Chapter Eight
That afternoon, Anne and I are walking down the outdoor Memphis venue that sits on the Mississippi River, and Ford catches sight of us. “Girls!” He waves us over to the soundboard where he opens a large crate full of used cables. “Your job for the day.”
He picks up a cable and shows us where the wiring inside is exposed, before tearing a piece of electrical tape and wrapping it. “Think you can do that?”
“Uh, yeah,” Anne deadpans.
Ford walks off and she turns to me. “Does he think we’re idiots?”
“I don’t mind.” I settle on the concrete slab and start in. She puts her earbuds in and does the same.
So the next few hours go. Ford doing his stuff at the soundboard and me and Anne wrapping wires. I like the monotonous work. It keeps my brain focused and off of everything else.
“Guys are here,” Ford informs us, but Anne is rocking to her music and doesn’t hear.
I glance up to see West and Simon laughing as they walk on stage and take their spots.
Ford picks up a microphone. “All right boys, let’s get started. Check on mike one,” his voice echoes through the amphitheater.
West steps up to mike one. “Check.”
Stretching his fingers across the board, Ford positions them on the sliding knobs, makes a few adjustments, and continues, “Check on mike two.”
The keyboard player pulls his mike down. “Check.”
Ford continues through the rest of the checks and then begins on the instruments, asking them to play specific chords and give feedback on the volume of the onstage monitors.
“This is the EQ rack,” he tells me, probably because he sees me watching him. “I’m boosting the bass,” he turns a knob, “and here I’m lowering the high end. Hear that reverb from the right side of the house?”
I listen to the echo and nod.
He makes adjustments. “Now it’s gone.”
“That’s really cool.”
“It is.” Ford slides a bar down. “Even more exhilarating during a live show.”
I go back to wrapping wires, and my heart nervously picks up pace as I remember West’s encouraging words and I try to think of a way to ask Ford if I can maybe be his what, assistant? Apprentice? Gopher?
But before I have a chance to ask, he opens the gate that leads from the tech box. “Be back in a sec,” he tells me.
I finish the cable I’m working on and start the next one, still eyeing the soundboard. I think again of the smaller one I tinkered with at church and almost laugh at the size comparison.
Anne takes her earbuds out and glances toward the stage, before turning back to me with a waggle of the brows. “Did you see West is here?” she teases, and I make a face at her.
“Eve!” Ford yells. “Bring me that silver hard case under the board.”
Grabbing the case, I carry it down the aisle and up onto the stage. Ford takes it from me and opens it up. “This is Eve everybody. She’s new crew.”
I spare the guys a quick glance. West, Simon, Toby, the drummer, and Levi, keyboards. West steps forward to shake my hand as if we haven’t already met. He gives my curious look an amused one, and from underneath his fedora his dark eyes crinkle a little as one corner of his mouth twitches. Though no one else probably recognizes it, he holds my hand just a second too long until I finally slip my fingers from his grasp.
“It’s roast beef girl!” Simon jokingly recognizes me.
Ford glances over. “Roast beef girl?”
“I served them sandwiches,” I tell him, fidgeting a little. “At that VIP thing?”
“Also, Green Eyes and I went for a run this morning,” West helpfully puts in.
Ford lifts his brows as if to say Green Eyes?
“Will there be anything else?” I ask, trying to get the focus off of me.
“Don’t be so serious.” West gives me a playful punch in the shoulder, and I catch myself in a flinch. “Sorry,” he mutters, taking a quick step back.
I shrug it off, “That’s okay,” and make a beeline off the stage. I’m sure no girl has ever actually flinched from his touch.
Back at the soundboard I resume my work, and though I don’t want them to, my thoughts drift. Bluma’s email curls through my brain again, and I automatically lift my head and glance around the venue, but again there’s nothing unusual. There’s just the other roadies, the venue workers, and the band.
