EDMONTON WENT better than Calgary. Neither Max nor Joe was 100 percent, but they were both improving. They fussed with the set list to give Joe’s voice more of a break and made sure Max stayed hydrated, and if it wasn’t a great show, at least Jeff didn’t feel like he had to avoid Twitter.
Which turned out to be a good thing, because the overnight drive from Edmonton to Winnipeg was long and Jeff was too anxious over the potential of getting out of their record contract to sleep for more than a few hours on the bus, and catching up on Twitter early the next morning led to an incredible discovery.
@smokeybearlake started following you.
Jeff almost hit his head on the top of the bunk. “Oh my God.”
Max must not have been asleep either, because he poked his head out the side of the bunk. “What?”
Half hanging over the side of his bunk, Jeff hit the Play button on his phone and handed it down so Max could watch the video—posted to Great Bear Lake’s official Twitter account—of Carter in full Public Service Announcement mode, describing the importance of not transporting firewood from areas with emerald ash borer, how to build a campfire, and how to put it out again safely.
The video had a thousand likes. Carter’s quoted tweet of it from his personal account had fifteen hundred.
Max laughed quietly so as not to wake the others. “That is the most wholesome shit I’ve ever seen. Tell me he’s not Dudley Do-Right all the time.”
With a cough, Jeff pulled his phone back up. “No comment?”
This time Max had to muffle his laughter in a pillow.
Jeff went back to Twitter and followed @smokeybearlake. Then he texted Carter. Trying to get more famous than me???
This was your idea, Carter pointed out.
You should do the next one shirtless.
They made it into Winnipeg around lunchtime and checked into their hotel. Max and Jeff had adjoining rooms, which Jeff discovered when he dropped his bag on the chair next to the bed only to hear a knock from his left.
Jeff opened the door and Max poked his head in. “Huh. My room’s way nicer than yours.”
“What?” Jeff pushed past him into Max’s room… which was a mirror image of his own.
“Made ya look.”
Ugh. “I can’t believe I fell for that. You’re the worst.”
Max was still laughing when Jeff closed the door in his face. He fell into bed and woke up three hours later to a text from Dina. Managed to rent practice space for tonight, followed by the address and details.
THANK YOU, Jeff replied, all caps, because they really did need to get to work on writing that album.
He really needed to find them a manager like her. Maybe then he wouldn’t feel so paranoid all the time.
A quick rinse later, Joe and Trix had given a thumbs-up to meeting in the lobby, but Max hadn’t responded.
Probably still sleeping, he sent the group chat. He’s got the room next to me, I’ll get him.
He toweled off his face and hair, threw on a pair of jeans, and then rummaged through his bag for a T-shirt. He frowned when he spotted one he didn’t remember… and pulled it out only to discover it was Carter’s T-ball shirt.
He ran his thumb over the letters of Rhodes’s Garage and smiled. Had Carter left this in Jeff’s bag on purpose?
Feeling sappy, Jeff pulled it on, shoved his feet into his shoes, and knocked on their adjoining doors.
No answer.
“Max?”
Jeff opened his side. Max’s wasn’t latched, just most of the way closed. “Max?” he called again as he pushed the door open. “Are you in—”
His heart stopped.
On the floor in front of the coffee table sat Max, hunched over with his arms around his knees. He was staring fixedly in front of him at three long white lines. A small bag of powder and a razorblade lay next to them.
For several long heartbeats, Jeff couldn’t speak. His tongue felt thick in his mouth. Finally he whispered, “Max?”
Max blinked slowly. He didn’t move except to raise his head the tiniest increment. His eyes looked hollowed-out and desperate.
Carefully, Jeff lowered himself to the floor on the opposite side of the table. His heart thudded painfully against his ribs. “Max, buddy, what’s going on?”
Max took a deep, shuddering breath, then let it all out, heavily enough that some of the coke blew across the table. In the back of his mind, Jeff knew he was fucked if anyone found them like this, but he couldn’t leave Max. Not now. “I….” Max swallowed and put his hands over his face, digging the heels of his palms into his eye sockets. His shoulders shook, but he didn’t make a sound.
Finally he pulled his hands away. His voice cracked when he said, “I think I need to go to rehab.”
Relief washed through Jeff like a tsunami, leaving his eyes wet, but grief rendered him speechless. A lump formed in his throat, and he swallowed around it. “Max—”
“I saw it,” Max said. “When I was sick onstage, I know you guys thought—I’ve never used before a show. I’ve wanted to, God, but I never. I wouldn’t do that to you. Because you’re my friends.” He clenched his hands into fists. “And then I thought, ‘Max, you fucking asshole, of course they think you’d do that.’ I stole from you. I stole from your boyfriend. I made you and Trix and Joe clean up my messes. And ever since then, all I can think about is….”
