Jesse:
So, yeah.
Somehow, and I don’t know how, I mean, it’s a miracle.
It’s 2001.
And we survived Y2K.
[Bursts out laughing]
At this point, Timmy and me might pitch up and step into a Second Coming gig or sit in with Shawn when he’s out doin’ shows, one, the other of us, or sometimes both.
But there’s dick from the Roadmasters because Preacher is still AWOL.
[Throws up both hands]
Dust in the goddamned wind.
The phone rings.
I answer.
It’s Shawn.
“Listen, brother,” he says. “Got a friend who had a friend who has a kid who got into trouble that was not his trouble and this group helped him out. Got him clear a’ that shit. They do a lot of good work like that and they could do a lot more if they had more money.”
So, I say, “Tell me where to send the check.”
“No, Jess,” he replies. “Want your ass here for a charity gig. Start with me, we bring on the Second Coming and end with a Roadmasters reunion. It’ll make a shitload of bread.”
“It would, if it wasn’t akin to the literal second coming,” I say. [chuckles] “Can’t do a Roadmasters reunion without Preach.”
And then, get this, I mean…
Shit.
He says, “Did I say we didn’t have Preacher?”
[Hoots]
Swear to fuck, I near-on had a heart attack.
I’m all “Why didn’t you lead with that, motherfucker?”
And DuShawn’s all “This way was more fun.”
[Shakes head, grinning]
Fuckin’ Shawn.
So, he tells me Preach is gonna be in touch, and kid you not, I barely hang up and call out to the woman I’m livin’ with at the time to tell her what’s goin’ down when the phone rings again.
I answer.
And hear, “Hey, brother.”
[Suddenly stiffens, neck going long, sniffing]
Okay, well…
[Sniffs again]
All right.
I think you get I am beside myself.
I have not heard from this man in six years.
I got two baby sisters, and an older brother.
And he’s been gone for nearly six fuckin’ years. I have no clue where he is. I don’t know if he’s all right. I’m worried as fuck about him seein’ as he vanished when shit was extreme.
And to hide how relieved I am, how fuckin’ insanely good it is to hear his voice again, of course, I give him shit.
“Where the fuck have you been?” I ask.
“Jess—” he starts.
“No, seriously, asshole. I’ve been worried sick. Mom has been worried sick. Penny. Lana. Tim. Dave. Tom. Danny. Loretta. Need I go on?”
And, I’m sure you can guess, and he could too, I mean Lyla, even though I do not know if Lyla is worried about him because she is still totally tight with the band, but on the phone or if we’re together, no one ever mentions him.
He’s the Cajun elephant in the room, serious as shit.
But I figure she is.
Worried about Preacher, that is.
And get this.
He replies, “I had to take a breath.”
So, I’m all [loudly] “A six-year breath?”
“You needed me to take a breath too, Jesse,” he tells me.
[Eyes get large]
Say what?
He knows what I need?
Fuck.
[Shakes head]
Needless to say, six years, I forgot how fuckin’ aggravating Preacher could be.
“Thanks for tellin’ me what I need, asshole,” I say to him.
“Jess, chill out, brother,” he says back.
I remember that.
I do.
Him telling me to chill out.
[Rolls eyes to the ceiling]
Fuck.
Then he says, “I hope you’ve been writing songs that you haven’t sold seein’ as this charity gig is the perfect opportunity to relaunch with an album then hit the road on a tour.”
Yes.
He says just that.
Still planning world domination, our Preacher.
I’m all “Dude, are you kidding me right now?”
He’s all “No.”
I’m all “Hello? Maybe you wanna tell me where you were for over half a decade. If you’re good. If you’re healthy. I mean, I’m sure I don’t have to remind you what all was going down, or about to go down when I last spoke to you.”
And that’s when he says, “No, you do not.”
So, Tim’s the one who sorts it all seein’ as he has a kid he wants to show off, not to mention a new fiancée.
Big thing at his pad in Malibu.
Roadmasters reunion.
The private one.
Shawn shows with his wife Vanessa, who’s about to pop with their first child, so I don’t know how she talked a doctor, and DuShawn, into letting her get on a plane, except she’s Vanessa and she’s never met Preacher, but she’s heard a lot about him and she isn’t about to miss this.
And Vanessa is the kind of woman, she wants something to happen, she makes it happen.
Tommy shows up with fifteen of the biggest, thickest steaks I’ve ever seen in my life, even though Tim’s now a fuckin’ vegetarian.
Tom’s got his wife Simone with him, which is good, because she’s French and she’s gorgeous and she’s chic and she classes up every joint, even Tim’s surfer-dude beach hut that has four thousand square feet, direct beach access and a ten-million-dollar view.
Dave shows by himself and he brings a case of Dom and a dime bag of weed, times about fifty.
[Grins]
The pills are gone, sister, the blow, and we all learned to curb our appetites.
But Dave is never gonna stop bein’ Dave, thank God.
