As they thank the Lord the blind can't see. Like a plague fed to the brain deadly disease…
“This is fucking awesome,” I grinned, shouting over the music.
Tyler nodded enthusiastically, drumming along to the song on his steering wheel.
We’d carefully selected Avenged Sevenfold’s newest album as my first taste of their music. Tyler had explained that while Waking the Fallen was a crowd favourite, City of Evil was his favourite album to date.
“It’s really fucking cool,” he’d told me, holding the horse-riding skeleton case up by his face. “Wait until you hear the solo in MIA—you’re going to die.”
Despite my best efforts, Tyler refused to start off with that song. Apparently Tyler liked to listen to albums the way their creators intended; in order.
I, however, was indulgent. It never made sense to me to tease oneself with the promise of a song you loved approaching. Fuck that. Skip right to track 9, let that bass line sooth your soul.
But it was Tyler’s car; driver’s rules.
It won't matter in the end I'm sure they'll understand. Now look at the world and see how the humans bleed…”
“Why have we not listened to them before now?” I shouted.
The entire album up to that point had been impressive. Jimmy’s drumming was like nothing I’d ever heard before—the guitar solos were insane. M. Shadow’s voice was absolute perfection; I was in awe of his range.
“I’ve tried,” Tyler groaned. “You are a music snob.”
I raised an eyebrow, and turned the volume down, “A snob?”
“Yes,” he chuckled. “You like what you like—to hell with anything new. That includes new albums from bands you love.”
I rolled my eyes and slouched down in the seat, “How can I sing along if I don’t know the words?”
“You’re impossible.”
I had to agree. I’d been that way all my life—I had to be in the right mood to take in anything new. I was a creature of habit. It’s probably how I’d been able to learn to sing with such a wide range. You are what you eat—and I ate a lot of insane vocalists for breakfast.
“Well, these guys are sick,” I said finally, studying the liner notes. “I’m impressed.”
Tyler looked at me from the sides of his eyes, “They make me feel like a really shitty musician. I’ll never be at Synyster Gates’ level.”
“Don’t be so self-depreciative,” I moaned. “It’s irritating.”
He put his focus back on the road stretching out before us, the sun just beginning to fade behind the tall trees.
I knew that I had an abrupt way of speaking—I was problematically apathetic and most often unaware of the effects of my words. Tyler, though, had an expressive face and had many feelings. Years of friendship had taught me to be apologetic with him always.
I rubbed the back of my neck uncomfortably, “Sorry—you know I think you’re an incredible guitarist.”
“I know.”
I forced the corners of my lips into a curve, “You can appreciate other musicians without it depreciating what you can do, you know.”
He said, “I know.”
I squinted at him, “You’re great—do you know that?”
He laughed finally, “Yeah, I know.”
Tyler had been sensitive for as long as I’d known him. He was protective of me, sure; but, he had no idea how protective I was forced to be of him. He didn’t need to be protected from women or from critics—what he really needed to be protected from was himself. He was a bit of a loose canon.
He’d tried to commit suicide (for the first time) when we were thirteen. I stayed in the hospital with him for forty-eight straight hours until he was moved to the psychiatric wing and I was forcefully removed from his side.
Looking at him now, you’d have never guessed he had such darkness swimming around inside. He was beautiful to see and mesmerizing to hear. Beyond all of that, though, he was my best friend. He was like a brother to me—and those days, I could use all of the family I could get.
I forced the memories away from my mind, trying to bring myself back to the present.
“How much further?” I asked, checking the time on the dash.
He shrugged, “I don’t know, really. Maybe five minutes?”
Apparently someone with deep pockets had rented out an old building and transformed it into party grounds of epic proportions. I got the sense that Jimmy was one to exaggerate, though; so, I was skeptical to say the least.
Parties had always made me nervous—my life had taught me to stick mostly to myself. Joining a band was something Tyler had convinced me to do in order to force myself out of my comfort zone.
“You might like it,” he’d said to me. “We need a singer—and as luck would have it, you can sing!”
He’d formed a metal band when we were in high school. There original singer’s name was Cooper and he was a proper twat. He was egotistical and obnoxious. What drove me the most insane was that he didn’t have the intelligence to back up his pompousness. It was all literal ego and I hated him.
The band had voted him out following a questionable sexual encounter with a girl from our school. After that, everyone had decided him to be a creep and kept a very large distance from him.
His family moved to Colorado a couple months later.
This left a void in the band that I inevitably filled. Like magic, we started booking gigs right away—started to travel further and further from home. We made the move to California when I was nineteen. We signed our first record deal at twenty-one—not a bad wait time, if you ask me.
“I think this is it,” Tyler spoke, breaking me from my trance.
We were down an almost entirely desolate road, a giant grey building to our right. There were people everywhere. Groups stood in circles smoking and shouting. The noise pierced through our speakers and cut through the song.
My heart started to flutter and my anxiety kicked itself into high gear.
“How the fuck are we going to find the Rev in there?” Tyler asked seriously, creeping the car up the road in search for a place to park.
I bit at my lip nervously, “I don’t know—ask around for him, I guess.”
“Maybe he’ll find us,” Tyler suggested with a laugh.
