by Ruby Rowe
It’s a comfortable fall day, the sun shining bright as hell for us, and I can’t help but grin like a motherfucker as I stare at the mind-blowing crowd.
We’re used to seeing a blanket of gray and black when we look out over an audience, but today, the colors before me are brighter than anything I could’ve imagined. It’s like a crater-size bag of Skittles rained from the sky.
The parking lot, about half the size of a football field, is packed like sardines. People are outside the fencing, watching from the two streets flanking us.
I take a look at the vast movie screen the fans were able to watch the interview on. It’s now showing Faith up close. Tripp starts drumming a light, steady tempo to build up to our first song, so Aiden adds some bass.
Faith purrs into the microphone before asking in her low seductive voice, “How are you awesome people doing today?”
The fans roar with excitement. I see men holding other guys on their shoulders while they sport their rainbow flags in the air. Chicks have their arms around each other while colored beads bounce on their chests.
People have painted their bodies and brought banners and bright-colored balloons. It’s a celebration like none I’ve ever witnessed, and I’m surprised at how proud I feel to be a part of it.
“I’m Faith Cottrell, and we’re the band Borrowed Faith.” Slinging her purple velvet cape behind her, she continues. “I’m known as the queen, but today I’m removing my crown.” She does just that and sets it on the stage. “Instead, I choose to kneel to each and every one of you. Because of your courage, strength and fight, you deserve to reign.”
As the crowd screams once more, Faith discards her cape, tossing it aside. She meant every word she said.
Kneeling in fishnet stockings, black leather shorts that are more like tight-fitting underwear, and a gold, sequined half-top, she leans over and bows to the fans before us. Her dark hair falls over her face as she brings the microphone to her mouth.
“I’m honored to sing for you today, but before we play a few of our own songs, we’re going to do a cover of Halestorm’s “Freak Like Me” because if there is anyone who’s proven they accept people for who they are, it’s Lzzy Hale, the goddess of rock and roll. This song couldn’t be more fitting for the occasion.”
You’d think we were performing within the walls of a stadium from the way the cheers surrounding us echo, the sounds penetrating my body in a foreign, exhilarating way.
Since I’m no longer in a grim gray cloud of fog, everything is crystal clear to me. Colors, sounds, feelings… It’s as if I’ve been given superpowers where my experiences are magnified by a thousand. I used to believe only drugs could make me feel euphoric, but I was mistaken.
Faith straps on her guitar like me, and we tear up the first song. Even though it’s not ours, we deliver our best rendition. I ground myself in my wide stance and fling my head forward and back while my energizing riffs entertain the vast parking lot of people. With the help of my Wah pedal, I’m able to slip in and out of my effects to add a gnarly sound to an already gritty song.
Tripp adds the power from his sticks, and Aiden adds the harmonious depth while Faith gives it all meaning with her strong voice belting the lyrics. Her dramatic performance is always the cherry on top.
We end the song, and the audience loses control, screaming loud enough for all of San Francisco to hear. Faith turns to me and holds out her hand for me to join her. After stealing a glimpse of Olivia at side stage, I head forward and take the mic from Faith.
“Damn, can you travel to all our shows? Talk about bringing the energy, San Francisco! Each of you are officially one of our maniacs, and since we’re friends now, I need a little help from you.” Wiping the sweat from my forehead, I look at Liv and motion for her to join me on stage.
With round eyes, she shakes her head.
“Come on, babe. Don’t stand me up in front of the cool kids,” I say into the mic. I see her mouth the words oh, my God before she walks out to me. I give her a salty kiss, and she flushes pinker than her shirt.
“I can’t believe you did this to me,” she says, but she’s smiling, so she’ll forgive me.
“Maniacs, this is my girl, Olivia Bradford. Olivia, meet my new friends.” The audience delivers a warm welcome, and Liv reluctantly gives a brief wave before she tugs on the bottom of her top and bites her lip.
