Soundtracks of a Life (19 page)

Chapter 27

The Grammy’s were scheduled on a different date every year, based on a myriad of factors including the best TV schedule for the show to be aired. How odd that it turned out to be, that the most important day of my career should be on the worst day of my life. In the end, the truth is, there is always something scheduled on that date. Unfortunately, it’s not like the 13
th
floor of hotel buildings. You don’t get to skip it just because it has bad feelings attached to it. Needless to say, it is an extremely difficult day for me. Back when I was doing therapy, my doctor said I should try to avoid putting too much feeling into those specific dates and to try to think of them as just another regular day. Yeah right! Easier said than done... It is like asking people to think of September 11
th
as just another day. You can’t because the intensity of the events of that day tore through the fabric of society and each of us individually changing that specific date forever. Days like these are never just another day. They have their own way of making everything else around them seem different… less meaningful, less appropriate, or just less enjoyable. Who would pick September 11
th
for their weeding day? I wouldn’t pick the anniversary of my sister’s death to celebrate the Grammy’s either but alas it’s not my choice and I will just have to try to do the best I can.

Its Grammy morning and we
are all gathered in the restaurant of our LA hotel having breakfast. I had hardly slept an ounce the night before. Struggling to maintain the feelings that this day always bring at bay, but so far failing miserably. I tossed and turned in bed reliving the memories of that dreadful day and playing the ‘what if’ game. What if we had taken a minute longer to eat our breakfast? Just a few seconds would have changed everything… I don’t really have to explain how useless that train of thought was. Nonetheless, it was difficult not falling prey to it. When I finally fell asleep, out of pure exhaustion, I had one of my horrible nightmares and that was the end of my sleeping night. I wished Chris was there with me… he always managed to make me feel better somehow, but with so much attention turned on us right now we didn’t want to be seen together. This IS LA after all.

I’m trying hard to put on a happy face for the guys this morning.  I know this is a big night for all of us
and I don’t want to be a bummer, but the dark feelings inside me are stronger than my will. I can feel myself descending into that all too familiar depression these godforsaken days always bring in me. I poke my food around in my plate, my head down, certainly not feeling very hungry.

“After breakfast the driver is taking you guys to the Staples Center where you will rehearse for tonight’s performance,” Susan says in her usual efficient tone.  We don’t say anything so she continues now looking directly at me. “After
rehearsals, you go to your hairstylist and make-up appointment.”

I just take a deep sigh. “Do I have to?”

“No, go with that “night of the living dead” look you have right now, very glamorous,” she snaps at me, and then directs her attention to the guys. “After rehearsal the car will bring you guys back to the hotel. You can rest then start getting dressed. I want you all dressed and ready to go by 3:30pm sharp! The limo will be waiting for you.”

We finish our breakfast and then pile into the back of the big black SUV waiting for us outside of the hotel and brave the LA traffic on our way to the Staples Center.

Once there, we are directed towards the stage, where the show director tells us when our performance is going to take place during the ceremony. We move in between busy crewmen towards the stage to start our rehearsal. It’s going to be a huge number, a big production with laser lights, huge LCD screens and pyrotechnics. It’s all very cool looking, the guys are super pumped and having a blast. Me, I was struggling a bit, feeling angry with myself because I wanted so bad to be enjoying this.

After we are done, Susan meets up with us and takes me to her limo to go to the hairstylist appointment. The guys get to take the SUV back to the hotel room to get some rest. Men have it so easy!

I sit at the posh hair salon for the stars getting my hair done and thinking hairstylists must be the happiest, most excited people on earth, my current mood clashing heavily with this energy level. I just try to be nice and smile along as the guy talks and talks and talks away, cracking himself up constantly. After that, I have to endure the equally happy make-up lady, and then onto the not so happy nail lady, who keeps bashing my very short fingernails. She can’t do much for them. How can she work with such short nails? I play guitar lady… get over it!

Normally, I would have enjoyed all this, what girl doesn’t like to be primped and pampered for a day, but today, I wanted to poke my eyes out with a fork.

We finally get back to the hotel and I’m beyond tired. I get to my room and all I want to do is to crash in bed, but in comes Susan busying me along.

“Come on! It’s almost time to go, you need to get ready. Your dress and shoes are hanging in the bedroom.”

I hold my head with my hands and take a seat on the living room sofa.

“I can’t do this. I don’t want to be here,” I say, finally giving in to the meltdown I could feel coming.

“What are you talking about this is your big night! Come on.”

“I’m not doing this, I want to go home. I want to go visit my sister’s grave.”

“What? Yeah that is an excellent idea! That went so well for you last time you did it.” I look at her angrily at that last comment but she only returns the same angry look at me.

“Stop screwing with my patience Lorelai. Please. I’m sick and tired of having to handle you like a volatile bomb that may explode at any moment. For heaven sakes… this is supposed to be a great day for you!”

I feel overwhelmed and so tired… I feel helpless and my eyes start to tear up.

“No no no, you can’t cry now…
you’re going to ruin your make up.” Susan hands me a tissue and puts her hand in my head. “I’m sorry okay. I know you are trying… I’m stressed too. Here…” she picks up her purse now, opens it and takes a little orange container and hands me a small pill. “Take it. It’s Xanax. It’ll help you.” I take the small pill from her and swallow it without a second thought. “I don’t usually push drugs onto my clients, quite the contrary actually,” she gives me small laugh, cracking herself up, “but if ever someone could use it is you.” She then looks at the container for a moment and then pops one pill too.  “God help us…” she says. “Come on, I’ll help you get dressed.”

When I get downstairs, I can’t help but let out a huge smile when I see the guys. They all look so very handsome in their suits and ties. Chris looks to die for in his black suit, black shirt and tie. Even in my fragile state I can still fell a warm feeling inside me when I look at him. He smiles when he sees me. “You look gorgeous.” He says. “You’re not looking bad yourself,” I reply.

