“Listen, brother,” he says. “Got a friend who had a friend who has a kid who got into trouble that was not his trouble and this group helped him out. Got him clear a’ that shit. They do a lot of good work like that and they could do a lot more if they had more money.”

So, I say, “Tell me where to send the check.”

“No, Jess,” he replies. “Want your ass here for a charity gig. Start with me, we bring on the Second Coming and end with a Roadmasters reunion. It’ll make a shitload of bread.”

“It would, if it wasn’t akin to the literal second coming,” I say. [chuckles] “Can’t do a Roadmasters reunion without Preach.”

And then, get this, I mean…

Shit.

He says, “Did I say we didn’t have Preacher?”

[Hoots]

Swear to fuck, I near-on had a heart attack.

I’m all “Why didn’t you lead with that, motherfucker?”

And DuShawn’s all “This way was more fun.”

[Shakes head, grinning]

Fuckin’ Shawn.

So, he tells me Preach is gonna be in touch, and kid you not, I barely hang up and call out to the woman I’m livin’ with at the time to tell her what’s goin’ down when the phone rings again.

I answer.

And hear, “Hey, brother.”

[Suddenly stiffens, neck going long, sniffing]

Okay, well…

[Sniffs again]

All right.

I think you get I am beside myself.

I have not heard from this man in six years.

I got two baby sisters, and an older brother.

And he’s been gone for nearly six fuckin’ years. I have no clue where he is. I don’t know if he’s all right. I’m worried as fuck about him seein’ as he vanished when shit was extreme.

And to hide how relieved I am, how fuckin’ insanely good it is to hear his voice again, of course, I give him shit.

“Where the fuck have you been?” I ask.

“Jess—” he starts.

“No, seriously, asshole. I’ve been worried sick. Mom has been worried sick. Penny. Lana. Tim. Dave. Tom. Danny. Loretta. Need I go on?”

And, I’m sure you can guess, and he could too, I mean Lyla, even though I do not know if Lyla is worried about him because she is still totally tight with the band, but on the phone or if we’re together, no one ever mentions him.

He’s the Cajun elephant in the room, serious as shit.

But I figure she is.

Worried about Preacher, that is.

And get this.

He replies, “I had to take a breath.”

So, I’m all [loudly] “A six-year breath?”

“You needed me to take a breath too, Jesse,” he tells me.

[Eyes get large]

Say what?

He knows what I need?

Fuck.

[Shakes head]

Needless to say, six years, I forgot how fuckin’ aggravating Preacher could be.