘵." I jogged over and opened the door, to see Mark standing there with the bus in the background.
"Hey, sorry we're a bit early, there was some schedule changes, but everything's fine now I think." he seemed stressed out by something. It was probably just band stuff that I don't know anything about.
"No no, you're fine, I started getting ready extra early." I assured, dragging my suitcase and bag down the porch to the bus. I've been up since 4:15AM, making sure I had everything ready to go. This was gonna be the longest I've ever spent away from my home. Saying I was nervous was an understatement. I wanted to make sure I was dressed nice too. One of my old worn out Sex Pistols tank tops, acid wash, Jean shorts, combat boots, a studded belt and chain wallet, and a few chain necklaces and bracelets. My hair was brushed out, and I just had some simple smudged black eyeshadow and red lipstick. I didn't think I looked half bad
We made our way inside the bus, where the band and a few other people were. As soon as I stepped foot in the bus, I felt the tension inside. I saw Gary Holt on the phone, arguing with Paul Baloff and another roadie. Mark saw the confused look on my face, and said;
"Eh, there's been some problems with the venue we're going to play at. Scheduling things, and just the place in general. I guarantee it's gonna be shut down any day now, it's run by like, one twenty year old dude who has no idea how to take care of a business." He rolled his eyes.
"Oh, damn." I could tell this was gonna affect the rest of the night severely.
Mark introduced me to the remaining band members who weren't also trying to deal with the situation. Rob McKillop, Rick Hunolt, and Tom Hunting. They were really nice, but I could also tell they were kind of stressed out at the moment. I felt bad, I wanted to help in some way, but what could I possibly do?
In the meantime, Mark showed me around the bus, telling me about the instruments the band played and what to do with each one. I guess I wasn't just gonna be dealing with guitars. He said I was mostly gonna work with Gary, helping him hook his stuff up before the shows. He also told me I'd be bunking with him, which didn't do anything to help calm my nerves.
After a pretty long bus ride, we pulled up behind some shabby club in a small, busy, and yet shitty town.
"Hm. Even worse than I expected." Gary shook his head in disbelief as we all looked at the building. I heard some of the conversations happening over the phone earlier, and I can say, whoever the hell runs this place needs some education and discipline.
"Holy shit, are those rats?!" Rob laughed as he pointed to a spot near the worn out door. Sure enough, there were two rats that darted inside the club from a small hole in the wall. 𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘢 𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘵 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘸.
I saw Mark talking with Gary about something, he gestured over to me and they both walked over.
"Gary, this is Angel. New guitar roadie, and your new bunkmate." I nodded my head and smiled kind of nervously.
He looked down at me, kind of confused.
"You look a little young, you sure this is safe for her?" he turned to Mark, who's face kind of fell.
"I-I mean, how old are you again?" he asked, knowing damn well he never asked my age in the first place.
"I uh, I turn 19 in about two and a half months." I said, feeling a little anxious now. Shit, is there some sorta age limit for being a roadie? Gary's eyes widened in surprise.
"Huh. Whatever, as long as Mark's cool with it we are too." he shrugged, walking to the front of the bus.
"Alright roadies! Load out!" Mark called, all the roadies, including me, walking out of the bus and starting to haul things inside. The band and everyone else went inside to talk more with the owner of the place. Unloading was easy at first, until the rats started getting in the way. I feel like they were trying to fuck with us on purpose, running under our feet back and forth. And loose floorboards on the ground didn't help. After a few trips, I heard another argument coming from inside. Gary, Mark, Tom, and who I assumed to be the owner of this place were all yelling at each other. Stuff about scheduling errors, lighting problems, and how the place and people were just shit in general. The owner dude, who in fact did in fact did look like a total bonehead, started blaming all the errors and problems on the band.
"You didn't say you were gonna be here today, you said it was next week!" he shouted.
"Are you kidding me?! 𝘠𝘰𝘶 were the one who rescheduled us for the 50th damn time to play tonight!" Gary shouted back at him.
"I think you guys need to get your shit straight." bonehead rolled his eyes before starting to walk away.
"𝘞𝘦 need to get our shit straight?! Listen to yourself, the business you run is a pigsty! Don't just walk away man!" Gary yelled, following him down the hall. Mark shook his head and sighed.
"I don't know why he's giving Gary so much shit, that guys fucking lost it." he sighed. "Great fucking start to our first show of the tour." he shook his head, walking off to a different room. I sighed as well, before going back out to help move the rest of the things inside.
