No Holding Back
Authors: Amanda Dresden
No Holding Back
By
Amanda Dresden
By
Amanda Dresden
Copyright 2014 Amanda Dresden
All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Facebook: Amanda Dresden
(Author)
Twitter: @AmandaDresden
“Live your life, listen to your music way too loud, be crazy and as ‘different’ as you want to be and always remember…you’re not alone.”
-Andy Biersack (Black Veil Brides)
You couldn’t step out of your house without seeing or hearing it somewhere. TV, YouTube, forums, blogs, hell – even satellite radio and talk shows buzzed with excitement.
The crime in question, blown up exponentially by the media, may not have been a big deal to the average nine-to-five nobody, but die-hard enthusiasts were lost for words.
Josh Hennison, but better known as “Hess” to his fans, was the drummer for one of the most respected and popular bands – Heretic. I say ‘was’ because he isn’t with them anymore.
Hess had everything any tattooed young stud at the age of twenty-seven wo
uld kill for: money, success, women, and the envy of every drummer in the music world. To those that didn’t know him, he may have come across as a cocky, arrogant bastard but his talent was one he could easily back up. But for some reason, that just wasn’t enough for Hess.
Popularity slammed its brakes on Heretic
’s ride and in less than twenty-four hours, Wade and his crew went from superstars to something that teetered on pond scum.
Hess
’ big secret was bust wide open – not by one of his own band members – no, he never told them, and Heretic never knew. It was the day the cops came knocking on their band bus one very, very early morning after another successful concert.
As his band mates sluggishly roused themselves from a sleep-induced coma, they had a hard time coming to grips with the nightmare that the police were trying to explain to them.
They’d been informed that Hess was sexually abusing minors in the back of vehicles in some nameless parking lot and had been at it for quite some time. Hess was good at covering his activities because he had been careful, but his arrogance finally got the better of him.
The only thing more evident than DNA, semen-laden panties, and first hand witness accounts was Hess
’ unmistakable scrawl he used to write on her bare little ass cheek that read, “Hess was here.” The pen he’d used countless times to sign autographs was the same that sent him directly to prison for the next several years.
Now, Wade Griffin, Heretic
’s lead vocalist and guitar player and his two other band members, Os Griffin - Wade’s brother - and their longtime friend, Joe Bedden, were all that remained of their hard-fought legacy.
This band -
this overnight success, was now without a drummer and clamoring to get back what was left of their once pristine reputation.
The TV studio was sweltering and Wade swore up and down that the air conditioning didn’t work in that damn building. Hundreds of eager metal heads and Goths in concert tees, ripped jeans, piercings, and dark eye makeup sat crowded in the audience section. Wade mirrored his fans’ style with his favorite sleeveless Mötley Crüe t-shirt, black shredded cargo pants, and completed the ensemble with a few spiked armbands.
They watched and sat in hungry anticipation of Wade
’s answers. But little did they know that Wade also wanted answers. In fact, he had been searching for them ever since that fateful night the cops came knocking on their bus. That was over two months ago but it still felt like yesterday.
He never had a full night
’s sleep since then and it showed. His eyelids became heavy and the bags under his eyes were dark and bloated and he fought to stay awake despite the host’s droning and relentless questions. His thought of his flawless and fascinating tribal tattoo, the envy of every ink head which started at his neck and swirled down and around his shoulder and over his forearm stopping just short of his knuckles. He grew depressed when he knew it once fought to contain his muscular physique. Now, he looked down at his loose skin as the stress of everything covered him more than any tattoo of his. He picked carelessly at the peeling black polish on his nails and made a few fists out of boredom in his lap watching the skin around his knuckles grow white.
Ever since he was in high school, he punished his body in the gym until not even the wrestling team teased hi
m anymore about his unusual clothing style and piercings. But now, the physical and mental turmoil of Hess’ crime left him in a shriveled state. He all but gave up on eating and sleeping and so his pale complexion became paler still under his five o’clock shadow. His body slipped into atrophy as the stress of everything folded in around him, threatening to crush him completely. At one point, Wade wanted it to.
He had hoped for compassion and understanding from his fans, but every disappointed face that stared back at him said otherwise. Soon, they all began to blur into each other until he couldn
’t see straight.
