Rock My Body
Page 1
“Coming Down” – Five Finger Death Punch
One Year Ago…
I nod my head to the beat, glad that, for once, we are in our element in playing to a sold-out crowd.
I’m not exactly sure where everything started falling apart. Wait...that’s a lie. I know exactly when my blissful happiness began to deteriorate. It was the day Riff brought a woman on our bus for a long-term stay. A woman who fucked everything up and started Black Falcon on our downward spiral.
One day things were great—every guy in the band practically floating on cloud nine and all that shit—but somehow in the midst of our happiness and living out our life-long dream, things turned to shit. Sophie, Riff’s temporary fuck-of-the-month, single handedly drove a wedge into our foundation and rocked our ship by claiming she one-nighted Noel and was knocked up by him. For a while, I wasn’t even sure if the band would make it, but we did, ironically, with the help of two women, Lanie Vance and Aubrey Jenson. They were all right chicks at first, but eventually became thorns in my side too. Noel and Riff are so lovesick; they can’t see that their constant need to “take a break” for “family time” is destroying us.
My twin brother, Trip, used to look at the situation like I do. He wasn’t happy about the disappearing acts that both Noel and Riff insisted on pulling all the damn time. That was until my baby brother took it upon himself to seek out other interests besides the band. He not only found a dirt bike track to invest his money into, he also found a chick to invest his time into. He had to go and fall for the fucking track owner’s daughter, Holly. After that, he had a change of heart, and started empathizing with my other bandmates.
Fucking pussies.
All of them.
Black Falcon might as well be a label-made band like those Embrace the Darkness douchebags who are always trying to upstage us and ride our coattails. Like them, we don’t really give a fuck about each other anymore. Seems like this band is nothing more than a paycheck, which is sad. When we all vibe well together, magic truly happens.
Trip pounds out the last few beats of the song and the crowd explodes, instantly begging for more.
This is what I love. There isn’t any other feeling like it in the world. Nothing can ever top this rush, but because our performances are so few and far between, I’ve been forced to find other things that really get my blood pumping.
When my eyes lock with my twin’s green ones, we both have the biggest grins on our face, I know he loves this, too—the euphoric energy from the crowd.
How can he not miss this?
How can he put anything above this? How can any of them?
Our band’s front man, Noel Falcon, chuckles into the mic as he stares out into the crowd. “Damn. You fuckers are insane. We’ve got one more song left for you.” He pauses, running his hand through his dark hair, giving the twenty thousand bodies here to see us perform time to respond, their screaming getting louder and louder. “I feel the love.” He readjusts his mic stand. “Since we’re all friends here, I’m gonna tell you all a little story about a girl who shredded my heart back in high school without any hesitation. It’s called ‘Ball Busting Bitch’. If you’ve ever had your heart fucked over by a woman, sing along.”
Noel smirks and the laughter in his eyes is evident. Ever since he married Lanie Vance, it’s pretty funny to see him keep up appearances with this song—even though he’s madly in love with that ball buster.
Trip kicks up the beat, and I thump away on the strings of my bass, creating our signature dark and dirty beat while we wait on Riff to join us, who makes the lead guitar scream like a woman in heat.
I close my eyes as the rhythm of our biggest hit pulses through my body. Music is the one thing I can completely lose myself in. When I’m in the moment, feeling the beat, I’m untouchable; nothing else matters but the way each note engulfs my soul, scorching itself onto me permanently, reminding me that music is what I live for. It’s what I was born to do.
I slide my fingers down the thick strings, finding the sweet spot, and slap them hard with the thumb on the opposite hand. My head rocks back and forth as I play the hell out of the song. I can’t remember a time that we’ve ever sounded better.
Surely, they’ll want to celebrate like old times after this show—the four of us together, cracking open a few cold ones and just being together.
That’s what I miss the most.
The final notes in the song play out, ending our forty-five minute set, and Noel shouts, “You’ve all been a fucking beautiful crowd. Thank you!”
As soon as my eyes snap open, they land on my brother, tossing his drumsticks into the crowd while Noel and Riff exit the stage. And just like that, the song disappears, taking my euphoria along with it, and the warmth I was just feeling is completely gone from my heart, replaced by an arctic chill.
What’s their big fucking hurry?
I set my bass down on the stand and follow Trip off the stage. The remnants of the crowd’s energy still linger in my veins, and I’m ready to burn it off and party with my buddies.
I throw my arm around my twin’s neck as we make our way backstage. “Where are we partying tonight, baby brother?”
Trip shakes his head and smiles as his eyes drift off like he’s thinking of something else. “Can’t, man. Holly just flew in, and she’s waiting for me at the hotel.”
I sigh and pull my arm away. “You suck. Can’t you see her after we go out for a while? I need my wingman.”
