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WINNIPEG AIRPORT IS a long drive from the rez. Thankfully Mabel’s son, Rick, agreed to drive me in my van, then park it at my mom’s afterward.
Last night, I was up until 3AM practicing. Dakota came over and had dinner with Mom and me, then the three of us chatted until 11PM. I had to practice hard after, knowing I’d be leaving on the plane in the morning.
Before I left the house, Mom gave me a hug goodbye and an eagle feather for good luck. I stuffed it into my bag and told her I’d keep her informed about how the audition went.
JUST BEFORE THE PLANE lands in Toronto, I text James. Then I go into the bathroom and splash cold water on my bruised face.
I have no idea how I’ll explain what happened to them. I don’t really want to go into the whole story of Butch, a psycho from the rez. They might think all natives are like him, and I don’t want to be put into that category. I hate to lie, but to avoid judgment and embarrassment, I think up a few different scenarios about how my face got injured. One possible lie is that I was helping someone build their home and while someone was carrying a two-by-four, I got smacked. Another story could be that I was in a car accident. Both excuses sound a helluva lot better than what really happened.
I wait at the luggage carousel, then grab my bag. James hasn’t texted me back, so I decide to walk out of the airport and see if I can spot him in the pick-up zone.
Dozens of cabdrivers line the small lane as people arriving in the city race to secure a ride. I see only a few non-commercial vehicles, parked at the back of the row. Slowly I walk down the cab line, hoping that if James is here somewhere, he’ll recognize me from the wayward look on my face.
As I approach the first civilian vehicle, a red Dodge pick-up, I look inside and see an Indigenous driver. That can’t be him. I continue to the next vehicle, a compact car with an elderly man driving.
I look around and can’t see anyone else who could possibly be James. I turn around and decide to head back to the departure area in case James is there looking for me.
When I pass by the red truck, the guy rolls his window down. “Hey. You looking for a ride, man?” He smiles.
I ignore him. He’s probably some weird creeper who tries to pick up guys at the airport. Maybe that’s something they do here in Toronto. I keep walking and focus on people coming and going.
“Ray. Is that you?”
I stop, turn around, and stare at the driver in the red truck. “How do you know my name?”
“I just took a wild stab at it. Did I guess right?”
I can tell by the joking look on his face that this guy is James.
“Throw your stuff in the back and hop in.”
Once my bags are in the back, I hop into the passenger side and shut the door. “Sorry, man. When you tried to talk to me before, I had no idea.”
He laughs. “What did you think? I was trying to pick you up?”
“I had no idea. This is a big city. Maybe that’s a thing here.”
“Well. Don’t worry, Ray. You’re not my type...or preferred gender, for that matter.”
I say I wasn’t expecting him to be Indian. When he asks why not, I don’t have an answer. He asks me how the flight was, then immediately says, “Dude. Did you try and get fresh with the stewardess? What the hell happened to your face?”
I snicker. “You won’t believe it when I tell you. I was helping a friend with house renos, and he walked in front of me with wooden planks. Spun around and the wood sacked me right in the nose.”
James seems to buy it. He nods and tells me something similar happened to him before.
As he weaves in and out of traffic, I glance over for a second, just to make sure I was right about him being Indigenous. Yep. I was right. How the hell did I miss that when he and I were talking on the phone? You’d think I would’ve picked up on something in the way he talked, but I never did. He sounded as white as any other European.
“We tried out the other drummer yesterday. He flew in from Vancouver, spent a night, then flew home this morning.”
“Was he really good?”
“Yeah. I mean, we know a lot of the same people. He plays with a lot of A-list bands out West. But unfortunately, he wasn’t a good fit. Too busy of a player—a salad tosser for sure.”
A wave of relief rushes over me. With my competition gone, maybe if I play really well, I’ll have a chance. At least I don’t have to worry about James being prejudiced against me. I’m so relieved that he is Indian, too.
“So, what kind of music do you play?” I ask.
“We’re kind of a cross between Redbone and Boston.”
“Interesting. I love music from the 70’s.”
“We do as well. It was just a groove that came easy to us, I guess.”
“So, where are you and Leroy from originally?”
“I’m from Quebec and Leroy is from Toronto.”
“Is Leroy First Nations?”
“We’re both Metis. And you’re Cree, right?”
I nod. “How did you know?”
“You said you were coming from Wakeville. The only reserve up there is Cree.”
Suddenly, my phone beeps. It’s a text message from Dakota, asking if I’ve landed in Toronto yet. I quickly send her a thumbs up, as I don’t want to be rude and text on my phone while James and I are getting to know each other.