God damnit, it's really getting dark outside. I couldn't see shit. Next thing I had to move in was Gary's guitar and one of his amps. I carried the amp with both hands, the guitar resting on top.
"Hey, go bring that backstage." another one of the roadies said, pointing inside. I nodded, trying to avoid loose boards and rats on my way up the stairs.
I made it inside, and I spotted a small staircase leading to backstage. Despite the fact it looked old, steep, and worn out, I still decided to try and climb it. The first few made some strange creaking noises I tried not to worry about. The cargo in my hands seemed to be getting heavier and heavier by the second. I almost made it to the top, before I felt something weird and fuzzy graze the back of my foot. Oh my God, a fucking rat. I jumped in surprise, and the sudden movement caused the stair I was on to collapse under me. The amp and guitar in my hands fell out in front of me, and though I desperately tried to catch them, it was no use. I fell to the ground with a thud, along with the other things. I felt a sharp pain in my lower calve, but it didn't matter right now. I picked myself up off the ground and rushed over in front of me.
"No no no no, please don't be broken, please." I begged, looking over at the guitar.
𝙎𝙝𝙞𝙩.
The fucking head of the guitar was snapped off, along with a few other dents along the body.
"Oh my God, c'mon you piece of shit, you've gotta be kidding me!" I couldn't believe it. First damn day on the job and I already ruined one of my favorite musician's instruments. I felt the guilt and anger rising inside of me, my cheeks burning and my stomach churning. I held the two pieces of the smashed guitar in my hands, almost hoping they'd magically reform.
To add insult to injury, of course, Gary and Rick walk in, along with a couple other roadies.
"What's all that noise in he- Jesus Christ, what the fuck happened?!" Gary saw his guitar in my hands, and his amp on the floor, which luckily seemed to be in good condition.
"I-I'm so sorry, it wasn't my fault! The fucking floorboards, a-and the rats, and-"
"God 𝘥𝘢𝘮𝘮𝘪𝘵! What a fucking day!" he yelled, a hand running through his hair as he marched out of the room.
I almost felt like I was gonna cry. Which I never usually do. Rick kneeled down next to me with a look of sympathy on his face.
"It's alright, it was an accident." he said, placing a hand on my shoulder.
Even though his words were very kind, I was still pissed off.
"It doesn't matter that it was an accident! This is fucking awful! My first damn day on the job and I fuck up 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 badly? After working as a stagehand for almost two years you'd think I'd be better at this shit!" I was borderline freaking out.
"Hey, hey, it's okay, there's spares he
can use." he shrugged.
I just sighed. "Yeah, but this has already been a horrid day for him, I just made it worse by doing this." I said, my voice almost sounding close to breaking.
"Once he cools down later, you can explain to him what happened, he'll understand." he reassured, before someone called him out front. He smiled sympathetically before walking out. The other roadies already went to bring everything else inside, and I was left to get together and clean up the mess I made.
There was some empty room down the hallway that I put the guitar in. All I could hear was muffled talking from the people outside. I leaned against the wall, trying not to let my emotions get to me. I don't really get upset over anything, but THIS is completely different. The only thing I wanted to do was impress one of my favorite bands and do a good job for them, and all I did was make a fool of myself. I was thinking about how I'd ever show my face again, and if I should just stay in this dirty, dingy room forever, when I heard a knock at the door.
I took a deep breath, walking over and opening it. Mark stood there, looking quite concerned and confused.
"Uh, Gary said his guitar got broken?" he said, looking at the table I set it on.
"I-it's a long story." I mumbled, trying not to sound too quiet. "I don't know if you'd believe me anyways, it's borderline fucking comical how it happened." I tripped over a rat and the stairs collapsed under me. How realistic.
"It's fine, I got time."
I sighed. "Okay, fine. This place is a fucking shithole, right?" he nodded.
"Well, I was trying to bring his guitar and an amp in, and I had to bring them backstage. When I tried climbing the stairs, a rat ran under me, and I kind of jumped in surprise, and the shitty old stairs collapsed and I fell. Everything I was carrying got flung out in front of me." I said, waiting for him to fire me on the spot.
Instead, he started laughing.
"W-what?" I almost started laughing myself, not having a clue what was going on.
"Don't worry, I believe you. The amount of rats in here is fucking stupid. And I saw the stairs, I just didn't know that's how they broke." he chuckled. I let out a sigh of relief.
"So I'm not fired?" I asked quietly.
"Of course not! We have spare guitars, it's fine."
