Fast Lane Read online

  None of us knew who the fuck Leonard Cohen was. But Tim did.

  Preach did too.

  Dolly Parton. The Eagles. Fleetwood Mac. Elvis Costello.

  The guy did not discriminate.

  Hell, when Paul Simon released Graceland, fuck. Tim listened to that so often, back then, if I heard “do, do, do, do…do, do, do, do,” [humming opening of “You Can Call Me Al”] one more time, I’d fuckin’ kill someone.

  He blasted out the Runaways.

  He was Joan Jett’s biggest fuckin’ fan. If she’d asked him to be in the Blackhearts, he would have dropped everything to follow her anywhere she went.

  Yeah, he’d even drop us.

  Believe it.

  I think he had a little punk down deep in his heart.

  It was quiet. Punk ain’t quiet.

  But listen to his solos and tell me he wasn’t screaming about something.

  And you know, when Mellencamp got airplay, we hadn’t even started the fuckin’ band. We were in junior high, for fuck’s sake.

  And it was Tim who said, when we first heard “Hurts So Good,” “This is the guy.”

  I mean, that wasn’t even “Jack and Diane.” And he was listening to Chestnut Street Incident and John Cougar and “Ain’t Even Done with the Night.”

  It was also about Mellencamp for him, and all of us, I guess. Seein’ as we’re all from Indiana.

  Except Preach.

  So, Tim did not care that Preacher edged him out.

  Especially when we heard the guy sing.

  Tim got lead on a lot of songs. As you know. For sure. He was a decent guitar player, but with Preach in the band, we all got better.

  We had to match him. The way Preacher played guitar like it was second nature, didn’t even look down at his strings. Moved his fingers, and miracles came out.

  But there were a few songs he passed along to Tim to play lead guitar, also sing, but really, no one would sing lead, you know, regular, except Preach when we heard him sing.

  That deep, raspy voice that had that Cajun lilt.

  That was one of the things I thought made him even more badass. He’d say “dis” and “dat” and “dos” and “dem” instead of “this” and “that” and “those” and “them.”

  You’d say something, and he’d reply, “talk about,” and you would not know what the fuck he meant. But it was a Cajun thing. After a while, we all said, “talk about” and every time we did in the beginning, it’d make Preach smile.

  He was just him.

  Twenty years old and he was just him. He wasn’t gonna change for anybody.

  Like the Beatles, when everyone else from over there was singing in an American accent, they were all, “Fuck that.” They were English. They sang with an English accent. And that was that.

  That’s rock ’n’ roll, you know.

  You take me as I am or kiss my ass.

  Preach was all about that.

  Tim was all about that too, in Tim’s way.

  I think he felt relief when Preacher came along, and he didn’t have to carry the band.

  He could just play.

  And when he could just play, he got better. So much better.

  On “Best of” lists, you know. That much better.

  Though, down from Preacher on those lists, just sayin’.

  [Off tape]

  You’re on “Best of” lists too.

  [Long pause]

  Yeah, I know.

  The shit hit the fan when Ricky stopped coming to band practice and Nicky was being weird when he did.

  Preacher had been with us for a few weeks by then. But I figure he’d sussed shit right out, doin’ this maybe the first time he jammed with us.

  He worked during the day, no clue at what. He had his own apartment, but he hadn’t asked us around. Had his own car. Beat-up POS, but he had his own car and we all thought that was cool seeing as we were in our parents’ rides if we were in anything.

  Tim still rode his fuckin’ bike everywhere. [Laughs] Guitar strapped to his back. [Laughs more]

  People at home, they still talk about seein’ ol’ Timmy Townes peddling around on his bike with his guitar on his back.

  When Rick bailed, Tim’d play rhythm while Nicky hit the drums. Or Tim’d hit the drums while Nick played rhythm. Tim’d play a lot of rhythm in the end, so this was good practice.

  Didn’t feel that way then. Never feels good when someone bails, and Nick would not say dick about why Ricky was gone, which felt worse.

