Do or Die

After the New York set, we settled into our hotel room, unwinding. We were too spent to talk, so we threw on an episode of King of the Hill.

By the end of the episode, I had a text from Stan asking me to meet him in the lobby, alone.

“Hey guys, Stan summoned me, I’ll be back in a bit.”

“Weird, but okay,” Kenny responded.

The elevator ride was silent—just me and the operator.

I saw Stan talking to a familiar figure at the hotel bar. Noticing me, Stan waved me over.

As I approached them, the figure turned and wrapped me in a bear hug.

“Great set, bro. I’m so proud of you.”

It was Caleb.

I leaned into the embrace. I hadn’t seen him since last New Year’s Day… he didn’t text often. He’d felt so far away for so long. Touching him didn’t feel real.

“I’m surprised you were able to make it.”

“Played Bowery last night. MSG tomorrow. Had a convenient night off in the city,” he smirked at Stan.

“I’m glad you enjoyed the show.”

“Yeah man, that single, Darker Days, is awesome. Your playing makes so much more sense with Scott’s voice than mine.”

I was fighting back the tears, “Thanks bro, that means a lot to me… I’m always trying to live up to your standard.”

“You don’t have to, man. Unlike me, you got your band a deal with R&R. I can play with the best of them… but I can’t write songs like what you’ve got on that album.”

I looked at Stan, seeking confirmation.

“Yeah, I played it for him after your set. He wanted to hear it.”

I heard Kenny’s voice from behind me.

“Sup, stranger?”

I looked at him and then back to Stan, trying to apologize for him. I was told to come alone.

“Wes didn’t tell me anything. I just didn’t trust him alone in a New York lobby at midnight.”

Caleb and Kenny shared a long hug.

“Thanks for watching out for him,” Caleb said.

“Bro, I’m going to be real with you, I’m doing that very poorly lately.”

I laughed. I missed this… maybe someday the three of us could form a new band.

“Your playing has come a long way, Kenny. You’re good enough to live on the road like I do… and you’re playing guitar now,” he paused. “I hope I can play with you guys again sometime.”

I smiled. A dream popped into my head.

“Hey Stan… for Heavy Tulsa—what if we brought Caleb on for a cover?”

The lightbulb went off in everyone’s heads.

Stan lit up. “Great opportunity for both brands.”

“What song would we do?” Kenny asked.

“It’s got to be Electric Eye…something classic we’ve been jamming forever.”

“Wes, I fucking love you,” Stan laughed.

“That sounds great…we can practice on Christmas when we’re all back home,” Caleb said.

We chatted a little bit longer.

“Well, I’ve got to get some sleep, but it was awesome seeing you both,” Caleb said, giving us each one more hug.

“Give Jim, Scott, and Courtney my love.”

Just like that he and Stan vanished.

Kenny and I sat at a table noticing it was a little after one now.

“Damn, Wes. Do you think we’re dead and in heaven, dreaming, or is this actually happening?”

“I feel you, but this is real.”

“I’m stoked that you and Caleb got to talk…I know that you’ve been wondering about how he felt about everything.”

“I wanted people to stop comparing us. And then he did. Funny how that filled something in me.”

After ruminating, we went back up to our room. We told Jim that we ran into Caleb in the lobby. He was annoyed we didn’t tell him, but understood that he mainly wanted to see me.

We didn’t want to tell Scott and Courtney until we got home—we didn’t want to undo all of the progress we’d made with them.

***

Our fall schedule was brutal, and the magic from MSG didn’t carry over.

It started to unravel after we got home and told Scott and Courtney that Kenny and I had seen Caleb. Scott texted him—venting, rambling—but Caleb left him on read. That silence pushed Scott even deeper into his spiral.

We kept it offstage—we were professionals—but the chemistry was off. Between school, late-night commutes, and nonstop shows, we were at war with ourselves—and the personal drama made it worse.

By late October, I was holding up better than expected. Courtney’s emotional absence threw off the whole friend group. Maggie, Skye, and Julia had gotten closer—which worked in my favor.

Julia and Kenny were already tight before I started dating her, and with Kenny and Maggie’s relationship, that dynamic just worked. Julia and Skye patched up their Wes-related tension, and Maggie and Skye—both drawn to broken people—became natural friends.