Sound check continues, and I purposefully focus back in on Ford’s area to get my mind in the here and now. I focus on the flashing lights, the knobs, the buttons, and the wires. I watch his fingers as he slides channel bars and adjusts controls.
Bus Stop transitions into Depth Fellow, one of my favorite songs that they perform, and automatically I start mouthing the lyrics. They’ve got this pop rock/country rock/alternative sound that is so unique to all of their songs.
“Great ting on that one,” Ford says. “Little lower on the bass…left side’s off…now that’s some great range.” A few minutes more, and Ford slides all the channels down before turning to look at me. “Do you realize you stared at me the entire time they were practicing?”
I cringe. “Sorry. It’s just…”
“Just?”
“Everything you’re doing. It’s fascinating. I’ve messed around with mixing a little here and there. Nothing, of course, like you.”
Ford smiles. “Online stuff?”
“Yeah, I’ve played around with a few sites.”
“Anything hands on?”
“Not really. Just a small one at church.”
Ford scrubs his fingers over his goatee. “Tell me what appeals to you about the whole thing.”
I think about that a second, really wanting to answer this right. “Well, first it’s the music. Nothing can help me disappear like music. But then it’s also taking all this raw material and creating something new with it that I love and hope others will, too.” I scrunch up my nose, hoping he doesn’t think the disappearing comment is odd, but also thinking he might get what I’m saying. “Does any of that make sense?”
Ford nods. “Yes, Eve. It all makes perfect sense.”
I smile, suddenly feeling a connection I never have before.
“How about college?” he asks. “Any plans on officially studying it?”
“What do you mean?”
“Sound Engineering. There’s a lot of great programs I can recommend.”
College? I’ve never even thought about college. Heck, I haven’t even graduated high school. “I don’t think so. But I’d love to learn from you,” I boldly say. “That is…that is if that’s okay,” I quickly amend, not wanting to push my luck.
Ford chuckles. “Not making any promises here, but why don’t we just say, any time you’re done with your work, you can come and learn a few things. Sound good?”
A burst of excitement dances through me. “Really?”
“Now don’t get too excited. Just how to open a mike, balance the bass, EQ a song.”
I nod. I can’t think of anything better.
The sound of a giggle has me looking back toward the stage to see a gorgeous, glamorous girl standing like an inch from West. He’s laughing and flirting right back, having no problems with her nearness. I recognize her. She was at the club that first night I met West. She’s the Lucy Liu look-alike.
“Okay, guys,” Ford comes on the house mike. “Last set, and then we’re done.”
The girl slowly steps away, shooting West a little fingery wave. He waves right back before slipping his guitar strap on and turning toward me and Ford. Quickly, I pick up a cable and overly concentrate on it as I wrap it with tape, and the more I concentrate the more I relax with relief. This is good actually. What I just saw. There’s nothing special about the flirting he does with me. He’s just doing what he does to every girl.
Yes, there’s nothing special about me.
Friends. That’s what I’ll insist on with West. He probably doesn’t know how to be
friends with a girl. For that matter, I don’t know how to be friends with a boy. This will be new for both of us. Plus, other than Anne and Bluma, I don’t have any friends. I could use another.
With the new resolve, though, I can’t help but wonder what it will be like to finally have a guy interested in me. A guy that will look at only me and make me light-headed and happy.
The thought has me smiling. Despite my crap of a life, I never thought I’d actually be thinking in such a normal way.
Chapter Nine
Outdoor amphitheaters are the best. Even though the crowd is huge, there is still room to just exist and breathe and to enjoy the energy vibrating the air. I really am happy that I interviewed for this new gig. It’s nice to love the music I’m a roadie for.
But as all shows do, the Memphis one comes to an end, and we roadies do our break down job. It’s one in the morning by the time we finish taking down the stage and loading semis in route to the next city. One last stop at the bathroom and everyone is gone when Anne and I come out.
“Shit!” She kicks the wall. “We forgot to tell the last van to hang.”
