Don't Blame The Band - 16. Single Day and the First Real Concert

Saturday December 31

We have a little bit of a different gig tonight. Paul Garson worked through Michelle for us to play their New Year's Eve party. Of course, it cost Paul more than his usual $200 each (yeah, we got another raise after the Atlantic contract news broke), but he's charging a buttload more, so I guess shelling out $5000 to Atlantic was worth his while. Of course, we had to practice 'Auld Lang Syne." I mean, what's New Years without it?

We were making more, so Paul asked for more. Fair. We ended up doing 6 mini-sets; 4 before the ball dropped in Times Square, and two after. Aside from rehearsals, it was the first time we mixed Southern and Classic in one night, with the exception of 'Free Bird.' It's New Year's eve and we wanted to have fun too, so it was probably our rockingest (is that even a word? Who cares?) set ever. We did keep the two genres separate for the most part. We sent the rock heavy message right from the start. My song introductions inserted where applicable. There were cheers where you'd expect them.

Set 1: (Approx 9:00 - 9:30)

"Should we get this party started Garson's?"
Highway Star
Run to the Hills

"I'm sure you'll recognize this next one, but we have to tell you it will be the B side of our single, being released by Atlantic Records on Tuesday."
Cold As Ice

"And this is the A side."
Try Harder

Born to be Wild
White Room

"We're going to take a little break after this one, but this is what we're saying to 1988."
Surrender

Set 2: (Approx 9:45 - 10:15)
You've Got Another Thing Coming
All the Way
Spread Your Wings
Paranoid
Born to Run

"Once again, a little break after this one, but it's one of the longer ones we do, so we're not leaving just yet."
Heaven and Hell

Set 3: (Approx 10:30 - 11:00)

"We're heading down south for the next couple sets. Ant, my love; you get to start this one."
Flirtin' With Disaster

Call Me the Breeze
Hold on Loosely
Pride and Joy
Sweet Home Alabama

"Break time again. Gabe, start us off."
(Ghost) Riders in the Sky

Set 4: (Approx 11:15 - 11:45)
Whiskey Man
Keep Your Hands to Yourself
Bad Moon Rising
Midnight Rider
Ramblin' Man
The Devil Went Down To Georgia

"For those of you who've seen us before, we usually close the night with this one, but since we're going to slow it down after 1989 arrives, so we're going to close out the year with it. As Ronnie said, what song is it you wanna hear?"
Free Bird

Set 5: (Approx 12:02 - 12:30)
Auld Lang Syne
- Break
More Than a Feeling
I Want You to Want Me
Pour Some Sugar on Me
Double Vision
Aqualung

"OK, we'll be back for one more set."

Set 6: (Approx 12:45 - 1:15)

"This will be our second single. It will probably be out in early February. Hope you enjoy it."
Running Out of Time

Third Time Lucky
Lookin Out My Back Door
Piano Man
The Last Resort
Take it Easy
Dust in the Wind

"Goodnight everybody. Happy New Year!!"

Tuesday January 3

As Mick told us, our first single was released today. Because Ant and I are still in high school, Atlantic arranged for the first official playing to be on 95.5 WPLJ at just after 4:00. Obviously we all told our parent(s). I know my dad will be tuned to that station by 4, regardless of what they usually listen to on the job, if anything. I can just picture a dozen lawyers sitting around a conference table, wondering to whom they could charge their time.

Since we were going to be rehearsing later on, we met at Eddie and David's. When I say we, it was a pretty big we. Besides the band, there were a few friends of the Middletown guys, plus Cathy, Rob, Tyler, Jim, and Andy. Atlantic told Tyler he could have off so he can be with us to hear it on the radio for the first time. Jim picked him up along with the Romanos and Ty brought his stereo receiver and a couple speakers to set up in the garage/home stage. It's 4:02.