We all hop into the limo and take the ride back to Staples. It takes what seems to be like an eternity. The traffic into the venue slows to a creep since you have to wait in line for all the limos to unload its passengers at the entrance. The guys are chatting excitedly with one another. I’m just quietly staring out the window feeling unusually calm and a bit floaty, the drug definitely working its magic. I keep thinking about my family and how I wish they could be here today. All the guys had given tickets to their families who were going to be in attendance tonight. My eyes start to weal up with the sadness that thought brings me.

“Just hang in there Lor.” Chris says to me giving me a tender kiss in the forehead.  He takes my hand and gives it a reassuring squeeze.  I give him a halfhearted smile but he does make me feel a little better.

When we finally arrive, we navigate our way through the red carpet, posing for what seems like millions of pictures along the way. It feels a bit awkward standing there with lots of people yelling at you posing for a sea of cameras. We stop for a couple of interviews along the way. When we finally get inside, we are directed to our seats right in the front row. Then comes the easy part, we just have to sit and watch the show until it is time to get ready for our performance. When our moment gets close, we are directed to our dressing room where we get changed again into the outfits we were going to perform in. Once ready, we are directed to a dark stage where we wait, butterflies rushing in our stomachs, until the presenter announces our name and the lights come on. We are extremely nervous but the performance goes well without a hitch. The visuals are awesome and the crowd is standing up and roaring when we finish playing the song. That pumps us up full of adrenaline and we ride that high through the rest of the show. As the awards get announced we win Best Rock Performance, Best Rock Song and Best Rock Album. It’s a dizzying feeling. It all feels like a dream you’re going to wake up from at any moment. Finally, we get to the end of the ceremony and they announce the most prestigious award of the night, Album of the Year. We hardly believe when we hear the presenter say, “…and the Grammy goes to… Wildfire!”

We hop onto the stage one more time to accept the award. It all feels surreal. I head to the microphone for my last thank you’s of the evening. I keep it short and sweet. My throat has a huge lump in it as I
hold up the trophy close to me. “This is for my family… I hope you are looking down and you are proud of me today. This is for you.” My voice breaks up and my eyes tear up and the guys just hug me and we walk off of the stage.

Backstage
we are directed to the “photo room.” As we enter in front of the huge Grammy banner background wall, immediately thousands of flashes sparkle as photographers snap pictures of our band, each one of us holding our own golden Grammy award. The nonstop bright lights practically blind us. Finally, when the photographers decide they had enough, we get to leave the room. We pass through a myriad of people congratulating us until we spot a familiar face. Susan approaches us looking super excited smiling from ear to ear. She hugs and congratulates us. Then, she announces that we need to go to the pressroom for interviews.

Without question, the absolute last thing I want to do right now is talk to the press. In spite of this day and the emotions it brought with it, I had actually managed to enjoy t
he evening but this was not fun. Being questioned by the press, inevitably, about my family, about what this day means… I don’t think I could handle it.  I’m drained and tired beyond belief. As much as I didn’t want to ruin it for the guys I had reached my limit. They would probably enjoy all of this better without me dragging the mood down anyways. I excuse myself to go to the bathroom, hand Susan my Grammy, and then sneak away to the dressing room. I change from a dress to my jeans. I slip on my t-shirt and a baseball cap I had packed in a bag at rehearsals earlier today and then quickly head to the exit used by the crewmembers and leave. No one gives me a second glance. It is a night of glamour made for rustling your feathers. Anyone dressed in street jeans doesn’t get noticed.

**************

“Where the hell is Lorelai?” Susan asks the guys exasperated. They shrug in response.

“Stay here,” she says. “I’ll go get her.”

About ten minutes go by when she returns looking flustered.

“She’s gone!” he says with mix of anger and panic in her voice.

“What you mean she’s is gone?” Chris asks, concerned.

“She is nowhere back there. I looked in the ladies room, she wasn’t there. I asked around but no one ha
s seen her. So I went to the dressing room. Her dress was there thrown over a chair but she wasn’t there either. I think she actually got changed and slipped out!” Susan finishes in complete disbelief. “Damn woman doesn’t do a damn thing I tell her! Who disappears on the biggest night of their career anyway?” Susan finishes off flabbergasted.

“I don’t understand…” Chris says still concerned. “She ran away?”

“Apparently, yes.”

“I’ll go look for her,” he replies, but Susan immediately cuts him short. “Oh no! You will do no such thing. It is bad enough you guys haven’t appeared in the press room yet, but it’s even worse that you will show up without your bandleader. You are ALL heading straight there right now! You will tell them the truth about what this day means for Lorelai, say the emotions of today has been too much for her and explain that she is feeling indisposed. Apologize for her not being there and then start taking questions normally. Otherwise, tomorrow there will be all kinds of silly rumors in the press.”

The guys quietly look at Susan for a moment processing all she just said. “Come on,” she yells exasperated again, “Don’t just stand there, get going!”

As soon as they return from the pressroom, Chris corners Susan. “Have you found or heard from Lorelai yet?”

“No I haven’t. I can’t believe she did this. I left her a message but I take it she knows she is in trouble. I swear I could kill her right now.”

“Take it easy Susan,” James steps in. “Seriously, are any of us really surprised by this? This is a really dark day in her life and honestly this was by far the very best I ever seen her handle this day, ever. The fact that she was not in a drunken coma by two in the afternoon was nothing short of a miracle. Take it from someone who’s seen her on this day
before. She tried really hard, so let’s cut her some slack. She probably needed some time on her own.” One could see Susan considering James words, her face softening as she eased up her demeanor.