We're Trouble Bound

“Let’s go, you mother fucker!” The girl shouted at one of her bandmates that was lagging behind. They were standing behind their trailer, pulling things from it. She had decided upon carrying two guitar cases while he didn’t have anything at all in his arms. He was easily a foot taller than she was and had seventy-five pounds on her. She was tiny, a little more than five feet. She didn’t seem to be struggling with the equipment in the least. She looked quite casual doing it. She had bleach blonde hair and a tattoo creeping along the exposed skin of her chest. It was hot outside and she was wearing only a t-shirt and a pair of cut off jean shorts.

The guy sighed reluctantly, rubbing his eyes. “I am so fucking hung over.”

“It’s like almost six… You shouldn’t still be hung over.” She shifted around to get a better grip on the cases.

“But I am!” He insisted. “And tired.”

“Get some coffee then.” She rolled her eyes at him and started walking away, up the loading ramp nearing where Oliver was standing and flipping through his phone. He didn’t want to make it obvious that he was staring at her. He wanted her to approach him first. But as she past by him, she just kept walking. He assumed that it was because she was preoccupied with her gear. The guy she had been yelling at was now following slowly behind, pulling an amp up the ramp.

He stopped, seeing Oliver and clearly knowing who he was. “Hey man, what’s up? I’m Troy.” He stuck his hand out.

“Oli. S’nice ta meet yeh.”.

“You too, man. You’re the only one I hadn’t—“ Troy was cut off by a stream of obscenities.

“Goddamnit, you fucking douchebags. We’re an hour and a fucking half late. You told me load in was at fucking six o clock. You fucking mother fu—“ Jaime stopped in the doorway, seeing that Troy was standing with Oliver. “Oh hi,” she said to him.

“O’reight?” Oliver greeted. It was strange the way she looked at him, not at all curious. It was an apathetic sort of look.

“Sorry to be goddamning and fucking all over the place. But goddamn, we’re finally fucking here.” She smiled.

Oliver had no idea what she’d just said and his expression showed it.

She saw his confusion, still smiling. “It’s been a long fucking day and I keep swearing about everything. Sorry.”

“Oh, aye,” Oliver nodded dumbly.

“I’m sorry, I must sound like I’m crazy. I’m Jaime.” She thrust her hand out for him to shake. He noticed another tattoo on the inside of her thin wrist.

“Oliver… Oli.” He shook her hand.

“Just don’t mind me today if I’m acting like a spazzy bitch.” She was bright and pleasant. Oliver had heard many things about Jaime and he had not been expecting this.

“S’cool. ‘m a bit off as well,” Oliver said.

“Alright, awesome,” she stated. “I need a beer or two and I’ll be good. Less crazy. I’m all wound up.” She started down the ramp. “And this goddamn mother fucker is just standing around,” she pointed at Troy.

When she was behind the trailer, Troy said “She gets a little feisty when she spends too much time traveling.”

“Tha’ so?” Oliver rubbed the back of his neck.

“Well, actually… she’s kind of like this all the time.” Troy shrugged.

Jaime came around the corner of the trailer saying “What time do we go on?” She was, somehow, carrying a case of beer that Troy had not known was in the trailer.

Completely ignoring her question, Troy responded to the twenty-four pack she was holding. “Where the fuck did you get that beer?”

“Magic.” She grinned.

“Girl, you could turn water into wine.”

“I think it’s one of those nights where I start drinking two hours before the show,” she looked at the time on her phone before stuffing it into the tiny pocket of her shorts. “What’d you say?” She looked hopefully at her bandmate.

“Fuck no. Not this early. And my stomach is fucked up from last night still.”

“But I can’t drink a case of beer by myself,” she frowned. “What about you, Oliver? I might as well make an even worse first impression on you.”

“Wha’re yeh on about?” Oliver stared at her.

“Let’s get totally wasted before the show and have a fucking blast.” She raised her eyebrows at him as she stepped closer. After a moment of silence, she laughed. “Just tell me no when I say stuff like that. I drink too much. Ignore it.”

“Yeh was serious ‘bout the drinkin’?” Oliver asked, surprised.

“Of course.”

“Well, crack ‘em open, lass!” Oliver grinned at her then.

“Score!” Jaime put one fist in the air excitedly. Her white t-shirt raised a bit, exposing her stomach. There was yet another tattoo, this one on her hip. Oli had the notion that he’d like to see where else she had them hidden. “New party people, right on.” She handed him a can and managed to pull one from the case for herself as well. “You probably think I’m a total drunk. Good. Cool.”

“S’there a prob’em wiff ‘at?” He popped the tab on his can as she opened her own.

“Good answer!” Jaime’s face lit up. She was excited to have a new person to drink with.

“Don’t encourage her, man,” Troy said jokingly.

“Ef encouraging ‘er means drinkin’ beers, I unno ef I’ll be able ta stop ‘er,” Oliver stated.

“Good call, Oliver, honey. Don’t resist my influence.” She held up her beer. “What are we gonna drink to?”

“Eh?”

“We’ll drink to bad influences and bad impressions.”

“Sounds o’reight.”

