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THREE HOURS BEFORE SHOWTIME
“Where’s my guitar strap?” I asked, looking around the stage. “And the mic isn’t working again. What’s going on?”
All afternoon, it had been like this.
A few items we’d stored in the drafty dressing rooms went missing. The lights flickered on and off. Strange echoes filtered into the theater.
And, of course, the tech was twitchy at best.
I had to wonder if it was the state of the old building or one of our road crew playing Halloween tricks on us.
Or both.
But so far, everyone I’d asked was as mystified as I was about what was going on.
“Maybe it’s the ghost,” Holls yelled out.
“What the fuck are you talking about?” I asked.
Holls walked over to me and lowered his voice. “So, Tommy was talking to the maintenance guy, and apparently, there’s a ghost who lives in this building. In 1975, the most popular local band in New Orleans played here on Halloween night. The band started the concert by announcing their breakup, and at the end of the show, the singer collapsed and died. Can you believe it? The guy was so distraught over the breakup of the band, his heart gave out. And now his lonely spirit roams the building.”
I rolled my eyes at Holls’s dramatic tale. “Maybe you should consider an acting career since you obviously enjoy make-believe.”
Holls gave me two middle fingers in response.
Ace came running out of the wings, handed me my strap, and then checked the mic.
“Sorry, guys. I went over the setup early this morning with Tommy. It was fine. Everything was in its place and working as it should be. I don’t understand what’s going on.”
“It’s okay, Ace. Maybe the theater staff moved stuff around. It’ll all work out in the end,” I replied, giving him a reassuring nod while he checked the mic.
I didn’t know if it would, but it was always good to be confident.
Ace was the best at what he did, and he’d never let us down.
This was a one-off situation.
But the next time I did something like this, I’d hand over the venue selection to someone who knew about these things.
Apparently, this know-it-all didn’t, in fact, know it all.
At least I’d done the smart thing this morning and rested my voice. Tea with honey and no talking. To anyone.
Until now, of course.
I hadn’t sung since rehearsal (except one song at that private party), and I wanted to be prepared in case the mics did go out, and I had to sing with nothing to accompany me but the acoustics in the venue. It rarely happened, but I’d done it before.
Projecting your voice for that kind of performance was no easy feat.
I’d plan for the worst and hope for the best.
Speaking of best… I looked around the theater, but my favorite person was MIA.
I knew Van was working. I saw him downstairs, heading into one of the dressing rooms while talking on the phone.
At my request, Ace had placed one of my guitars in there for Van to use. Knowing him as I did, Van was probably already practicing for our duet.
Just thinking about being on stage with him had all the nerves in my belly lighting up like fireflies on a summer night.
