So! This is my first band-fiction I have ever written... And it is, of course, based on Shinedown. I have changed ages in this story to make it seem more believable. So, here is a small list of ages for the guys and my character, Anastasia.
Brent Smith: 31
Barry Kerch: 32
Zach Myers: 28
Eric Bass: 31
Anastasia Bass: 20
Yes, there are some age differences here and I apologize, but there will be some editing of parts to fix any mistakes in timeline and errors. I figured I should post this to clear up any confusion. Come one, come all! Shinedown lovers, here is a story for you. Please read and review, as it makes my life feel a bit easier knowing that stories in this category aren't much sought after.
The spring air wafted through my room, bringing with it the scent of flowers and blooming cherry blossoms. Petals danced and spun past the window, and I was mesmerized by the beauty. I was happy... truly happy to know that my favorite time of the year had finally come, and that I was done with college for a year long break. The confines of my classrooms were too much after two and a half years of the hell. I just wanted out.
I glanced to the poster beside my window, nostalgia and excitement flooding my veins in an odd mix. There stood my older brother and his band. Long, elaborate and sappy paragraphs were written on each of their bodies from the chest down, signatures and printed names lying in random spots around their messages. My heart clenched; I missed Eric... I missed having my Eric with me, helping me as best he could with learning the full extend of my trapset. And when the entire band came around, hogging the couches in my living room, it felt like my family was complete. Barry, with his long dreadlocks and sick skills (he loved to watch me play, praising and kindly criticizing where I needed it.) Zack, being goofy and trying to sneak up behind me to scare me (I always got him back by kicking his butt at Guitar Hero.) Eric, hugging me and getting into childish name-calling battles with stupid names like "fucktruck" and "Gothic toaster." And Brent... oh, Brent... with his willingness to let me vent to him and allow him to offer advice, and then his "until next time" kisses to the forehead...
I realized that my eyes had welled up with tears. But it was okay! It would all be perfect, because tonight, my mother and I would be going to see them. My pass already hung around my neck, dangling around the collar of Eric's old leather jacket. Sometimes, I imagined that it still smelled like him. It had been over a month since he had worn it, and my perfume and body wash had all but covered up his masculine scent. I didn't wear it often, trying to preserve it for when I really missed him. Sure, we texted and he would call when he could, but between practice, the band's Insanity! workouts, and actual performances, there was little time to so much as sleep, let alone message me.
With a smile, I remembered the saved voicemail from last week. It was all four of them, and I still was beating myself up over missing the call, but finals had taken a toll on me and I slept for thirteen hours after the testing day. The guys were being weird, making odd noises like pterodactyls and peacocks. I would have guessed they were drunk, but Brent had been sober for nearly two years and I know that dying-cat sound had been him. I would have known that voice anywhere. And then the sound of someone tackling Barry into the ground with a resounding thump that had me in stitches. Eric was trying to talk, but he barely managed much of a sentence through the guys screwing around before he must've given up after a laughter attack. I missed them... The first time I had listened to the message, I nearly peed myself. Second time around was the same thing. But after the third, the nostalgia and longing had set in and I had started to cry, holding the phone and falling asleep in Eric's jacket.
It was very difficult sometimes, not seeing people that were truer family than my blood could be. I had actually contemplated asking to join them for the rest of their tour once I made the decision to take time away from school. I had all I needed to take care of myself. I had plenty of money left from working and in my savings. My tuition had all been funded from my many grants and scholarships, not to mention working two jobs, plus a dog-walking company I had been part of for nearly eight months that payed handsomely in our neighborhood, and rarely spending a cent. I didn't owe anything, and I still lived with our parents. I had no debts or responsibilities. I only had one plant, and it was ironically a cactus that required watering every couple months (which my parents did anyway.) I was all set, my determination and iron will willing. By all means, there was nothing holding me to my here. And the only reason I hadn't moved out yet was because I knew that it would've been a potential financial cancer while still going to school. I could afford to live comfortably for the most part, but not when my schooling came into play.
I started to debate asking or not, getting into what Eric called my "thinking mode" and trying to find out what was best. On one note, I had money. Not millions, but I was no idiot with finances. I had not spent much from my childhood savings either.
Flip side of things, would I be able to stand being around men for the next however many months on tour buses and hotel rooms?
Another good note: the inner analyst in my noted that it would be a good learning experience.
But... Oh, there were so many arguments to every side that it was going to be days before I stopped thinking. But it wouldn't hurt to ask, right?
It was decided. I was going to ask if I could join the rest of the tour. Whatever happened would be what was meant to, so I gave the thought to God. If they said yes, I would be touring with Shinedown.