Identical in appearance, twins Winter and Tripp are as different as night and day when it comes to everything but the music they’ve spent the bulk of their lifetimes composing. Now they’ve attained the fame they always hoped for, and it’s as empty and meaningless as the remains of route 66, and about as broken too. Would help if Winter could see it. Tripp’s sure he’ll lose his shit completely the next time some random groupie leaps on the hood of his car and begs to take a selfie, but to Winter, every night is a party, he lives for the crazy hookups, lives for the crazy, period.
Another place they differ.
Tripp would kill for one season to slow down. Just three months where he and Zakk could melt into obscurity and be whomever they wanted, together. Only Zakk’s band, Tattered Angel, is on fire too and it’s starting to seem like the music he’s always loved is hell-bent on keeping him from exploring love of a different kind. Last year’s Rocktoberfest was an amazing triumph, this year, it’s starting to feel like the road to the desert is burning him alive.
Would be so easy to slip off across the sand, melt into a dune on the back of some strange, psychedelic serpent, never to be heard from again. If only there was a way to ensure Zakk took that last ride with him.
