And we’d been on the road years, workin’ our asses off.
But that shit there.
[Taps arm of chair with one finger]
Yeah.
That was straight-up serendipity.
Daniel played that album for the label with the band there, and I’ll never forget their fuckin’ faces.
[Smiles broadly]
Oh no, I’ll never forget that.
The big dude, three-piece suit, sitting back in his chair behind his big desk, smoking a cigarette that was rolled in black paper, I’d never seen anything like that.
“Night Lies” finishes, he reaches out, wears a goddamn pinkie ring with a big-ass diamond in it.
Hits a button on his phone.
Then he says, “Linda,” or whatever the fuck his secretary’s name was, “get the Roadmasters on open for Bobby Sheridan and the Mustangs.”
Bobby Sheridan.
Big name back then.
We heard that, we thought we’d hit the mother lode.
[Chuckles]
Bobby, decent guy, at first.
Didn’t know what was about to hit him.
[Off tape]
There’s quite a bit of animosity between the Mustangs and the Roadmasters.
The Mustangs, yeah.
The Roadmasters, we’re above that.
[Laughs]
You outplayed them.
[Gets up, moves to the stereo cabinet, opens door. Pulls out album. Comes back. Flips album to show cover of Night Lies. Sepia. The band walking down a deserted road, their backs to the camera, McCade the closest, Josh Hardy the farthest. Flips cover, sepia of band closeup, head and shoulders, all in a line, leaning on each other one way or another, except Hardy who’s standing removed.]
That went gold, eventually went platinum and beyond.
But in the beginning, we sold twice that many posters of that cover, sister.
[Laughs loud and hard]
Preacher had a great ass.
[Returns album and resumes his seat. Sits back.]
[Quietly] But yeah, fuck yeah, we outplayed them.
[Grins]
Practice.
[Off tape]
There’s been a good deal of speculation that “Dirtbag” was about Nick Pileggi and what he did to your sister but no one in the band has confirmed or denied that.
It’s all in the name, sister.
[Stares steadily]
It’s all in the name.
[Off tape]
It’s known that Lyla comes back to the band around this time. Is that correct?
[Nods]
Chicago.
We’re on tour, opening for Bobby and the guys. Before the tour launched, they’d released “Give Then Take,” there’s a lot of push behind it, it hits the charts. Gets up to number eleven.
They follow that up with “The Back of You,” that hits seven.
And we are, [draws out] fuckin’ hell.
We are on fire.
Preacher walks onstage every night and he’s a man with a goddamned mission to make every girl cream her panties and every guy contemplate suicide because they aren’t as cool as him.
I mean, I don’t know if this was a conscious thought, but this is what he did.
I knew he could command a stage but there’s a big difference between a bar or a club and an arena, you know? You gotta have some serious shit to command that kinda space, you know?
I was right, way back when, when I saw him walk into my garage, the way that big man moved, looked, held a guitar.
I was right.
And he was right.
It is not vain to say it.
Preacher was right.
I was a rock star.
That was why he put me in the middle. He never said it, but that’s why.
Him to my left.
Tim to my right.
Lead is usually in the middle.
Preacher never moved from his spot except to come to the middle and sing with me in my mic. But that was rare.
That was also why every song he wrote was all about the bassline.
Even before I started writing with him, Preach was all about the bassline. There was nothing ever simple about a Roadmasters’ bassline. It was always complex.
He gave that to me because he knew I could do it.
He gave that to me because he knew it’d make me shine.
We had our little fiefdoms.
I don’t know how other bands did it, I’d seen a lot of acts, and I watched how they worked the stage, but I didn’t know how they did it among themselves, you know?
And I never asked because I didn’t want their thing to mess with our mojo.
Dave had his space. Tim his. Preach his. Me mine. And yeah, Josh behind Tim, he had his, he just didn’t know how to use it.
You watch footage, we interacted with eyes and smiles, nods of heads.
And we each ruled our little fiefdom.
It worked.
We weren’t running around the stage.
We weren’t each trying to reach out to every inch of the audience.
We also didn’t just stand at our mics and sing.
We engaged.
And that’s it.
What no one could put their finger on, but we knew.
Critics. Fans.
They couldn’t say what it was.
But that was it.
We didn’t need to run around, and we didn’t need to get up in each other’s space.
We were tight.
A team.
A squadron.
We did not come to you, you came to us, and you took what you got depending on where your seat was.
And it was our job, together and individually, to make you love it.
But tell me this, Tim’s doin’ one of his edgy, punk-like solos and Preacher McCade walks out from behind his mic and stands close to the edge of the stage, his side to the audience, his eyes glued to Tim, where do you look?
He’s not part of the audience.
He’s king, man.