It does stink, but I don’t tend to get near as irritated with these things as she does.
“Stupid guys,” she mumbles. “You’d think they’d look around and make sure everyone had a ride.” She heaves the heaviest sigh in history as she trudges off. “Come on. Let’s just walk. The hotel’s only a mile or so.”
I don’t move and instead take a cautious look around. “A mile in the dark and walking? I don’t think so, Anne.”
She keeps moving. “Oh, come on. Nothing’s going to happen.”
“Let’s get an Uber.”
Anne sighs again. “I don’t want to wait. Let’s just go.” She pats her front jeans pocket where I know she keeps her knife, reminding me of the pepper spray I keep in my messenger bag. “Don’t worry. I have no problem slicing someone’s throat.”
Blowing out my own sigh, I fall in step beside her, and neither one of us speaks as we start off down the dark street. A quarter of a mile in and headlights come straight toward us, passing, and then coming to a stop. Anne and I move in sync, clicking the knife and grabbing the pepper spray.
“Perv better not mess with us,” she hisses.
The car backs up, and the driver’s window goes down as I simultaneously register it’s a sports car.
“Well, hello there, pretty ladies.” I wonder if West rents a new one in each city.
With a snort, Anne holds up her knife. “Dude, I thought you were a serial killer.”
“In a sports car?”
I shrug. “Could happen.”
West laughs at that, and I find it oddly satisfying to have made him do so. “I suppose. Climb on in. I’ll take you to the hotel.”
“Stupid asses left us.” Anne clicks her knife closed as we round the car to the passenger side. I open the door, about to get in the teeny-tiny back, and she shoves past me to squeeze in, leaving me no option but the tight bucket seat in the front. In the blue dimness of the interior, West watches me as I slide in and close the door.
“Hey, Green Eyes.”
“Hey.”
Suddenly, everything is filled with him. His scent. It’s all over the car, this lingering cologne, some laundry detergent, and something else that’s uniquely him.
“Seatbelt,” he says, waiting for me to click in before he drives off.
Anne leans up from the back. “Look at you, all taking care of my girl and everything.”
“I can’t help it,” he teases. “She brings out the tender side in me.”
“Awww,” Anne goes on, and I nearly die of embarrassment.
West shifts into first, and his hand glides past my knee when he does so. Immediately, I move my legs out of reach, and he cuts me an amused look. It’s not like he meant to touch my knee. We are in a tight space. He shifts into second then, and though he’s still with his perma-smile, I note he’s very careful to keep his distance. I didn’t mean to make him so cautious, and I hate that I did. I wish I could rewind the last few seconds and react differently. React more normal.
“So,” Anne leans up from the back. “I bet it’s good to be back on the road after taking all that time off last year. Are you going to give us the scoop on where you were?”
West doesn’t answer and instead just stares straight out the front window. Gone is all amusement, and in its place comes a hard jaw and equally hard eyes.
In my periphery I watch him. More than curious. Anne must pick up on the dropped temperature, too, because she sits back and doesn’t say another word for the remainder of the ride to the hotel.
He pulls into the parking lot where some of the roadies are hanging outside, smoking and drinking beer. The usual “den of iniquity”, to use Gideon’s words. Anne and I climb out, and as soon as the doors close, West pulls away.
I stand for a few seconds staring at his taillights and find myself wishing I was still in the car with him.
Chapter Ten
Around eight the next night we pull into our Toronto hotel and unload our luggage. As we’re checking in, a couple of huge tour buses pull up and out step all the Indie Festival’s bands. From the last bus comes Simon, then Toby, Levi, and finally West.
Something odd knots through my guts. I haven’t seen him since last night.
I glance around the lobby, doing my usual check of exit doors, and as I do all the bands file in. I back up as the crowd increases, leaving Anne to get our keys.
There’s an exit near the check-in desk, one at the end of the hall near the stairwell, and one on the other side of the lobby’s gift store.