One Year Ago…
I nod my head to the beat, glad that, for once, we are in our element in playing to a sold-out crowd.
I’m not exactly sure where everything started falling apart. Wait...that’s a lie. I know exactly when my blissful happiness began to deteriorate. It was the day Riff brought a woman on our bus for a long-term stay. A woman who fucked everything up and started Black Falcon on our downward spiral.
One day things were great—every guy in the band practically floating on cloud nine and all that shit—but somehow in the midst of our happiness and living out our life-long dream, things turned to shit. Sophie, Riff’s temporary fuck-of-the-month, single handedly drove a wedge into our foundation and rocked our ship by claiming she one-nighted Noel and was knocked up by him. For a while, I wasn’t even sure if the band would make it, but we did, ironically, with the help of two women, Lanie Vance and Aubrey Jenson. They were all right chicks at first, but eventually became thorns in my side too. Noel and Riff are so lovesick; they can’t see that their constant need to “take a break” for “family time” is destroying us.
My twin brother, Trip, used to look at the situation like I do. He wasn’t happy about the disappearing acts that both Noel and Riff insisted on pulling all the damn time. That was until my baby brother took it upon himself to seek out other interests besides the band. He not only found a dirt bike track to invest his money into, he also found a chick to invest his time into. He had to go and fall for the fucking track owner’s daughter, Holly. After that, he had a change of heart, and started empathizing with my other bandmates.
Fucking pussies.
All of them.
Black Falcon might as well be a label-made band like those Embrace the Darkness douchebags who are always trying to upstage us and ride our coattails. Like them, we don’t really give a fuck about each other anymore. Seems like this band is nothing more than a paycheck, which is sad. When we all vibe well together, magic truly happens.
Trip pounds out the last few beats of the song and the crowd explodes, instantly begging for more.
This is what I love. There isn’t any other feeling like it in the world. Nothing can ever top this rush, but because our performances are so few and far between, I’ve been forced to find other things that really get my blood pumping.
When my eyes lock with my twin’s green ones, we both have the biggest grins on our face, I know he loves this, too—the euphoric energy from the crowd.
How can he not miss this?
How can he put anything above this? How can any of them?
Our band’s front man, Noel Falcon, chuckles into the mic as he stares out into the crowd. “Damn. You fuckers are insane. We’ve got one more song left for you.” He pauses, running his hand through his dark hair, giving the twenty thousand bodies here to see us perform time to respond, their screaming getting louder and louder. “I feel the love.” He readjusts his mic stand. “Since we’re all friends here, I’m gonna tell you all a little story about a girl who shredded my heart back in high school without any hesitation. It’s called ‘Ball Busting Bitch’. If you’ve ever had your heart fucked over by a woman, sing along.”
Noel smirks and the laughter in his eyes is evident. Ever since he married Lanie Vance, it’s pretty funny to see him keep up appearances with this song—even though he’s madly in love with that ball buster.
Trip kicks up the beat, and I thump away on the strings of my bass, creating our signature dark and dirty beat while we wait on Riff to join us, who makes the lead guitar scream like a woman in heat.
I close my eyes as the rhythm of our biggest hit pulses through my body. Music is the one thing I can completely lose myself in. When I’m in the moment, feeling the beat, I’m untouchable; nothing else matters but the way each note engulfs my soul, scorching itself onto me permanently, reminding me that music is what I live for. It’s what I was born to do.
I slide my fingers down the thick strings, finding the sweet spot, and slap them hard with the thumb on the opposite hand. My head rocks back and forth as I play the hell out of the song. I can’t remember a time that we’ve ever sounded better.
Surely, they’ll want to celebrate like old times after this show—the four of us together, cracking open a few cold ones and just being together.
That’s what I miss the most.
The final notes in the song play out, ending our forty-five minute set, and Noel shouts, “You’ve all been a fucking beautiful crowd. Thank you!”
As soon as my eyes snap open, they land on my brother, tossing his drumsticks into the crowd while Noel and Riff exit the stage. And just like that, the song disappears, taking my euphoria along with it, and the warmth I was just feeling is completely gone from my heart, replaced by an arctic chill.
What’s their big fucking hurry?
I set my bass down on the stand and follow Trip off the stage. The remnants of the crowd’s energy still linger in my veins, and I’m ready to burn it off and party with my buddies.
I throw my arm around my twin’s neck as we make our way backstage. “Where are we partying tonight, baby brother?”
Trip shakes his head and smiles as his eyes drift off like he’s thinking of something else. “Can’t, man. Holly just flew in, and she’s waiting for me at the hotel.”
I sigh and pull my arm away. “You suck. Can’t you see her after we go out for a while? I need my wingman.”