"Well PLJ listeners, we have a special treat for you right now. A local New Jersey band called The Swarm signed on with Atlantic Records about two and a half months ago. Apparently they've been hard at it. Their first single was released today. They have another due in February and an album due in March. Busy guys. They're a group of young men, barely past being boys, none older than 20. But don't call them a boy band. They rock a little to hard. We're going to play both sides. The second song is their rendition of Foreigner's 'Cold as Ice.' Apropos because Foreigner's Mick Jones produced the record. Here for the first time anywhere, 'Try Harder' from The Swarm."

And our song plays on the radio. It's so hard to believe that just seven months ago, I was singing with the high school chorus, and now I'm on the radio. We're all tremendously excited. I have to wonder if all the other debuts gave those bands the same kind of thrill. Plus, the same thing will be happening at 39 other radio stations around the US.

All told, our song was played over 150 times on 40 stations before the clock struck 12. I fell asleep with a smile on my face; and it wasn't put there by sex.

Wednesday January 4

If there were people in the school that didn't know who I was before, that changed during the morning announcements. Mr. Jacobson surprised us with his announcement. Nothing school related today. Once again, I have to wonder which of three close friends pulled this one off.

"Attention students. Today's announcements will be superseded by one announcement and two songs. Senior Pete Daggett is the lead singer for a band called The Swarm. Their first single was released and debuted on the radio yesterday. Since we now have a celebrity among us, I decided that the whole school should know. The songs are 'Try Harder,' an original song, and a remake of Foreigner's 'Cold as Ice.' Give a listen."

I find out at lunch which one did it. I pretty had it pegged as Tyler, having access to the 45's. Boy, was I fooled when Jim walks up to me.

"How'd you like it?"

"Like what?"

"This morning's announcement."

"You arranged that? I was pretty sure it was Tyler."

"Nope. After I left Eddie's I went to the music store and picked up a copy. I'll get you to autograph it later. Hehe."

"Well, it was great, although I can't walk down a hallway without being mobbed now. I was late to two classes so far today."

"That'll slow down in a couple days I'm sure."

Saturday January 7

The latest issue of Billboard magazine came out today. We're a little disappointed because 'Try Harder' didn't make it, but with really only 3+ days of it being out there, it had a disadvantage. We're hopeful next week we'll at least crack the top 100.

Saturday January 14

Another issue of Billboard magazine came out today. We made it! Just barely at #99, but we're hopeful that it will still rise.

Saturday January 21

We're still there. Made it up to #74.

Saturday January 28

Once again, we're still there. Made it up to #41. Just missed the top 40. Happy we're hanging on, disappointed we fell short of that particular threshold.

Saturday February 4

The second single dropped on January 31st, so after that we included its B side, 'In Another World' in our shows as well.

Holy shit. The new single must have driven up interest in the first. 'Try Harder' jumped to #19. 'Running Out of Time' debuted at #80. We've made it. I guess we're still technically a one hit wonder, but who knows, maybe the second will keep rising.

Saturday February 11

Maybe became real. 'Running Out of Time' is #38, 'Try Harder' fell to #26. I guess it's a good thing it's falling slowly.

Saturday February 18

Real became fucking unbelievable. 'Running Out of Time' is #9, 'Try Harder' fell to #59.

After that, both started falling. 'Try Harder' spent 7 weeks on the charts, 'Running Out of Time' had a little more staying power, probably due to the album's release on March 14th. It hung out for 11 weeks, spending 3 weeks in the top 20. The album did fairly well, making it to the top 40 at #38 on April 1, staying on Billboard's top 200 for 17 weeks.

Once again, things returned to normal for a while. We did our shows, included the two singles and B sides. Ant and I were still going strong. Tyler and Rob, too. I occasionally get a blow by blow account of their sexual escapades from Tyler. I guess he considers it paying me back, over and over, for introducing them.

Monday April 3

Eddie gets a call from Michelle. Atlantic needs a substitute opening act for a bunch of dates over the next couple weeks. With the recent peak in our album sales, they decided to give us a chance. Knowing the school situation, they're only asking us to do four. Two are Sunday afternoon shows, and the other two are a Tuesday and a Wednesday. All pretty local, but one of the shows is in Atlantic City. We're pretty jazzed about that one.

