53
We spent the next few weeks in Surrey and the Fraser Valley. It was close enough that you could drive to and from Vancouver every night—lots of commuters do—but it wasn’t practical to do it if you didn’t have to, so we slept at the hotel all week.
After tear down on Saturday, I’d drive my van back into Vancouver. Usually, one or two of the guys would come with me. They’d have chores to do or simply wanted to be back in the big city for a few hours.
I went so I could spend Sunday with Stef. We’d go to Granville Island or walk around the seawall. Normal stuff. Getting to know each other. Then we’d go out for dinner someplace—usually fast food because neither one of us had extra money for fine dining. Then I’d drive her home, get my peck on the cheek, and go home by myself.
At about noon on Monday, my passengers would meet at our place and we’d drive back out to the next gig.
After hanging around with her for a week at The Metro, Itch had become a fan of Stef. She thought he was pretty great too. They were instant friends. I didn’t feel threatened at all. They didn’t have that kind of vibe. I enjoyed watching them enjoying each other’s company.
As we crossed the Port Mann, Itch said, “Dude, you cannot fuck this up. I don’t know how you did it, but you hooked up with the hottest woman on Earth.”
“That’s a fact,” said Skinny Dan.
“Nobody is more confused than me,” I said.
“What’s she like in bed?” asked Dan.
“Offside,” said Itch.
“I don’t know. We haven’t had sex. Even if we had, I sure as shit wouldn’t be telling you about it.”
“Ohhhhhhh, dude, this is serious. She’s not fooling around because she’s not. fooling. around. She’s serious. This is long term. I can feel it,” Dan said.
My heart was in my throat because I felt it too. Young love is…well…you know what it is, hopefully. While you’re in it, it’s exciting and nerve-wracking and confusing. But despite that, when you’re not in it, you want to be.
Casual sex with groupies—we called them band aids—got old pretty quickly for me. As soon as you realize someone is easy for you, you understand that they’re easy for everyone. I’m not really interested in stirring anyone else’s porridge. The whole situation feels grimy. I didn’t let that stop me for the first couple of years, though. Nobody does. Fucking is fun.
Now that this thing with Stef seemed like it was real, I wasn’t going to do anything to jeopardize it. Had I chosen to be celibate while I was single, the guys would have ridiculed me relentlessly. But everybody could see what was going on, and everyone loved her, so they were more like, “Holy shit. Lottery win, bro. Don’t be a dumb dick and ruin it.”
The tour took about 8 weeks. We played Surrey, Langley, Maple Ridge…all the A rooms out in the valley, right out to Chilliwack. Sometimes Stef and her friends would make the trip to see us on a Friday night. They’d get their own rooms in the same hotel as us, and we’d party all weekend with the townies.
I stopped drinking because Stef didn’t drink. I missed it for a while but it wasn’t long before I didn’t even think about it. We consumed ungodly amounts of weed, though.
That was one of the best times of my life. I was hanging around with great people. Fun people. Smart people. Creative people.
Our last week was at the John B in Port Coquitlam, then we had a week off before we were at Club Soda. My shoulder was still pretty sore, but I was conditioned to the pain by that time. If you didn’t know I was injured, you wouldn’t have been able to tell if you were in the audience.
As a band, we were looking, feeling, and sounding confident. We were ready for our first full week at Soda. We were also ready for a week off. Spencer had the bus booked in for some maintenance. Alex went to the gym and stayed there. Skinny Dan went camping at Alouette Lake. Dean went to his parents’ house. Nige spent most of his time at the beach, knitting.
Itch did the same thing as last time we came home: he slept for two days, then disappeared for the rest of the week.
I knew I wasn’t going to get a lot of time with Stef. She’d gotten herself a job on the general surgery ward at Vancouver General. The hours were crazy. Twelve hour shifts, three days in a row, with mandatory overtime if she was needed. One-day “weekends”. Sometimes she worked nights, sometimes days.
I’d always pick her up and drive her home, go back to my place to sleep, and then drive back to her place to take her to her next shift. A lot of those rides were spent in mostly silence because she was spent. Tonight was the last of her three-day marathon and she was asleep in her seat before we left the parking lot.
When we got to her house, I got out first so I could open her door for her—just like Wade taught me. That night, my peck on the cheek was replaced with a kiss on the lips as she brushed my hair back and looked me in the eyes.
“I’m tired, love. I just want to go to bed. C’mon, let’s go.”
I stayed for the next couple of days, but I sure as shit am not telling you about it.
