FAME and GLORY

by K. T. Hastings

  The tractor drivers connected their vehicles' towing attachments to the hooks on the front edges of the stage and returned to their seats. When the operator of The Big Bud was ready, he gave the signal through the side windows of his enclosed cab. They put the tractors into their lowest gear and the chains went taut.

  Ever so slowly, the stage began to move, sliding across the dirt floor, raising a ton of dust in the process. Jake was sure that the stage was making a lot of noise itself as it was dragged, but the combined thunder of the tractors made it impossible to tell for sure.

  The green tractor that was pulling the left side of the stage inched slightly ahead. The driver in the middle gave him a quick “Slow down” signal with his right hand. The driver of the New Holland rig nodded an abrupt acknowledgment and the tractor settled back in line with its mates.

  The total distance that the stage needed to go was about 70 feet. Each foot was precarious to the mission, though. If one of the big diesel engines misfired, the three would quickly be out of whack and the stage would be in danger. What was being done today had never been done in this particular arena before. This stage was normally set up and taken down in a stationary place. Who knew if this was even feasible?

  Jake peered across the way, squinting through the dust cloud that had been raised behind the stage. There he saw the only person that wanted this to come off as much as did Jake himself. The venue manager watched with bated breath as the stage made its way across the floor.

  Finally, 33 minutes after the stage started its dusty journey, it arrived at its destination safe and secure. Jake and Bruce met the drivers as they climbed down from their respective perches. Bruce grabbed the big rig driver's hand, pumping it in appreciation.

  “Thank you so much for everything! Boy, that was great!”

  The driver laughed. He knew that the keyboard player was thanking him as much for getting to drive the Big Bud as for moving the performance stage. He decided to see if Bruce's effusive thanks could be turned into something tangible.

  “Sooo..." he started, mopping the sweat rivulets from his face with the red handkerchief that he pulled from his pocket. “Do you suppose the wife and I could get some comp tickets for the show tonight?”

  Bruce couldn't wait to oblige. “I'll get tickets for all of you. Tickets for your wives and girlfriends too. How many do you need?”

  The driver of the tractor that had briefly gotten out of line spoke up. “My wife doesn't like it when my girlfriend comes along. Just two for me.”

  Amid the laughter that ensued, the second New Holland driver spoke next. “Let's see. One for me, one for my wife, one for my baby's mama. That makes...”

  The other two tractor drivers cracked up when they saw that Bruce was counting tickets for that particular driver on his fingers. The Big Bud driver said to Bruce, “Boylan's just pulling your leg. Hell, he ain't had a girlfriend since middle school!”

  The first New Holland driver added, “And that was his cousin!”

  Four of the five people in the circle thought this was hilarious, but the brunt of the joke had obviously heard this line before. He playfully squared off with the driver that had made the crack. She isn't my cousin, asshole! She's my step-cousin... once removed!”

  While all of this was going on out front, Brandee and Janelle were in what passed for the dressing room. To call it a dressing room was a bit of a stretch. The room consisted of four walls and a folding chair in the middle of the room. Brandee was trying to get ready for her show without even the use of a mirror bigger than the 4”x1.5” one that she kept in her travel bag. She was becoming less impressed with this gig as the time passed.

  “Could you come here and help me, Jannie?” Brandee said. “I can only see a third of my face at a time. I'm going to go out there looking like a clown.”

  Janelle stepped in front of Brandee and took the makeup brush out of her hand. The younger girl, three inches taller than Brandee, put her index finger under Brandee's chin and lifted it a little, so that the light showed more evenly on the right side of the singer's face.

  “You're going to look like an angel out there. You couldn't help it if you tried. Everybody in this cow town is going to cream themselves when you show up.”

  Janelle smoothed out an imaginary rough makeup patch under Brandee's right cheekbone, letting her fingers linger on the warm pulse point that she could feel throbbing under her touch. Janelle avoided looking Brandee in the eye right then, afraid that Brandee would read what she was thinking. Janelle wasn't ready to share those innermost thoughts with the blonde-haired beauty. She didn't think that she would ever be able to do that.

  For her part, Brandee enjoyed having someone else apply her stage paint. She made a mental note that, next time, a makeup and hair stylist professional would be part of the traveling retinue.

  I need a bus next time. Probably two buses. I'll keep the hair and makeup person with me at all times, she thought as she looked into the sky and planned her future. We'll buy one of those Marathon tour buses with skylights and a theater system. That way, I can record the shows and listen to them on the way to the next stop. Brandee silently pondered how much better the next tour was going to be. Janelle silently pondered Brandee.

  Diane and Suzi were just getting back to the convention center after doing their own hair and makeup at The Cozy Motel. Suzi had tamed her unruly mop of brown ringlets, having already noticed changes in her hair since she had gotten pregnant.

