Two-Bit Prism

I really had to hand it to Aaron K. Samson. The guy knows his stuff. Our new sound guy, Graham Hunt, was a 15-year veteran. There was no way we could possibly sound bad onstage with him taking care of our audio. Unless, of course, Neil Brother had anything to do with it. Neil was the new guitar tech Aaron hired for me. I don’t want to be mean, but what an idiot! The guy didn’t know a humbucking pickup from a pickup truck. Since I had always done my own guitar work, Aaron figured I could teach Neil and he’d blossom into some kind of super epic guitar technician demigod.

Aaron hired a much better drum tech for Amber. His name was Taylor Decant, and he was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. Taylor was a drumming expert, having started playing drums at the age of 3. While he was only 22, he was more than qualified to work as our tech. Taylor had formerly played in a band called Jumingos. The name was a cross between Jumanji and flamingos. Unfortunately, internal conflicts in the band caused them to split up after only 2 years. So Taylor was looking for work and Aaron snatched him up for us.

Finally, there was Zach Dillon. He was Aaron’s nephew. This 20-year-old math whiz agreed to work the merch table for us every night. Aaron hired him because he was like a walking calculator. Zach needed a job that would welcome him with open arms despite his, well, alternative appearance.

The only crew member Amber and I were familiar with was Alistair Williams, our fabulous tour manager. I say fabulous because without him, we’d just be a big mess. He kept us on schedule and as hygienic as possible. Nobody wants a stinky, dirty band that doesn’t show up on time, right? He also gave us the idea to do a podcast. “Think TAITV only with cute girls instead of cute guys.” His words.

We spent our first night in California. Amber and I shared a room in a clean, but old, hotel. It didn’t help that we watched a mini-marathon of Ghost Adventures before we went to sleep. Every time we heard the tiniest noise, we would creep slightly closer to each other in the bed. Around midnight, there was a particularly loud bang. “The hell was that?” Amber squeaked.

“Probably the people in the room next door having sex,” I replied. Amber wrinkled her nose. “Let’s just go to sleep.”

“I can’t sleep knowing there could be ghosts and demons and shit in here!” She shivered. “I’m practically having a fucking heart attack. I’m too young to join them!”

“Sleep!” I groaned, turning over so my back faced Amber.

“Dahlia!” I gave her one final grunt of frustration. “Fine. Sleep. I’ll stay awake and watch for ghosts. We should’ve watched Doctor Who.”

“I’ll tell you what,” I said, flopping over onto my back, “if we ever meet those Ghost Adventures guys, you can scold them for making you scared tonight.”

“Thank you,” Amber said. “I wouldn’t have even watched that with you if their host guy wasn’t so fuckable.”

“Zak Bagans,” I said. “And yes, he is quite fuckable. Go to sleep.”

I fell asleep and didn’t hear anything from Amber for the rest of the night, so I assume she was sleeping, too. When Alistair came to wake us in the morning, Amber opened the door and promptly slapped him. “What was that for?” he whined.

“For booking us into a fucking haunted hotel!” she said. “I’m going to shower before we go.”

“You’re scared of the ghosts, but you’ll let them see you naked?” I asked.

“Damn,” Amber said. “Forget it. I’m not showering here.”

“What ghosts?” Alistair asked. “I didn’t see any ghosts last night.”

“We didn’t either,” I said. “We just heard things. Banging and creaking. I figure it was probably the building settling or the neighbors boning. Maybe both.”

Alistair shrugged and led us out of the hotel to the bus. We were going out for breakfast, and then to our first sound check of the tour.