Sunday April 16

Atlantic Records sent a truck to Garson's to pick up our instruments. We left them there after last night's show so they would all be in one place for their transfer to the Garden State Arts Center. The show begins at 4 PM, so there's definitely enough time to get the truck all packed up and moved the 11 miles from Garson's. We'll be doing basically the same set for all four shows which was suggested by Mick and we went along with the expert's suggestion. There will be one exception, opening for Foreigner, we wouldn't be doing 'Cold as Ice':

'Try Harder'
'Live Your Own Life'
'Trust Your Fears'
'Eye Meets Eye'
'In Another World'
'Cold as Ice'
'Running Out of Time'

Being a local venue, hell, practically in our own backyard, there were a lot of people familiar with our songs. This particular concert was a multi-artist mini-festival. Playing after us were Winger, White Lion, and Skid Row, who we would have opened for last year, had the beatings not happened.

Wednesday April 19

Next it was off to East Rutherford and Brendan Byrne Arena. We were able to get in Tuesday evening to do a sound check, run through the set list, etc. This would be the largest venue we'd be playing on our mini-tour. That was obviously necessary for the headliners, Foreigner. Again, basically local, about an hour from home, so we had enough people in the crowd familiar with our songs. After this concert, the truck brought our stuff back to Garson's so it would be there for Friday and Saturday's shows.

Sunday April 23

We headed south again to Asbury Park Convention Hall for another late afternoon concert. Another pick up of the instruments in the morning at Garson's. Once again we're with the three bands from the first date. Another venue just about in our back yards, about a half hour from our homes. It's beginning to become clear why Atlantic chose these dates and venues. People in the area feel like they know us. There was a meet-and-greet held after the show. Even though the other bands had established fan bases, we still got a hundred or so people wanting our autographs on a promo photo supplied by Atlantic. Some also wanted pictures with one or more of us. I checked with the guys when it all broke up, they all received a handful of ass pinches or rubs when people thought they could get away with it. Fortunately for our 4 straight members, their pinches all came from females. Ant and I experienced them from both sexes. I counted 7, 5 boys and 2 girls. One of the boys couldn't have been more than 14 or 15. After he pinched my ass, he looked at me, smiled, patted it, and nodded, essentially saying thanks for letting him do that. Another of the guys got a little too frisky and held and squeezed my butt for way more than a couple seconds. I had to nudge his hand away and tell him it was enough. Ant got 6, 4 male and 2 female, but none of their touches qualified as a full-on grope like mine.

Tuesday April 25

Rounding out our mini-tour was Atlantic City Convention Hall with just Skid Row. Since this was a nighttime performance, there was no meet-and-greet. The trip was a little further from home, maybe 90 minutes, so the band and roadies took care of unloading our equipment at Garson's without Ant and I. School tomorrow.

Now that things have slowed down a little Ant and I ramped up the songwriting again. We already had the basics of three that we thought were good enough to share with the band; Caught in My Grasp, Long Stemmed Roses, and Lonely Years. Our Monday evening rehearsals returned to partially working on our new songs and keeping up to speed with the older ones. Atlantic wanted to get us back into the studio right after school ended for Ant and I. We had to have something in the bank by then. Michelle passed the information on that they will have 2 or 3 songs for us written by somebody else. Our target was another 10 songs so if we needed any throwaways, we'd have extra. Mixed in with that will be Michelle and Anton's wedding on June 17th. It'll be a hectic start to the summer. That turned out to be a massive understatement.

By now, Tyler's picked up a little more responsibility at the Studios. He's still only there part-time, but in another 7 weeks, he'll be able to go full-time. The person who was out sick could only handle half-days after he came back and will be retiring as soon as Tyler goes full-time.