  “My hair used to be wavy and soft," she told Diane. “Now it just folds up on itself and goes where it wants to go.”

  Diane hadn't been pregnant in over 30 years. In fact, in her 51 years, she had only been married for a total of five years. She had taken two different men into her heart when she was in her 20's, but both of them turned out to have substance abuse issues. Her second husband had also had physical abuse issues in his past that he had tried twice to recreate in his time with Diane. The second time he had pulled that nonsense, he had ended up with a broken arm and no wife. Since then, Diane had remained single. She had occasional boyfriends (or “beaus” as she called them) but she was gun shy about going down an aisle again.

  That didn't mean that she had no experience with pregnant ladies, though. She had acted as a midwife for one of her nieces when the young mother-to-be, unexpectedly early, became a mother-right-now one snowy night in Montana's Bitterroot mountain range. Now, she nodded agreement with Suzi's assessment of her own hair.

  “It's kind of all over the place, isn't it?” she said with a laugh. “This dry air has it all frizzed on top, too. You look like you're about to levitate.”

  Suzi might have taken that as an insult if anyone else had dared to say it. She had learned, though, that Diane had nothing but sweetness in her heart where her friends were concerned, so she took the good-natured ribbing as it was intended. She turned her head this way and that, all with a serious expression on her face.

  “I think I can bring in a Denver station if I'm set just right.”

  The two ladies, gifted musicians but better friends, got to the rear entrance of the convention center. Diane opened the door for Suzi, “After you... Mom.”

  The show that night was a roaring success. The Winnemucca crowd, somewhat older on average than the crowds for which Brandee had been playing, stomped and cheered for the group. The audience was just as supportive of the musicians as they were for Brandee herself, giving Bruce his most extended ovation of the trip in response to his long and difficult keyboard solo.

  Brandee's voice, not being asked to rock the house as much as was usual, was rich and melodic for the most part. Even when that wasn't the case, it didn't turn seem to matter.

  She had recently arranged an acappella version of “Amazing Grace”, which she broke out for public performance on this night. When, in the last verse, Brandee reached back for a little extra from her voice, she found that there was no reserve power available. The Winnemucca crowd, unaware of Brandee's intended blockbu
ster finish and oblivious to her clear soprano voice's faltering capacity, carried the mail for her. They rose to their feet and sang along, sans instrumental backing.

  “When we've been there 10,000 years, bright shining as the sun. We've no less days to sing God's Grace, than when we'd first begun.”

  It was a powerful and holy moment in Winnemucca, Nevada.

  ***

  After the show, the group gathered in the courtyard of The Cozy Motel. They had finally run out of luck in terms of late night dining options, so Jake had to stop at The Uptown Market and picked up some deli sandwiches and soft drinks for the group. Suzi was in mid-sentence when Jake got back with the food.

  “...without even being prompted. That's what was so cool about it! They just got up and sang along!”

  Diane agreed. “It reminded me of the revival meetings that we used to go to back in Indiana when I was a girl. Pretty near the whole county would get together under a big circus tent at the edge of town. The preachers would pace back and forth in front of us and preach up a storm for three hours. Mostly yelling at the girls to stop wearing short shorts and the boys to stop drinkin'. After the preacher worked himself into a righteous sweat, the piano player would hit a chord and we would sing until we couldn't sing anymore. That was the best part!”

  Bruce asked the question that was on everyone's mind.

  “Did it work? Did the girls stop wearing short shorts and the boys stop drinking?”

  Diane laughed. “Nah. The weather was usually pretty hot during those summer revivals. We girls came back the next night wearing what we wanted and the boys were sneaking outside the tent right during the sermon and lifting a jug of home brew. It was some good singing though.”

  That got a good laugh from the rest of the group. The conversation had Jake deep in thought.

  “You guys all know,” he started, before looking at Janelle and adding, “except for you, Janelle,” then continuing to the group at large, “That my dad was a preacher. He used to take us to some of those things like you were talking about, Diane.”

  Jake paused to open a box of Ding Dongs and offer some to the group. Bruce was particularly appreciative of Jake's chocolate dessert cake largesse. Jake continued.

  “You're right too," he said, indicating Diane with a nod of his head. “A lot of it was sound and fury signifying not a whole lot. If that's all my dad did, I would have grown up cynical about the whole thing. That isn't what he did though.

  My dad always said that preaching a sermon is 70-80% of what a minister is known for doing. It's a small percentage of what he actually does, though. He's there when people are married and when they're buried. He tries to be a de facto member of the family for everybody in his congregation, at least as far as they will let him. I admire my dad. He was sincere.”