“I’ve learned that Olivia’s pretty damn special, but I don’t know everything about her. I need your help in asking her an odd yet important question.”
Liv leans into me. “What are you doing?”
“Don’t worry; it’s not that kind of question.” I wink. “Not yet, anyway.” Reverting my attention to the yelling fans, I say, “On the count of three, I want you to ask, ‘How do you like your eggs, Olivia?’ ”
Embarrassment gets the best of Liv, so she covers her face. Bringing her to me, I kiss her head. “Here we go, everyone. One … two … three…”
“How do you like your eggs, Olivia?” the crowd yells.
I hand Liv the mic, and she giggles, her skin reddening further. She looks out at the fans and back at me.
“Well, Butterfly. What’s your answer?”
My girl brings the mic to her mouth. “First, thank you all for asking. I like my eggs fried in a hell of a lot of butter!” She holds a fist in the air, and her giggling is soon drowned out by the outrageous laughter and cheers from the fans. Swinging my guitar to the side, I hug Liv and mouth into the microphone, “I’m dating a rebel … and I love her.”
“Awwww,” the audience yells. Sinking against me, Liv squeezes my body. The sun can dip behind the clouds because all I need to warm me and give me light is right here in my arms.
Lifting her head, her expressive eyes give a prelude to sweet words I know are coming next.
“This feels like a dream, Z.”
“Then I hope it’s one I never wake from.”
As I kiss Olivia, I discover that in truth, I’ve never felt more awake and alive than I do at this moment.
I’ve also never felt luckier.
THE MAGIC OF BORROWED FAITH
By: Apple Kingsley
If magic is created from pain, then the band Borrowed Faith has experienced their fair share of heartache. After touring with the iconic members, I knew I’d be writing about addiction, bitterness, conflict and death. Hell, I had the ingredients to whip up an article dark enough to make you wonder why you bothered getting out of bed in the morning.
Any writer trying to make it in journalism would be tempted to tip the story in the direction of immense controversy where you’re persuaded to believe these four celebrities’ lives aren’t as glowing as they previously appeared.
Yes, Borrowed Faith has taken some blows, but amidst the addiction, bitterness, conflict and death the band has faced, there’s an undeniable magic Faith Cottrell, Aiden Wild, Tripp Townsend and Zain Richie create together that truly makes their lives the furthest from ordinary or shameful. Anyone would be lucky to know these four musicians … these four remarkable human beings.
Devoted fans are aware that Troy (better known as Tripp) and his brother Nathan started the band in San Francisco with bass player Aiden Wild.
The three often rehearsed in Aiden’s garage, but what fans haven’t heard about is how Tripp and Nathan were on the verge of homelessness before the band was formed, only to be saved by the kind graces of Aiden and his parents who let them crash on couches in the very garage where they rehearsed. Hot meals came from Aiden’s mother who passed on her generous spirit to her son.
Aiden’s bandmates agree that he’s a gentle giant, both kind and humble. Wild’s the guy in the corner of the room who doesn’t realize how damn cool he is. He’s also the talented bass player who saves his bandmates’ tiny mistakes on stage by way of his masterful rhythm.
They’re sounds that stand out to some of the most respected bassists in rock and roll history. Just ask his fan Phil from the legendary band Winter Dies.
/> In the back lounge of Borrowed Faith’s tour bus, I asked Faith about Aiden. She stared off and smiled as if she was recounting fond memories of their time together.
“There’s not a shoulder I’d prefer to rest my head on than Aiden’s,” she murmured after a long moment of thought. “Knowing his beating heart is so near and steady as he listens to me vent... It’s comforting. Aiden’s one of those people who really listens, you know? He’s the friend you never quite feel you deserve.”
I couldn’t help but question her further after that comforted feeling she spoke of shined through her tear-stricken eyes, giving me a glimpse through the cracks of Ms. Cottrell’s rough outer edges.