Rob is completely out of his shell and essentially has my old job at Wal-Mart. He's mostly stocking shelves and dealing with trash and other miscellaneous tasks. Things are looking up for all of us. You know what happens when things are going well for me? I do, and I'm hoping like hell the pattern doesn't repeat. Especially since the affects have escalated each time, I try not to think about getting too excited for anything. Hope may be a virtue, but sometimes it's also a curse.

Saturday June 17

The rest of spring flies past. We've been at the studio pretty much every other Tuesday so we can be readier when the time comes to put a concerted effort into recording. We've gotten the sheet music and everything for the three songs that other folks at Atlantic have written. Those are coming along as well. So, by the time Michelle's wedding day arrives, we have 6 more songs that we've at least recorded a rough version and Ant and I have the foundations for 5 others. Michelle and Anton had already picked 'Eye Meets Eye' for their wedding song. She wanted us to pick a handful of songs ourselves, but have a pad with all of the songs we did, so people can come by and request anything we sang. Overall I think the day went pretty well. We all had a good time, the food was great, the people were friendly. It was a great day.

It was a great day followed by a terrible night. No, I didn't get drunk, not quite at that point. I get home after the wedding and mom and dad are just sitting in the dark in the living room. The TV is on with the volume down low, but neither is looking at it. There are two nearly depleted tissue boxes at either end of the coffee table, most of the used ones in a trash pail, but a pretty good number didn't make it into the trash. That's not like mom. I know something bad happened, but I'm afraid to ask. Neither one acknowledges my presence, so I have to toss the first volley.

"What's wrong?"

Neither responds in any way for what seems like an eternity but is really only about 10 seconds.

"Sit down Pete."

I do.

"We got some bad news this evening."

"I can tell by the tissues; who died dad? One of your parents? An aunt, uncle?"

Again, no immediate response. This is scaring the shit out of me more every second.

"Terry and Marcy were in an auto accident earlier today..."

"No!!!! No. No. No. No. No. No."

This repetition continues quietly while dad's talking.

"There was a six car pile up when a fuel truck jacknifed on route 9. Five others are dead, I don't know how many injured. We had the news on, but I guess we both missed a lot of it. It happened right in front of them. Based on the condition of the bodies, they died before the fire had a chance to get them."

"Dad. No. It has to be someone else. It can't be Terry."

"I'm sorry Pete. It was his car. They already procured dental records. There's no doubt."

"But how could they tell they didn't die in the fire?"

"You really don't want to know those details."

"Yes. I do. How did they know?"

"Their skulls were in the back seat."

"Oh, God."

I couldn't take any more. I rushed to the bathroom and gave back everything I'd had to eat that day. After finishing vomiting, I sat on the bathroom floor crying for maybe 15 minutes. I finally struggle to my feet and make my way to my bedroom, saying goodnight on my way. No response, but after what has happened, I wasn't really expecting one.

Monday June 19

There's a viewing tonight and the funeral is tomorrow. I'm not sure viewing is really the proper term to use for a closed casket ceremony. Shit, is ceremony even right? That has a positive connotation to me. I called Ant yesterday to tell him what happened and that I wouldn't be at rehearsal tonight. I think I got across to him what happened between the sobs.

Tuesday June 20

Funerals suck. I guess that's a common feeling, but this was my first. You're sitting there crying, and everybody says how sorry they are. Mom and dad lost a child. I lost a brother. How fucking sorry can they all be? I know it's just the way people express their sympathy, but for God's sake, someone invent another phrase, please. And why is there a fucking party afterward? The last (only) time there were almost this many people in the house was when I came home from the hospital in November. This time, I ignored everybody, went straight to my room, locked the door, and cried some more.