Even after his nice words of reassurance, I still felt horrible. "I know, I know. But I just feel awful, today was awful for him and I made it 100 times worse." I said, trying not to let the emotion in my voice show.
"Well, I could talk to him about it if you'd like?"
I sighed. "No, let him cool off. I don't wanna make things worse."
"Alright. Just let him play it off, it'll be just fine. I gotta head out there, they'll be on in a few." he gave one more smile of reassurance before stepping out of the room. I glanced down at the ruined guitar, before sighing again and picking it up, walking out of the room as well.
I saw the band behind the stage, talking with Mark. But I couldn't see Gary. I scanned the room, trying to catch sight of him, when I saw him sitting on some old wooden chair near the wall. He had what I was guessing was the spare guitar in his lap, as he quietly tuned it. I wanted to go over there and say something, but I just couldn't bring myself to do so. I was too scared of saying something wrong, so I just walked away towards the exit. On my way out, I could've sworn I felt eyes burning into the back of my head, but I still didn't turn around. I just made my way to the bus, broken guitar in hand.
When I entered, I was alone. I guess everyone else stayed inside for the show. I set the guitar pieces on a seat, and sat down on another. I leaned my head against the back of the seat, trying to convince myself everything would be fine. All I could hear was the blood rushing through my veins, and the distant sound of metal from in the club. If it were any other day, I'd be inside there watching and cheering along. But now that I know I'm not getting fired, I have chances to watch them play later. As I sat, trying to clear my mind, I felt a small pain shoot through the back of my leg. I glanced down, and saw my leg cut and bleeding. 𝘖𝘩, 𝘴𝘰𝘯 𝘰𝘧 𝘢 𝘣𝘪𝘵𝘤𝘩!
I'm guessing it happened when I fell through the stairs, the sharp splintering wood slicing the back of my leg. My sock was ripped, and blood soaked the back of it. I had no idea until now. I stumbled to the bathroom, kneeling in front of the sink and looking in the cabinets under neath. Of course. No bandages, no nothing. I just pulled off a bunch of toilet paper and wrapped it around my leg as well as I could, before leaving the bus and cautiously walking back into the building, keeping an eye out for rats and stairs.
I went in, not only to try and find bandages, but the show ended, and I now have to attempt bringing things back into the bus with a sliced ankle. I approached the douchebag who owned the place.
"Hey, do you have any bandages, or towels, or something?" I sighed, realizing this idiot was going to be no help.
"Yeah, sure." he said in a tired, lazy voice. 𝘖𝘩, 𝘰𝘬𝘢𝘺.
He walked behind the counter, and when he returned, he held two dirty bar rags in his hands. I'm guessing that if I even put these near my open cut, I'd probably get some sort of unknown disease. 𝘕𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘯.
"Uh, you know what, I think I'm good, I forgot I uh... don't need those." I said, quickly walking off to the stage where Mark was.
"Hey, are there any bandages, or first aid kits on the bus?" I asked.
"Uh, I don't think so. Why, what happened?"
"Eh, I guess the back of my leg got cut on the stairs, it's not bad, I just wanted to know." I shrugged it off, lifting an amp off the stage and carefully, 𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 carefully, bringing it to the bus.
With every step I took, I felt my leg sting more and more. 𝘔𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘳.
I entered the bus and walked to the back, where I lifted the amp up onto a shelf. Just then, I heard a voice behind me.
"What happened to your leg?"
I quickly turned around, and was meg face to face with Gary.
"Oh, it's just a small cut." I laughed it off, sounding slightly nervous.
"No, Angel that's a lot more than just a small cut!" he said, sounding a bit worried. I looked down at my leg again, and saw it had blood dripping down it more rapidly. 𝘖𝘬𝘢𝘺 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘥, 𝘪𝘵'𝘴 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘴𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘸.
"Just- come here." he took hold of my arm, guiding me to the bathroom.
I hopped up on the counter, while he looked in the cabinets below.
"There's no bandages in here?" he asked.
"No, I looked earlier. It's fine, really, I'll just wrap one of my bandanas around it I guess." I shrugged.
"I mean, I'm no doctor, but that's not just a small cut." he said, grabbing a towel from under the counter.
"I don't wanna ruin that!"
"I'd rather a towel get ruined then you bleed out." he said, softly wrapping the towel around my leg. I watched him work, wanting to apologize for what happened earlier. After a while of awkward silence, I mentally grew some balls, and said;
"I uh, I'm sorry about earlier. I didn't mean to, there was a-"
"It's okay, Mark explained it all to me." I was pretty surprised at how chill he was being.
