Second, she had the assurance (that comes with youth) that she was better at reading people than she was. Janelle would arrive at a snap judgment based on not much, and label that person for good. It was enough for her to be right most of the time. By and large, in her mind anyway, if she judged someone unfairly it didn't much matter. Most people weren't worth the time anyway. Armed with all of that, she set out to understand the group.
She had Jake pegged as pretty much a doofus. She didn't respect him at all. He sat there at the table talking to the others like everything was fine. Didn't he know that he had hurt the best woman in the world? Didn't he know that he was married to a treasure that shouldn't be tied down to a family? That was for normal people. Not for someone like Brandee.
Janelle kind of liked Bruce. He seemed somehow uncomplicated to her. He seemed to be all about playing music and eating! She was pretty sure that he wasn't that smart about anything else. He was too old and tired to keep up, she guessed.
She was wary of Suzi, and felt like the guitarist was watching her. She wished that Suzi would go away and watch her stomach grow. The whole baby thing kind of gave Janelle the creeps anyway.
The one that she REALLY couldn't figure out was Diane. The oldest member of the group didn't have much to say. What she did offer up hadn't been anti-Janelle, at least as far as Janelle could tell. There she sat, eating her Dot Float, with a slight smile on her face. There was something behind her eyes, though. It was something that Janelle, try as she might, couldn't read. She wasn't suspicious like Suzi or a big dummy like Bruce. Janelle didn't dislike her out of hand like she did Jake. Diane had an inscrutable quality about her that was a mystery to the young newcomer. Janelle shook her head a little to clear her mind.
After the group had consumed their cheeseburgers and Dot floats, they were ready to go across the breezeway that connected the casino to the hotel. Luckily, there had been room at the hotel for Janelle to get a room, since there was nowhere else in town for her to stay. Brandee gave Janelle a quick hug before taking a left at the registration desk. The Evanses were in a room right next to Diane's in the west wing of the hotel. Suzi and Bruce were lodged in the east wing, four doors from Janelle, who was in the last room on the first floor.
Jake and Brandee undressed and prepared for bed. Brandee asked Jake what the people in the Nissan had talked about on the way to Jackpot. He told her a little bit about the banter that had gone on in the van. He didn't ask her what she and Janelle had discussed in the Sprinter. He didn't want to hear that Brandee had talked about him to Janelle. He didn't want her to lie either, so he decided it was best to just avoid the subject altogether. After a perfunctory kiss on the lips, Jake and Brandee turned off the light and went to sleep.
***
Brandee was due on stage at the Winnemucca Convention Center at 7:00 the next night. As the Nissan flew through Elko westbound, Jake remembered the night that the group had performed in Elko on their way east. He remembered Brandee being distraught about how her voice hadn't been up to par. He smiled as he recalled her profane tirade that she unleashed after walking away from the cowboy poetry gathering. His girl certainly had fire! That was one of the reasons he had fallen in love with her. Just before dozing off in the van, Jake hoped that Winnemucca's Convention Center would be more conducive to Brandee's voice. Winnemucca is in Humboldt County, Nevada. Brandee and I were married in Humboldt County, California. That has to be a good omen.
It wasn't. “A FUCKING RODEO? WHAT KIND OF BACK ASS PLACE IS THIS?” Brandee stormed around the stage when the group reunited in Winnemucca that afternoon.
“I CAN'T DO A GOOD SHOW IN A FUCKING RODEO ARENA! DO YOU HEAR ME?”
To say the venue manager was taken aback by Brandee would be an understatement. His shiny balding pate glistened with sweat as he tried to mollify the singer.
“I understand, ma'am. I know we told you that the floor would be put back in place after the rodeo ended yesterday. We weren't able to get the arena floor completely cleaned after the bull riding competition until this morning, though. So we couldn't get the floor down in time for your show. I'm sure that the people who come will--”
Brandee turned her back on him. Jake looked at him with compassion, even though he was none too happy himself. At 4308 feet above sea level, Winnemucca was just a slight step below Elko's 5008 feet. Brandee had struggled singing outside in the high desert air. Now she was inside, but the main seating floor was going to be dirt. The relatively low ceiling of the convention center didn't allow for much ventilation. As the crowd filed in, thousands of shoes were going to be raising tons of dust into the air. It wasn't going to be pretty.
The venue manager did his best by Brandee. He had the mandarin oranges chilling in the dressing room. He offered to bring every bottle of Evian water in Humboldt County and ice it down for the group. He offered to put a freezer full of Popsicles on the edge of the stage for Brandee to refresh herself with during an intermission that Brandee could insert into the show anywhere that she wanted to put it. None of what he offered was good enough.
“I want the floor put down before I go on! I don't want you to let a single person in here until you get that floor down! I don't care if I don't go on until 10:00!”
The manager shook his head woefully. Usually, his job was fun, but he had never been confronted by a raging blonde.