  And man, this is where the story gets famous. Nick blabbing his fuckin’ mouth after, you know, the band became the band and people would listen to what he had to say.

  Kicked out of the band and made money off us anyway.

  But whatever, man. He told no lies, mostly, so I guess, [pause] whatever.

  [Off tape]

  So it happened that day like he said?

  [Nods]

  Yup, he left some shit out, but yeah.

  Those dudes rolled up, walked up my fuckin’ parents’ driveway into my fuckin’ parents’ garage, and…

  [Pause]

  Shit.

  You know, there are times in your life that are etched into your brain.

  My life, there are a lot of those times.

  But I had help remembering things.

  My dad, maybe he wanted me to live his dream. I don’t know. He was into rock ’n’ roll too. He played the bass too. He was in a band when he was a kid too.

  He’s the one who got me into it. He bought me my first bass when I was ten. He’d listen to his music a lot. The Allman Brothers Band. Lynyrd Skynyrd. The Outlaws. He’d listen to it loud when Mom was out of the house.

  But when we started rollin’. When Preach came to the band. Dad gave me this little notebook.

  He said, “Write everything down, kid. Every gig. Every practice. Every song. Every girl. Every city. Every stretch of road. Write it down, ’cause there’ll come a time, you won’t want to forget.”

  And you know, Dad got sick. And then Dad died.

  And what did I do?

  I went to every fuckin’ Kmart I could find, and I bought up every notebook they had that was the same size and brand and color of the one my dad gave me.

  Still got ’em all.

  Every one.

  Natalie counted them once. I don’t remember how many of them she said there were.

  Over fifty.

  [Off tape]

  I’d like to read them.

  Wouldn’t everyone?

  So, these guys roll up, yeah?

  These fuckin’ guys.

  And I’m not ashamed to say, I near-on pissed my jeans.

  Tim’s behind the kit so that means Nicky’s standin’ there and this is what he didn’t fuckin’ say all the times he told this story.

  He had to hose down our garage floor after, yeah?

  And he went home in a pair of my jeans, gym shoes and shorts and it wasn’t just piss he tied up tight in that trash bag and put in our bin, you know?

  Pissed himself, shit his pants.

  And Nicky is not my favorite person in the world, all these years, his big, fat mouth, you know why, and that shit is not ever gonna change.

  But like I said, I nearly lost it too, these scary motherfuckers walkin’ right up to my friend in my own goddamned garage.

  “Where’s Ricky?” they said.

  And that was when it happened.

  We were all so freaked by these motherfuckers showing up, we didn’t pay any attention to Preacher.

  “Get gone.”

  That was what he said.

  Didn’t leave his place behind his mic. Didn’t take his guitar off his shoulder.

  Just stood there, looking at them, and told them to, “Get gone.”

  “We want Ricky,” they said to him.

  “Don’t give a fuck what you want,” he said back. “He ain’t here. Get gone.”

  They didn’t get gone, as you know.

  They tightened u
p on Nicky, one of them lifting his hand to point a finger in Nick’s face, and I figure this was about the time he shit his pants.

  And then Nicky crashed into the cymbal, the floor tom, big racket, and Preacher was in their space.

  He had his guitar slanted on his back and a look on his face…

  [Trails off]

  [Leans forward, puts elbows to his knees]

  I’m taped, what are you writing?

  [Off tape]

  Things people can’t hear. Like you just leaned forward. Or when you smile.

  Right. Why?

  The story will be richer.

  [Pause]

  Right.

  Go on.

  You heard “Bad Bad Leroy Brown”?

  Yes.

  Ricky was a high school drug dealer. He’s in the joint now, never learned. Three strikes was the worst thing that could happen to him. He had about twenty of ’em before that program rolled out and he got his “third.” Now, he’ll never get out.

  It started back then. Dealin’ weed and blow to high school kids.

  [Shakes head]

  And these three guys supplied him.