I finally left my room hungry around 5:00, hoping the vultures left some of the food I saw on my way past before. Mom and dad were once again imitating zombies on either end of the living room couch. I walked past without saying a word. I assumed they wouldn't respond anyway. The only differences from last night were it was still bright in there, the half-empty bottle of bourbon in front of my dad and a nearly empty six-pack of wine coolers in front of mom. No, I was wrong, there's an empty bottle of bourbon lying on its side under the coffee table. The kitchen table was loaded with non-perishable items, the fridge was packed with I don't know how many casserole dishes. I took out the meat and cheese tray because I wouldn't have to heat it, and walked back out to the living room. I sat in the chair closest to dad and munched a little cheese, pepperoni, and salami. I looked from dad to the bottle. I don't think he knew I was there. That's the kind of numb I need right now. So, I picked up the bottle, took a swig and chased it with more snacks.

Sometime after dark I tried to stand up to go to bed. It was more of a struggle than I expected. I finally get myself standing and balanced and take a look at mom and dad. Neither look like they moved one millimeter. The bourbon was now about 3/4 gone. Shit, I was about 3/4 gone, but somehow, I made it to my bedroom and flopped down on the bed, face down.

Wednesday June 21

I'm not sure what woke me, the sunlight invading evey inch of my being, or the headache that felt the same as what getting shot felt like. I'm not sure I can eat anything, but I venture out of my room to see where mom and dad are. As I pass by their bedroom, I hear dad snoring. Found 'em. I head to the kitchen and look in the cabinets for anything appetizing. 'Lo and behold, nothing is. I go back to the living room, sit down, and pick up the bottle again.

What the fuck is that buzzing noise. On and off, on and off. When I finally realize what it was, the phone stops ringing. I get up and walk around the house. I realize I'm still in my suit from yesterday. Fuck it. I'm in the kitchen and I see a note on the fridge. 'At cemetery.' Short, sweet, and to the point. I stumble around the kitchen looking for food. Nothing looks appetizing, but I'm starving. I find a dish of meatloaf, cut off a slab and throw it in the microwave. 2 minutes later, it's edible.

After I finish my quasi-dinner, I go back to the living room, looking for my bottle. Shit, both empty. I open the cabinet where dad keeps the stuff he almost never drinks. What the fuck is rye? I like the bread, so I grab the nearly full bottle. I'm parked on the couch when mom and dad get back. They both look at me and the bottle, apparently knowing they'd be hypocrites if they said anything.

"You like that stuff?"

"Yeah, it kinda grows on ya."

"Make that one last and I'll get more tomorrow."

Wait, did he just essentially say, you can keep drinking just don't finish the bottle today? I'm sure he's letting things slide because of Terry. Shit, just thinking his name turns on the waterworks again.

I accomplish dad's goal, there's still half the bottle left when I head to my room, putting the bottle back in the cabinet. Once again flopping on the bed face down.

Thursday June 22

I wake up, stumble into the kitchen, and see mom there, drinking coffee.

"You want a cup?"

"No. Just want some toast and maybe a tea."

"We understand why you're drinking, we did it too. You need to take it easy on that stuff though."

"I will."

Shit, I pass out after half a bottle, I'm having take it easy forced on me.

"Dad go to work?"

"Yes. He didn't want to fall further behind, and he wanted to 'keep on living.'"

"I guess that's what you do after something like this."

I make a cup of tea, butter a couple slices of toast and sit there quietly with mom. We look at each other every so often, but neither of us feels the need for words. After a while, I decide to go lie down again. I just don't feel like doing anything.

"I guess I'll go and relax in my room."

"OK."

I took a long hard look at the liquor cabinet as I walked by. Maybe after lunch. I go lie down again. I don't even turn the radio on, which is odd for me. Usually if I'm just sitting around or lying down in here, the radio is on. Today, there's a VHS player in my head. I'm seeing vacations with Terry, mom, and dad. Trips to Great Adventure. My first ride on a roller coaster with Terry. Him taking me around trick or treating with his friends. Him answering questions when puberty hit that I was afraid to ask dad. Dozens and dozens of memories. I couldn't stop the tape. Part of me didn't want it to stop, but most of me was feeling worse and worse.