And he doesn’t want you to look at him.
He’s also not showin’ you where to look.
He’s telling you where to look.
That’s command.
He gave that to Tim. To me. To Dave. And fuck him he says different, but watch the footage, it’ll tell you, even to Josh.
I did too. I gave that too.
We did that because it was our band.
And it was ours to give.
Right. We’re in Chicago and Bobby’s already done with us.
I mean, it’s his tour, and he starts to get boos when we only do one encore and his band comes out? And we’re doin’ fuckin’ encores as the lead-in act?
[Shakes head]
He should have worked that. He could have worked that. He could have fed off that.
It’s the opener who’s supposed to start to build the frenzy. It’s the headliner who brings it home. And if they gotta use the opener in part to do that, they do.
He could have included us in his set, played the big man. We did that all the time with openers who were up and coming and caught the crowd during their set.
We’re brothers-in-guitars, man.
Everybody’s got an ego.
Use yours for good.
[Shakes head again]
Wasted opportunity.
Anyway, we’re done and backstage and we’d all tagged our girls, right? Security knew who to pull from the audience. We had that signal down, sister, let me tell you.
[Smiles]
First thing most of us learned how to do on the tour.
So, Tom’s back in our dressing room with us, and I’m close, ’cause, see, I still have that girl in Indy who I think’s the one and Chicago is close to Indy and she’s with me so I’m bein’ good.
[Grins]
Preach is sitting, holding court, girls all over him, he’s close too.
We both hear a security guy come up to Tom and say the name “Lyla.”
Now my throat kinda constricts. I remember that because it was a weird feeling.
But Preacher…
Preacher’s face goes stone-cold.
Tom looks to Preach, and Preacher shakes his head.
Then Tommy takes off with the security guard and you know, at that time, I’m not her biggest fan. Right?
So, do I give a fuck?
No.
I don’t.
But I forgot, yeah?
I forgot, you do not wrong Preacher McCade, be it through someone he cares about, or we were all about to learn, just doing it to Preacher McCade.
I don’t know how, maybe it was the tequila and dexies, but I also forgot half the songs on the album I just played for twenty thousand people and what the words to those songs said.
About Lyla.
Yeah.
Fuck.
I forgot that too.
We’re heading out to our bus, which is not that shitty camper or the shitty RV that took its place, it’s huge and it’s pimp, the guys, the groupies, some roadies, and the path from venue to bus is lined with security holding back screaming girls.
I saw her.
Standing there.
That hair.
Those eyes.
Lyla.
Wearing a black trench coat because it was cold and rainy and Chicago. Only girl out there wearing a coat.
I saw her standing without moving surrounded by all those screaming girls, watching Preacher walk with a groupie under each arm to the bus.
I also saw Preach take Tommy aside before he got on the bus and Tommy peeled off.
That wasn’t unusual.
Ask and ye shall receive from Tommy.
I thought Preacher had seen a girl in the crowd he wanted.
At that point, I had no fuckin’ idea Preach could be that motherfucking sinister.
No fucking clue.
By now you know Tom was pretty regimented.
And he didn’t miss a trick.
Our songs on the charts, it’s their tour and the Mustangs are getting booed after our set.
And with our roadwork, we already owned the Midwest.
He had things worked out with the label.
We did not stay in the same hotel as the Mustangs because the Mustangs hated our guts.
But also, because we could not demand the biggest suite in the hotel if we did.
That, Tom had designated as the party suite.
And each of us got our own suites beyond that.
But Preacher slept in the party suite.
He just moved off to the bedroom with whoever was his chosen one that night, closed the doors on the din, and did his thing, which gave Tom the high sign when it was time to clear everyone out.
Even if it was the band.
This did not, by the way, make Josh happy.
But we were in full swing.
It was before any of us took off with our private parties to our suites.
Perfect timing.
So, I was there.
Booze. Lines. Spliffs. Girls. Roadies. All of that was there too.
Pretty sure Dave was behind the bar, pouring shots at the same time getting a blowjob.
And it was orchestrated, sister, down to the placement of each girl.
One in Preach’s lap.
One on the floor, sitting between his feet, her head on his knee.
One hanging around the back of the chair, practically curled around his shoulders.
Rock god and his harem.
And Tommy walks her in, in her fuckin’ trench coat.
Preach had told Tommy to go back and get her and then bring her there so she could see that.
See she’d been replaced.
[Off tape]
A number of women would find it flattering a man maneuvered a situation to show her that it took three women to replace her.
I don’t think Lyla was feelin’ all that flattered.
You know, you should never set anyone up to be a hero.
There are no heroes.
Men are men.
Women are women.
We’re all human.
We are all capable of doing righteous shit.