"So do you uh, believe me? I mean, if I'm being honest the story's pretty damn comical." I said, kind of quietly.
"Yeah. I feel bad for being kinda short with you earlier. Being short with everyone earlier. It's just the fucking ass that owns this place has been laying into me non stop, calling with different schedules, trying to create the setlist for us, I guess that's not really a reason to take it out on all of you guys, and I should be the one apologizing." he said, finishing gently tying the know around my calve.
"No. I know if the dumb new blonde smashed my guitar on the first day of the tour I'd be pretty pissed off too. I don't blame you."
He chuckled slightly, softly resting his hand on my leg. "You're not a dumb blonde. Don't beat yourself up over this, kid, it's now your fault." he took hold of my hand and gently helped me off the counter. 𝘋𝘢𝘮𝘯 𝘪𝘵, 𝘪𝘴 𝘮𝘺 𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘥?
"Thanks." I smiled softly.
"No problem." he said, returning the smile. Just then, the rest of the band started loading up on the bus.
"Whoa! What're we interrupting?" Paul chuckled. I realized I was still holding his hand. We quickly pulled away.
"Nothing." Gary laughed. We sat down on a couch as the bus started moving.
We talked for a while that night, being able to make a better first impression than what happened earlier. We became great friends, and from then on, I knew I was gonna love touring with these guys.
.•♫•♬• 𖤐 •♬•♫•.
𝗢𝗞𝗞𝗞𝗞𝗞 𝗧𝗛𝗔𝗧 𝗪𝗔𝗦 𝟯𝟵𝟯𝟭 𝗪𝗢𝗥𝗗𝗦, 𝗜 𝗛𝗢𝗣𝗘 𝗬'𝗔𝗟𝗟 𝗘𝗡𝗝𝗢𝗬𝗘𝗗 𝗧𝗛𝗜𝗦 𝗣𝗜𝗘𝗖𝗘 𝗢𝗙 𝗦𝗛𝗜𝗧❤❤❤😭😭
𝗜𝘁 𝗺𝗮𝘆 𝗯𝗲 𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗿 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗽𝗹𝗮𝗰𝗲, 𝗰𝗮𝘂𝘀𝗲 𝗜 𝗱𝗲𝗰𝗶𝗱𝗲𝗱 𝗮𝘁 𝗼𝗻𝗲 𝗽𝗼𝗶𝗻𝘁 𝗜 𝘄𝗮𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗱 𝗮 𝘄𝗵𝗼𝗹𝗲 𝗱𝗶𝗳𝗳𝗲𝗿𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝗲𝗻𝗱𝗶𝗻𝗴... 𝗦𝗼 𝗶𝗳 𝘀𝗼𝗺𝗲 𝗼𝗳 𝗶𝘁'𝘀 𝗰𝗼𝗻𝗳𝘂𝘀𝗶𝗻𝗴, 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗻 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁'𝘀 𝘄𝗵𝘆. 𝗜 𝗯𝗲𝘁 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝗮 𝗹𝗼𝘁 𝗼𝗳 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗸𝗻𝗼𝘄 𝘄𝗵𝗼 𝗚𝗮𝗿𝘆 𝗛𝗼𝗹𝘁 𝗶𝘀, 𝗯𝘂𝘁 𝗵𝗲'𝘀 𝗮𝗺𝗮𝘇𝗶𝗻𝗴, 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲'𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝗲𝗻𝗼𝘂𝗴𝗵 𝘀𝘁𝗼𝗿𝗶𝗲𝘀 𝗮𝗯𝗼𝘂𝘁 𝗵𝗶𝗺 𝗶𝗻 𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝘀𝗼 𝗜 𝗵𝗮𝗱 𝘁𝗼 𝘄𝗿𝗶𝘁𝗲 𝗼𝗻𝗲.
𝗔𝗡𝗬𝗪𝗔𝗬𝗦𝗦𝗦𝗦 𝗛𝗢𝗣𝗘 𝗬'𝗔𝗟𝗟 𝗛𝗔𝗩𝗘 𝗔 𝗚𝗢𝗢𝗗 𝗡𝗜𝗚𝗛𝗧, 𝗦𝗧𝗔𝗬 𝗥𝗔𝗗 𝗙𝗘𝗟𝗟𝗢𝗪 𝗔𝗟𝗜𝗘𝗡𝗦🤘🏻🍒💣❤✨🎸🎤⚡
-𝐴𝑐𝑒✰