  I do not know their beef. To this day, I do not know what Ricky was pullin’ to piss them off.

  What I know was, Preacher McCade got up in their shit, and when he did, he did not speak a goddamn word and they still knew that they did not come to my parents’ driveway, walk up to their fuckin’ garage and ask for Ricky.

  They got a load of Preacher and they turned and walked away.

  We never saw them again.

  I asked about that Croce song not because Ricky was Leroy Brown.

  Not because those dudes were.

  Because Preach was.

  [Off tape]

  What happened then?

  Nicky got himself cleaned up, hosed down the garage, was ready to take off, but Preach caught him at the end of the driveway before he went.

  You heard Nick tell it. I wasn’t there. I was standin’ in the garage by the door to the house, pissed as shit that Ricky was such an asshole and wanting his twin brother outta my sight, even if that might mean I’d never see my jeans back.

  Nick Pileggi, ex-rhythm guitar of Zenith as told to Tune magazine:

  “He said Ricky was out.

  I told him it wasn’t his band.

  He said Ricky was out.

  And this was Preacher.

  So, Rick was out.”

  Jesse Simms:

  Rick wasn’t missed.

  And like Preach said from the beginning, he sucked.

  It was Preach who found Dave [Clinton, drummer of Zenith and Preacher McCade and the Roadmasters].

  Dave was a year older than Tim and me in high school. By then, he was already graduated.

  We didn’t know him, but we knew him, you know? The way it is in high school.

  Didn’t know he played the drums, though. Just knew he was a pothead.

  [Laughs]

  And shit, [smiles, laughs, shakes head] even I didn’t know how bad Ricky was until we had Dave.

  Suddenly, I kid you not, the first song we did with Dave, “Start Me Up.”

  [Smiles again]

  Dave.

  [Shakes head]

  He was nineteen, man. He sings “You make a grown man cry,” with the rest of us, it was like we’d been on the road together for twenty years.

  Dave was the shit.

  Wild man.

  Christ.

  Dave.

  [Smiles and keeps smiling]

  [Off tape]

  Will you talk about what happened with Nick Pileggi?

  [Stares silently]

  You don’t have to.

  It isn’t shit nobody knows, you know? Because he has a big, fat mouth. Fuckin’ asshole.

  [Long pause]

  Preacher—

  Yeah, back then, Preacher took care of his ass. But the damage was done. Nothin’ Preach really could do.

  [Taps with fingers on arm of armchair]

  One thing in my whole life that my mom and dad were in accord on was what Preacher did to Nick, you know?

  Nicky stayed with the band after Ricky was out. Few months. Heading into graduation. Preach and Dave were already at work finding us gigs. Real gigs. Paying gigs. At bars and clubs all over the Midwest. Anywhere that would take us, they got us on the schedule.

  I did not apply to colleges, neither did Tim.

  Mom was pissed.

  Dad got it.

  Neither of Timmy’s parents gave a shit.

  We were takin’ it on the road.

  Preacher had songs before he came to us, worked them out with the band. They were good. You know ’em. Everyone does.

  “Give Then Take” was a hit before it was an actual hit, and we all knew it. Angsty, dark, pissed-off rock ’n’ roll. So dark, man. Deep in a pit, pitch black, sister.

  Band defining, you know?

  This was before Guns ’n Roses really hit. If you weren’t Petty, Springsteen or Mellencamp, rock was hair bands. Mötley Crüe trash. Thinkin’ they’re badass because they put dots over vowels. What the fuck? I mean those guys were imbeciles, assholes and imbeciles. Clowns. Serious.

  That is not rock ’n’ roll.

  Ratt. Poison. Cinderella. Warrant. Okay, maybe some talent, mostly hair.

  Best of the bunch? Bon Jovi. Dudes had heart as well as hair and didn’t think solely with their dicks. Put that heart in their music. That’s why they’re still around. And that’s why they were authentic rock. Take them out of the decade where the likes of Crüe pissed all over the genre, they’d still have respect.

