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Corroded Coffin knew chaos. Practice had always been like trying to tame a hurricane, even back in Gareth’s garage.
Back before everything.
Sound check was no different.
“Where the hell is Harris?” Steve’s voice boomed through the near empty venue. Somehow louder than the cymbals Gareth slapped his sticks against, only more jarring.
Eddie threw Gareth and Jeff a grin before leaning into his mic. “No comment.” His voice, somewhere around monotone, echoed through the empty venue while he choked back laughter.
Outside of the vacant arena, Steve typically begged for those words. When they were directed at him? Forget it. “Not funny!” he called, making quick time as he crossed the floor, weaving by grips, venue personnel, light and sound techs as they swirled around the stage.
“Well, I’ve been told my smarmy comments are too funny, hence the no comments the lawyers drilled into us.” He watched as Steve pushed onto the stage as if he were climbing out of a pool. “There’s stairs, like, right there, Hasselhoff.” Despite his chiding, he offered Steve a hand, pulling him to his feet.
“Yes, but then I have to round the-” He shook his head, cutting himself short. “No, so not the time. I have enough shit to deal with.” He eyed the red bass guitar propped up at the edge of the stage. “Am I missing a quarter of my band?”
“No com-”
“I swear to god,” he snapped, looking back at Eddie with sharp eyes.
“He’s coming,” Gareth said, finally cracking.
Steve ran a hand through his hair before nodding. “Thank you.”
“Dude,” Eddie whined, turning back to him with an exaggerated frown. “Come on! I was having fun!”
“We don’t have time for fun. We have less than four hours until showtime,” Steve interrupted. “Where is he?”
“There’s some tchotchke his mom wanted,” Jeff said. He shrugged when Steve glanced over. “I don’t know.”
Steve blinked, straightening. “That’s a new one,” he mumbled.
“Oh?” Eddie said, turning back to him, eyes wide. “So, that’s an acceptable-”
“I didn’t say shit about it being acceptable,” he snapped, pointing at Eddie.
“Everything okay?” Jeff asked.
“No, we’re just one monkey short of our usual circus,” Steve groaned, wiping a hand over his face.
A production assistant, one of the newer ones- even though this was all new -started. “I can call-“
“Please,” Steve begged, looking up at the venue ceiling. “I give one inch of rope-”
“All the better to hang yourself with,” Eddie teased, grinning.
“Now, I’ve about had it with you,” Steve said.
Eddie swayed where he stood as he leaned into Steve’s personal space. “And the night is still young!”
“Harrington,” the same PA said, voice harsh enough to cut through Steve and Eddie’s arguments, but still quiet, as if they wanted to hide.
To be fair, Steve Harrington could get scary when he was operating at full throttle. Gareth had seen Steve go to bat for them with everyone, from venue owners to caterers, who thought they could pull one over on him.
“What?”
“He’ll be here in fifteen.”
“Thank Christ,” Steve mumbled. He sat down on the edge of the stage before sliding to the floor below.
“Hey,” Eddie whined. “I was in the middle of annoying you!”
“Maybe later! I’m busy right now,” he said, waving Eddie off. “The second he’s here-”
“Straight to work,” Jeff said with a roll of his eyes.
Gareth huffed. “We know.”
“I have to deal with tickets and merchandise-” His voice drifted off as he walked back the way he came.
Eddie sighed wistfully before strumming something silly. “I want my manager back,” he sang, tapping into one of Wayne’s old records for some absurd Southern accent on a song Gareth recalled making fun of after a joint or two. “Got t’have my manager back.”
Gareth and Jeff shared a glance, grinning, before they joined in. “I miss ‘im oh so much!”
Steve glanced back at them, grinning. “Knock it off!”
“Can’t live without ‘is touch,” they chorused, drawing a sharp laugh from Steve as he continued off.
“Calgon,” Steve groaned, throwing his hands up. “Take me away!” He disappeared through a set of double doors. “Hey, I said-” The doors slipped shut behind him, muffling his voice.
“Think Freak’ll actually be back in fifteen?” Eddie asked after spinning to face them.
“No way,” Gareth said, testing out his kick drum. “Fifteen means fifty.”
“Yeah, Steve knows that,” Jeff said with a nod. “He’s just choosing ignorance.”
Gareth hummed. “It’s bliss, apparently.”
“Apparently.”