Page 40 of Intoxicating Pursuit

Headed to the Canyon

SAMMY

T he next morning, people ambled through the kitchen for orange juice and coffee as the household slowly awakened.

Gabe’s chef was hard at work, whipping up a cheesy, vegetable-rich frittata.

The smell of something buttery and cinnamon-laden filled the house, and a huge dish of fresh fruit brightened the kitchen island. What a wonderful luxury.

Gabe was on the back deck playing guitar, singing, and sipping coffee with Trevor and his friends. I was on my way to join them when Meghan sauntered in. I hadn’t caught up with her since we arrived.

“Hey, sweetheart. How’s it going?”

She looked more relaxed than I’d seen her in a while.

“Mom, it’s so good.” She sighed, filled a coffee mug, and stirred obscene amounts of cream and sugar into it. “Trevor’s friends are amazing.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. A few are studying music or medicine, but several of those kids are in business school out here. Do you know how many good programs are on the West Coast?” She sipped at her coffee.

“UC Berkeley, Stanford, Pepperdine, UC San Diego. They go to school— and live —right near the mountains and the ocean and. . . all of this!”

“Meghan, we have mountains and oceans on the East coast, too. We practically lived at the shore on the weekends when you were little.”

“I know, but it’s not the same. I mean these are big mountains, national parks. It’s different, and you know it.”

“Well, the scale is grander, I’ll give you that.”

We picked at plates of fruit while we chatted, the heavenly scent of baked goods growing stronger.

“Wanna go hang with everyone outside?” I asked. If I stayed in the kitchen, I might start drooling.

Meghan didn’t miss a beat. She hopped off her barstool and led the way out to the deck, where Trevor was holding court, explaining the itinerary. “We’ll head over to the amphitheater in the early afternoon. Everyone needs to pack their bags for a night or two.”

We settle in as he went on. full of excitement. I couldn’t believe the front row seat we were getting to all of this.

“It takes maybe four hours to get there,” Trevor continued.

“We’ll be allowed to hang backstage and listen to the warmup, but we can also hike around or take bikes out on the grounds if we want to.

The tour buses pack a dozen of them. It’s super cool.

Plus, The Sloping Crux plays the first couple nights before my dad, and Baja Gravy headlines after him over the weekend.

So, they may turn up for a duet or something. It’s kind of epic.”

The Sloping Crux was Meghan’s favorite. She would lose her mind if they showed up.

“Are we camping there?” asked one of his friends.

“No, we’ll head out to private property afterwards. My dad rents a bunch of RVs, and we’ll just party and hang out.” His rakish smile indicated that this festival had quickly become a relished tradition. “Welcome to Wonderland.”

***

A few hours later, our heavily laden bus rumbled beneath the Sam Hill Memorial Bridge’s weathered steel trusswork as we crossed the Columbia River into Washington state.

I sat with Gabe in the middle rows; Lucy held vigil near the door, and the kids crowded all the way to the back, reveling in the day ahead.

The ride was long and crossed a landscape that shifted from the lushness of western Oregon into something more arid and sparse as the miles slipped away.

Where the bare skin peeked out from my shorts, Gabe doodled lines across my thigh with his strong fingers.

I tried to concentrate on him rather than the thrilling heat of his touch. “You know, I never asked you. Do you get nervous before your concerts?”

He shifted in his seat to look at me and shook his head.

“Not for a long time now. Actually, the longer we’re at it, the more I’m just myself up there.

We’re putting on a show, of course, but how I’m feeling is just however I am that day—cranky or excited or whatever.

We feed off each other, too—the vibes from the band and the crowd, the quality of the music—it all has a big impact.

” He smiled. “The Canyon is almost always awesome, though. It’s other-worldly. ”

“I can’t wait. I was supposed to attend a concert there back in college, but I got sick and missed the road trip. The Columbia Canyon Amphitheatre is a bucket-list item for me.”