West comes right toward me, a little glimmer in his eyes. He indicates the exit doors I was just looking at. “Searching for a way out?”
“Something like that,” I murmur as I tug my baseball cap farther down. “Did you have a good trip?” I ask
“Yes. And you? How was it riding in the Tech Van with a bunch of stinky boys?”
I chuckle. “No one is stinky.”
“I don’t know about that,” he jokes, casting a suspicious eye across the lobby and the hodge-podge of roadies.
I take a look at them, too, and yes, some of them do need a good scrubbing.
“Especially that one,” West mumbles, nodding to his friend Simon who is currently standing over in the corner, breath spray in hand.
I laugh. “I’m going to tell him you said that.”
West laughs, too. “He’s getting ready for Kirstie. She’s supposed to be here any minute.”
“That’s sweet.” I’m glad West seems chipper. Whatever funk he was in last night has obviously dissipated.
He leans in, closing all the space between us, and his sudden nearness makes my nerve endings stretch. “Maybe I can talk you into riding with me in our big, bad tour bus,” he says, and I want desperately to tell him to give me some room.
He leans in a little farther, and I don’t stop the words from tumbling out, “Can you back up please?”
West doesn’t immediately move, and then my words must sink in because he takes a quick and cautious step back. “I’m sorry.”
“Thank you,” I say, releasing a breath, so very glad for the space.
He doesn’t respond and instead just studies me for few seconds, and right when I think he’s going to make an excuse and leave, he says, “A few of us are going out for a quick bite in the city. Want to come?”
I’m so shocked at the unexpected invitation, I don’t know how to reply.
“What,” he teases, “you got a hot date or something?”
I huff a laugh. “That would be a no.”
He narrows his eyes. “You make that sound like it’s a ridiculous idea.”
It is a ridiculous idea, but I shrug. “I don’t typically date.” Who am I kidding? I wouldn’t even know how to go on a date.
“Let’s see, Eve and her hot date.” West ponders me a second. “He would be a studious type I think. Maybe into poetry. No,
a painter. No wait! A welder. Yes, one of those tragic starving artists—”
“That lives in a loft,” I get in on the fun, “and gathers scrap metal, and he makes those weird, inspiring pieces that we would discuss until the early hours of the morning.” I laugh, imagining. “No, not my type.” You’re more my type, I want to admit.
West snaps his fingers. “Dang. I thought I had it with the welder.” His mischievousness slowly fades as he studies me again, and I wonder what he sees. I try picturing myself as this flirty girl, giving it right back, joking and laughing and touching. Or if not that, just a normal conversation.
And so I try, “How about—”
Anne comes up. “Yo, sexy,” she says to West, then turns to me. “We’re on the third floor, let’s go.”
“How about?” West prompts.
Anne looks between us, and I swallow a sudden flare of nerves. “How about we all get a coffee before you go out with your friends.” I nod to the lobby coffee shop and the little clump of tables.
West’s face brightens. “That sounds good.”
Anne shoots me a playful grin. “I’ve got plans. But you two have fun.”
Plans? She doesn’t have any plans. But before I have a chance to say that, she beelines into the elevator, leaving me and West alone for our “coffee date” that I just invited him on.
We pile our stuff in the corner of the coffee shop and head over to the counter. “What do you want?” West asks
“Just a medium light roast please.”
As he places our order, I take a seat at a table and run my clammy palms along my jeans. I can do this. I can be normal. I can sit with West and have some coffee and conversation. I like West, I do, but I need him to know whatever this is between us has to be friendship and nothing else.
I need that boundary. Plus, what about that Lucy Liu look-alike girl I’ve seen a couple times now? Isn’t that his girlfriend? I’m confused.
Simon wanders in and gives me a little wave before sitting at his own table and pulling out his phone. West brings our drinks over and busies himself with cream and sugar. “What are you looking forward to the most on our tour?” he asks.
Shadow of a Girl Page 4