Chapter 1 - Red
Chapter 1 – Red
“Mr Red Macleod,” my lawyer – Dax’s hotshot secret dad (who the fuck knew that the dude I’d called brother for over ten years had a secret fucking life!) – nudges me onto my feet. “You have been accused of dangerous driving, operating a vehicle under the influence, causing bodily harm whilst under the influence, and destruction of private property. How do you plead?”
I get another sharp nudge as I fiddle with the tight collar of my starched white shirt. “Guilty,” another nudge, “Your honour, sir.”
Finally allowed to sit back down on the stupidly hard chair, I slump down, wishing this whole fucking thing was over already. The lawyers start doing their thing, and I tune them out.
How the fuck did I get here, I hear you ask? Well, stupidity and fear are wonderful bedfellows. I’ve always been a bit of a knob when it comes to having fun, always the one who pushes things too far. If there was one more drink to be had, I’d drink it. If there was one more pill to pop, I’d pop it. When I first met Chaz Allard, I felt like I’d met my kindred spirit. We shared some kind of co-dependent stupidity.
When I answered the ad in the crappy handmade music paper that the local music shop sold, looking for a drummer and a bassist, I never fucking imagined I would meet the people who would become like family to me. Suddenly, I had an excuse to live the rockstar lifestyle. People around me who enabled me to get away with really fucking dumb shit, who were happy to take me at face value and try to find some deeper shit going on inside my mind – because usually there really isn’t. Strangers wanted to party with me, give me free drinks and shit, and I slowly got a point where I guess you could call me a functioning addict. But really, there was no situation which couldn’t be improved with a chemical haze and a few hilarious jokes…until there was one.
It was fucking devastating when Chaz got diagnosed, my whole fucking world crumbled, and it was almost too fucking soul destroying when he passed to continue going. So, I think I tried my hardest not to.
Following the excellent example set by my deadbeat dad, I buried all my feelings and numbed myself with even more alcohol and even more drugs, just like he’d done when my mom up and walked out on us. Days blurred into one another, but I managed to function again eventually.
Our band, Age of Decay, my only reason for getting out of bed every day, was left in turmoil; do we continue without Chaz? Can we just replace him? Then, Adam suggested Chaz’s little sister, Rayna, as our new singer. After a couple of rehearsals, I could see it working, although our bassist, Dax, took a little more persuading. Luckily, she won over the bigwigs from the record label, and they allowed us to continue with our contract. Things have kinda took off for us over the last couple of years, with a Grammy win and a world tour, but I just still…I still miss the fuck outta Chaz.
Being away, mixing with new people that I have to impress, then Chaz’s anniversary happening when we were playing Barcelona – his favourite fucking city – tipped me over the edge. I knew I was spiralling, but it was as if I was outside myself, watching a huge mushroom cloud rise up as I bombed the fuck out of my life. I missed so many gigs; I’m surprised I hadn’t been kicked out of the band. I’d even gotten my ass arrested in Amsterdam, and they’d had to bail me out.
Then a few months ago, everything blew the fuck up, and our manager was fired, we somehow got a new one on the same day. Our tour schedule bought us back from Europe to do a few more American dates before having some well-deserved downtime, and that was when things hit rock bottom for me.
I’d been invited to a fancy get-together, and as always was enjoying being the life and soul of the party. The guy who owned the house also owned several very fast, very expensive cars. After some cajoling, he handed over the keys to one of said very fast, very expensive cars. Unfortunately, I was beyond hammered, and so were the other two guys. In the back of my mind was a tiny voice whispering this is a stupid fucking idea, but I’m extremely well practised in ignoring that fucker.
I was lucky that I didn’t kill them.
I was lucky I didn’t kill myself, although I don’t think anyone would have missed me much. My dad was right; I was such a little asshole at times.
I’d woken up in a hospital bed surrounded by my bandmates, all of whom looked equal parts pissed and piteous. I don’t think I’ll ever forget the tear-streaked face of Rayna as she questioned ‘why the fuck would you gamble with something as precious as your life?!’. Luckily, I was just banged up, badly, but just cuts and bruises. I think they might have actually fired my ass if I’d broken a limb. Deemed too ill to serve time in jail, the police decided that my time in the hospital was my custody, and once I was fit enough, I was hurled in front of the judge.
Which brings us to today.
My legs itch. I was habitually clad in shorts, so the feeling of the suit pants wrapped around me felt suffocating. Nearly as bad as the noose, sorry, tie around my neck. The cotton shirt was sticking to the sweat on my back. Inside the smart leather shoes, my toes felt squashed together. The skin on the back of my neck prickled under the angry glares of my band, who were sitting just behind me.