Courtney’s distance also improved things with Skye. We didn’t see each other as often as over the summer, but she’d crash in my bed once or twice a week—just to see me after a show.

Those nights weren’t intense—I was too drained—but the warmth of her presence meant everything. I made sure to spoil her when I could, just to show I noticed the effort. Kenny had been right—with time, Skye and I found something better than we’d had before.

***

We were playing a Halloween show at the Garden. Stan and Jason were both coming out for our first arena show since MSG.

Kenny and I were trying to figure out how we were going to get EoT back to its peak from the end of August.

One of our rare nights off was Wednesday, the 29th, and we committed to having an unconventional band meeting: Scott, Jim, Kenny, Courtney, and me at Kenny’s place… somewhere uncomfortable.

“Okay, let’s just get down to it… we need to be better at our next show,” Kenny opened the meeting.

“I think we’ve been fine—what do you mean better?” Scott asked.

Jim forcefully pushed back, “Scott, cut the bullshit. We’re playing great, but you just aren’t in-sync with the rest of us.”

The room became tense. Jim never challenged Scott before.

“I signed that contract because I believed in this band, and you were supposed to be the leader, so what gives?” he continued.

“I don’t know, I don’t like that we keep secrets—”

Jim cut him off, “If you’re still being a whiny bitch about the Caleb thing just fucking quit.”

The tension was thick.

Kenny and I couldn’t have said it better. It was up to Scott now.

Kenny had been quiet all night, eyes locked forward, fingers twitching like he was trying to hold something in.

“Whatever,” Scott got up, ready to leave.

Kenny stood up, squaring up with him.

“Scott, consider your next move carefully,” he said, reaching into his waistband.

There was no way—right?

Scott sat down.

“We staked our lives on this band and this dream, and I don’t play when it comes to life and death,” Kenny’s voice was dark.

I’ve seen this version of him before. He wasn’t fucking around.

Courtney’s face was painted with terror.

“Fine… I just haven’t been myself. When I didn’t hear from Caleb, I started spiraling. Why the fuck didn’t he want to see me?”

“Hey, he gave me the same message he gave you,” Jim challenged. “He never even meant to see Kenny, that just happened because Kenny can’t sit still for five minutes.”

“Jim, I don’t want to fight with you.”

I didn’t like that. If Scott started tearing into him, this might completely fall apart.

“Scott, worry about yourself before Jim.”

I wanted to say something—but I wasn’t sure what.

“Kenny, what do you want from me?”

“I want you to get your shit together. Figure it out.”

Scott’s gaze met mine.

“Wes, do you think you still need me to make this dream come true?”

I let the silence hang. I debated whether or not to lie to him. If this escalated and Kenny shot him, we’d be the new Mayhem.

I decided to tell the truth.

“Scott, you’re supposed to be our leader. Caleb left this band to you. He told me that EoT was better than anything you two did together, that we brought out the best in each other.”

He started to cry.

“Like Hell. How is this the best version of us?”

“He was talking about the album and the MSG show… he never saw the pathetic version of you.”

“If you don’t want him to see you at your worst, then stop wallowing and be the better version of yourself,” Kenny said, his hand still in his waistband.

“Okay… I’ll do my best to find my equilibrium at tomorrow night’s show so I’m good at the Garden,” he said, once again looking at me.

Stan was going to bleed him dry at this rate.

“Is everyone here good with the outcome of this?” Kenny asked.

Courtney, crying, answered, “No, Kenny, I’m not… what the fuck is wrong with you?”

He laughed, “Court, take a look around you.”

He paused. The room was silent as the brutal autumn wind blew through the living room to the sound of police sirens and chaos outside.

“If this was all you had to come back to—you’d take this all more seriously. It’s either the dream or the morgue for me at this point.”

“Kenny—I… sorry,” Jim said quietly.

He finally pulled the nine from his waistband, clicked the safety on, and set it on the table. “So don’t ask me why I take this seriously.”

