The Devil's Metal (6 page)

The man would be Hybrid’s manager, Jacob
Edwards.

The man who would take me to the band at the
famous Red Rocks Amphitheatre.

The band who would become my shadow for the
next few weeks.

I was hit by such a burst of excitement that
I thought my heart was going to bounce its way out of my chest. My
knees began to quiver, the handle of my bag starting to slip out of
my clammy hands. Could I do this? I didn’t even know where I
was
.

Denver, right, Denver, Colorado. I was Dawn
Emerson in Denver, Colorado, having survived her first plane trip
ever with a non-demonic little boy. I was thousands of miles away
from home, standing in an airport full of strangers going back and
forth. I was on the verge of something epic. It could go well, it
could all go bad, but it was going to be epic in whichever way it
went.

I was going to throw up.

I spied the signs for the bathroom and began
to hurry my way there when I heard someone call out my name.

I stopped and forced the vomit to stay down.
I tried to compose myself. Smoothed the fringe down on my
shirt.

I turned around and looked. Over by the
baggage claim was a tall, red-headed fellow holding a plastic sign
that had my name on it. His eyes lit up at my gaze and he gestured
for me to walk over to him with a quick shake of his head.

“You’re Dawn, right?” he yelled, full-on
Cockney accent. People in the terminal turned to look at us,
perplexed at the ginger invasion.

I nodded, feeling like a deer caught in the
headlights.

“Well hurry up and piss and get your ass
over here, time is money.”

Yes, he certainly did just shout that at me
from across the airport.

I was a little too annoyed to piss or vomit
now. So this was the Jacob Edwards, was it? What a rude dude.

I straightened my shoulders, gripped my bag
tighter, and hurried off toward him.

“Dawn, nice to finally meet you,” he said as
I neared him. “I’m Jacob Edwards, but you can call me The Cob.
Actually don’t. I can tell I might like you and I only let buggers
call me that.”

Now that I was up close, I could see he was
quite the brutal looking character. Oh, he was handsome in a
peculiar way with a large sloping forehead and broad chin. His eyes
were small and sparkling, a weird amber color, and his nose had
been broken a few times. Freckles dusted the tops of his cheeks
along with pockmarks.

This was the man who kept Hybrid under
control. Given some of the rumors I had heard, I wondered how often
he was able to do his job. Guess I’d be finding out.

A little thrill ran through my body at that
thought, and I held out my hand. I needed to act professional,
assertive.

“Nice to meet you, Jacob. Thank you for, you
know, thinking of me,” I said. He took my hand in his and gave it a
bone-crushing squeeze. I had no doubt he could have broken it in
two. So much for being assertive.

He held on to it for a few more seconds,
looking deep into my eyes like he was testing my pain threshold or
something. Then he released it and smiled. “It was nothing. Now
let’s get started. I have a cab waiting for us.”

I couldn’t help but feel shy while looking
at him. There was something magnetic about his presence and it was
hard to guess his age. His mannerisms and skin made him look older,
but his eyes and smile placed him at about thirty. He was a beefy
guy, wide at the waist, built like a tree. His knuckles looked fat
and he had a bunch of gold rings on them. His suit was checkerboard
and ugly.

He turned and started marching toward the
door. I followed behind him, my long legs trying to match his, my
brain lagging behind. I ignored the tingling sensation in my
hand.

We burst through the main doors and into the
Colorado sunshine. It was brighter here than at home, the air
smelling fresh from the mountains. I immediately imagined Moonglow
tossing up her white mane, Arab nostrils wide, soaking in the
oxygen. This was horse country, a more rugged version of home.

But now wasn’t time to be thinking about
home. We had stopped at a cab that was running at the side of the
road. Jacob tossed my sign in the trash (kind of a bummer because I
would have liked to have kept that as a souvenir), then opened the
door to the backseat, taking my suitcase from me with the other
hand.

“Get in,” he gave me a little shove toward
the door. “And be careful, she bites.”

She bites?

I got in and sat in the back of the cab,
expecting to see a dog or something. Instead I saw the very
unamused face of Miss Noelle Clark. Bassist. Girlfriend of Mickey
Brown. An original member of Hybrid, and one of the hottest chicks
in the music industry.