“I'm so sorry, ma'am. The floor isn't in just one or two pieces. We can get the floor down in about 12 hours if we put a five man crew on it. It's already 2:00 though. You wouldn't be going on until three or four in the morning. Nobody is going to come out at that time of night.
“Put a ten man crew on it and get it done in 6 hours. I'll go on at 9:00," Brandee retorted.
The manager had never felt more miserable. He didn't have any answers that would please the avatar of anger that stood before him with her fists on her hips.
“Do you want to just be let out of your contract for the night?”
This was unprecedented in the manager's time on the job. There would be hell to pay from the board of directors for the convention center, not to mention the county commissioners who counted on the income from the shows to balance the county books. He didn't know what else to do, though.
Brandee stepped back and looked around. “That just may be what--”
Jake stepped up beside his wife. He put his arm around her and turned her gently to the right so that what he said would be out of earshot of the venue manager.
“What do you want to do? Shall we talk to the others about canceling tonight?”
Brandee looked at him. She had completely forgotten, in her rage, that the decision to cancel wouldn't be hers alone. Jake's words reminded her that she was part of a performance group and not a solo act. She nodded.
“Let's do that. I'm so mad I can't think straight!”
Jake called the other members of the group into a huddle to discuss their options. Janelle hovered at the perimeter of the group, listening intently to what was being said.
“Here's the deal," Jake started. “You all heard what the man said. There isn't going to be a floor where the people sit tonight. This stage is in the middle of the rodeo grounds. Everyone will be sitting on folding chairs on the arena floor.”
Bruce looked around at the arena. He had an idea, but he didn't know if it would work.
“Could we have the stage moved? If we move it closer to the grandstands the people won't be sitting on folding chairs. They won't have their feet in the dust either.”
Jake looked at Brandee. She shrugged her shoulders, and looked over her shoulder to see where the mousy little man (as she had dubbed him in her mind) was. She found him and motioned to him with a crook of her finger that she wanted him to join the conversational huddle.
Bruce quickly explained what he had in mind. The stage itself was huge. It was much larger than what they had played on in Jackpot. Could it, he asked, be moved and, if it could, would that mess up the seating and ticket situation?
>
The manager calculated as quickly as he could. “If I can get a couple of tractors in here in the next hour, we can get the stage moved. The tickets are festival seating so it won't matter. We can just open Gates 1 and 2, rather than 1, 2, and 3. That will funnel everybody in the right direction.
Jake looked at Suzi and Diane. “How are you guys with this?” he asked.
“I'm fine, how about you, Sooze?” Diane said.
“I can play wherever. I can play in a closet. Can you sing if we change it like Bruce is talking about?” she said, directing her question to Brandee.
Brandee tapped her foot. She hadn't entirely gotten over what she saw as a betrayal by the Winnemucca convention authority. She was backing away, though, from the idea of canceling the show. She didn't want to disappoint the people who had paid good money to come hear her sing.
“Okay. If they'll move the stage, let's play.”
Diane had another idea. She spoke up for the first time since the group had found out about the snafu.
“How about if we make it an easy night on Brandee? We could do a different kind of show. She can sing six to eight songs, maybe the slower ballads and such. Suzi can do all of the solos that she's worked on so far. Bruce won't be bothered by the dust. He can wail on his machine as much as he wants. He and I can do some of the stuff together that we've been working out. With a 10 minute intermission so Brandee can wet her whistle, we'll still be on stage for almost an hour and a half.
Suzi piped up. “We'll call it Brandee Unplugged or something like that. I'll play the acoustic guitar a little bit more tonight. We won't be completely unplugged, of course. This place is too big for that. It will be more intimate, though, with the stage up against the grandstand. What do you think?”
She directed this last question at Brandee. Without wanting to, she found herself wondering whether Brandee's ever-growing ego would allow for as much sharing as Diane was suggesting. Tonight was going to be truly a collaborative show if the star attraction was agreeable.
Brandee was torn. On the one hand, she could already feel the dryness in her throat. The altitude and the lingering dust from the cowboy show the day before were doing a number on her. On the other hand, wouldn't the crowd leave disappointed if she didn't confront their senses with “Your Ass is Mine” sung at full throttle?
After a few moments to think about it, she agreed. “Sure. Let's do it that way. We'll cut the rehearsal short so I can save my voice. That is, if we really can get the stage moved.”
The venue manager scurried away to make the calls necessary to get it done. In just 10 minutes, he had a couple of the ranchers that owned spreads just outside of town lined up to send tractors into Winnemucca. They would drive the tractors through the big garage doors at the east end of the building, and the stage would be in place in about an hour and a half. The group could rehearse with the reconfigured acoustical setup and still be able to get some rest before the show.
The group was going to be staying at The Cozy Inn that night. It was quiet and clean, albeit without some of the amenities to which they were now accustomed. Its location, just 3 blocks east of the convention center, was its strongest selling point.