For the next forty-five minutes, James tells me about the venues they play at in all the major cities across Canada. Then he tells me how much I’ll be making if I fit in the band. It’s at least three times more than I made with my own group. Then again, the crappy bars we played on the road couldn’t afford to pay much.
Finally, we arrive at a huge warehouse in an industrial area. All the buildings are esthetic and clean and well-lit. When I look out at the grounds, there’s not a piece of trash lying anywhere. James parks the truck to the side of the building, then leads me into the warehouse through a small red door.
My jaw almost hits the floor when I look around the spacious room. There are Marshall amps, a white Pearl drum kit, mic stands, and gear set up at one end of the warehouse. A large dog ambles out of a back room and makes its way up to James.
“Come on, boy.” James crouches down. The dog keeps moving forward at the same pace—slow. After much effort by the mutt, he finally arrives. “This here is Killer. He’s our guard dog.”
“Wow. He doesn’t look like much of a killer to me.” I laugh. “He looks more like a big old teddy bear.”
“Don’t let his energy level fool you. He knew it was me coming in. He could hear my truck pull up. Trust me, if it wasn’t someone he knew that walked through the door, he’d be going nuts.”
“That’s great.” I’m unable to make the jump between this cumbersome creature in front of us and the fierce warrior that James is describing.
James tells me to take a seat on the long horseshoe-shaped leather couch positioned by the wall. He then walks to the back of the warehouse and disappears into a side room, Killer following slowly behind him.
My eyes scan the decorated walls, jumping from pictures to hanging guitars to memorabilia. There’s even a huge glass-covered marquee with promo pictures of their band.
A moment later, James comes back down the hall, another guy behind him and, of course, Killer the Sloth-Dog following slowly behind.
James points to me. “Leroy, meet Ray.”
I stand up and shake Leroy’s hand. He’s a lot thinner than James and has a braided ponytail that goes down to his waist. He’s fairer skinned than both James and me but has unmistakable Indigenous facial features. He looks at my black eyes but, unlike James, doesn’t comment.
Leroy is soft-spoken and asks how my trip was, then thanks me for coming all this way. “Are you tired?”
I shake my head. “No. I’m too amped up and a little nervous.”
James chuckles. “Don’t worry, man. You don’t have to play tonight if you don’t want.”
“Actually, I’d rather get it over with now, if that’s okay with you guys.”
Leroy shrugs. “All right. If you’re sure.”
James points at the kit. “Go to it.”
On the walk to the drum kit, I remind myself of what James said about the other drummer who tried out before me. How he was too busy of a player. I make a mental note not to show off and, instead, show my skills through timing and technique.
With both James and Leroy standing and staring, I sit down on the stool, take a deep breath, then start the solo that I should have rehearsed more.
It takes about three minutes of me playing before James raises his arms for me to stop.
Oh no. Was I that bad? I thought it sounded pretty good, considering I’ve never played this kit before. “s something wrong?”
Leroy looks at James, and James nods once. “No, man. We don’t need to hear any more.”
I sigh. “Sorry, guys. I could’ve played a lot better, but I wasn’t familiar with the kit and the stool was too low and—”
“Relax, Ray. You’re in.”
“Huh?” I’m wondering if I heard him right.
Leroy walks over and pats me on the shoulder. “You got the job.”
“Are you serious? Are you sure you don’t want me to play anything else?”
James shakes his head. “Nope. This morning we watched the video you sent in again. We were pretty sure that you were our guy, but just needed to hear you play a bit here before we decided 100%.”
“Wow. This is really great! I mean...I totally thought it was a long shot, trying out. I’m completely dumbfounded right now.” I can’t keep the smile off my face.
“I think you’ll be a great addition to the band. Just, when we play live, maybe tone down the eye makeup a bit.”
I laugh. “Don’t worry. I don’t plan on getting any more black eyes in the near future.”
THE HOTEL ROOM IS MIDDLE-of-the-road quality, no bells and whistles, but certainly a class above some of the wrecks I’ve stayed at while gigging up North.
Leroy and James said they’re taking me out to celebrate tonight at a club with a live band. Apparently they also want to check out the guitar player, because he’s interested in joining the band. I wanted to check into my room first so I could rest and call home with the good news. I quickly look up take-out food joints, then order a pizza. Afterward, I dial Mom.
As soon as she hears that I got the job, she starts laughing hysterically. “I knew it! What did I tell you? I knew you would do great!” Then she starts asking questions, like when I’ll be home, and if I know when my first gig will be.
I remind her that I’ve only just met Leroy and James. “We haven’t had much time to discuss the details yet, but I’ll let you know as soon as I do.”