She was looking at me like I’d already
tested her patience. Despite the dullness in her heavily-lined eyes
and the tightness of her normally full lips, she was prettier in
person than I’d seen in photographs and on TV. She was thinner than
I imagined, but dressed straight out of a magazine spread, a
headband on her head, her dark, wild hair trailing down her
shoulders. She wore a slightly transparent black lace dress and
tall platform boots. It was sexy and hard-edged all at once. She
was one of the few musicians who could pull off the Alice Cooper
look without being Alice Cooper.

And I was very aware that I was shoved in
the back of a cab with her and staring at her blatantly.

“Hi,” I said awkwardly. I wiped my sweaty
hand on my cords and put my hand out for her. “I’m Dawn. I’ll
be—“

“I know why you’re here,” she said quickly.
She turned her attention to Jacob who was just coming into the car.
“Can we get a move on or what?”

Jacob shot her a look over his shoulder.
When his amber eyes narrowed, he looked positively avian. “You
don’t call the shots, missy. You wanted to come along and along you
came.”

She sat back in her seat and crossed her
arms, looking out the window with annoyance. “Had I known it would
take so long, I would have sent someone else to get the
alcohol.”

I felt like I had to say something. “I’m
sorry the flight was a bit late and—”

“And now,” she added, still not looking at
me, “I have to watch what I say because some groupie is in the
car.”

“Hey,” I protested. “I’m not a groupie!”

The cab driver and Jacob exchanged a look
and the car roared off. I was thrown back a bit and I made sure I
was fastened in properly.

Noelle rolled her eyes but didn’t say
anything.

“I’m a journalist,” I went on to say even
though it didn’t seem like anyone was listening. Jacob was grinning
like a madman from the front seat, like he was really enjoying
himself.

“You’ll have to excuse Noelle here,” he
finally explained, tucking away those big teeth. “She’s the girl of
the group. You might be infringing on her territory a wee bit.”

I gave him a funny look. Well why the hell
did he want me to come on the road with him if he thought it was
going to be a problem?

Never mind, suck it up
, I told
myself. I was obviously a bundle of nerves and taking things the
wrong way. I’d win Noelle over sooner or later. She was just one
tiny piece of the band, albeit a fairly formidable one considering
the chill she was giving off with her cold shoulder.

I took a deep breath and gave them both a
smile I hoped was charming and understanding. “No worries, we have
plenty of time to get to know each other. Tonight I guess is all
about settling in.”

“Yeah, you have the easy part,” Noelle said
to me out of the corner of her mouth. Her arms were still crossed.
“This is the start of our tour. I…fuck, Jacob, how long till the
store?”

Jacob patted the cabbie on the shoulder.
“Pull over at the nearest establishment, good sir.”

The cabbie gave him an eye roll that rivaled
Noelle’s but did as he asked. Soon we were rolling into a
generic-looking liquor store, all pale blue paint and gold
letters.

Noelle sighed, either annoyed or relieved,
then put her palm flat out toward Jacob. He put a few bills in her
hand. “This is part of the room and board,” he told me with a wink.
“You’re included, Dawn. Go in with Noelle and pick your lot.”

I raised my brows at him. Noelle had closed
her hand over the money and was out the door and walking fast
toward the entrance.

“Go on,” he said, nodding at her. “Give her
a hand. And make sure she doesn’t steal anything.”

He looked serious, so I couldn’t figure out
if it was true or not. No matter, if the band tour manager wanted
me to follow Noelle, bassist of Hybrid, into a liquor store, then
that’s what I was going to do.

I walked into the store, the air
conditioning smelling like ice, and went over to Noelle who was
perusing the vodka section.

“Looking for something in particular?” I
asked. Sometimes I sucked at small talk.

“Maybe.” She straightened up and glanced
over at the cashier. His back was turned to us, arranging a display
on the wall. She quickly unscrewed the cap off a bottle of Smirnoff
and quickly chugged a mouthful. Then she wiped her lips, put it
back on the shelf and grabbed the Grey Goose next to it. She
repeated it all over again, keeping her eyes on the cashier but
never looking the slightest bit chagrined or worried.

