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The after show party in the green room was going off when Jake got there. A load of Rand’s old school friends had joined the tour and intended to party on til the last show in Sydney. They were loud, drinking heavily and still getting over the shock of meeting Harriet Young again. For a couple of the men, this new, unexpectedly sexy Harry was more their idol than Rand ever would be. They were making no pretence about staring at her. Jake figured they’d yet to work out Harry was off the market. For her part, Harry looked amused as she stood with her crew, capturing vox pop interviews. Rand was nowhere to be seen.
Jake backed out. He wanted to see Rand about the night’s performance. Some minor cueing issues, an idea of Bodge’s, a problem Ron had, but mostly about Rielle. A near fall on the trapeze, a screaming match with Bunk after their ride in the Hand, and a look of distress in her off-stage moments.
He found brother and sister in Rielle’s dressing room. Rand was slumped on an ugly worn leather sofa, one knee jiggling a fast tempo that matched the annoyance on his face. Rielle was pacing, short, aggressive strides. Neither of them were talking.
When he closed the door, Rielle fired at him, “I want Bunk replaced.”
“Okaaay.” He knew Bunk was bewildered about whatever it was he’d done wrong and would probably be grateful to be relieved of his on stage duty.
“Someone changed the resin. That’s not the resin I need, that’s why I slipped. I want to know who swapped the resin.”
“Ah-huh.” As far as Jake knew, the resin was the resin, no swap, no change, not the excuse for her slipping.
“There was something wrong with my earpiece, flaky connection. I couldn’t hear properly. You tell Bruce Ng I want a new kit for tomorrow night.”
Jake had already talked to Bruce, nothing wrong with the earpiece that Bruce could see. He knew Rielle’s anger wasn’t about Bunk or earpieces or resin. He glanced at Rand who gave him an eye roll, and Rielle snarled, “Jesus! So my comfort and safety on stage isn’t a big deal to either of you.”
“Rie, lay off,” said Rand, sitting forward.
“Fuck you. I don’t think I will.”
“You have to get it together. I mean it. Do whatever you need to do. Make peace. Get over it. Move on.”
“Get out,” she spat, turning her back, “both of you.”
Outside, Rand shook his head. “Man, she’s so uptight. She’s got to keep it together.” He leaned against the wall and considered Jake. “I thought you were supposed to be helping with that?”
Jake flinched as if he’d been poked with something sharp and barbed. “What?” He wasn’t sure if Rielle wanted anyone to know about them.
“I thought you were going to give her something else to think about,” Rand said, but when he saw Jake’s discomfort he added, “Hey, it’s cool. Sorry man, I didn’t mean to embarrass you. I think you’ll be good for her. Anyway, you gonna put up with that attitude?”
Jake snorted. “Ah, no, I guess not.”
Rand clapped him on the shoulder. “Good.” He pushed off the wall. “I’ve got a party to get to and a centrefold to claim.” He walked backwards up the corridor, watching while Jake rapped on the dressing room door. When there was no response he called, “Good luck, man,” and took off at a jog.
Jake knocked again and got a muffled, “Fuck off,” in response.
He yelled, “Make me!” and the door flew open.
Rielle, red faced, said, “What did you say?”
Leaning against the jamb he repeated, lazy and low voiced, “Make me.”
She went to slam the door, but he caught it with the rubber toe of his boot and it bounced back at her. She stepped away, eyes flashing danger signs as he stepped though, calmly and without haste.
“Wasn’t I clear before about what I wanted, Jake?”
“Crystal.”
“So, why are you here?” She folded her arms tightly across her chest.
“Because I want to know why you’re so upset.” He closed the door behind him, making a show of doing it gently.
She scowled at him. “I did a crappy performance and it wasn’t my fault.”
“Well, how do I help fix that?”
“Are you deaf? Been hanging around the amp stack too long? I told you what to do.”