Tim’s girl is named Marty and we’re all pretty certain she peeled herself off an advertisement for surfing at Zuma beach, made herself three dimensional and then ran into Tim.
Wearing a bikini.
She also looks at Timmy and Brody like they both can make sun shine outta their asses.
I leave my woman home because I’m sensing it’s not gonna work out and I don’t want some woman I’m about to break up with to blow the memory of this occasion for me.
And the way she reacts to me leaving her behind solidifies my desire to end things with her.
We’re all there when Preacher turns up and…
[Pauses]
Give me a minute.
Of course.
[Lengthier pause, clears throat]
He looks good.
Shortish hair, few threads of silver in it, big, full beard, no silver in that.
He’s leaner than I remember which means he seems taller.
And he just looks…
[Let’s out a deep breath]
Good.
We all, of course, immediately give him shit for the silver in his hair, until Simone gets fed up with it and offers to pluck [affects bad French accent], “All tree of deez I see, beebee.”
And then I wait until she’s not around to bust Tommy’s chops about the fact I’d come just listening to his wife talk.
Though I don’t know why I bother since, first, she’s in his bed, and second, he’s manning the grill while Tim moans about having steak juice all over his veggie grate and there’s no place Tommy’s happier than standing at a grill, except, presumably, when he’s in bed with Simone.
[Grins]
Brody hits hero worship approximately point-oh-five seconds after he lays eyes on Preacher.
Vanessa manages to keep her water from breaking.
Everyone dances around the fact that Preacher is there and we’re all rapping, we’re all reminiscing, we’re talkin’ about the gig Shawn’s putting together and catching up, and Preacher is not saying shit about what he’s been up to the last six years.
And
no one mentions Lyla.
Simone, God bless her, uses Brody goin’ to bed as an excuse to corral Marty and Vanessa in the kitchen to drink champagne or whatever elegant French chicks do in a kitchen, though I know it ain’t the dishes, and Vanessa didn’t drink any champagne.
And the guys all wander down to the beach where we collectively decide when we’re done wandering and we all sit on our asses under the moonlight in the sand.
That’s when he does it.
Fuckin’ hell.
[Wipes eyes]
That’s when Preach says, waves lapping the shore, and he’s talkin’ real quiet.
“How is she?”
Now, Lyla has had an eventful six years.
Love the guy, and still, when I see him, which lucky for us both is not often, I gotta fight the urge to punch Cat Trelane in the face ’cause he sniffed around her after she and Preacher split and she never shared. No clue how far that went.
I only know they’re still good friends to this day.
Or as far as her man will let her be good friends with a dude she may, or may not, have had sex with, but one thing is for certain, that dude wanted to have sex with her.
Which, you know, for Lyla’s man, as far as he’ll let her be good friends with Trelane isn’t very far, so I figure Trelane gets a Christmas card.
Maybe.
After the trial, and the big split, it takes a while for her to lose the media attention, and in an effort to help her with this, anytime she’s with the band, we’re real careful to make sure there isn’t any press around that might catch it.
We aren’t always successful at this, but we do okay.
Sonia moves to Phoenix for work, so Lyla follows her, which is good.
Shawn’s in Louisiana making music with his family, but the rest of us are still in LA.
Except, it’s a guess at this point, Preacher.
He could be Howard Hughes, moving from penthouse to penthouse and making people sign an NDA before he dropped his suitcases for all I know and for all he’s sharing.
Bottom line, where Lyla lands, Lyla’s got Sonia close and she isn’t far away from us.
And we aren’t far away from her.
So, this is a good place for her to be.
She found her footing during this time, and when she did, we all felt like fuckin’ morons because it was so perfect, right there in front of us the whole time, she’d even had a job at one once, we were all so wrapped up in our own shit, including Lyla, we didn’t see it.
She goes back to school and gets her social work degree, learning Spanish while she’s at it, all while working at a center for at-risk youth with an emphasis on music and the performing arts.
She works with the kids and looks after them, did some counseling for a while, but that’s not her jam.
It’s admin and fundraising that’s her jam.
She’s a really good writer and the grants she writes have an unparalleled funding rate.
[Grins]
I’m totally making that up. I have no idea if they did.
I just know a lot of them got funded.
But she loves it and it’s perfect for her.
She takes care of people.
That’s what she’s good at.
She watched Preach take care of the band and Tommy take care of the band and she took care of the band.
And she’s seen a lot, done a lot, took her knocks, been around others that took way worse ones.
She might not get every story of every kid she hears, but she’s in a place, on some level, she can understand.
So, she’s got experience.
And they dig her, and not only because she’s all that is Lyla.
But because she’s all that’s Lyla.
So, now she looks after the kids and her staff, supporting them, nurturing them, helping them grow.
See what I mean?
That shit is perfect for her.
She doesn’t lean too heavy on me or the guys, never asks, we offer, but she doesn’t take us up on it very often because she doesn’t want it to get to be a thing.