Fuck after lunch. I went to get the bottle of rye, brought it back to my room, and started drinking again. After 5 minutes or so, the power went out on the VHS player, things started looking fuzzy. Yep, that's what I needed. That blissful state of numbness.

What's that knocking?

"Pete. Dinner time."

"OK mom. I must have fallen asleep again."

You're a good friend Seagram's Rye. Funny name, but you help a lot. Somehow, I make it through dinner without my parents figuring out I'm drunk again. Or is that drunk still? Who cares?

"Going to rehearsal tonight?"

"Yeah, may as well. Can't stay away from the real world forever."

"You're sober, right?"

"Yeah, I'm good. Drinking binge over."

"Good. Have fun."

I head to my room, strip out of my suit, well all except the jacket, that's around here somewhere, and jump in the shower. I feel a little better. Still fuzzy, but I know how to fix that. I shove the bottle, what's left of it anyway, into my sax case, after making sure the cap is tight. Being loose and upside down in the bell would not be a good thing.

I put the sax in the back seat after taking the bottle out of the case. I start the car up and start heading to Eddie's. I get to the end of my block and can't remember at first which way to go. A swig of my new buddy and I'm off in the right direction. It's like that all the way there. I get to a corner, don't know which way to turn, but my buddy Seagram's always guides me right. For some reason, I think I have four turns left. Looks like two swigs left. Gotta make the last four turns with half a swig each.

My buddy Seagram's doesn't let me down and I arrive at Eddie's a minute early. I need that extra minute because somebody moved the door handle, and I can't get out.

"What's he doing?"

"Don't know Eddie, looking for something?"

Aha, found you, you little fucker. I yank it up, the door opens, and I fall out of the car.

"What the fuck is wrong with him?"

The rest of the guys come over to help me up.

"I goddit. I'm good.

"Fuck, he smells like a brewery."

"Here's why Gabe, empty whiskey bottle."

"Das my new bubby Saegam. He hepd me git hea."

"Pick him up and put him on the couch. Ant, does he drink coffee?"

"No David, never seen him with it."

"He'll drink it tonight. Keep him awake while I go make a pot.

"I done nee no pot. Gimme Seagam."

"Make a cup of instant first. David's getting it Pete."

"I'm Pete. You Eggie. Anfony, Rib, I think, an you Gay. Hi Gay. I'm gay too."

"Fuck, Pete, how much did you drink?"

"Onny haf a bobble. It's noth, nut, nuffin."

"Get him up again, Ant and Gabe. Rich, you help me get the couch outside. I don't need him barfing in there."

"Barf, barf. Imma dog. Barf, barf."

"Here's the first cup. I'll bring out the pot when it's done."

"No. No pod. Fuff up my lums."

"No pot. Here's more Seagram's."

"My bubby. Ow, whyse oh hod?"

"It's a new kind. Everybody's drinking it. Here, I'll take a sip."

"No Eggie, my bubby. Gimme."

My bandmates and friends spend the next two hours practically pouring coffee down my throat. I'm still buzzed, but at least I know what's going on around me now.

"Fuu-uck. What did I do to myself?"

"You got yourself shitfaced drunk for the first time."

"No, Ant. Second time. I was drunk all day yesserday, yesterday, too."

"I hope you got it all over with now."

"Me too. Did I make an ass out of myself?"

Rich is laughing.

"No. Just a dog."

"I'm not sure I want to know."

"You barf barked."

"Huh?"

Rich demonstrates.

"Is that the worst I did?"

"Yeah."

"Good."

"We're gonna get you home now."

"I'm good. I can drive."

"That's not going to be easy. Ant already has your keys."

"Come on love. Let me take you home to bed."

"I'm not sure I can get it up."

"He's not all the way back yet."

"No shit Rich. Not to bed to fuck, to sleep."

"Sleep. That sounds good."

"I'll bring him back tomorrow and pick up his car Eddie."

"Yeah, no problem where it is. I'm amazed he got it up against the curb right."