“Cheers,” she clinked his can.

“Cheers.”

--

Jaime was friendly enough to him. That wasn’t the problem. Oliver, whose band had just got off stage, had run into Jaime immediately when he entered the after show crowd. A guy seemed to be chatting her up but she didn’t really notice. She was just nodding as they spoke until she saw Oliver. “Hey! Oliver! This is Steve, he lives a block away and he knows Sean… they’re having a party. You got any other plans?” She spoke rapidly with excitement.

Oliver was stunned; usually he was the one inviting girls to parties and there she was asking him. And normally there was a slightly suggestive air to his invitations. “No, no plans.”

“Okay, we’ll go over there together in a bit, yeah?”

“O’reight.” And then she flitted off. Why wasn’t she even checking him out? Did she have a boyfriend back home? This all seemed very unfair. Jaime interested him but apparently he didn’t interest her.

Jaime was barely out of sight before a group of girls descended on Oliver. Jaime was weaving her way through the people, stopping and talking to someone every few feet. She felt on the verge of drunk with adrenaline still pumping from performing. She loved being on tour because everything was so fun. It’s like she didn’t have anything to worry about. She liked when life was carefree.

“Gav!” She spotted Gavin, her co-vocalist, flirting with a pretty brunette.

He waved her over. “Hey Jai—this is Leanne.” He pointed to the girl.

“Hi!” Jaime eagerly greeted before turning to Gavin. “This is Steve. He’s having a party.”

“Yeah?” Gavin was clearly interested.

“Yep,” Steve nodded.

“Not that the party hasn’t already started,” Jaime held up the drink in her hand.

Jaime wasn’t sure what people thought of her fun-seeking ways. Maybe they thought it was too much or that she had a problem. But she didn’t care really. She liked to have a good time. Her philosophy was that enjoying yourself was the key to a good life. She was happy with her life and that was all that should matter.

After the crowd had died down, Jaime was wondering outside, having lost Steve a few minutes before. He’d given her vague directions to his house and his cell phone number in case she got lost. Getting lost seemed like a definite possibility, as she had been drinking for hours. She was very clearly drunk when Oliver spotted her. He was sitting on a patch of grass drinking a beer out of brown glass bottle. “ ‘Ey!” He called to her and waved; he too was slightly inebriated.

“Hi! Oliver! Did I already tell you about the party?” Her face contorted in thought.

“Aye, yeh told.”

“Oh good! I can’t remember shit right now. I’m a little drunk.”

“Me too,” he admitted as she took a seat beside him.

“Good kick off show, I’d say,” she said thoughtfully.

“Aye, damn good.”

“Good response I think… I didn’t know how it’d be, you know, the crowds in different countries. I was scared they’d hate us,” she admitted.

“Us foreigners aren’ so bad.”

“True.” She rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand. “So are you coming to the party then? I think I’m gonna walk over in a hot minute. Steve said he didn’t care if you boys invited girls. He said the more girls, the better.”

“Girls?” Oliver wasn’t sure if Jaime was condoning or condemning the guys’ affinity for picking up girls.

“You know, girls… like me… except usually a little desperate. You do like girls?” She giggled.

“Oh… reight, girls. ‘Course I like ‘em. Fank yeh very much.” He shook his head, hiding a smile. Jaime was disarming, that was one thing Oliver was certain of. Everything else was a mystery.

“Now that you understand, you gonna go pick up some chicks to bring?”

“Nah, prolly not.”

“I can wait here. I won’t leave without you.”

“Nah, I’m fine."

“Right on… right on.” She abruptly stood up. “Alright, let’s go.”

“Now?” He blinked at her.

“Yes?” She looked at him as if it were the dumbest question ever. “Time to show you how Keep Your Composure parties.”

“ ‘Elp me up, love?” He reached his arm up for her to grab. She took it immediately and tugged. The minute he was off the ground, she let go. He wasn’t sure what this was but it certainly felt a little like rejection.

--

Oliver realized that everyone was running out of steam. The people that were still around, some of his band mates and tour mates, were falling off the party wagon. Most people were staggeringly drunk, ready to find a place to crash. Oliver was still fully alert. He hadn’t found a girl that interested him at the party the way Jaime did. He felt all out of balance because of it, like something was clawing at his stomach. And he was pretty sure it wasn’t all the beer.

He wandered into the kitchen. Jaime was sitting on a countertop crossed legs with her phone out, texting rapidly. The bassist of Keep Your Composure, Danny, was leaned against the counter, slowly slumping down. There was a mostly full bottle of Jameson on the countertop beside Jaime. She didn’t seem as miserable as her friend.

“Hey,” she smiled at Oliver. “You doing okay?”

“Aye…” He didn’t know why he wouldn’t be.

“Good. Everyone else is a little shwasty.”

“Shwasty?” He repeated, not knowing what exactly she meant.

“You know, wasted. Drunk. Shwasty.” She was amused that he didn’t know. “What would you say if someone’s drunk?”

“Er, prolly say pissed or summat.” He shrugged.

She was still texting and without looking up she asked “You wanna do a shot?”

“A shot?”