“Oh yeah?” Curiosity shone in his eyes. “What else is on it? Where do you want to go?”

I thought for a minute. “Lots of places, I guess. I’ve seen plenty of the states, but I haven’t traveled much internationally.

The Galapagos has been on my list and maybe Costa Rica or Belize.

I'd love to hike in Switzerland someday—the pictures look so pretty. In fact, I’ve seen very little of Europe so far. And a safari would be amazing.”

I gazed at him, bemused. “Do you still have a bucket list, or have you sort of been everywhere?”

“We’ve been a lot of places, of course, but there’s an entire crew on the clock when we travel, so we usually can’t linger.

Honestly, there are still entire continents I’ve not explored, and that’s pretty enticing.

I like to get outside my comfort zone and reset my expectations of what’s normal.

Keeps your brain from getting stagnant.” He scratched at the stubble along his jaw.

“I guess if I was making a list, I’d say South America, the Caribbean, and Africa are places where I’d like to spend more time—cultures with a lot of musical tradition.

Sometimes we do try new tour stops to explore a little.

Build in a break afterward. Maybe we should consider that for next year. ”

“That’s a fun thing to think about.”

“One hundred percent.”

It had been so long since I’d seriously contemplated travel, but the idea of exploring the world again was a rush.

Meghan only had one more year of high school, and I was a business owner, so I could set my own schedule in some ways.

I realized how my life could open up if my anxiety didn’t get in the way.

He placed his broad hand on my thigh, stroking it gently.

“You know, I don’t know where things will be with you and me this fall, but we do have some tour dates in Europe.

Maybe you could come see a few shows. We could stick around after and knock an item or two off of your bucket list. Could be fun. ”

“That sounds pretty great.” It sounded more than great. Could that really be my life again? Traveling? Seeing new people and places? Getting to spend more time with Gabe? I hoped so. Mom could probably keep an eye on Meghan if I decided to join him on trips.

On that thought, I realized I hadn’t called Mom yet, and I asked Gabe to pardon me while I gave her a quick ring. She was hustling out the door when I reached her, so I had to be content with just a quick assurance that she was doing well and things at the house were uneventful.

As long as I was checking in on my life, I took a few minutes to sift through emails, too.

A few from our Nashville and Madison locations merited a response, but they were easy to handle.

Still nothing from Debbie on HopNBrew. I wondered if I should be a little pushier there. I drafted a follow-up note.

I was still typing when a Zoom notification pinged my phone: my biweekly conference with Jesse and Bobby.

Crap. The bus offered limited privacy, but skipping wasn’t an option.

I found an empty row of seats, plugged in headphones, and logged in.

Jesse was already online, and his wicked smile told me more than any general ledger could.

“You’re looking happy.”

“We had a thirty-minute wait on Saturday.” His dark eyes reflected an almost lascivious pleasure. “People literally lined up to come inside. I’m so stoked.”

“That’s great news!”

“The summer fairs were a hit. I took your advice, and we served Bru Burgers and flights at ‘Madison Gathers’ and the ‘Lake Mendota Flavor Fest.’ I think it worked.”

“Keep your foot on the gas, and build on this, Jesse. You’ve seen what outreach can do. Keep it up!”

An uneven section of pavement bounced me.

Jesse chuckled. “Are you on a bus?”

Whoops. “A little road trip.”

“Where are you going?”

I angled the camera more carefully. “I’ll fill you in later, if that’s all right. Any other issues? Are the glitches in the point-of-sale system ironed out?”

We talked technology, lingering to brainstorm over a few more challenges, before wrapping up the call.

Despite the meeting running long, Bobby never showed, and I realized we hadn’t connected face-to-face in almost a month.

Charlotte’s air conditioning outage had interrupted our last Zoom, and he had declined our follow up.

Plus, this little journey to the Pacific Northwest meant delaying my plans to finally pay him a visit.

