"That's real big of you," Jake responded, sipping from his first beer of the trip even though it was only seven in the morning, "considering that we're paying half the bill for those luxury suites."
"And all of your fuckin' nose candy," Matt added.
Greg wisely kept his mouth shut until the band was a little more into the spirit of things.
This didn't take long. They rolled down Interstate 10, leaving Los Angeles and its suburbs behind. By the time the bus entered the desert of Riverside County a thick haze of marijuana smoke hung in the air, the trash was full of empty beer bottles, and the mood among the band members was almost festive.
This mood remained as they rolled across the southern edge of the country. The bus sound system was turned on and, like before, whenever the new Intemperance single was found on a radio station, it was cranked loudly and out came the air guitars and the improvised dance moves. There was reason to be festive about this. Only fifteen days after The Thrill of Doing Business was released across the country for sale, the album had already sold eighty thousand copies and the single had already debuted on the Hot One Hundred chart. It was the most requested song on rock radio stations coast to coast and the first twenty venues they were scheduled for had already sold out in advance.
"Listen to this," said Bill on the second day of the trip, as he read from a newspaper he had picked up in an El Paso truck stop while the convoy had been fueling. "It's a record review of Thrill. 'It is clear when you listen to the cuts on the new album that the band has both matured and become more sophisticated in songwriting and musical composition. The lyrics by Tisdale and especially Kingsley are an obvious reflection of the life lessons both have learned in the rough and tumble music business. The ballad Crossing the Line, by Kingsley, is quite clearly influenced by his tumultuous, now-defunct relationship with television and screen actress Mindy Snow.'"
"That's some funny shit, Nerdly," Matt said. "We've matured and applied our life lessons. I guess they don't know that every last one of the tunes on Thrill are leftover material from D Street West days."
"Mindy and I only broke up a week ago," Jake said in wonder. "They think I composed a tune about it and that we rehearsed it up and recorded it since then?"
"Who is the song about then?" asked Greg, who was hovering nearby and preparing his latest nose candy feast.
"It isn't about anybody," Jake said. "It's not a love song at all. It's about taking risks in your life, about going beyond the point where your instincts are telling you to stop something. The line is where you can turn back from a decision and still walk away. Crossing it means you put everything at risk, expose yourself, flirt with failure in the name of a new achievement."
"Yeah," Coop said. "Like when you're with a new bitch and you want to ass fuck her or have her dyke out with another bitch while you fuck them both. If you don't ask her, you'll never get to do it. But if you do ask her, she might dump your ass and start fucking one of your friends instead. That's the danger. But the reward you can get by crossing the line is that she might be down with it and you can get yourself into some ass or get a threesome."
Everyone stared at Coop for a moment, long enough to make him uncomfortable.
"What?" he asked.
"That's fuckin' deep, Coop," Matt said.
"Hell yeah," agreed Jake. "You nailed that concept right on the head."
Greg, as was his custom when the talked turned in this direction, simply shook his head in disgust and found another portion of the bus to occupy.
They rolled into Miami just after ten o'clock in the morning on March 15, ten and a half hours before they were to hit the stage for the first time. All five were hungover and strung out, badly in need of sleep. They stopped at their hotel long enough to check in and take a shower and then Janice Boxer gathered them all up for their first session of radio station interviews, sound byte recordings, and an autograph session at a local record store. They met the members of Birmingham for the first time when they reported for the sound check at four-thirty that afternoon.
Birmingham was a five-man band whose album had been released two months earlier and was selling moderately well with decent airplay of their single Texas Hold-em. Jake had heard their song on the radio many times and had also scored a copy of the album from Crow when he first found out they would be opening for them. They were obviously heavily influenced by .38 Special and Molly Hatchet, but not to the point where they were a complete sound-alike band like Voyeur had been for AC/DC. All in all, Jake thought their music wasn't bad and he told them so when the lead singer, who seemed awe-struck to be in their presence, introduced himself and his cohorts.
And of course, they asked if the veteran band had any advice to give to the rookies. They looked puzzled when all five members of Intemperance burst out in laughter.
"The best advice we can give," said Jake, "is the same advice Earthstone gave us when we opened for them the first time."
"What's that?"
Jake looked at Darren. "You want to lay it on 'em?" he asked him.
"Hell yeah," Darren said sourly. He looked at the members of Birmingham. "No matter what you do, no matter how much you might think you want to, never kiss a groupie."
And, as Earthstone had done before them, they said no further on that matter, leaving it to the newbies to find out how solid that advice was on their own.
In their dressing rooms they were assisted with their wardrobe by Reginald Feeney and had their hair done by Delores Riolo, just as before. Once dressed and presentable they went backstage for the obligatory autograph sessions and photo-ops for the various radio station contest winners and the other dignitaries who had scored back-stage passes.
"I'm sorry to hear about you and Mindy Snow," Jake was told no less than six times. Twice he was pressed for details of why they had broken up. He politely deflected these inquiries with vague statements.
Finally, they were led back to the dressing room so Birmingham could hit the stage. By this point they were really dragging ass, all of them wishing they had spent last night sleeping instead of partying.
"Does anyone want a little pick-me-up?" asked Greg, waving his cocaine kit before their eyes. "It would be therapeutic at this point, don't you think?"
"Don't start, Greg," Matt growled. "I was afraid of offending the record company last tour so I went easy on you. I'm no longer quite so afraid of them."
Greg put a nervous look on his face and slinked off, taking his cocaine with him.
The thumping of Birmingham's bass guitar could be heard but little else as they went through their set. After an hour it came to an end. Jake and Matt drank three bottles of Gatorade apiece to stave off the dehydration they knew was coming. Conversation was little. Finally it was time to go forward. They made their way through the tunnel and into the stage left area. As soon as they opened the door the sound of the crowd hit them.
Jake felt his fatigue slipping away as he heard that sound, replaced by nervous excitement. It was time to perform.
The lights went down and the sell-out crowd of fourteen thousand began to roar. The synthesized intro began. They were warned one last time to stay clear of the pyro charges. They clasped hands and hit the stage. Matt ground out the opening chords, the explosions fired, and their first set of the tour began.