Heavy Tulsa II

By 2:15 p.m., I was on stage with my black Les Paul, flanked by Caleb with his white Les Paul and Jim on drums. The crowd was in for a treat—both the bassist and lead singer from Saturday night’s headliner had joined us.

“Ready for your first social media moment?” Caleb said as we got in position.

Playing with these guys was electric. Fifty thousand people were already watching the main stage—five times what we’d see on Sunday. But this was the dream.

Caleb and I threw down like we always did, and the crowd loved it. I knew the singer was the main draw, but I was overwhelmed anyway.

Caleb nailed the solo, throwing in just enough of his own flair to make the original sing, much to the crowd’s delight. I had a great time playing the backing, locking in with Jim.

We took a bow after our four minutes in the spotlight. That’s when I noticed the video boards above the crowd, listing each member’s band name and set time.

Stan stepped out in his role as emcee. “That was a special treat—world-renowned guitarist Caleb Rondeau accompanied by his half-brother Wes Reau and Jim Comeau from our newest sensation, Embers of Twilight.”

I appreciated Stan’s use of half. It didn’t bother me—it grounded things.

Courtney ran up and hugged Caleb and me after we handed off our guitars to the stage crew.

“I can’t believe you three just played for that many people.”

“Neither can I,” I said, still shaking.

“You’ll get used to it,” Caleb laughed.

“If anyone finds a video or photo of that, send it to me,” Jim added. “I need proof I existed.”

The rest of day one rolled along. I was starting to get worried about Scott and Kenny. It had been more than twelve hours since anyone had seen either of them—

***

Friday night, I made an executive decision. I sent Jim and Courtney back to the hotel to get some proper sleep after the headlining set wrapped at 11:15. I was going to track down our rogue members.

“Courtney, after you get changed, call Jim and have him escort you to his room. Please spend the night there,” I said. “Jim, don’t let her out of your sight… I know the hotel is safer, but even wandering the halls can lead to trouble.”

I expected some pushback, but they’d already seen enough backstage to know better.

I made a series of calls to Stan’s henchmen—all of my old colleagues. They helped me track down Scott and Kenny. Unfortunately, the two dumbasses were on opposite ends of the grounds.

I prioritized Scott.

I found him at 1:00 a.m., inhaling a line with some guys from one of the night’s main stage bands.

“Scott, long time no see,” I called.

The guys with him postured like they wanted to fight.

“It’s good, guys. He’s my guitarist,” Scott said, adjusting his nose.

“I’m not here to lecture—just checking you’re still human,” I said.

“Yeah, man. I’m great. Having the time of my life. I heard you played with Caleb earlier, but I missed it.”

“No worries. You planning on making it backstage or to bed at some point?”

“Not yet, but I’m crashing Sunday morning.”

“Okay. Can you set an alarm for 6 a.m. Sunday and call me when it goes off?”

He surprised me by actually doing it. “Where’s Court?”

“I sent her back to the hotel with Jim. After I find Kenny, I’m heading back there.”

He nodded and went back to partying.

More calls. More wandering.

By 3 a.m., I found Kenny in a campground stage tent, hanging from the light trusses mid-way through a warped Clash cover.

“Kenny!” I shouted.

When the song ended, he dropped from the truss, crowd-surfed to the edge, and stumbled over to me.

I pulled him out of the chaos and into the quiet.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“Sorry, I’ve been… busy.”

“What are you on?”

“I’ll level with you. I’ve been alternating between white and Tuss. So, I’m either flying like this or passed out all day.”

“What’s your plan after this?”

“I don’t have one.”

“If I go back to the hotel, do you want to come?”

He blinked like he was buffering.

“Yeah. Let’s go… I think I should get my shit together.”

We made it back to the lobby around four. First night: survived. I walked him to his room and tucked him in.

Then I knocked on Jim’s door.

Courtney answered.

“Why are you answering the door?” I asked.

“Wes, no one’s been by all night. The three rooms around us are empty.”

“Good night,” I said, turning to leave.

She grabbed my shirt.

“Can I go with you?”

