Kristen Mazzola - Crashing Back Down

Once Rodney was out of sight, Cali spun around and slapped my arm. “Can you fucking believe that? Fucking Rodney just ran into us and we’re going to their after-party! He gave you his number. Holy fucking shit!”

I couldn’t help but laugh at Cali’s reaction, even though I was mildly freaking out too. This was by far one of the best weekends of my life, and it had only just begun. My heart lifted a little when I realized that and I through my arms around Cali’s shoulders.

“What was that for, silly?” She grinned and gestured to the bartender for another round for us. I thanked the bartender for my beer and then turned to my best friend’s face, all lit up with anticipation.

“I just love that you’re my best friend. This is amazing!”

After our lunch was over and our skin had taken in as many vitamins from the sun as possible, it was time to head over to the venue and get ready for an awesome concert. We got to the club about an hour before the show was scheduled to start, but by the size of the crowd, we felt like we were late.

Cali and I shoved through the sea of excited fans to the back wall, thankfully finding a bar. The four bartenders were all wearing black tight V-neck shirts and where their shirts didn’t cover, tattoos did. I was surprised only one girl was back there slinging drinks, but didn’t mind since the other three were definitely easy on the eyes.

I yelled my order, over the loud rumbling crowd, of shots and beers. Cali and I took our shots of tequila quickly without limes or salt, just the way she liked it. We made our way over to the side stage to see the roadies setting up the guitars, speakers, microphones and drum kit. We sipped on our drinks for a while, people-watching.

A lot of the crowd looked like us: in their mid-twenties, dressed in casual clothes. But there were some odd members too; an older couple sat off to the side at the bar, holding hands decked out in biker gear. There were a few gothic-looking college kids mixing in too, with some middle-aged couples in Hawaiian shirts. It was pretty interesting to see how versatile this band’s following was. I was glad to see they were not typecast and their music had spread to a wide audience.

Cali and I both had finished our first beers, so I left her by the stage and headed back over to the bar. I yelled my order to the same bartender over the drunken girls’ shrieks as I heard Rodney, scream into the microphone, “Ladies, ladies, calm down. We’re the Hysterics, and we’re here for you. Please be so kind to welcome my awesome band mates! We have Dane on the drums.” The crowd erupted, and Rodney continued as Dane’s smile lit up. “Maverick on the bass.” He started to play a light thumping rhythm at the sound of his name. “Colt is over there, ladies, on lead guitar.” Colt’s face had a devilish grin on it as he started to play along with Maverick’s tempo. “And I am Rodney.” With that the crowd went wild, Dane and Rodney started in joining the melody of an upbeat number that seemed to be a crowd favorite.

After pushing a few drunken idiots out of my way, I made it back to Cali’s side. She and I sang along and swayed to the music, sipping on our beers for the next few songs. The fans went wild every time a new song started, jumping up and down, screaming, and singing. Cali and I went right along with everyone, laughing, screaming and just having a blast. The band sounded amazing, so much more mature and fine-tuned since the first time we had heard them play.

Halfway through the set, Rodney let the audience know that the guys were going to take a quick break to let his voice rest, calling it the “perfect time for everyone to get a swig of something”. By that time, Cali and I had forced our way right up next to the stage in front of where the charming front man had been for most of his performance. Right before he walked off the stage, Rodney pointed over in our direction and whispered to a bouncer who nodded and then started to make his way over to us.

With his arms crossed over his chest, he smiled from ear to ear at us. “You girls are invited backstage, come on.” He opened the gate that was right next to us and slammed it quickly once we were on the other side, pushing a few crazy fans out of the way in the process. “Follow me, ladies.

Cali and I, hand in hand, followed the giant bouncer through a maze of a hallway to the band’s dressing room. I was surprised how big it was and how few people were actually back there. There was a table with tons of appetizers and finger foods laid out, right next to a cooler full of beer and liquor bottles. All of the band members came over to greet us.

“Rodney told us about you girls. What a small freaking world it is that he would run into you today.” Dane’s eyes were glowing and he hugged me tightly. “Of course, I remember you two.”

From the cooler, Rodney grabbed two beers, opened them and handed them to us. “We don’t have much time left here for our intermission, but I figured backstage was a lot more comfortable to watch the show, than fighting the drunken hordes for a drink at the bar.” He winked at us and then turned to the band. “Hey, let’s take a picture with some of our oldest fans!”

They were probably the most down to earth humble group of guys I had ever come across. An alluringly tall, tattooed woman strode over to me. “Hi, I’m Fallon, Dane’s wife.” She greeted both Cali and I. “Give me your phone, I’ll take the picture.” She smiled at Rodney as he handed her his cell too and we all huddled together.

We took a few pictures, and then the guys made their way back over to the stage. Cali, Fallon, and I all stood in the curtained area off to stage left. Fallon was so nice and got just as excited as we did. She asked us about our lives and she told us all about how she was in an underground band and pretty famous herself until she gave it all up, including the cocaine, and found Dane, and was living happily ever after with him on tour with the band. It was not a lifestyle I could enjoy, but it seemed like their version of paradise.

The set ended with my favorite ballad, the three of us swaying to the slow rhythm, with our arms around each other. Rodney looked back at us and sang the bridge right to the side of the stage. The entire experience had been thrilling. The band ended their set and made their way back over to us. Cali and I gushed over how amazing they had become, complimenting them as much as possible.

Maverick leaned over into us and whispered, “Don’t worry, we’re all friends now, you can tell us how you really feel.” Cali and I just giggled and blushed at his sexy half smile, as he ran his fingers through his Mohawk, messing it up. Both sides of his head were buzzed just enough to show that he had stars, of all different colors, tattooed on his scalp.

Rodney made his way over to us, inviting us into their limo. I shook my head, “No, what about my car? I can just drive it over to the hotel.” Cali made a pouting face at me, and Rodney bent his knees to be the same height as her and mimicked her sullen expression.

“Come on, Mags, the car will be fine for a few hours. Besides, we’ve all been drinking!”

“Cal, how are we going to get back to our car later?” There was no way I wanted to be stuck at a hotel with people we really didn’t know. The Hysterics all seemed like nice and upstanding gentlemen, but I was sure the Unabomber did too at some point in his life.

I finally put my foot down and got my way, but with a twist. Rodney had the brilliant idea Cali and I ride in the limo with the guys and Fallon and my car be driven by their bodyguards over to the hotel. The only reason I handed over my keys was because Rodney promised that if he crashed it, I could get any car I wanted.