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“Can I have our deposit back, please?” she asked, trying not to sound too desperate.
“Sorry, but that deposit gets forfeited if you renege on the deal.” He winked at her. “Read your contract.” Then he took out his cell phone and made a call, effectively dismissing her.
Mimi made it back to her minivan on shaky legs. She was going to throw up. Right here in the parking lot. It would serve Keith right if she did. She took a few deep breaths of air to steady her stomach and somehow managed to get inside the car and turn her key. Her radio blasted with Billy Brenton’s Snow Angel Smiles.
It was like the fates were mocking her!
She viciously twisted the dial to snap off the music.
How was she going to fix this? How could she fix this? What band would be available on such short notice to play for next to nothing? Correction: Make that nothing. Not only was the festival broke, she’d lost the deposit money. Two thousand and five hundred dollars. Money they probably wouldn’t make up for now because no one was going to pay to see a band that didn’t show up.
Oh God.
The town would probably call for her resignation. How could she have been so careless? So gullible? Bruce and Doug were probably at happy hour right at this very moment, celebrating her upcoming disgrace.
*~*~*
“Maybe you can still get Harry Tuba and his polka band,” Shea suggested that night at Bunco. “I’m pretty sure they’re always available.”
The rest of the Babes moaned in response.
“We’re supposed to make Mimi feel better,” Kitty said. “Not worse.”
They’d gathered for their weekly Bunco game but no one wanted to play. Not after Mimi told them what happened this afternoon.
“So this Keith guy actually winked at you?” Pilar said. “What a jerk! He was probably ecstatic you couldn’t come up with the money. It gave him the perfect excuse to break the contract. They get to keep their deposit and they don’t have to waste their precious packing time to come here and play. Not when they’re going on the road with Billy Brenton.”
“I’ll never buy another Billy Brenton CD again,” Frida grumbled.
“It’s not Billy Brenton’s fault,” Mimi said. “It’s not even Fatback Bubba’s. It’s mine. I should never have trusted Doug and I should never have run for mayor. I’m way out of my league here.”
“You mean the league of despicable gentleman?” Kitty asked. “Except Doug and Bruce are no gentleman. More like rats.”
“You should have come to us for money,” Shea said. “Between all of us we could have lent you the money for the check.”
“Thanks,” Mimi said. “But there wasn’t any time. And I really thought they’d be reasonable about this.”
“So what are you going to do now?” Kitty asked.
Mimi wished she had an answer for that. But all she could do was shrug. “Can you all please promise me you won’t tell anyone? If word gets out about this, there’ll be a riot. Somehow…I’ll find a way fix this.”
How that would happen, she didn’t know.
She’d wanted to save the Spring Into Summer festival. To restore it to its former glory. Or even elevate it into something bigger and better that would benefit not just the town, but all its residents and the local businesses, too. Instead, she’d be known as the mayor who killed the festival faster than the iceberg that had sunk the Titanic. Certainly not the legacy she wanted to leave behind.
Naturally, it would rain. The past six years the Spring Into Summer festival had seen glorious weather, but this was Florida, which meant they were way overdue for a rain out.
Thank goodness the 10K run wasn’t affected. Runners were runners and a little rain couldn’t stop them, so that phase of the festival was going smoothly.
Then, somewhere in the middle of all that rain and traffic and festival goers grumbling about the weather, something occurred to Mimi. While the rain was certainly a nuisance, maybe…just maybe it was really a blessing in disguise. Because if it continued to pour like this, they’d have to call off the outdoor concert.
She could see herself now, standing on the sodden stage, her sad face on. “I’m sorry but with all this rain, Fatback Bubba and the Rattlesnakes simply can’t go on. They have electronic equipment, you see, and we can’t take the risk they might electrocute themselves…”
It would be a hard sell, but it just might work. Otherwise, she had no idea what she’d do. She went to see Harry Tuba yesterday asking him (no, begging him) to play the festival, but he’d laughed in her face. He knew he was a last minute resort and he told her his “pride” wouldn’t allow him to be used in that way.
The festival committee met under the main tent area for an impromptu pow-wow.
Bettina and Sherry (and Tofu) all wore matching yellow raincoats and Wendy was on the verge of a nervous breakdown. “What are we going to do, Mimi? I mean, Miss Becky’s Little Tappers can’t go on the stage with all this rain. The poor darlin’s will slip and fall!”
