“That was a hell of a show, Finn. We rocked that shit,” Tiny said as he hugged a girl in passing.

Camera flashes lit up the path, and I had to blink away the balls of light that stuck to my vision. I looked over at Tiny and threw my arm around his neck.

“Hell yeah, we did.”

Tiny stuck with me no matter what. Believe it or not, he’d actually grown more since he was in high school. He towered over the rest of us and worked out constantly. The working out had started after the accident that almost took his life. I was thankful to still have him around. He didn’t have much family so he stuck around my place a lot. I never asked questions, but he was a loner and needed Mom and me. At least that’s how it seemed. Mom hadn’t only adopted me; she took in my boys, too. I loved that woman.

Tiny hadn’t only gotten taller; he’d gotten better at a lot of things. Even his bass playing had improved. Not that he was bad before, but after the accident, he had a hard time with his nerves. Playing hurt him, and even though he didn’t complain, I think it still did. I didn’t push. I only knew I wouldn’t pursue anything musically without him, and I’d always keep his secret. No one but me knew about the awful scaring under his clothes, and no one else needed to know. He was strong and loyal to the fucking core, and I’d be the same to him. We’d been through it all together.

The funny thing about Tiny was the fact that even though he didn’t realize I noticed, he never slept with girls. He made out with them plenty, but I couldn’t remember a time when he’d actually broke the back out of one of them. And he could do it easily since he was every bit of three hundred pounds and hard muscle.

At one point, I’d almost asked if he batted for the other team, but there were times when I’d catch him checking out girls. Either way, he’d been there for me through a lot of shit and I’d always been there for him.

All in all, I was pretty happy with the way things were going for the four of us. We were Blow Hole since there was no way in hell I could continue using the name Original Malice with half of the band gone. The name Blow Hole fit. After Faith left, I went back to selling cocaine. Uncle Lester, my old supplier, used to call it blow, and since my garage was the place to go when you wanted some blow, my garage became known as the blow hole. The name stuck.

It was good, though. You couldn’t turn on the radio without hearing a Blow Hole song, and after signing what could only be described as a kickass contract, we’d been living a much different lifestyle than what we were all used to. None of us were complaining.

“Zeke, pack us a bowl, man. I’m going to change. Some bitch poured her entire beer over me when I went surfing,” I said as I went to the back of the bus.

We spent the rest of the night bullshitting on the bus and getting high out of our minds. Zeke kind of chilled on the side. I got it, being all domesticated and shit, but it wasn’t for the rest of us. We playfully teased him about it, but even though we didn’t believe in only one girl, we understood and respected him.

A ton of shit had happened since we’d been on the road. We practically lived on our bus or on a plane, but home was a big-ass condo in California.

The next morning, I called my mom to check on her. I called her at least twice a week no matter what.

“I’m good. Rick planted a garden in the back yard and I was helping him. You should see how nice the tomatoes came out.”

Mom was now settled down with her new husband, Rick. He was a nice guy. He treated her good and took good care of her. I couldn’t ask for more.

“That sounds great, Mom. Listen, we’ll be heading that way here soon. I miss you and was hoping we could get together for a nice dinner or something.”

Even though she hated it and swore she wouldn’t use it, I sent her a couple thousand dollars a month. Needless to say, she didn’t live back in the old neighborhood or drive that piece of shit Jeep anymore.

“Of course, Jimmy! I can’t wait to have you home for a little while. Y’all be careful out there with all those crazy people. Be good and try not to get into any trouble.”

I got the same speech every time I called and I loved it. It was nice after being on the road with a bunch of bitches that only cared about your wallet or your name to have someone who actually gave a real shit about you. My mom would always be the only woman in my life for those exact reasons.

“We will. I love you, Mom. See you soon.”

We got a break in our tour a week later and went back to California for some downtime before going on the run again. Our lush condo was nice and decorated with some of the most expensive shit our label could find. I remember the moment we all stepped into the massive place and how we all flipped out over how nice it was. None of us were used to living in such splendor. We’d each came from the other side of town, living in either a shitty little house, a fucked-up trailer, or the ghetto apartments where all the single moms and meth heads lived.