She would get back to The Big Room at about 6:00, 90 minutes before her performance was to start. She would change into her performance attire (tonight, a flame red Chatelaine dress with sequins) and pick at her favorite dressing room snack, plain M&M's and mandarin oranges, both chilled in the dressing room refrigerator. At 7:15 on the dot, she would gargle with a salt water and lemon mixture that she never would have normally touched except that it opened up her throat and cleared her sinuses for the performance.
She never had much to say to the other members of the group during the last hour before the performance. The dressing room was mostly quiet during that time anyway. Bruce would hum tunelessly to himself at times, while Diane would spin her sticks as a nervous habit. She did that out of sight of Brandee, though, since it made the singer nervous to watch. Jake stayed out of the way of all of them during this time. He knew that he was more nervous than all of them combined, even though he wouldn't be on stage. He didn't know if he would ever get used to life as a peripheral member of a traveling performance group. His stomach was in knots every time. He wished that he had Bruce's cool.
He had once asked Bruce how he remained so calm in the run up to a performance. He knew that Bruce cared deeply about how the group sounded, so it couldn't be lethargy. Bruce explained it to him this way,
“You know that I've done more than my share of bad things to my body.”
Jake nodded. Bruce had been legendary for his drug and alcohol use during his younger days.
Bruce went on. “I almost died more than once. I woke up in a hospital one time thinking that they had taken me in after a drunk the night before. Turns out that I had been unconscious for six days. That wasn't the only time that I lost some days either. To tell you the truth, I've probably polluted this old body enough that I should be dead.
Anyway, I gave that up. I was in in-patient rehab for six months two different times. I spent some time in the county joint once when I fell off the wagon and threw up.”
“There's nothing illegal about throwing up”, Jake said, incredulous.
“They find a way to make it illegal when it's on the shoe of the sheriff,” Bruce answered.
Jake nodded. “Go on.”
“Anyway, I like my world a lot better now. I've got a job I like, playing music for a living. The love of a good woman playing music with me. If I don't know where I am when I wake up tomorrow, it's only going to be because I forgot we're in a different town than we were in yesterday, and not because I'm wasted. Long, ugly story short, my friend: I want to give these people a good show, but it's not the end of the world if we have an off night. It's just show business, man!” he said with a warm smile for Jake.
Jake knew then that he didn't need to worry about Suzi. For all of his rough appearance, Bruce was a solid, stand-up guy who wouldn't hurt his friend.
It also got him to thinking about his own life. He counted his blessings. He didn't know if he could survive without the love of his life, but the great thing was, he knew that he would never have to try. Brandee still excited him in every way imaginable and he couldn't wait to see her every morning. Some mornings, he got up earlier than usual just because he wanted to start another day with her as soon as possible.
***
Brandee absolutely smoked Chico that night! The interactive aspect of the seating arrangement worked perfectly with Brandee's already considerable stage presence. She walked among the crowd, belonging to them and them to her, all night. She put her head on an elderly man's shoulder and sang, “Dream Catcher” to him. That sealed her with the crowd (not to mention sealing her with him.). The adlibbing that had concerned the rest of the group during the afternoon was kept to a minimum and, when it did happen, Brandee was close to, or on, the riser with the others. They were called back onstage for not one but two encores, the second of which brought down the rafters when Bruce and Suzi punctuated it with a long bass and keyboard riff. The group was riding a high when they went out for dinner after the show.
Brandee never ate much before she performed. The bite or two of mandarin oranges and M&M's didn't amount to much. She was always famished post performance. Jake used up a couple thousand calories of nervous energy during the show, just pacing backstage. Diane worked herself into a lather on the drums, and Suzi hadn't eaten since the Chinese food at lunch. Bruce was just always ready for a good meal. Since there was an Applebees between The Big Room and The Californian, they decided to go there.
The noise inside Applebees fit the euphoric mood of Brandee. They ate, talked, and laughed for over 2 hours at the restaurant. Brandee believed that this tour was the beginning of something bigger than she had been involved in before. Jake was hopeful that her dreams would come true and was happy to see her in such a relaxed mood. The others basked in the good feeling, too. Brandee could light up a room with her smile. She could also bring a room down faster than anyone, but tonight was all about triumph and hope at the beginning of a tour.
The group knew that they had to eventually get some sleep since the next day would be one of the longest days of the trip. Those in the Nissan van would be leaving at 6:00 so they could arrive in Elko at about 1:30 or 2:00. Jake and Brandee would be following 2 hours later. Luckily, they weren't due on stage at the Western Folklife Center until 8:30, or they would have to leave even earlier. All of them preferred the later starting time because it allowed them to sleep in a bit the morning before. Of the five of them, only Diane was a little bit of a morning person, and she had learned to stay by herself until the others had shaken off the AM cobwebs.
