Scattered Chapter 4

[Trevor Race]

I was at work last night, driving my squad car from site to site, listening to the radio.
It felt, to me, as if the DJ knew exactly the songs to play, in just the right order, to stir up some old emotions.
I was cruising along interstate 80 at a cool 70 mph with the window down just
enough so I could keep the damp October air flowing around my head.
The pained voice of Raine Maida, front man for Our Lady Peace, flowing out of the stock speakers,
directly into my ears, triggering memories I haven't dwelled on in quite some time.

"Hope you remember me,
When you're homesick and need a change.
I miss your purple hair,
I miss the way you taste."

Those last two lines always seem to stop my heart, if only for a second.

It was the summer of 2002. I was living in Fresno with my mother.
She had purchased a mobile-home during the trial separation between her and my step dad.
They still saw each other as much, if not more, than when they still lived together.
In other words, mom was always gone, and that double wide palace was pretty much mine.
At least thats how I saw it. My friends came and went as they pleased and I honestly,could'nt care less.
On the rare occasion that I actually slept, I always slept during the day.
See, by now I was neck deep in my dependency on meth.
I hid it well. My mother knew I was using, I'm almost sure of it. But I've learned a parent's wall of denial can trump that of the addict himself. (especially a co-dependent parent, such as my mother)
It had been less than a year since I broke-up with Desiree. Desiree was my everything.
If there ever was a point in my life, that I actually knew the meaning of the word "happy", it was the two years I was with Desiree.
I still, to this day, don't have any idea what meth induced craziness was going on in my head when I left her.

I was the lead singer for a local band that I had put together a few months prior through some strategic networking.
As far as I know, Jake Diggs, my bass player, and good friend at the time, was the only one in the band that knew of my drug habit.
Jake, as he soon learned, was an awesome promoter for small local rock shows and he used that skill non-stop that summer. We must've only played eight or nine shows but it felt like a hundred. Our venues of choice were, Pizza Land and Cedar Lanes.
Pizza Land is a h*** in the wall pizza joint that for some reason, attracted some semi-big name (E.G. Afroman,Slaves On Dope).
It also brought on a non-stop flow of local nobodies that put on shows just to feel like local somebodies.
Then there is Cedar Lanes.What a shithole.It was an old, run down bowling alley that rented out the "banquet hall" to the likes of us and the bands we did shows with on a regular basis.
A few years ago, I heard they stopped renting out for concerts after our last show there, due to the mosh pits and building damage caused by our small but savage concerts.

To this day, I can honestly say that summer was by far, the most important and defining time in my adult life.
Even though we spent more money on promotions and recording than we could ever make back with ticket sakes, we felt like true rock stars.
We WERE rock stars.
The crowds weren't great in numbers. but one thing they did have was a great appreciation for what we were trying to do as artists.
And let me tell you, this was the most loyal f****** group of people any musician could ask for. They made me feel like a god of sorts when I had the mic in my hand and they were singing every lyric of a song that I most likely wrote on the back of a hospital bill or a shredded papertowel from a gas station bathroom that I was smoking crystal meth in.
(The funny thing is, half the time I'd forget a line here or there and hold the mic out towards the crowd as if I wanted to hear them sing. Great cover right? it worked!)

The line-up always changed. That way every band got a chance to "headline" at least one show.
It was Echoside (my band), Head-up (Dez was lead singer) Chizzle (Anthony, my friend from down the street,was lead vocals and was also now, a fellow user.) and Amorycyde (an amazing metalica influenced band, that consisted of people I grew up with in Kingsburg)
We did about a show a week, give or take. After every show there was an after party that usually took place at Anthony and his roommate/one of my very best friends, Brooke's house. We would pack that tiny, two bedroom house with every member of every band, every single fan that came to the show, and a few local drug dealers for good measure.
With the end of summer growing near, we knew these good times would begin to fizzle out.
It was after one of the last, if not THE last show we did. I'm not exactly sure why I didn't go directly to the party after the show but I wouldn't be shocked if it was to go home and do a few lines of dirty crank.
Whoever was with me in my El Camino that night had a cell phone. It rang. It was Anthony and he wanted to talk to me. "Hey Tre' man, you gotta come to the party. i want you to meet my girlfriend."
He always sounded so happy on the phone you could actually hear him smile.
"all right man, I'ma grab a couple tall boys and Ill be on my way"
When I pulled up to Brooke and Anthony's pad I saw something that stopped me in my tracks.
Parked on the street, in front of the house, was a white Chevy S-10 Blazer. On the back window, a "Sublime" decal.