Finding Faith

I could hardly believe the life we were living these days. We’d definitely moved up in the world. We’d gone from shit to shoe shines in less than a month. Everything had happened so fast. One minute we were getting a contract, and then next we were moving to California and rubbing elbows with the big dogs. I loved being the front man for Blow Hole. When I stood before thousands and sang the lyrics I’d burned inside to write, it did something to me—took away my anger for just a few hours. It was the therapy that I definitely needed.

When I was on the stage with my boys, nothing else mattered. Girls in the front row screamed my name, and I knelt down to run my fingers across theirs. To my right, Zeke, the lead guitarist, shook his head at me with a knowing grin as he jumped up on the large speaker at the front of the stage and played his guitar solo.

That fucker could play guitar like no other, and he reminded me so much of Kevin. It was fitting that he’d be my right-hand man. I felt okay with him taking Kevin’s spot, and I knew if Kevin had the chance to meet Zeke, he would’ve agreed. Maybe that was why I’d accepted him into my world so easily. It wasn’t every day that someone walked straight into my life the way Zeke had. He had a fucked-up home life, and Mom and I had taken him under our wings until he was able to fly on his own.

Although he flew crooked, getting all mixed up in drugs and sex, he was making his way. Truth be told, Zeke was a fucking wreck until he’d gotten with his girl, Patience. I knew all too well what that was like. She straightened him right out and smoothed away his permanent frown. I liked the new Zeke, even if I did bust his balls about being all domesticated and shit. I was happy for him. Patience was a sweet girl, and I could see her appeal to Zeke, but settling down wasn’t for me.

I stepped back toward Chet’s drums to grab my drink. Red mystery liquid mixed with something strong slid down my throat as I tipped back my red Solo cup. I didn’t care what it was as long as it took away my inhibitions, not that I had many.

“Blonde, front and center,” Chet called out to me as he nodded his head in the direction of the girl he was talking about.

He was always pointing out the girls he wanted to bring back to the bus. I did what I could to help him out since he was stuck at the back of the stage behind the drums most nights. As the drummer, he got lots of ass, but he liked to pick his own.

I beat on Chet’s drums with my palms, making a loud rumble, and he pointed his drumstick at me during a break as he mouthed the words “fuck face” at me. The crowd went wild at our display. I loved giving Chet hell, and even though he acted like he hated the shit, I knew deep down he liked it.

Chet was the one to worry about. He had no fear, and fearless men were scary as fuck. Of course, he also had no filter, which meant he was the funniest piece of shit I’d ever met. Him and Zeke were younger. They were like my badass little brothers, and even though I’d bite off my tongue before I said it, I guess I loved the assholes.

We’d just started touring and getting adjusted to the larger crowds. Back home in South Carolina, we mostly played small clubs. One of our favorites was The Pit, an underground concrete club. On a good night there, we’d play for maybe five hundred people. Looking out at the crowd in front of me, I couldn’t believe how far we’d come.

Once the show was over and I’d crowd surfed and had my cock grabbed too many times to count, we ran off the stage and were ushered to our bus by security.

“We love you, Finn!” girls screamed as I passed by.

A particularly bold one flashed her tits at me. They were fake and I preferred the real thing, but that didn’t stop me from telling her they were nice and letting her hug me with her top still up. I grinned down at her, and the girls around us screamed louder. Fuck it. I gave them what they wanted… always.

I looked back just in time to see Chet peel off his sweaty “Fuck me. I’m pretty!” shirt and throw it to a chick standing on the side. Since he was the jokester, the girls responded to him and he took full advantage. A different girl every night wasn’t enough for Chet most times, and he was into some pretty hardcore shit sexually. To each his own, though.

Zeke walked a straight line to the bus and ignored the girls. He was the hard-ass the girls loved to hate. I never understood how he could be such an asshole to them and still they’d flock to him. Of course, since he’d been seeing Patience, the sleeping around had stopped. I could respect that.

I was totally against finding the one. The rest of the group would probably agree with me, but Zeke was good and whipped. He was the last one I expected it from, but you could tell by looking at him that he was crazy in love. I just hoped he didn’t get his heart ripped out the way I had so many years ago.