When she hangs up, I envision what she is likely doing next: calling everyone she can think of to share the news with.
I then call Dakota. For a moment, I think about teasing her, saying that I didn’t get the job, but I can’t do it. She’s been so supportive and encouraging about me coming to Toronto to try out.
She answers on the first ring. “I was wondering when you were going to call.”
“Hey, beautiful.”
“Have you had your audition yet?”
“Yep.”
“And? What happened?”
“I guess I nailed it, because they want me to be in the band.”
“Are you serious? Ray. This is so great congratulations! And just for the record, I knew you’d get the job.”
“Yeah, I’m pretty stoked about it. However, there is one thing that is kind of a drawback.”
“What?”
“Well, now that I’ll be on the road a lot more, I won’t be able to come back to the rez and see you as often as I want to.”
She giggles. “Why? How much do you want to see me?”
“Hm. Every day?”
We laugh. “Well,” she says, “what if I come and see you on the road? Is that allowed?”
“I sure hope so. I’m going out with Leroy and James tonight to celebrate. I’ll try and squeeze as many answers out of them as I can.”
“Where are they taking you?”
“I’m not sure. James said something about going to watch a band. They’re still looking for a guitar player, and apparently there’s a musician in the band we’re seeing that’s interested in the position.”
“That so cool. I wish I could go and check out a live band with you. At this point, I think I’d do just about anything to get off the rez.”
“Why? What happened? Besides Butch and his bullshit the other night.”
Dakota’s voice drops and her energy changes. “I honestly don’t know if I should tell you. You’ve just gotten such good news, and I don’t want to bum you out.”
“Tell me what? Did something else happen since I left?”
“It’s really nothing major. Just a bit unsettling, is all.”
“Tell me, Dakota!”
I hear her take a deep breath. “Okay. But don’t tell your mother that I told you.”
“My mother? What do you mean? What does she have to do with your news?”
“Well, it’s not really my news, it’s hers. Your Mom called my aunt this morning and told her that, after you left for the airport, she opened her front door and found a piece of paper on her front step. Paper with a drawing on it.”
Anxiety rushes through me. “What kind of drawing?”
“From what my aunt said, your mom described a stick person with a noose around its neck, and the rope was tied to a tree. She also said there were x’s in the place of eyes.”
“What in the hell? Why wouldn’t she have told me this herself? I was just on the phone with her.”
“I guess she didn’t want you to freak out enough that you’d come home. She really wants you to do well.”
I sigh. “Butch. That piece of shit. He’s the only person I can think of that would do something like that. I hope my mother has the wherewithal to take the drawing to the chief. Then again, unless Butch signed it, there’s probably not much the chief can do.”
“I’m sorry, Ray. I debated saying nothing to you right now. I really did. But I know how much you love your mom and I know that I would want you to tell me if the situation was reversed.”
Angry and concerned, I tell her that she did the right thing. “I just don’t know what else that monster will do to my mom. A while ago she had a huge rock thrown through her window. Now she gets this stupid drawing. It’s crazy. But the worse part is, she’s all alone in that house. She’s like a sitting duck, just waiting for something else to happen.”
“Well, I may be able to help there.”
“What do you mean?”
“I was thinking that, if she’d let me, I could move into your room temporarily. That way, if any weird crap does happen, I could be there with her and call for help.”
“You’d really do that?”
“Of course I would. Like I said, I know how much she means to you. Besides, if I don’t get out of my aunt’s house soon, I’m going to lose my mind. I swear, she tries to micromanage everything I do. Not to mention the people always coming and going and visiting non-stop. I can’t hear myself think most days.”
I tell her that she’s not only the most beautiful girl I’ve ever met, but she also has the biggest heart. I ask if she’s contacted my mom about staying there. She says she thinks it best if I’m the one that brings up the idea. I tell Dakota that I’ll call her right back, then I hang up and call Mom.
At first Mom is taken aback and denies how the note scared her. Then she slowly opens up. “I just don’t understand why this is happening. I can’t believe how Butch is getting away with everything he’s doing. The chief should do something before he goes too far.”
When I suggest that Dakota stay with her, she is immediately against it. It takes me a good hour to convince her that it’s for the best and it would make me feel better that she wasn’t alone in the house while I’m away.
I have just enough time to call Dakota back before I get a text from Leroy and James, telling me to meet them in the lobby.
THE ROOM IS THUMPING with loud music when we walk into the neon-lit bar. Throngs of partygoers stand in front of the stage and dance as the band plays. Leroy points to a tall table at the side of the room, and we maneuver through the crowd. Once we’re seated, a barmaid comes over and James orders us three beer.