***

Courtney didn’t come to school on the 30th—not surprising, considering Kenny had just held her brother at gunpoint. The next time I saw her, we needed to have a heart-to-heart. She should reconsider being around EoT so much—we were all used to the mental health struggle, but she was basically a victim of our volatile egoism.

Kenny and I didn’t hide the meeting—or how it ended—from Skye and Maggie. What concerned me was that neither of them seemed bothered by the escalation.

We made it through our show at the Paradise that night. Scott was more himself. I talked to Stan and Doug about making sure he always had access to whatever he asked for. They didn’t ask questions, nor did they judge. They told me it would come out of his payout and handed me a list of everything he bought at the end of the night.

This was my way of being responsible. If he started spiraling hard into heavier shit, I would step in and work with Stan to get him into rehab. As much as Stan enjoyed the show, he didn’t want the kid becoming a junkie before the first album even came out.

After soundcheck on Halloween, I finally found myself alone with Courtney. Lately, she was sticking close to Doug. I couldn’t blame her—after Wednesday, Kenny and Jim probably scared the shit out of her.

“Court, can we talk?”

“Do we have to?”

“I’m… worried about you.”

She paused. “I didn’t realize you still thought about me.”

I was perplexed. “What’s that about?”

“Wes, we haven’t had a real conversation since New York in August.”

“Well, you could have found me too—you haven’t been talking to anyone.”

“I’m just… too tired to keep up with people.”

I was about to piss her off.

“Then maybe take a step back from the band—just until things calm down.”

Yup, she was pissed.

“Don’t tell me how to live my life. I’m not Skye or Julia—I’m not some weak-minded slut.”

Okay, that was uncalled for.

“I just—forget it. We’ve been friends for almost ten years. If that’s what you think I’m trying to do, then fine.”

I was good leaving on that note, but I felt a light tug on my jacket.

“I just want you to make me a priority for once,” she said before letting me go and retreating back to the stage area.

Yeah, maybe I should. I had the bravado to say I was worried about her, but why didn’t I say anything sooner?

***

The Boston crowd popped for the intro track—Aerosmith were royalty here. Cheers were timed with the clip of Kenny’s swan dive as well, so there were more EoT fans in the building than usual.

We went through the motions on the first couple of songs. Kenny and I were locked in, as always, and Jim’s consistency since August had been remarkable. Scott was the best he’d been since the MSG show, but it was clear that version of him was gone.

We switched up the third song in our set to Icarus, which we’d started playing over the last couple of weeks to give the Boston crowd the taste of a sixth song on the album. It sounded better with the Les Paul than Indigo Dream, so we decided to keep it in the set before Darker Days.

This next song’s been on the charts since August—we love you for keeping it there. I’ve been going through some shit lately… so this one’s for everyone fighting their demons. This is Darker Days.”

I liked that he was connecting with the crowd from his heart for once.

Kenny played us in. The crowd was digging it.

Scott sat on the drum riser with the mic this time—different, and his voice sounded more hollow and affected than usual. I added lower harmonies to match the emptiness he was conveying.

As the chorus hit, he controlled the stage, deliberately walking to the mic stand to do his normal routine. Except, instead of draping himself over it, he grabbed it with his left hand and leaned forward, belting his soul to the ceiling.

I shifted my harmonies down the fretboard to match his output. I let him have his moment, playing to the crowd on my side of the stage.

When the solo came in, I migrated toward him. He dropped to one knee leaning over the crowd. I played the solo next to him—my guitar basically in his face.

In the final chorus, we harmonized—him reaching into the core of his misery, me matching him memory for memory. The crowd was roaring in response like they were witnessing something special.

Kenny quickly grabbed his bass to ride the moment straight into Little Lies. I carried the pain from our performance and I just thought about how much I failed Courtney and how much I missed Skye as I dove into the intro solo.

The song started while I was still ripping in the front of the stage, but no one was bothered that I was late jumping into the riff. We threw down the freest version of the song to date—this was unlike any version we’d played before. The emotions were so raw from everyone.

“Thank you, Boston. We are Ember of Twilight and we love you.”

We weren’t perfect—but this was the most dangerous version of us yet. I was visualizing the next set of songs we could write. If we didn’t collapse under the weight of the world, the next version of EoT would be incredible.