Page 47

–––––

Interview

“And we’re back! Today, I’ve got Tristan M. James and Andrej Novak from Nightstalker—the hottest band around right now. So, about the band name. It’s a term that’s familiar with older generations. How did you come up with the idea to name yourselves after a serial killer? Was it a joke that went too far? It’s pretty daring,” Clint said, turning to Andrej, a glint of curiosity in his eyes.

“Don’t look at me!” Andrej laughed, raising his hands defensively. “I have nothing to do with that. When I joined the band, the name was already set.”

“Leaf and I,” Tristan began, placing the glass back on the table. “We had been writing songs all day, sitting outside in the evening, drinking beer, and brainstorming band names. There just wasn’t anything that suited us. We veered off and started talking about Richard Ramirez—the Night Stalker. And somehow … well … we found it fitting, since Leaf and I also live in the area where he left one of his victims.”

“You live there?”

“Not exactly there, but … well … it’s been a long time—1984, if I’m not mistaken. One of the streets is still closed off.”

“Interesting.” Clint glanced at his notepad and quickly moved on. “So, Leaf and you determined the name for the band. What about the songs? It’s widely known that you two also write the lyrics. How much input do José and you, Andrej, have in the creative process?”

“It varies,” Andrej replied. “It depends on where we’re at. José and I contribute ideas. We try different beats. Sometimes Tristan knows exactly what he wants.”

“It’s easier for me to say what I envision for the bass than for the drums. I’m still learning. But usually, we work on the songs together.”

“Yes, sometimes the two are open to suggestions for changes,” Andrej joked. “Other times, not at all.”

The interview continued, covering their adventures on tour, both funny and embarrassing events, and encounters with fans. When Clint asked about traveling on the tour bus, Tristan once again let Andrej take the floor, given the tight quarters had led to Leaf and him getting together.

Tristan wasn’t worried that Andrej would spill the beans, even though he had been the most vocal about the moaning noise. Andrej and José had their backs from the beginning. Although Leaf had said he didn’t care if the public found out, it was different for Tristan.

But Tristan knew it was only a matter of time before someone caught wind of it. He kept mulling over the best proactive strategy to deflate the media’s response. Not everyone was as liberal as one would wish, and their female fan base certainly got them a lot of media attention.

Time passed quickly, and Clint already announced the next song. “We’re heading into the third and final round with Nightstalker. Hang tight, because this one’s gonna be wild! We’ll dive into poetry and I’ll try to uncover a few secrets from our guests and unravel some mysteries. We’ll chat about childhood, Las Vegas, and Native Americans, so don’t go anywhere!”

In an instant, a rush of adrenaline overwhelmed Tristan, paralyzing him in his chair.

Vegas? Native Americans? What’s this about? Did he just …

His pulse quickened, and his heart raced.

No, that can’t be. Impossible. This must … be a coincidence. Maybe something about Frank Chelsea …

But now his breath also caught, as if his body knew better and wouldn’t accept half-hearted explanations.

“Are you okay?” Andrej whispered. “You look a bit pale.”

Tristan remained in shock, trying not to show his fear—which obviously didn’t work with Andrej. With every breath Tristan took, his chest trembled.

Andrej leaned forward. “Tris?”

Meanwhile, Clint discussed something with his technician, flipping through his notepad and pointing out certain spots with his pen.

What the hell …?

“What’s wrong?” Carol asked, appearing now between Andrej and Tristan.

“No idea,” Andrej replied. “Something just catapulted him into completely different spheres.”

Carol let out an annoyed sigh and crouched between their chairs. “Did you get yourself messed up with some crap yesterday? I told you, stay away from that hallucinogenic shit.”

It didn’t matter what Andrej or Carol did because they didn’t know. Only Leaf knew. And Tristan didn’t have a phone to call him.

“G-give me your phone.” Tristan’s hand twitched as he held it out to Andrej. As Tristan rose from his chair, everything went black for a moment. He searched Andrej’s face, feeling dizzy as everything around him was spinning.