  And then there’s Def Leppard.

  Now that’s a band who knows brotherhood. They stood by Rick Allen and he worked his ass off not to let them down.

  And they pulled no punches they didn’t want to change the world with their music, they just wanted to have fun and make others do the same. And they did. The lyrics to “Pour Some Sugar on Me” are not gonna hit any poetry books, but to this day, that song comes on, no matter what I’m doin’, I turn it up.

  Now those guys, Bon Jovi and Def Leppard?

  That’s rock ’n’ roll.

  But I’ll say, my opinion, the only real thing was Lita Ford and she had no hope, havin’ a vagina and a guitar. But if you asked me, hair bands shoulda meant women rockers because there were some chicks who could seriously play that no one knows now, you know?

  Lita is one of them.

  But us, back then?

  We’d been together awhile. We had Preach and his looks and his guitar, his voice, his songs. We had Dave, and that man was mean with a backbeat, guy had Bonham-style licks, and first thing he did was set himself up a cowbell. Now that’s rock ’n’ roll. [Smirks] Tim gettin’ older, comin’ into his own. Nick had that Italian stallion thing goin’ on, that is, he had it if you asked him.

  And I could play bass. Nothin’ to look at, but, I mean, now people talk about Flea. Back then it was Geddy Lee, Jack Bruce, John Entwistle, Chris Squire, John Paul Jones, and of course, McCartney.

  And there’s me.

  I could play, I was in a rock band, I didn’t have to be good-lookin’. Rock’s all about that.

  Mick Jagger?

  Point made.

  So, you know, we’re good to go. Toss off those graduation robes and hit the fuckin’ road, Springsteen-style.

  Then…

  [Trails off]

  It’s not a surprise, or at least I thought at first it wasn’t a surprise, how Mom and my sisters took to Preacher.

  He had it.

  For women, they couldn’t fight it, he was that guy.

  He banged Heidi’s ballbuster sister the whole time since I met him to when we hit the road.

  And anyone he wanted whenever, wherever.

  And I heard Heidi’s sister lost it when he took off and left her behind.

  But my sisters? My mom?

  Especially my mom.

  Not like that, of course.

/>   It was later, when it went down, I realized how different it was.

  It took Preacher a while to share with me, yeah? I mean, you could listen to his music and know he did not grow up with the Nelsons. But he didn’t share at first.

  But my mom was a mom.

  She knew without him having to say dick.

  Preach started havin’ dinner with us after practice and before he’d take a girl out on a date because no one said no to my mom, but also because she needed to do that, you know?

  Be a mother to a motherless son.

  Instant she knew he was adrift, she dragged him in.

  And Preach was also that guy. Especially with certain women.

  He knew she needed it way more than he needed it.

  So, he gave it to her.

  I’ll tell you something about Preacher McCade you might not know.

  If you were a woman, and you meant something to him, he’d twist himself into knots to give you what you needed.

  My mom needed to be a mom.

  Last place he wanted to be, sitting at our table, eating my mom’s lasagna, and not because Mom didn’t make kickass lasagna. She did.

  It was just…

  [Pause]

  There were a lot of things that made Preacher McCade.

  Doing that for my mom was one of them.

  Doing what he did for Penny was another.

  My sisters, both of them, had crushes on him. But it was candyland stuff. He was too old, he was in the band, he thought of me as a brother even when I didn’t know he thought of me that way, and they got that vibe. Chicks, they get those vibes.

  So, they were his little sisters too.

  So, when Nicky knocked up my sister Penny.

  Yeah, that was not gonna go well for Nick.

  Not with me.

  Not with Preach.

  No fuckin’ way.

  [Off tape]

  Nick Pileggi alleges McCade put him in the hospital.

  No clue. Preach messed him up, all right. Asshole should have gone to the hospital, but don’t know if he did. After that, never saw the guy again, and I thank God for that.

  You were there.

  Fuck yeah, I was. Guy knocked up my fifteen-year-old sister.