So, shortly before midnight, the five members of Brandee knew that they needed to go their separate ways. They walked five across, arm in arm, along the wide and deserted Chico sidewalk on their way back to The Californian. When they arrived, they said their good nights and parted ways. Brandee removed the last vestiges of her stage makeup and, by the time she got into bed beside Jake, he was snoring softly. She smiled to herself and patted his shoulder before turning her back on him and settling into the bed. The sound of the cheers of the crowd at The Big Room was her final thought before sleep overtook her.
***
“She should be well rested,” Jake thought to himself about noon the next day. Brandee had been asleep for much of the drive. Jake had planned to wake her when they stopped at The Truck Inn, a breakfast place that he had heard about near Fernley, Nevada. When they got there and found out The Truck Inn was closed, Jake just drove on, letting Brandee sleep. She wasn't missing much.
The drive to Elko included 340 miles of the most God-forsaken terrain that Jake had ever seen. Sparsely traveled, the road invited Jake to push the underpowered Sprinter as hard as its little diesel engine could go. He didn't want Brandee to stress about not having enough time for her pre-show ritual. He felt that the least he could do for his little blonde headliner was to get her to the shows on time. Jake smiled to himself as he wondered whether that was a song that he had heard once. He would ask Brandee when she woke up.
Having been disappointed by the shuttered doors of The Truck Inn, Jake thought that they would find another place to stop within the next half hour. He hadn't counted on the desolation of western Nevada. That stretch of Interstate 80 is called the loneliest road in America. Well named, Jake thought. It was dry, brown and windblown even now that it was early spring. On and on, Jake drove. On and on, Brandee slept.
Finally, Jake pulled off to the side of the road and Brandee woke with a yawn and a stretch. She started to unbuckle her seat belt before she realized what was happening. Jake had stopped in the middle of nowhere and was relieving himself behind some scrub brush on the left side of the road.
“Hey!” she shouted, “What about me? A girl has to take a piss herself once in a while!”
Jake zipped up and came back to the Sprinter. “I know you do," he said, starting the engine. “I just couldn't wait. That mocha I had before I left Chico was working on my old guy bladder.”
Brandee laughed. “That's
right. I sometimes forget what an old coot you are. How do you expect to stay up with a hot young thing like me?”
“Just watch me stay up with you. Hell, just watch me leave you behind, child bride," he said, putting his hand on her well-tanned, muscular thigh. He wished that they could stop for a romance break, but the schedule wouldn't allow it. The life of a roadie, he thought.
***
Early afternoon brought them to Elko. The Western Folklife Center was most known for its dance presentations. Western and Native American dance predominated, but they had zydeco and Cajun dance performances as well. The members of Brandee had been invited as a part of the National Cowboy Poetry gathering. They would be performing that evening as the fifth of six acts.
Two of them were to be Native interpretive dance groups, one was to be a country string group, and one was to be a western folklore humorist. The act scheduled after Brandee had captured the attention of the crowd, including the members of the group. They were anxious to hear Whistlin” Willie Jack, the yodeler that was the headliner of the evening. Privately, Brandee herself felt insulted to be placed on the card in front of a yodeler, but she was nevertheless intrigued to hear Willie do his thing.
The evening entertainment got underway at 5:00 PM, following a chuck wagon dinner. Brandee broke her own rule of just picking at her food before singing and had a bit of the pulled pork and brisket that was offered.
The other members of the group fell into the meal with a hearty appetite. Jake's earlier disappointment that the truck stop had been closed was quickly smoothed over under the mounds of food offered at The Folklife Center. He was balancing two plates, each overflowing with meats and cheeses, fresh fruits and vegetables, and a slice each of deep dish apple pie ala mode and peach cobbler.
Suzi and Diane both ate heartily, but Bruce became an all-time legend that night. He carried his four plates up his arm, waiter style. He had a plate designated for his salads, and one dedicated to the barbecued pork, brisket, and fried chicken. He had another plate that had breads and rolls covering it, and finally one that had cakes, pies, and cookies. Without playing a note, he had become the most popular member of Brandee for the night.
***
Brandee Evans certainly captured the eyes of The Center that night. The arc lights that surrounded her caught her hair just right. Men and women alike were mesmerized by her look that evening. The old saying, “Men wanted her. Women wanted to be her” certainly applied that night in Elko.
Vocally however, it wasn't her finest hour. It may have been that she ate before the performance. It may have been that her voice was roughened up a bit by the dry desert air in which she had to sing. It may have been the nearly mile high altitude in Elko. Whatever it was, the other members of the group knew almost as soon as she started that she didn't quite have it that night.
It hardly seemed to matter to the crowd at The Folklife Center. She was beautiful and sincere. Her band played up a storm. Bruce and Suzi's dynamic keyboard and bass duet was stretched to almost 7 minutes so Brandee could get some water and a break before her finish. Diane performed a drum solo that rocked the house, her hands seeming to fly through the air, unencumbered by her arms or even the pull of gravity. The applause was a thunderclap of sound that engulfed the Center. After their encore, the group settled in to see what Whistlin' Willie was all about.