I still remembered the battered look in Bobby’s brown eyes when we last spoke, and guilt twisted my heart. Antsy to stay engaged and help, I scheduled a one-on-one with him for the following week and decided to call as well. A minute later, I had only a voicemail to show for the effort.

I sighed, frustrated at my inability to make even a sliver of impact there.

In reality, though, there was little I could do from a tour bus in the remote wilds of Washington state.

At some point, I simply had to trust the professionalism and competence of our team.

Forbidden Brews would be sunk without it anyway.

I blew out a breath and moved on, checking on the company's social media accounts. I’d need to make another post soon, just to maintain engagement and stay in people’s feeds.

The algorithms seemed to demand a constant presence, but I didn't want to rush a bad post. Better to wait until I could crack open my laptop and design something of quality.

Reassured that I’d done what I could to keep Forbidden Brews on a decent trajectory, I put my phone away, rejoined Gabe, and tried to focus on the day ahead.

The hours of travel slipped by, and we passed remarkably few towns.

It was still hard to get over the unfathomable vastness of the western U.S.

The sky was wide and blue here, with low mountains hugging the distant horizon in so many directions.

Dry expanses of terrain alternated with regions more blessed with rain, where fields of vegetables and row crops veiled the earth.

As the afternoon stretched toward golden hour, we finally exited the freeway and made our way to the amphitheater grounds, where we turned down a long, paved road.

Fences separated the road from campgrounds jammed with RVs, and clusters of temporary structures dotted the landscape.

As we went deeper into the property, the mountains loomed closer, and earth scattered with silvery sage sprawled around us.

Finally, the road made a sudden descent, revealing the stage ahead as well as the full beauty of the famous gorge.

The spectacle of sunbaked cliffs looked as though the Creator had crossed the majesty of the Columbia River with the vastness of the Grand Canyon and painted it all under an impossibly wide sky. We exited the bus, meandered to the rock’s edge, and marveled.

After a few minutes, Gabe leaned down and gave me a quick kiss. “We need to go get ready for the show, and I’m guessing the kids will take off on bikes. Can I introduce you to a few folks, so you’re not bored?”

It turned out there was no need.

One of Gabe’s drummers, Dylan, was ambling our way. “Hey! The famous Sammy! Good to see your pretty face again.” He smiled wide and introduced me to the petite brunette by his side. “This is my wife, Piper.”

“Hi, Sammy.” She gave me a quick hug.

“Hear you guys are having a spot of trouble,” Dylan said.

“I’m sure it’s stressful,” Piper added. “But I promise: these things almost always blow over.”

“That’s what we’re hoping for.” I shrugged. “But at least this trip came out of it, and I’m excited about the concert. Those are good things, right?”

Dylan punched Gabe’s arm playfully, his smile devilish. “Notice she didn’t mention you, big guy. You being lousy company again?”

Piper tsked. “Dylan, knock it off, you’ll scare her away.” She gave me a pointed look. “Don’t mind my husband, Sammy. Gabe’s great.”

A blonde, pony-tailed woman approached the fringes of our circle, chattering into a headset. She tapped Dylan’s shoulder. “Dylan? Gabe? Time for sound check.”

“Thanks, Ellen. Got it.”

Piper took hold of my arm. “Go on, guys. Shoo. I’ll show her the ropes.”

The guys disappeared to get ready, and Piper guided me to the catering cart. We helped ourselves to cocktails and hors d’oeuvres before settling in together at a picnic table beneath a white canopy near the edge of the canyon.

Halfway through our drinks, sounds rose from the stage. At first, there was just a cacophonous, halting jumble of chords as the band tuned up and sampled the sound mix. Eventually, though, everyone must have synched up, because the first true notes of music lifted into the atmosphere.

The rich bass vibrated my ribs; the sweet sound of the guitar set a captivating melody, and the drums drove a rhythm directly into my bones, so that I couldn’t help but move.

It was going to be one hell of an evening.