Three lines of coke.
Jeff wiped a hand over his mouth. “What….” He stopped to clear his throat. “What do you want to do?”
He couldn’t go on like this.
“I don’t know. Not….” He waved a hand to indicate the table. “I don’t want to leave the band. But I think maybe the band is leaving without me. I think maybe it should.”
Fuck. Jeff’s eyes burned again, but he blinked it back. “It’s not because of you.”
“It’s not not because of me,” Max countered. “Look. I heard you and Joe talking, so I know…. He’s got other things to worry about.”
Jeff opened his mouth to correct him, but Max went on as though he didn’t care.
“And Trix? You think drummers like her come around every day? She thinks I don’t know, but she’s been talking to some other women in music. They’re stupid if they don’t ask her to sign on, and she’d do it in a fucking heartbeat if it weren’t for me.” His face twisted in a rictus of misery. “Because she thinks it’s her fault I’m like this.”
Swallowing, Jeff reached into his pocket for his phone. This seemed like the time to have some backup. It buzzed in his hand, now, but he didn’t want to draw attention to it. He left it where it was. “Trix knows….” What? That Max didn’t blame her? That it wasn’t really her fault?
“Does she?” Max asked. He didn’t give Jeff time to respond. “And you. You keep asking for more time off. I get it. I do. God knows the only reason I’ve been able to keep up this long has been going up my nose.”
This wasn’t how Jeff wanted things to go. He’d really thought…. He didn’t know what he’d been thinking. Joe needed a year or more off, realistically, or else a complete rethinking of their usual touring style, and Max needed to flush his system.
Trix—maybe some time away from them would be good for her.
And Jeff?
Jeff loved the stage. He loved the music. He loved his band.
But that wasn’t all he loved.
He never thought he’d be sitting on the floor in Max’s hotel room, watching him not do drugs, when he finally realized his band was going to fall apart.
That maybe Monique couldn’t save them.
His heart sank as he realized the depth of his own failure. Max had always been there to support him when Jeff needed it most, and Jeff had flaked when Max needed him to return the favor.
That ended now.
Jeff cleared his throat and gestured at the table. “Do you, um—if I get rid of this, are you going to go through withdrawal?” But maybe that was the wrong question, or the right question but the wrong priority. “I mean, we can get you into a place before the show. What do you want to do?”
In his pocket, his phone buzzed again. The window for the two of them to act without Trix and Joe finding out was closing. And God knew Dina didn’t need to deal with this on her second official day as their tour manager.
“Flush it,” Max said all at once. “I want it out of here. But I can’t—you’ll have to do it. Sorry.”
As if Jeff cared about that. He jumped up and glanced toward the bathroom. He didn’t want to let Max out of his sight in case he changed his mind, but… at some point he had to trust him.
Max hadn’t locked his door. Hadn’t even closed it. Jeff had knocked.
Max had wanted Jeff to find him. He wanted Jeff to stop him. Jeff figured that was more reassurance than most people got.
In the end he grabbed a washcloth, wet it, then pulled the bag out of the garbage can and brought that with him. He swept the neat lines into the can, then emptied the little plastic bag in as well. In the bathroom again, he pulled Carter’s shirt over his nose and closed his eyes as he gently ran a slow stream of water into the can.
Then he tipped the whole thing into the toilet and flushed.
The liner went back in the bin. The washcloth went in the garbage.
After a moment’s thought, he put the garbage can in his room and brought his own to Max’s.
Then he washed his hands with soap and water all the way up to his elbows.
He must have taken too long, because before he’d dried them, Joe and Trix showed up at the door.
Knock knock knock. “Max? Jeff? Are you guys in here?”
Wetting his lips, Jeff poked his head back into the main room. Max hadn’t moved. “Hey,” he said quietly. “What do you want me to do?”
For a moment Max didn’t move, but then he exhaled shakily and rubbed his hands over his face. “Let them in,” he said quietly. “I want to tell them the truth.”
NEEDLESS TO say, practice did not happen.
Instead, Trix and Joe and Jeff and Max piled into the same bed, the way they had when they were too broke to afford two hotel rooms, and called Jeff’s lawyer.
“You’re sure you’re all on board with leaving,” she verified. “And you’re willing to keep the rest of this conversation to yourselves only.”
They all met eyes, each sitting cross-legged on their own corner of the bed. One by one, they nodded.
“We’re sure,” Trix said. “What do we have to do?”
Monique outlined the plan. “If you’re all in agreement, then for the sake of this arrangement, I’ll act in the capacity of your manager. We’ll need to sign paperwork to that effect before anything goes forward, but I’ve found a competitor label willing to pay the exit penalty on your contract.”
Max looked at Trix, and before Jeff could explain, she said, “That means they’d pay the fee for not delivering the final album.”