You know, us helping her raise money or pitching up to work with the kids.
She knows she, Lyla, muse to the Roadmasters, Preacher McCade’s and Cat Trelane’s—maybe on that last—ex, could detract from the work she does, and distract from it, and even put her place there in jeopardy.
We all know that too fuckin’ well so we do what we can and give her her space to do what she digs.
Though, gotta say, she doesn’t turn down our yearly donations.
[Smiles]
That said, I think that was about her not wanting that shit to come out again.
You know, Lyla, of Lyla and Preacher, doin’ something, even something for good, with the Roadmasters.
It’d open a can of worms she wrassled back into the tin and she wasn’t feelin’ lettin’ them back out.
And you know?
Who could blame her?
But on that beach, none of us know what the fuck to say to Preacher’s question because, yeah, she’s good.
But each and every one of us know he nearly destroyed her when he walked away.
Dave dives in first, not to answer, to ask Shawn, “She comin’ to the gig?”
Shawn answers, “She hasn’t decided.”
“She needs to come to the gig,” Tim says.
“She needs to do what she needs to do,” I say.
That’s when Preach says, “Shawn, get her to the gig.”
[Picks up empty bourbon glass from the table beside him and tips it to look at the bottom]
I shoulda brought the bottle.
[Puts the glass back down]
We break up because Shawn’s wife needs to get to bed, Tim wants to check on his kid and Tom probably wants to take his wife home in order to do her.
[Grins]
And make sure that gets in whatever you’re doin’, sister.
Simone loves it and Tom hates it.
But these days, some of the best jollies I get is bustin’ Tommy’s chops.
Dave tries to talk Preach and me into hitting some club. There’s some band he’s interested in, he’s kinda cast himself in a role of mentor to a few bands who he thinks have promise, and he thinks this is gonna be one of them.
Preach and me refuse, Dave takes off, and we’re standin’ outside by our cars, and seein’ as I mentioned things were not gonna go further with the woman I’m with, Preach suggests I come to the place he’s at, a short-term rental.
I say yes because I’m glad to have him back. I’m pleased as fuck I got eyes on him again. I’m glad he looks good.
But I’m not at one with Mystery Preacher.
I had Mystery Preacher once and the end result was not one I wanted to relive, you hear what I’m sayin’ to you?
We drive down the coast.
He’s renting a little bungalow.
He gets out the bourbon.
We sit out on chairs that are on his back patio, but we got our feet in the sand.
And I say, “Preacher, I fucked up. I know it, man. But—”
He stops me by sayin’, “It wasn’t that. And it sucks you thought that. I hate it. Knew you’d be thinkin’ that and it ate me up while I was gone. But I had to go, brother. I had to go and be neck deep in nothin’ but me to find out who I was as a man whose brother’s body is now finally where it should be. In a grave with a tombstone.”
Then he says more.
He says, “And I had to go, I had to cut ties, it had to be a clean break without anyone able to get to me. I had to do this for Lyla.”
McCade:
It’s cleared out for us.
I’m sorry?
The bar. It’s cleared out for us.
I’m a regular, they appreciate it, they know I never do this. I wanted a space we’d both be comfortable in without distractions.
So, they cleared it out for us.
[Bartender serves McCade what looks like an iced tea]
> You’re a regular at a bar and you no longer drink?
[He is not sitting a stool but leaning well forward from his significant height into his forearms on the bar, he turns his head toward me, and he’s smiling]
Darlin’, it’s three thirty in the afternoon.
Of course.
[Clinks the bottom of his glass against mine, which is not iced tea]
Not judging.
[Gaze drops to my notebook]
You’re writin’ a lot.
Well, I find you fascinating.
[Roars with laughter]
Jesse:
So…
As I shared, Preacher reaches out to Shawn.
Shawn wants to do something for this legal aid place.
He comes up with the charity concert.
Preacher wants the band back together and making music.
Of course, the band’s all in.
And thus, Tom does not fuck around with going to our label.
And they offer and it’s good. It’s respectable. It isn’t a fuck you, your lead disappeared for six years when you were at your peak.
But it was not what we were used to.
That doesn’t matter.
What matters is…
The band is back.
We recorded the new album in this place Tim wanted to hit that was out in the middle of nowhere in the desert.
Timmy also tries to talk us into doing peyote before we get down to business. Go on some spiritual quest or something. Do it together as a band.
Like we’re the fuckin’ Young Guns.
Dave says, “This place is phat, but if I’m gonna trip for the first time in half a decade, I want some pussy close by, not a bunch of dicks.”
[Chuckles]
Shawn and Vanessa have their kid by then, but Vanessa is Vanessa. She doesn’t wanna miss anything, and she doesn’t want Shawn to miss anything either. She finds a big house close by to rent, brings her momma to help out and makes a bunch of spa appointments.
Fast Lane Page 26