It was several minutes into Willie's performance before Jake noticed that Brandee wasn't with the rest of the group. He had gone out front before she had finished changing out of her performance attire. She had said that she would be right behind him when he left her to finish changing out of her performance attire, but she never joined the rest of the band. Jake told the rest of the group not to worry about him and that he would be right back as soon as he found Brandee. He checked the dressing room first, in case she had gotten stuck getting out of her dress or something. She wasn't there.
Next, he checked next behind the stage in the area where the group's vehicles were parked. He doubted that she would have gone straight out there after changing but he thought that he would cover all the bases. There was no sign of her near the Sprinter.
Finally, he found her wandering around behind the chuck wagon area, 300 yards from the entrance of the Center. She had signed a couple of autographs for some young people, but now she was alone and angry.
“Hey baby. I missed you inside," Jake said before he knew her mood. She didn't waste any time.
“I sang like a piece of shit tonight, Jake!” she said. “I sounded like fucking hell!”
“You didn't, honey. Your voice was a little rough, but you still sounded good," he answered, trying to take her in his arms. She brushed him aside.
“Don't you dare patronize me! Don't you dare! I know how I can sound and I know how I sounded! And I sounded fucked up! It's no wonder they wanted me on before God-damned Yodeling Billy or whatever the hell his name is. I shouldn't headline a cock fight!”
Jake waited silently for the diatribe to run its course. Brandee's temper was in full flight.
“Most nights I hope someone with some connections to the music industry will hear me sing. Tonight I pray no one heard me! The only good thing is that I don't think anyone from RCA is going to be at the Fucking Western Fucklife Festival in Fuckville, Utah!”
Jake stifled a smile, mostly successfully, but not successfully enough.
“Are you laughing at me, Jacob Evans?” she accused, invoking his whole first name, a sure sign that her anger was still glowing hot. “You'd better not laugh at me!”
“I'm not laughing at you, Brandee. It's just that we're not in Utah. We're in Nevada. Fuckville, Nevada if you must, but Nevada anyway.”
That broke her mood. She didn't want to give up her anger, but she did. When she laughed at what Jake had said, the storm clouds cleared and her face was wreathed in a smile marred only by the trace lines of tears that had moistened a path down her cheeks. Jake could usually brighten her mood at a time like this, but once in a while he couldn't and just had to duck for cover like everyone else did when she went on a rage. Luckily, tonight was not one of those times.
Jake and Brandee walked the quarter mile back to The Center, grateful that no one appeared to have heard the profanity-laced tirade that Brandee had leveled at their town. Once inside, they found Bruce, with Suzi's head on his left shoulder, and Diane's head on his right shoulder. The girls were mostly asleep. Bruce was finishing off the drumstick of a fried chicken, just enjoying the open sky of the American West, and listening intently to the vocal stylings of Whistlin' Willie as he enthralled the crowd with his unique talent.
***
Brandee's next appearance was the next night at the USANA Amphitheater in West Valley City, Utah, just west of Salt Lake City. It was a drive of about 230 miles, a relief after yesterday's marathon. The group was amped up for this one because it represented a step up in terms of venue.
The USANA Amphitheater could seat almost 20,000 people. 13,000 of them sat on the main floor, which was actually an open lawn. Another 7,000 could be spread out in two balconies that rose above the lawn. Being a true amphitheater, the performers were protected from the elements by a stage shell. The paying customers hoped for good weather, but were always prepared with ponchos and blankets.
The members of Brandee were anxious to experience a crowd and venue that size. They knew that they sounded good in a small room. They even knew that they sounded good in a large room. While the USANA Amphitheater was by no means a stadium, it was close enough for the group to get at least a taste of what it would be like to rock a truly big house.
Suzi was especially impressed by the venue when the Nissan arrived at around noon the next day. In her mind's eye, she envisioned great things for the group.
“One of these days,” she told Bruce in bed one night, “We're going to play in Madison Square Garden. And that will just be the start.”
When Suzi got excited about something during pillow talk with Bruce, she often abrupt
ly bolted upright in bed, effectively taking the sheet and blanket away from him in her excitement. Bruce was used to this by now and lay quietly, waiting for Suzi's brainstorm to pass so he could get some sleep.
“Stadium rockers!” she went on. “That's what we're going to be! We're going to play the Coliseum!” she finished triumphantly.
“That will be great, honey”, Bruce said, “I'll work on getting our passports in order.”
“Not the Roman Coliseum, baby. The L.A. Coliseum.”
It took a moment for Suzi to realize that Bruce was just yanking her chain, which happened to be one of his favorite pursuits. When she did realize that, she engaged in one of her own favorite pursuits: smacking him hard upside the head with a hotel pillow.
FAME and GLORY Page 5