“You can say no, man… I’m just hella bored and everyone is too drunk to have any more fun.”

Danny groaned, proving her point.

Oliver couldn’t help but laugh “’Ow is it tha’ yeh been drinkin’ since six, since before e’eryun else an’ yer not completely knackered?”

“I’m not sure I understood what you just said… It’s kind of like you’re speaking a different language.” She teased.

“I asked why yeh not knocked out o’ready.”

“Because I know how to pace myself. These fools don’t,” she poked Danny in the arm.

“Smart lass.”

“So you wanna do a shot or not? It’s cool if you don’t want to. I’d offer to let you do a body shot to entice you into it but I’m not that wasted.” Jaime looked at Oliver, who had a confused look on his face. “I’m just kidding, Oliver. That’s just what we need, for you to think I’m the tour whore as well as the party girl.”

“Ah, nah, wasn’ thinkin’ tha’.”

“Well, what were you thinking?”

“Tha’ a shot o’ whiskey sounds pre’y good.”

“Yeah?” Her eyes flashed excitedly. Oliver finally had a clear look at her eyes. They were a mostly green sort of hazel and she had very little make-up on. Maybe it was the result of performing and then partying or maybe she just didn’t subscribe to the endless make-up regime like a lot of girls.

“Absolutely,” he affirmed. “I fink that yeh may be trouble,” he said ponderously.

“What?”

“I fink that yer a troublemaka.”

“Me? Troublemaker?” Jaime played coy. “No way.”

“Didn’ say tha’ trouble was a bad fing.”

She stared at him curiously then shrugged. “Fair enough.” She immediately put her phone down and took a hold on two shot glasses that were hiding behind the Jameson bottle. She sat them side by side while twisting off the bottle’s cap. “You’re basically the best ever, Oliver.”

“Not the firs’ time I heard tha’un,” he said suggestively. She just rolled her eyes and poured two equal portions, both full to the very edge of the tiny glass.

“What are we drinking to this time? It’s your turn to pick one,” she instructed.

“D’yeh always drink ta summat?”

“Usually. It’s just a tradition, I guess. My best friend and I always do it.” She picked up both glasses, handing Oliver one. “So pick something or else you’ll fuck with my routine.”

Oliver thought a moment before saying “ ‘Ere’s ta troublemakers.”

Jaime nodded, pleased with this toast. “To troublemakers.” She fluidly pressed the glass to her lips and the liquid was gone in seconds. She looked to Oliver who was cringing slightly.

After his momentary wincing, he looked up at her. “Wha’ a lass yeh are… I don’ fink I’ve eva met a bird ‘oo could drink like yeh can.”

“Oliver, honey, I don’t think you’ve ever met a bird like me at all.”

-----------

When you walk onto the bus they’re sharing with Sheffield band Bring Me the Horizon, the guys of Keep Your Composure are playing a particularly violent video game. Most of them are swigging beers, even though it’s only late afternoon. They’re a tattoo covered bunch, dirty and scruffy faced. They swear like sailors and frequently punch one another jokingly. And in the middle of them, there is a girl painting her nails a shocking shade of pink.
This is Jaime Caldwell, the only female member of Pittsburgh PA based Keep Your Composure. Looking at her, with her Barbie pink nail polish and platinum blonde hair, you wouldn’t think she belonged with these five rough men. She’s petite, no more than a hundred and twenty pounds and barely 5’2”. Her makeup and clothing are immaculate. She looks like a model. She looks like she is maybe one of the guys’ girlfriends. She looks incredibly out of place in a hardcore band. But then she opens her mouth.
“You motherfucker,” she says to band mate Sean Salinski after he bumps her accidently. “You made me fuck up my thumb. Fuck.” She mirrors their vocabulary effortlessly, integrating foul words into every sentence. She tells me later that “if you’re around it long enough, that’s just how you’re used to talking.”
But it isn’t her speaking that makes her fit so well in the band. On stage, she is raw and brutal. As one of two vocalists in KYC, Jaime provides the higher register screams while Gavin Peters provides the low end. Her growling is guttural, not at all in line with her soft girly image. When asked how she ended up in the band Gavin explains “Because she could do it. It was funny really. She was making fun of hardcore bands at a party and she tried to do a scream. She did it and it was awesome.”
Initially, guitarist Anthony Wietzel tells, no one knew what to make of them. “We would go on stage and everyone in the crowd would be silent. They’d see Jai and jump to conclusions. Then she’d start doing her thing and then people would be REALLY confused.”
They gained a following slowly, starting at first with their small suburban high school. “Everyone at home was doing the screamo thing or whatever,” Peters says. “We did that but changed it up a bit. Took it to another level. And people got behind that.”
One person that got behind them was Warped Tour founder Kevin Lyman. The festival pioneer first saw them playing the local stage at Pittsburgh’s 2007 Warped. Lyman introduced KYC to his friend and Epitaph owner Brett Gurewitz. Jaime explains Gurewitz’s response to the band, “Brett liked us a lot right away. I think that he was surprised to see me killing it with these guys. He thought it was something different.” Not even for one minute has anyone ever doubted that.