I didn’t answer. Just let her follow.

I gave her the bed. I took the couch.

When I woke up at eight, she was asleep on top of me.

***

She woke up thirty minutes later and immediately tried to kiss me. I put my hand between our faces.

“What’s this all about?” I asked.

She dodged the question and got off the couch.

“You ready for another long day of babysitting?”

“It’s not bad. I actually liked the slower pace with you and Jim more than chasing Scott and Kenny around.”

“Oh. Did you find them?”

“Yeah. I brought Kenny back. Scott stayed out with some big shots.”

The four of us regrouped and grabbed the shuttle to the grounds for breakfast.

“So, is everyone good with a calm day two?” I asked.

Jim and Courtney both nodded. She placed her hand on mine—she knew I wasn’t going to push her away until the festival ended. Clever.

“I’m never doing drugs again,” Kenny said. “I don’t do drugs. I decided to ride the wave yesterday. Never again.”

He looked like hell. I was glad I’d brought him back—he might’ve died out there.

“Are we just hanging at the side of the main stage all day?” Jim asked.

“Yeah. I figured I’d check out our stage up close with Scott tomorrow.”

“Oh. How’s he doing?” Kenny asked.

“He’s living his best life,” I said. “I’m glad he’ll have two weeks to detox before the tour.”

I might’ve screwed up. I wasn’t sure if Jim or Courtney knew about his use.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Courtney asked.

“Don’t play dumb,” Kenny cut in.

“Fine.”

I didn’t expect her to give in so easily.

“Wait… am I the only person here who doesn’t use drugs?” Jim asked.

We all looked at him. Nodded.

“Wow. I thought Scott was the only one.”

That’s how we spent our Saturday. Hanging out with the headliners. They remembered Jim and me from the All-Star Jam.

We watched their set from the side of the stage. Near the end, the singer started talking about Sunday’s lineup. A cold chill moved through my body.

“Now, I know there’s 100,000 crazy motherfuckers out there right now,” he shouted. “And I want to see all of you tomorrow night at the side stage at 11:30. I’ve been hanging out with Jim and Wes from Embers of Twilight all weekend—and they’re gonna be up here in a few years. Catch ’em in an intimate setting while you still can.”

***

After the headlining set, I pulled Kenny and Jim aside and asked them to take Courtney back to the hotel. I told them I wanted to find Scott—which wasn’t a lie—but I had my own agenda to deal with.

My first move after midnight was to track down Stan. Word was, he was holding court in the same tent I’d found Kenny in the night before.

It didn't take long.

“Oh, Wes! I was wondering when you were gonna stop being an old man and show up,” he said, clearly a few drinks deep.

“Yeah, I’ve been babysitting for Scott.”

“You probably need to babysit Scott at this point.”

“It’s fine—he knows his limits.”

“You’re right,” he laughed. “The guys he’s with taught him to balance booze with coke. Kid’s already a pro. Doug told me about his sister though… that girl’s not meant for this life.”

No shit.

“So, Wes,” he said, tilting his head, “why track me down at this point in the night?”

“I wanted to talk about the next couple of years—about our second album, and what comes after.”

“Random and bold,” he grinned. “You’ve got some bullshit in mind, don’t you?”

“I want to get my GED after junior year so we can go full time. I want the second album out by the time I’m eighteen… and I want to be touring as a solo artist by twenty.”

Stan sobered instantly. This was his favorite kind of business.

“You already hate those fucking guys, huh?” he said, half-joking. “Honestly, I think your plan works. Scott’s best years are coming—he’s gonna burn so hot. But those guys? They don’t last. Kenny’ll end up your bassist. Jim’s too polite to survive this world. And you…” He pointed. “You’re enough like me that you’ll make it. Against the odds.”

That was the validation I’d come looking for.

I spent the rest of the night in Stan’s circle, but I didn’t drink, didn’t use. Just took it all in. The decadence, the madness, the game being played all around me. I didn’t get laid this year either—didn’t need to. I finally had a relationship I saw a future with.

By the time Scott called me at six, I was feeling too good.