“I can see how thinking about Aiden moves you deeply. Has there been more than a friendship between the two of you?”
I received a longer pause this time as she stared off once again.
“Yes, but it was brief, and we realized a friendship was all we were meant to have between us in the long run.” Wiping her eyes, she exhaled a short laugh. “A little on-the-road action to cure our loneliness wasn’t worth the risk of losing our band or friendships. Borrowed Faith has been tested enough.”
Few would dispute Faith’s claim. Zain Richie told me over a late-night bowl of cereal that he often feels Borrowed Faith could unravel at any moment from the heartache and anger his bandmates carry with them every day.
“The talent’s there. No doubt,” he said, “but I always feel like the band sees right past me. It’s like Nathan Townsend is standing behind me, and instead, I’m the ghost. He’s the only one they see … the guy holding them back with this heavy grief, when all I want is to move Borrowed Faith forward.”
Richie shook his head. “I keep trying to prove my worth on stage, but I’m beginning to think it’s what the members had with Nathan off stage that matters most.
“I mean, I can’t replace Tripp’s brother, Faith’s lover or Aiden’s best friend. Don’t get me wrong; we always have each other’s backs when one needs it, and I appreciate that from my bandmates, but I’m still not family, and I wonder if I’ll ever be.”
He granted me a charming smile, one I learned Zain uses to mask his insecurities. “I’m a stray dog they’ve grown fond of, but I think they’d dump me at the animal shelter if I shit on the floor one too many times.”
The lead guitarist filled his mouth with a spoonful of Lucky Charms after that sentence, and I couldn’t blame him. He’d shared something personal when his life was anything but private.
His fans show him unwavering love, but others try to tear him down by tarnishing his character. It must get tiring to feel like you have to prove your worth in every area of your life, including in your own band, while being under the microscope of millions of people from here to Iceland. Most of us aren’t being judged by so many.
The rock star seldom sleeps, so at the time of our interview, I was burning the midnight oil with him. Actually, it was more like 3:00 a.m.
Maybe he enjoys being awake when those with prying eyes are resting. The darkness is his shelter from the ugliness in the world, but I get the sense Zain Richie is lonely there at times, too.
He was right when he said the rest of his band was still grieving. They didn’t deny it. Two and a half years isn’t long to mourn the death of someone you love, and their perseverance through it all inspired me.
I watched as they worked grueling hours, had inconsistent schedules, spent months away from their families and grieved all while finding the motivation to be creative.
They fought through their heartache to make music for their fans … to deliver an emotionally driven, artistic sound that gives their listeners an escape, and Zain Richie fought right along with them.
The band’s music is hardly an escape these days for Tripp, Aiden or Faith since it reminds them of Nathan Townsend and a past they can’t recreate.
While Tripp and I chatted after a gig in Miami, he said, “Sometimes I want to give the band a totally different sound just so I’m not reminded of my brother, but changing who we are isn’t what he would’ve wanted. I can only hope that one day the grief lessens and I can genuinely enjoy our music again.”
“Do you think hanging on to that sound so tightly is fair to Zain Richie’s artistic abilities?” I asked, but not without hesitation.
After wiping away sweat from his brow that his intense, strenuous drumming incited, Tripp glowered at me.
“Richie knew what he signed up for. I don’t know... Maybe someday in the future, Aiden, Faith and I will be ready to let Zain show more of his own style, but we’re not there yet.”
Troy Townsend’s bitterness and anger over Nathan’s death can be felt by those around him, but his bandmates claim the old Tripp resurfaces more every day.
Each of them confirmed that he’s the most generous of the bunch, and while on the road with them, I witnessed it firsthand on more than one occasion.
Tripp pays for their crew members’ meals at almost every stop the buses make, and he donates large portions of his earnings to charity. He orders his own supply of the band’s merchandise just to give to younger fans he meets on the road who he figures can’t afford the price of t-shirts.