He
’d been interviewed by the host of Metal Madness for the past half hour but in the first five minutes, he already wanted to leave. Ever since he was slapped with Hess’ crime, his band was enduring punishment from both the media and fans alike but as front man, Wade absorbed the heaviest of blows.
“How long have you known?”
, “How could you
not
have known?”, “How long has this been going on?”, “What will Heretic do now?”, “Do any other members of Heretic prefer the company of children?”
Wade had to bi
te his tongue on that last one and a good thing too. He remembered balling his fist, preparing to slam it into the smug face of that no-good reporter right before his agent stepped in and stopped him. But now, Wade was starting to feel that way again.
T
he host irritated him like a hovering mosquito while dozens of Heretic’s fans sat and stared at him in silence like
he
was the criminal while heavy, expensive cameras zeroed in on him mercilessly. He had no idea that Heretic’s drummer was playing predator to minors, slowly eating away at their fame like a festering abscess.
All of this unwanted publicity made Wade sweat more than any concert of his. He wanted to leave so badly. He wanted to give a big
‘fuck you’ to anyone who didn’t understand a single thing he was going through when he was blindsided with the news. After all, Wade was honest about that part. He
never
knew about his friend’s criminal habits.
He tried going back in his mind over and over again, making sense of the
muck, the warning signs, clues or anything that would have stuck out, but Wade came up empty each time. After so long, he chocked it up to indigestion.
He thought
back on good times, the signings, the record deals, the fame, the popularity. For the past three years, they were all living the high life. They were the envy of all rocks bands, won numerous awards and titles like Most Hip Rock Band, Best Single, Best Album, and Best Performing Artist. The list went on and on. Wade knew they would hit platinum before they took to the stage for the first time in their career. His gut told him so. But never in all his life had something caught him so off guard and there were days he began to wonder if they even had a future.
But Wade was prepared this time. He remembered waking up in a cold sweat as the idea came to him in the middle of another sleepless night.
Wade had a plan. But the only reason why he was even in that God-forsaken place was because Mike, Heretic’s agent, said it was a good idea to ‘explain the situation and get things out in the open.’
But things were already out in the open, Wade came back.
“Let them know you’re still the good guys!” Mike insisted just hours before his talk-show interview. Wade rolled his eyes and made no effort to hide his sigh on the phone.
Yeah. The good guys.
Mike gave Wade a script to read over before he went on the show, but he didn’t even bother taking it with him into the studio or looking at it for that matter. For weeks on end, Wade, Os and Joe had to endure several scrutinizing interviews, which was nothing short of media humiliation, just to polish what was left of their good name. The questions they asked were the same everywhere they went. Wade had the answers practically memorized. But now, he just had to stop himself from sounding like a machine each time he spewed them out.
“So Wade,” the host
said suddenly, snapping him back to the present. “Tell us: as Heretic’s front man, how do you feel about all of this? I’m sure a lot of metal heads feel betrayed by Hess. Some say he was arguably the best drummer out there.”
“We don
’t feel any less betrayed, Axel,” Wade began in his usual mantra, trying to act with
some
emotion, when in all reality, he just wanted to get the hell out. He didn’t feel as though Heretic owed anyone an explanation. They were left reeling just as much as anyone. “We want our loyal fans to know that we are just as shocked by these charges against Hess and that we had no idea this was going on.”
It was the tru
th after all, every word of it. Os didn’t say anything as Hess stood before them in handcuffs, but Joe? Joe nearly strangled Hess after the cops brought him to the bus for I.D. Wade remembered that day. He nearly got a bloody nose trying to separate the two.
“Will this put a halt to Heretic
’s tour indefinitely?” the host pressed.
“Absolutely not. We
’ve already had to cancel several shows and disappoint a lot of people, but not anymore.”
As Wade delivered his cryptic message, already hushed whispers broke out like wildfire in the seats and the host could hardly contain himself.
Mike warned him not to make any announcements about the band unless it went through him first. But this time, Wade went against his better judgment and used his gut. Aside from Hess, it never failed him. He knew he’d catch an earful from Mike and he was prepared for it. In fact, he knew his agent was watching him on the show right now.