The gaunt-looking judge clears his throat, his rheumy eyes peering over the silver metal frames perched on the end of his bird-like nose. “Mr Macleod, you have been found guilty by this court of being in charge of a vehicle whilst intoxicated, and causing damage to private property and bodily harm to the passengers in said vehicle. Now, I have reviewed your statement, and the statements of the other people involved in this terrible accident, and spoken, at great length,” he throws a weary glance towards our new manager, Kyle, “to your manager, and I feel you need help rather than punishment.” I straighten up in my seat. Maybe I was actually gonna avoid going to jail! “That being said, you are going to have to go through some punishment before you get to the help.” I curse under my breath, and my lawyer shoots me a death glare. “You are hereby ordered to pay one point five million in damages, and are sentenced to ninety days in jail, followed by two years’ probation, where you will be assigned a court appointed sober companion who will report directly to myself.”
The bang of his gavel echoes around the courtroom, hammering the nails into my proverbial coffin. I can’t even raise my eyes to look at my bandmates as I’m led out of the room, knowing how much I’ve just fucked them over. My reprieve doesn’t last long. I’m led to a kind of holding room, and a minute or so after the guards have left me, Kyle and the guys bundle into there with me.
“Well, that went better than expected!” Kyle claps a hand on my shoulder, a wide smile splitting his face.
“What the fuck are you talking about?” I shake him off, still resolutely avoiding looking at the disappointed faces of my friends as I slump down further on the hard plastic chair.
“For a fuck up as big as yours, you could have gone down for years and years, but you’ve basically been given a slap on the wrist!”
Dax scoffs derisively from behind me. “A fucking slap on the wrist? This dumb asshole has fucked our whole fucking tour up!”
“Yeah,” Adam pipes up. “What’s gonna happen about the tour? We’ve still got another eight months of dates.”
“That’s what friends are for,” Kyle grins. “I’ve already got drummers lined up to step in. You know what they say; no publicity is bad publicity. The statements have already been drafted explaining the situation, and the chatter online is generally excited fans guessing who is going to moonlight in Red’s place.”
“Great,” I grumble. Replaced so fucking easily…just ask mom.
***
In the end I am only in jail for twenty days, which still sucked more than I care to admit. The food sucked, the prison uniform meant I was stuck in pants all day long, there were no drums to take my aggression on, and I was reminded every day of the fact that my band were out there playing with another drummer.
With my belongings in a clear plastic bag gripped in my fist, and the blissfully cool air whipping around my naked calves, I squint against the low afternoon sun as I scan the carpark outside the jail. A slow, relieved grin creeps across my face as I hear my name being called. I was half expecting nobody to have come to pick my ass up, and had been figuring out if I had enough change to catch the bus.
“Red!” Rayna’s sneakers pound across the tarmac and the breath is knocked out of my body as she leaps into my arms, wrapping her legs around my waist and squeezing the shit out of me. Lifting my eyes, I spot Adam and Dax walking towards us and gently set her down, choosing to ignore the sheen of unshed tears in her big blue eyes.
“Hey guys,” I offer a fist to them both.
“S’up loser,” Dax bumps his fist against mine, but Adam pulls me in for a weird man hug, slapping my back a few times before releasing me.
“I thought you were all living it up over in Norway.”
“Nah, Kyle arranged for us to fly back and collect you, make sure you didn’t get yourself into any more trouble before you made it back to the tour.” Adam rolls his eyes good-naturedly. I try my best to hide the pure unadulterated relief that my band hadn’t just moved on without me.
“What’s going on with your hair?” Rayna giggles as she pokes at the grown-out mess that was sitting on top of my head. I hadn’t been allowed access to clippers or hair gel, so my sides had grown through and my mohawk was a flaccid flop down the middle.
I waggle my eyebrows. “Not liking the new look? I thought it suited me.” Looking around, I clap my hands together, rubbing them eagerly. “So, what are we waiting for? Let’s go find some trouble before we have to fly out.”
Rayna shakes her head, a frown puckering her forehead. “Red…”
“Jeez! I’m joking, obviously,” mostly. There’s an awkward silence.
“Kyle told us to wait here with you until he showed up with your new sober companion,” Adam volunteers eventually, shuffling his feet and jamming his hands into his pockets.
“You mean my new fucking babysitter,” I roll my eyes, wishing I had something to smoke right about now. “Some uptight, collared bitch who doesn’t know how to have a good time, so she decided to get a job telling other people what they can’t do.”
Dax chuckles, his eyes alight with mirth as he looks pointedly over my shoulder. “Nice to meet you…again.”