“Why would they do that?” Joe smoothed back his hair. “I mean, it’s a lot of money.”
“It is,” Monique agreed. “It is, essentially, an enormous advance on your next album and tour. Which means they’ll only do it if you can deliver an album to them—the album that should be going to Big Moose—before that due date. And they’ll want at least one guaranteed album after that.”
“And we’ll have to tour again,” Trix said, looking at Jeff.
He winced. He’d been hoping for something that would let them put that off longer, something that would give them time to recover. Time for Joe to be a dad. Maybe Trix could get some therapy.
Perhaps Monique understood that disappointment, because she said, “Yes. However, they’re willing to sit on the start of the next tour. It would begin next summer, with some promotion gearing up in the spring, most of which could be coordinated from Toronto.”
Jeff looked at Joe, who looked at Max, who looked at Trix. Trix and Jeff met eyes.
“That sounds… doable,” Jeff said.
Trix nodded in agreement. “Yeah. Except, uh, the album’s due at the end of August.”
“Not anymore,” Monique told her. “We need it by the end of July. Just for insurance.”
Oh great, no pressure, then. Seven weeks. Plenty of time… if Max wouldn’t be missing several of them for rehab. Jeff glanced at Max, then Joe, then Trix. Joe blew out a breath and said, “Okay. I think we can make that work.”
At least they had a bit of a head start.
Then Monique dropped the next bomb. “Good. Here’s the next thing. Don’t do any work where the label is paying for the space.”
Shit. Jeff was really glad now he’d upgraded the hotel room in Vancouver at his own expense. “Okay?”
“It’s a long shot, but they could claim that renting practice space counts as investing in the final product. We don’t want them to have a leg to stand on. So wherever this gets written, wherever you record the demo, you do it on your own dime. Preferably somewhere the label won’t find out about it, to forestall legal shenanigans.”
Now that would be tricky. There was no way to know which employees at the recording spaces they usually rented were in contact with people at the label. Something could come up at any time. So nothing in the city, then.
“I think I have an idea,” Jeff said after a moment. “Let me call you about it later, though, okay?”
Max cleared his throat. “In the meantime, can you look into something else?”
When they hung up, they cued up 101 Dalmatians on hotel pay-per-view. Jeff had Dina cancel their practice rental.
Then they ordered an obscene amount of room service and settled in.
“You’re sure you’re okay playing tomorrow,” Trix asked for maybe the third time.
“I’ll be fine,” Max promised, closing his eyes. His beef lo mein noodles slid off his chopsticks, and he cursed. “Just don’t leave me alone.”
They were actually pretty lucky, Jeff thought, that they’d accidentally gotten adjoining rooms.
He didn’t pick up his phone again until Max and Trix were in bed for real, curled up facing each other, talking quietly. Then he retreated to his own room, but he didn’t close the adjoining doors all the way.
He missed Carter. He wanted nothing more than to call and tell him everything—Joe’s impending fatherhood, Max’s journey to sobriety, the potential dissolution of the past ten years of Jeff’s life.
But that wasn’t a conversation to have on the phone. Carter had enough on his plate with healing, helping his mom, coaching T-ball, saving the environment. Jeff wasn’t going to be one more problem for him to solve, one more drain on his mental and emotional resources.
With the door open, he couldn’t even sext, so he couldn’t be a physical drain either. Talk about a bad time.
I miss you, Jeff wrote. He stared at the words for a moment but didn’t hit Send. Finally he added See you in two days and sent it.
He was almost asleep when the reply came, and he squinted at the bright light from his phone now that his eyes were accustomed to darkness.
I’ll be here.
Article from Winnipeg Lifestyle website
June 9
Howling Good Time
EVERY ONCE in a while—not often, maybe once a decade or so—you experience an event and you know there’s something special about it. Last night’s concert at Bell MTS Place was one of those times.
From the moment the curtain went up, Howl held the audience rapt. While frontman Jeff Pine, 30, has long received most of the credit for the band’s popularity, penning and voicing the majority of their hits, last night his bandmates displayed every bit as much passion, charisma, and talent. Bassist Joe Kinoshameg had the stadium on its feet during “Water for Oil.” Drummer Trix Neufeld led a hair-raising a cappella version of “Gemini.”
But it was rhythm guitarist Max Langdon who stole the stage. As a general rule, concerts should not involve silence. When he took center stage to debut “Last Call,” you could have heard a pin drop.
“Last Call” was the last number of the evening, an emotional, heartrending ballad utterly unlike Langdon’s other work. Taken on its own, it’s a beautiful song with a strong depth of feeling and an unforgettable hook.
Taken in context, though—Howl has yet to announce another album, despite the fact that this is the second song to debut onstage this concert cycle and their contract with current label Big Moose Records includes one likely due this summer—it sounds like goodbye.