“Don
’t leave us hangin’, man!” Axel said, feeding off the crowd.
Wade took a deep breath before he continued.
“We already feel terrible for the non-refundable tickets. The rest of the bands that toured with Heretic will have to go on their own without us.” There were some moans and groans of disappointment but Wade continued. “Heretic did lose a great drummer but we’re confident that a replacement will be found in no time. So much so in fact…that as of now, Heretic is officially on the lookout for a new drummer.”
Suddenly, the crowd loosed cheers
and hollers and it took some time for them to die down before they allowed Wade to continue. Even Axel did his best to motion for silence.
“I have no doubt that there is raw talent out there waiting to be discovered. That
’s why we’ll be holding auditions right here in Chicago, Illinois. A set time frame and location will be given out at a PR conference by our agent.”
While the host and crowd went wild with the news, Wade remained calm and focused. He could already picture Mike screaming at the
TV screen, but he had little choice in the matter: either try to get their heads above water or drown with Hess.
After the show, they cut to commercial which made Wade extremely happy that his interview was done. But no soon
er had Wade escaped to the wonderful solitude of his dressing room than he heard his phone playing its usual tune of Beethoven’s 5th warning of his agent’s incoming call. And he could think of no better ring tone to suit the occasion.
He brought his phone out of his pocket and inspected the I
D screen. It was Mike of course, but Wade was secretly hoping it was someone else.
He squeezed his eyes shut,
opened the phone, and brought it to his ear.
“And when exactly were you going to tell
me
about this ‘PR’ conference?” Mike asked sarcastically.
Wade
’s face contorted. “You saw that, huh?”
“I saw your five o
’clock shadow for fuck’s sake!” Mike yelled, forcing Wade to hold the phone away from his sensitive ear drum for a few moments. “You’ve always come through for me, man, but what the hell were you thinking? I told you: come through me first, and then we decide together! Metal Madness has over eight million viewers! I can’t believe you’d pull a crazy st-!”
“Exactly, Mike," Wade interrupted.
"Eight million people will know that Heretic is looking for a drummer. We’ll have a replacement in no time. I have a gut feeling th-.”
"A
‘gut feeling’?!" Mike bellowed. "You’re going to bank your career and my job over a gut feeling?!"
"When have I eve
r let you down?" Wade asked.
Wade may have sounded calm but in all reality, he was nervous as hell trying to convince Mike of his scheme. Maybe he was even trying to convince himself but
all Wade heard was long sigh.
“
Please. You’ve gotta trust me,” Wade begged, but Mike didn’t seem to have heard him.
“Why do you pay me if you
’re not even going to listen to me?”
“Because I know that no one can work magic like you do, man. Just get me a line up and a place to hold auditions. You have my word.
We’ll be ready in two weeks tops.”
Mike was Heretic
’s PR guy since the beginning and Wade would never forget that day. He’d heard them play at a gig at some hobo bar on his way to another interview. The only reason why Mike even stopped at that hell hole was to use the bathroom. But ever since that chance meeting, he didn’t stop fighting for Wade and the rest of Heretic until they had a record label set in stone and the most money they had ever seen in their lives. And looking back on it now, Wade couldn’t believe that was almost three years ago. Who’d have guessed Mike would be fighting for it again?
Wade heard
nothing but silence and he began to fidget in his pocket. Finally, Mike’s tired voice came from the other end.
“I hope you know what you
’re doin’, man.”
Before Wade could say anything, he heard the
‘click’ of the
receiver
telling him that his agent already ended the conversation for them. He looked down at his sleek, black phone and traced its
screen with his thumb.
“Me too,” Wade said to himself.
Some use common sense, others use their heart, but not Wade. That was never his style. He couldn’t explain it. Ever since he was a kid, he always made moves going off of gut instinct alone; turning down a full ride to Harvard, risking all the money he ever earned to start a band with his brother and two best friends. He sometimes questioned his gut and so did others, but that never stopped him. And Mike wouldn’t either. He’ll see. He’ll understand. He hoped that his gut would come through for him, but as he stared into the mirror of the dressing room, he couldn’t get over how much his stomach felt like dead weight.