I look up to the stage at the four musicians, all white except for the guitarist. Leroy leans over to me. “The guitarist is rad. His name is Frank. He’s done a lot of studio work for great bands. He told the rest of his bandmates that he doesn’t want to be in the band anymore, because all they do is covers. He wants to focus more on originals. We’re hoping he’ll join our band. He’d bring a great sound to our music.”
The band is good. I mean, really good. They’re versatile, too. In this set they play everything from AC/DC to The Police, and they do it well.
When the singer announces a quick break, the guitarist, Frank, waves at our table, then takes off his guitar and makes his way over to us.
Frank has short hair and chiselled cheekbones. He looks like a contemporary Indian and is dressed in modern, trendy clothes—a tight, shiny button-up shirt with dark, form-fitting jeans. James introduces us and Frank gives me a firm handshake while making eye contact. A good sign in my books.
While James and Leroy talk with Frank, my mind wanders to my mother, and how discerning it is that she received such a threatening drawing. As much as being accepted into this new band means to me, I feel guilty after learning that I’m here while she’s at home in a potentially dangerous situation.
At least Dakota will now be there with her. I think about Butch, and what he could do next, and a hard lump forms in my throat. I hope he stops soon, though deep inside I know he won’t. Not unless someone—or something—stops him.
After the break, Frank stands up, shakes my hand again, and goes back on stage. Leroy leans over to me and says that Frank is in, so now the band is complete.
OUTSIDE THE CLUB, I watch the moon reflect in the glass of the tall downtown buildings. Even though it’s late, after midnight, there are people everywhere clamoring to get into small eateries and walking up and down the well-lit sidewalks.
“I was thinking we would take a week or two off, then all converge back at the warehouse for rehearsals,” James says to me.
Leroy nods. “Yeah. Frank said he needed a bit of time before he can get together, anyway. Plus, it would give you time to learn the songs.”
“That would be great,” I say, “but where would I stay while we’re rehearsing later on? I honestly don’t have the extra cash to pay for a hotel room for any length of time.”
James shrugs. “Stay with us at the studio. There are three small bedrooms in the back. I think Frank has a lady in town that he stays with when he’s not on the road, so the three of us will have our own rooms.”
Leroy nods. “We’re pretty easy to get along with. The only thing we ask is that you clean whatever mess you make. That’s about it. And, if you have a lady stay over, she can hang out as long as she likes, as long as she doesn’t get in the way of band business.”
I smile. “You actually allow girlfriends to stay at the warehouse with the band?”
James snickers. “Yeah. But we rely on our bandmates not to bring any nightmare chicks over.”
For the entire drive back to the hotel, I’m smiling inside. I can bring Dakota to stay with me at the warehouse. She’s going to love Toronto. I do—at least what I’ve seen of it so far.
When the guys drop me off, they tell me that they’ll send mp3s of the songs I need to learn. Then they ask if I’ll need a ride to the airport in the morning. I thank them both and assure them that I can easily get a cab. I shake their hands, then head inside the hotel.
I call my mom’s home number as soon as I’m in my room. When the line connects, all I hear is Johnny Cash playing in the background. “Hello?” I say loudly.
I hear Dakota’s voice as she yells for me to hang on a moment. The music volume lowers, and a few seconds later, Dakota comes back to the phone. “Hello?”
“What’s going on over there? Are you and my mom having a rave?”
She laughs. “No. She wanted me to see how she used to dance when she was my age, so we put some music on.”
“Wait. What? My mom was dancing. And no one got wounded?”
“What do you mean? She’s a great dancer. I even showed her some new moves.”
“Are you serious? I’m blown away right now. The last time I saw my mom dance was at a function at the lodge. She did a weird twirl move and knocked over two tables.”
Dakota snickers. “Just wait until you see what your mom can do with her body now.”
I cringe. “Please don’t ever say that sentence to me again.”
Dakota laughs, then asks how my evening went. I tell her all about Frank and how he’s agreed to join the band. Dakota sounds genuinely excited. “I’m so glad that everything is working out down there.”
“I found something else out tonight, as well. Something really exciting.”
“What?”
“Just the fact that you can come and stay with me at the warehouse. I’ll have my own room, and as long as you don’t get in the way of band business, you’re more than welcome.”
“When? When can I come?” Her voice is bursting with excitement.
“We’re taking a couple weeks off, then meeting back at the warehouse to rehearse before we go on the road.”
“So you’re coming back home tomorrow?”
“I am. I’ve got to learn some original songs, anyway.”
Dakota relays the news to my mother. Then, she gets back on the phone. “Your mom is happy that you’re coming home tomorrow and wants me to tell you to have a safe flight.”