And we’re all capable of being gigantic assholes.
I was standing by the window, contemplating taking my girl to my room to party a different way when I saw Lyla come in.
She stopped dead, staring at Preacher.
I don’t know if she stood there one second or an hour.
It felt like an hour.
I just know she went real pale, didn’t say a goddamn word, just stood there before she turned so fast her hair swung out behind her and ran out.
And yeah.
She didn’t go fast.
She ran.
[Off tape]
Josh Hardy has a very different version of events than others who’ve spoken of what happened next.
Josh doesn’t know dick. Never did. Never got his shit together to learn.
It’s accepted legend that his telling of his version got him kicked out of the Roadmasters.
Rule one of any band: You’re in the band, you don’t talk trash about the band.
Rule two of the Roadmasters: You’re in the band, you don’t talk trash about Lyla.
Interviewer’s Spoken Word Notes, Transcribed:
The town is quaint.
Town square. Shops. Coffee houses. Restaurants. Bars.
Surrounded by mountains.
It used to be the capital of Arizona when Arizona was a territory.
The road that leads from the town to the property is two blocks from the square. Lined with graceful Victorian houses. Steep grades.
Once out of the city, it’s winding, mostly wooded, partly cliffside.
Quite a number of houses thins out to a very few.
Some miles in, and up, a sign shares it’s well over a mile above sea level.
The drive from the city is at least fifteen minutes, maybe twenty.
The road to the property is dirt, very steep grade.
Property can be seen from the dirt road through trees, but the lane direct to the property leads around to the back.
Cabin is built into the mountain.
Lane and a large area are carved out of the farther elevation of the mountain and includes a large, double cab, silver GMC Sierra and a red Jeep Cherokee.
Stairs down to the door that is used as entry but is not the front of house.
Small area carved out to the side of the stairs where there’s a deck covered in rugs and boho-style outdoor furniture with a number of pillows and throws. The area carved out of the mountain is set with braces in which shelves are built, carrying a variety of pots filled with trailing green plants. Flying awnings cover this area.
The door is opened before I arrive.
Lyla is still blond, and even though now fifty-one years old, her face is unlined.
Her famously curvy body is clothed in wide-legged, Carolina-blue lounge pants, a white tee with a deep V-neck and a long, cream duster cardigan.
Her feet are in pink UGGs.
She has diamond studs in her ears. The diamonds are large, but not ostentatious.
And she has a necklace that is a cursive word with another diamond at the end of it sitting at the base of her throat.
The word is: Lynie.
Lyla:
[Off tape]
Can you start with why you’ve decided to speak with me? You’re famously silent on all subjects.
A lot of people have a lot of things to say about my life.
I figure it’s time to set the record straight.
Lyla:
[Off tape]
I have a number of questions, but with Jesse, he’s told the story from beginning to end. I’d like to ask you to do the same. But can you start in Chicago?
[Turns head to look out the window]
Chicago.
You’d been brought by Tom Mancosa to—
[Turns head back]
I re
member Chicago.
[Shakes head]
[Whispering] Preacher.
I ran out.
I don’t know what I expected.
Amber got their album. She listened to it. She was livid. So angry.
She and Jen talked about whether to tell me, make me listen, but then they heard “Give Then Take” on the radio and they decided I’d hear it eventually and it would be better for them to tell me and be around when I heard it.
And they were around when I heard it.
So, I don’t know what I expected, because obviously, he’d gotten it wrong.
And he was very, very angry.
It was Jen’s idea to go up to Chicago.
Not with me.
Her and Amber, to find their way backstage and give him a piece of their mind.
I talked them down.
But then, the idea of going to Chicago for their show was in my head.
The Mustangs weren’t coming down to Indy, you see. Not on that leg. They were going east and would hit Indy on the swing back west. Which wouldn’t be for months.
I honestly didn’t think I’d get backstage.
I had no idea how I managed to get that far.
It was my first indication of just how powerful a pair of tits and a thick head of hair could be.
Especially when it came to anyone who had anything to do with rock ’n’ roll.
I should have left, when they refused to let me in their dressing room.
I also don’t know why I stuck around to watch them walk to their bus.
Maybe I just wanted to see Preacher in that place.
He’d made it, or he was making it, I knew how very much it meant to him to do that, and I was hurt.
But I was glad for him.
And then when Tommy came to me and said Preacher wanted to talk to me, I should have walked away.
And when we were in the back of that limo and I could tell we were wasting time, driving around, I should have asked them to take me to the train station or just asked them to drop me off right where we were so I could grab a taxi or find my way to the L.
There were a lot of “should ofs” in my time with Preacher McCade.
But I didn’t do any of that.
I went with Tom to the hotel.
Fast Lane Page 7