We’d almost hit the end of the road when a car pulled out from the shoulder and offered us a place to rest our wheels. Tyler pulled the car into the spot and turned the key.
He turned to me in the silence and gave me his most serious look, “It’s going to be fun.”
My anxiety disagreed.
“Right,” I nodded once. “Fun.”
“You’re okay,” he reassured me. “If you can sing in front of thousands of people, you can attend a party of a couple hundred.”
“I mean—that’s not the same but I see your point.”
“You’re right, being on stage is far more intimate. Most people here probably won’t even know who you are.”
I tilted my head, “Is that supposed to make me feel better?”
“Yes,” he laughed. “Let’s go.”
I pushed myself out of the rusted car and into the crisp California air. It was then that I wished I’d known I’d be going to a party—I probably would have dressed myself differently. Go with the flow, I guess.
The sounds of crowds floated down the street and hugged my nerves tightly. I took a deep breath to steady my heart palpitations. Tyler, probably sensing my heightened discomfort, linked his arm with mine as we walked.
Like something out of a movie, there was red velvet rope lining the way to the entrance, a giant and very muscular man stood watch over the door. I felt very small in that moment.
I would have turned around if it hadn’t been for Tyler’s grip on my arm. Maybe that’s why he linked it in the first place. I was a flight risk for sure.
“Name?” the burly man asked as we neared him.
I thought I might throw up so I didn’t open my mouth.
“Tyler Brody and Blair Peterson,” Ty answered for me.
The man flipped through a couple of pages, his face serious and unflinching.
“The Rev—err—Jimmy Sullivan said he’d put us on the list,” Tyler tried nervously.
The man peered up at us for a quick second.
“I know you,” he said to me. “You have a killer voice.”
My faces flushed red and my stomach turned, “Th-Thanks.”
“You guys can head in,” he smiled but it wasn’t friendly.
And so we did.
I followed Tyler up, what felt like, a thousand sets of stairs until we finally reached the top. The room was wide open and full of hanging lights—a band was playing on a stage far across from where we stood. It was motherfucking loud.
People were scattered everywhere. The crowd was thick and intimidating. Tables laced the outsides of the giant room and were noticeably overflowing.
I grabbed for my cigarettes instinctively.
“You’re fine,” Tyler said into my ear.
I nodded, lighting my cigarette with shaking hands. Fear of crowds was a real thing and I had it.
“Let’s go look around,” Ty suggested loudly, pulling me to the side of the room.
We walked along the wall, passed booths of tables upon tables. People hardly seemed to notice us at all—but with the sheer volume of humans in this space, it was hardly surprising.
I took a long drag of my cigarette and let the smoke fill my pulsing lungs.
A hand grabbed the back of my arm suddenly—it gripped so tightly that I jumped with pain. I whipped around, ready to fight. Fight or flight—I always chose fight. My fight impulses were embarrassingly strong.
“Hey!” Jimmy shouted.
Relief washed over my body. I pulled at Tyler’s arm, still linked with mine, to get him to quit pulling me forward.
Jimmy stood himself next to me, towering over me with his enormous height advantage. He leaned down to speak directly into my ear.
“You guys made it!”
I leaned back so he could see me nod. My nerves were making it difficult to speak still.
“Come on, come meet everyone!”
He pulled me forward so that I could be at the direct end of the table—perfect view for everyone in his entourage.
“Roll call!” Jimmy shouted.
His voice was strong and cut through all of the ambient noise.
“This here is Matt,” he pointed around the table accordingly. “Johnny, Alex, and some girl that seems to have attached herself to this table.”
Everyone, except the girl, waved pathetically in my general direction.
Tyler was in his glory.
“Care to join us?” the one that had been pegged as Matt called to us.
I pulled on my cigarette, “If you don’t mind, I’d love to sit down.”
He laughed and gestured for us to sit. Everyone scooched down to make room.
“I’m Blair,” I said finally, tossing my cigarette into the ashtray conveniently placed in the center of the table. “This is Tyler.”
“I’m a huge fan,” Tyler gushed shamelessly.
Johnny smiled, “We appreciate that!”
Tyler surveyed the table and frowned.
“What’s up, buttercup?” Jimmy asked, obviously apt in the art of reading people.
“Nothing,” Tyler answered simply. “I just really hoped I’d get to meet Synyster Gates.”
Jimmy grabbed his chest dramatically, “Ouch! You hear that, guys? We’re chopped liver next to Syn!”
Matt and Johnny pouted dramatically before cackling maniacally.
“Sorry,” Jimmy laughed. “Syn is around here somewhere.”
Tyler’s face lit up which caused the group to begin another wrong of deep laughter. I rubbed at Tyler’s arm affectionately, reassuring him that it was all in jest. He didn’t seem to mind the fun being had at his expense, to my relief.
“Let’s get drinks!” Jimmy announced. “Flag down that waitress!”
I lit another cigarette and waited for the waitress to notice my flailing-armed new friend.
One drink. One drink and we can go home.
I dragged my cigarette and hoped for time to push on faster.

Notes

I'm digging this story so I'm hopeful to continue to keep the chapters rolling as quickly as I've been.
Brian is coming, don't you fret. ;)