He shows his thoughtfulness in smaller ways like by cooking for his bandmates even when he’s exhausted or by offering to throw in a load of their laundry while he washes his own at hotels.
Aiden said about his friend, “I believe the world was robbed of Tripp’s kind nature after the death of his brother, but he’s finding the courage and strength to work through his pain so that he can give back to his fans wholeheartedly.”
Even Faith, the queen of Borrowed Faith, admitted that her heavy-handed comments and bitchiness were merely armor to protect herself from future pain. She shared poignant words about her relationship with the late Nathan Townsend.
“I was infatuated with him. Obsessed to the point of unhealthy. Nate was the bad boy every good girl fantasized about. He was breathtaking and sinful, and I jumped right into his alluring flame.
“The problem with infatuation is that it has a shelf life. Eventually, my blinders came off, and I discovered the fire I had been so drawn to was a bedlam. I needed saving, but I wasn’t the only one.
“While he was deep in his addiction, he chipped away at my self-esteem until I was a heap of hollow bones,” she confessed. “Because of it, I now guard my heart more than ever.”
The brave singer fought back her tears as she straightened her shoulders and looked me in the eyes. “I’d rather come off as a bitch and steer people away from me rather than let them in and pay a price for it later.”
Refitted in her armor, she grinned slyly. “That’s why I enjoy tormenting my male fans from the stage. I love seeing them below me, worshipping at my feet. Their willingness to oblige does wonders for my self-esteem.” She shrugged beneath her tight-fitting top. “Everyone’s self-worth could use some idolization from time to time. Am I right?”
We both laughed at the face of sadness before she walked me through her performance and showed me the flamboyant attire she wears on stage. From what I’ve learned about Faith Cottrell, the queen will continue to rise above her pain and be the fierce leader her fans admire.
Along with seeing the good in Borrowed Faith, I witnessed the negative. Like anyone else, the members aren’t perfect, but I can attest that the good they possess far exceeds the bad. If only that were the case for every other person watching and judging them from afar. I imagine the world would be a better place.
It’s a bit cliché, but touring with Borrowed Faith confirmed what I’ve heard countless times; money and fame can’t buy happiness.
I believe it’s love and acceptance … friendship and respect that instead bring us joy. Whether the members will admit it or not, all four of those blessings are theirs for the taking on stage or right inside their bus as it barrels down U.S. Route 66.
Zain Richie stated that the Borrowed Faith members always had each other’s backs. All they nee
d to learn is that it’s safe to believe those same friends won’t stick a knife in them. Then, the band will truly have it all because individually, they already kick ass.
END NOTES
Thank you for reading Dark On Me (Borrowed Faith, Book 2). Watch for my next release All Around Me, Faith and Aiden’s story.
Keep up with release information at http://www.rubyrowe.com or sign up for my newsletter. You can also follow me on Amazon, BookBub, Facebook, Goodreads, Instagram, Pinterest, and Twitter.
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In case you missed it in the opening notes, here is the link to my YouTube Channel where you can listen to the playlists for the Borrowed Faith series.
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ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Thank you to my amazing husband, Patrick. He’s a true inspiration for the love stories I write.
Family and friends, I love you and appreciate your support.
Readers, thank you for giving my books a chance. I couldn’t write full-time if it weren’t for passionate book lovers like yourselves! I feel blessed anytime someone reads a story of mine.
Samantha Wiley, thank you for editing Dark On Me. You’ve become such a good friend over the years. Authors, if you’re in need of editing or proofreading services, you can find Samantha at Proofreading by the Page.
Silla Webb, thank you for formatting the paperback. Authors, if you’re in need of marketing assistance, editing or formatting, be sure to contact Silla at Masque Of The Red Pen.
Like always, I want to give a big shout out to Jo-Anna at Just Write. Creations for creating the amazing cover. She always produces fantastic work!
RLS Model Images and Photography took the incredible photo for the Dark On Me cover. If you’re in need of images, be sure to check them out!