I was aware that my mouth was hanging open a
little so I closed it. “Taste testing?”

She screwed the cap back on the Grey
Goose.

“Jacob never gives us enough money, and I
heard half the fucking venues don’t even supply the kicks anymore.
Fucking economy.”

After she had her third mouthful of vodka, a
relaxed glaze had come over her eyes.

“Hey, wanna be of help to us?” she said
lazily, scooping three bottles of Smirnoff into her arms. “You go
get the beers. A case of Corona. A case of Carlsberg. A flat of
Heineken.”

I was strong but if she thought I could
carry all of that, she was crazy. And judging from the way she had
moved on down the aisle and was putting mini bottles of booze into
the tops of her boots, there was no disputing it.

Oh boy. What exactly had I got involved with
here?

I made my way over to the beer fridges,
aware that we could get totally busted at any moment and I would be
guilty by association. I thought Mel could be a badass at times,
but Noelle was taking the cake and enjoying every mouthful.

I took what I could to the counter where
Noelle was waiting, seemingly impatient. She had the bottles of
vodka, a bottle of Crown Royal, a bottle of Jameson, and two boxes
of red wine. I hoped that was their booze for the week and not just
the night. I knew Hybrid got in trouble sometimes for being
disorderly, but I didn’t think it was
this
bad.

It took two trips to get the booze out to
the car, with Jacob sitting in the car watching us the whole time.
I wondered if he hoped it would be some sort of bonding experience
between Noelle and I. I couldn’t tell you if it worked. As we drove
off toward the amphitheater, which was a long drive out of the
city, she went back to being quiet and sullen.

And I went back to overthinking things. As
the realization that I was actually in a car with Hybrid’s bassist
and manager began to sink in, I started focusing on another
problem—one that I could see becoming a shadow over this whole
tour. Just what the hell was I supposed to write about here?

When I had called Barry back and told him I
was on board with the idea, he barely gave me any ideas for the
piece. He said it
could
run on the cover, which was
unbelievable, but it really depended on what I came up with, what
it was going to be about. The last thing I wanted was a poor
version of celebrity journalism, talking about the shoplifting
habit of their bassist. I wanted it to be about the music and I
hoped that’s where it was going to go.

I took in a deep breath and let my eyes
drift over the mountain scenery as the cab climbed higher towards
rolling red and green hills. I needed advice but I didn’t have
anyone to give it to me. Even if Ryan and I were still together,
every time I mentioned writing, his eyes would glaze over. He loved
the music part and loved sharing music with me, but I never had the
impression he thought I was going to do anything great with it. My
dad was a good listener when sober, but he wasn’t one for advice.
Mel’s opinion would get me into trouble. Anything Jacob said would
be biased, and Barry didn’t seem like someone you could bug.
Besides, I wanted to come off stronger than I was. The only person
I could think of would be the young music journalist Cameron Crowe.
The kid was only sixteen and writing genius articles for Rolling
Stone. But he was famous now and in a class of his own. Not my
class, not by a long shot.

I needed a mentor. Maybe I should have had
one all along.

And now, I realized, I had been thrown right
into the deep end.

Alone.

Thank god I knew how to swim.

CHAPTER FOUR

It wasn’t long before the cab rolled up to
the Red Rocks Amphitheatre. My heart went pitter-patter over the
sight of the famous red rocks flanking the sides of the natural
arena, a desert-like oasis with the lights of Denver in the
background. This was the place where The Beatles rocked in 1964,
where Jethro Tull’s sold out show a few years ago led to the “Riot
at Red Rocks” and a five-year ban on rock concerts. The ban was
apparently still in place; the only way Hybrid was able to play was
because they were the opener for Pretty Mary and both of them were
playing “unplugged” or acoustic only.

Still, by the looks of the fans who had
already begun to ascend on the venue, an acoustic show didn’t keep
out the rockers. I had only heard about their acoustic only show on
the ride over and I was totally intrigued by it. No wonder they had
wanted me for the start of their tour; this was something that not
many rock bands did, let alone one that gave Black Sabbath and Led
Zeppelin a run for their money.