As Jake walked up the street to do the check-in procedure for the group, he was reminded how much this little burg looked like the little towns in which his father had served as a pastor for so many years. The same store fronts, carrying the same small town goods and services. Unbidden, his eyes filled with tears. His ancient echoes had caught up with him again, this time in Winnemucca.
Psychologists tell us that, whether or not we said that we liked the home in which we were raised, that is the home we tend to recreate when we get older. It's called Ancient Echoes Syndrome. Jake had been raised in the All-American nuclear family. Married parents, one boy, and then one girl. This conflict with Brandee had made Jake realize how traditional he, in fact, really was at his core.
Jake shook his head in self-disgust. He knew that he had already lost that fight with Brandee. The best thing for him to do was turn the page and move on. Maybe it had been a selfish thought in the first place. He gave himself a quick pep talk while walking the last half block before he arrived at The Cozy Motel.
“I'm asking an awful lot of Brandee. I don't want to stand in the way of her career. It's a full time job being a successful singer.”
Fully sincere, but only half convinced, Jake arrived at the front desk. By this time, he had the check-in procedure down to a science. He had always needed a non-smoking room for himself and Brandee. Now that Suzi was with child, Bruce had given up smoking cold turkey, so Jake needed an additional non-smoking room for Bruce and Suzi. He needed a smoking room, if one was available, for Janelle. That turned out to be a problem at The Cozy Inn.
The non-smoking wave that had taken over the rest of the West Coast hadn't fully taken hold in Winnemucca. The Cozy Inn was split down the middle, half smoking and half non-smoking. The truck drivers that came through town regularly knew that the little motel had plenty of smoking rooms available. That meant there was almost always a reservation book filled with requests for those particular rooms. The perky little desk clerk cheerfully told Jake that he could have 3 rooms but they would all be of the non-smoking variety. Jake accepted the offer and reminded himself to tell Janelle that she would have to step outside of her room to smoke. He picked up the three room keys and headed back up the street toward the convention center.
By the time he arrived, a buzz of activity was underway. Jake found Bruce watching the process with an interested eye.
“What's going on?” Jake asked.
Bruce pointed to the three smoke-belching beasts, two of them green and the other red that occupied the center of the arena floor. He had to shout into Jake's ear to make himself understood.
“You see the two smaller ones? The two green ones? Those are both New Holland tractors. Probably right at 400 horses! They are going to hook on to either end of the stage.”
Jake shouted back to Bruce, “What about the big fella?”
Bruce smiled in delight. He had been all about engines for as long as he could remember. While he couldn't wait to put his new bike between his knees again, he was also fascinated by what was in front of him right now.
“That, my friend, is the Big Bud 747! It's the biggest tractor in production today! You're looking at 775 horses! That's the one that is going to hook on to the middle of the stage so that it isn't snapped in two by the other tractors.”
Jake found himself caught up in the older man's enthusiasm. He asked, “What are they standing around talking about? C'mon, let's get the show on the road.”
Bruce grabbed Jake's arm expressing his excitement. This was really going to be something to see!
“Not yet! You see the tractor jockeys walking together toward the grandstands? They're working out the speed points so that everybody stays together! They walk off the distance first! Then, when they get hooked up and started, the driver of the big one will give hand signals to the other two to synchronize the speed points that they had worked out on their walk!”
Jake looked at his watch, quickly calculating the time until the group would be back together, getting ready for the show.
“I wish they would hurry up! It's been almost an hour since they were called!”
Bruce looked at Jake with a suddenly abashed expression. “Ummm, that may have been partly my fault.”
Jake's brow wrinkled in surprise. “Your fault? How?”
“Well I kind of made the guy that rides the big one...um... let me take it for a spin around the arena a couple of times.”
Jake threw his head back and laughed as he hadn't laughed in days. He so wished that he could have been in the building to see his big, bearded friend high atop the world's largest farm tractor, flogging it around the floor of the Winnemucca Convention and Visitor's Center. He could picture it, but what he wouldn't have given to have seen it in the flesh.
Jake slapped Bruce on the b
ack. “How did it feel? How fast could you make it go in here?”
“Only about 35 before the corner. They're geared too low to be able to go too fast anyway. I loved the sound, though!”
Just then, the tractor jockeys were climbing into the seats of their rigs. The two smaller tractors fired up first. Their combined engines rattled the wood grandstands with their volume. The drivers gunned the engines a couple of times before the big Cummins diesels settled into a powerful throb. Then the big one started.
Jake was forced to step back from the force of the sound. The Big Bud 747 was at least as loud as the other two tractors combined, maybe louder. Between the three of them, they set up a racket that hurt Jake's ears.
Jake had been backstage for all of Brandee's concerts. He had gotten used to that kind of loud, but this was something different. The three tractors at idle were enough to cause Jake's stomach to rumble a harmonic resonance. He couldn't wait to hear what it sounded like when they were all pulling at once.
FAME and GLORY Page 17