Ant helps me to his car, plops me down in the passenger seat and I fall asleep immediately, a half-gallon or so of coffee or not. We get to my house, and he helps me in.

"Pete!? Anthony, what happened?"

"He showed up at Eddie's completely smashed, with an empty bottle of rye in his car, Mr. D. Let me get him in bed first, I'll come back out."

"I gotta pee."

"I bet. OK, let's go."

He helps me stand in front of the toilet. I can't work the zipper, so he helps me through the whole process. Fortunately, he aims me well. I wouldn't want to have him clean up a mess. After he guides me to my room, Ant strips me down to my underwear, puts me down on the bed and gives me a kiss.

"That's ni..."

And I'm out.

"He had to be at least a little drunk when he left here. He hid it well."

"You'd better lock up the rest of it, Terrance. I don't want to risk him waking up and starting up again."

"Have any rope, or maybe a long scarf? I'll tie myself to him and spend the night with him."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. I want him to stay out of trouble as much as you do Mrs. D. He's lucky he didn't get stopped by a cop. He'd be in deep shit."

Mom gets him a scarf. Ant does as he said. He strips down to his boxer briefs, ties our hands together, and lies down next to me. He watches me for a long while before he finally falls asleep.

Friday June 23

I wake up around 10:00 with a scarf tied to my right wrist. What the fuck? I start to stand up and my head says, 'no fucking way.' I lie back down for a minute, untie the scarf, and try again, slowly this time. I get to my feet and walk slowly to the bathroom. My head pounds with each step. If this is what happens after I drink, I'm sticking to soda. I walk out to the kitchen where I hear voices, glaring at the liquor cabinet as I walk past it.

"The drunken sailor awakens."

"Ow. Not so loud."

I don't know what I said that was so funny, but Ant laughs.

"I thought I heard voices."

"One voice, I was filling in Eggie on your status."

"Eggie? Who the fuck is Eggie?"

"That's what you were calling Eddie last night at the rehearsal that only rehearsed getting you a little sober."

"We don't rehearse on Tuesdays."

Ant is laughing again.

"What? It's not Wednesday? I remember going to Terry's funeral, waking up after a nap and drinking. So, OK, it's Thursday?"

"Guess again Foster."

"Foster? Can you please make some sense? I'm already struggling to keep my head from exploding."

"Foster Brooks. He always acted drunk."

"OK, so it's not Thursday. It must be Friday. Mom would be here if I missed that many days, so it can't be Saturday or Sunday."

"And we have a winner."

"Fuck. I pretty much lost two days?"

"Pretty much."

"OK. Fill me in on what you do know, please?"

"Sure. According to your parents, they had a little too much to drink after the funeral, you noticed and helped yourself to half a bottle of bourbon. They don't know how long it took you to drink it. Then yesterday, you seemed OK to them when you left for rehearsal, but when you got to Eddie's, you fell out of your car, and we found an empty bottle of rye. Your dad thinks it was almost full. So, between sometime Tuesday afternoon and 6:30 last night, you drank about a bottle and a half of whiskey, whiskey man."

"You gotta hide the stuff in the liquor cabinet. I got bummed out about Terry and that's what started the drinking."

"Your dad already locked it up in his gun safe. You don't know the combination, do you?"

"He has a gun safe? No, I don't know the combination. I didn't even know he had the safe. Where is it?"

"If you didn't know about it before, I wouldn't tell you even if I knew. You hungry?"

I had to think about it for a moment.

"Yeah, starving."

"How does scrambled eggies, toast and coffee sound?"

"Enough with the eggies. No coffee. I don't drink the stuff."

"You had almost two pots of it last night. Oh, and by the way, I'm Anfony, Rich is Rib, and Gabe is Gay."

"What? Gabe is gay?"

"No, that's how you said his name last night."

"Oh. What about David?"

"He was making the coffee when you remembered who the rest of us were."

"OK, I don't drink coffee when I'm not drunk. And that's something I never plan to be again."

Next up - Nope, no teaser this time.