  There was a few seconds of silence after Jake spoke. Then Diane spoke up quietly.

  “Did you ever want to follow in your father's footsteps, Jake?”

  Jake paused a minute before answering. When he did, there was a faraway look in his eyes.

  “Not really. I never had as much faith as my dad. I have faith in heaven. I just don't have as much faith in the here and now. Maybe that's why I never felt a calling to the pastorate.”

  Diane came around the table and gave Jake a hug. Some of what he had said, Diane already knew, but she could feel the sincerity in the younger man's words. Her heart was touched by what her friend had just said. Now, though, she needed her sleep.

  “I'm off to bed, gang," she said, giving the rest of the group a wave. “We have quite a trip tomorrow. It ends in a casino, too. Good luck at the machines, Sooze.”

  Everyone that wasn't named Bruce had a good laugh at that. Bruce just glowered at the drummer as she disappeared around the corner. He would have to find something to do that would get under that woman's skin just like she got under his.

  Jake looked at his watch. “She's right, you know. We have almost seven hours on the road tomorrow. You guys aren't on stage until 8:15, but we had better get some rest.”

  He looked at Brandee, “Are you ready, honey?”

  Brandee nodded. She was suddenly quite tired. The more relaxed post-show get-together had mellowed her out, so she was ready to find a pillow and get ready for the trip back to California. She gave Janelle a one-armed hug and followed Jake towards their room.

  Inside the room, Jake and Brandee undressed in what had become their customary silence. The easy banter that they used to enjoy appeared to be gone forever. Jake missed those times terribly.

  On a certain level, Brandee missed them too. As she had gotten into the rhythm of being a traveling performing artist, though, she found that her mind was constantly on the prowl. What could make the next show not only unique from all of the others, but better and more spectacular than anything that she had done before? That ambition was what occupied her now.

  As far as her relationship with Jake was concerned, she figured they were okay. She was still waiting for an apology from Jake, but even that didn't have the urgency that it would have had before the tour had begun. Frankly, she had almost forgotten what the original fight had been about.

  When the small ceiling light had been extinguished, Jake put his left arm around his wife and pulled her close to him.

  “I love you, Brandee," he said into her ear.

  “I love you too," she said.

  Jake gave her a more passionate kiss than he had given her in several days. She returned the kiss, but then pulled away.

  “I'm really tired tonight, hon. What if we make a date for tomorrow night?”

  “That's okay, baby," Jake said. “You just rest.”

  “Thank you, sweetie," Brandee said as she rolled over and lay on her left side with her back to Jake. She reached behind her and gave Jake's hand a pat before going almost instantly to sleep.

  Jake lay awake for a little while, staring up into the darkness before finally drifting off to sleep.

  The next day was almost like sleeping in for the people that were riding in the Nissan. An 8:15 show meant that they didn't need to be on site until 4:00 or so. A seven hour drive to get there meant that they didn't have to leave The Cozy Motel until almost 9:00 AM. All four of them were grateful they didn't have to be on the road before the sun rose.

  By the time Jake got to the lobby, Bruce had worked his way through three of the packaged pastries that constituted small motel's continental breakfast. The morning desk clerk was hurriedly putting the breakfast items away before the keyboard artist wiped out the motel's profit margin for the week, but Bruce was oblivious to her task as he perused the sports page of the Winnemucca daily newspaper, The Humboldt Sun.

  “All the news that's fit to print?” asked Jake, co-opting the motto long used by the New York Times .

  “Just checking the baseball scores," Bruce said, tossing the rest of the paper to Jake.

  “Who's your team?” Jake asked.

  “I've been a San Francisco Giants fan all of my life," Bruce answered. “I remember watching Willie McCovey hit home runs at Candlestick Park when I was a kid. Those were my favorite memories. I used to try to hit whiffle balls left-handed in my backyard because Willie was a lefty.”

  “I've always kind of followed St. Louis," Jake said. “When my dad would move from church to church, it was usually the Cards that I could still get on the radio at night. Then, when cable started showing all of the games on TV, it didn't matter where you lived. You could still follow the team that you liked.”

  Just then, Suzi came in the door. She heard what the guys were talking about.

  “Dodger Blue, baby!” she exclaimed. “My brother Paul turned me into a Dodger fan from the time that I was a little girl. He bought me a Dodger hat that Fernando Valenzuela had signed and I was hooked from that time on.”

  “God Almighty, Susan!” Bruce shouted. “It's amazing that I love you to death, because I would hate you otherwise! Dodgers! For all the...”

  Suzi danced away
from her man, taunting him as she twirled in a pirouette in front of the registration desk.

  “It's time for Dodger baseball!” she proclaimed, in a dead on impression of long-time Los Angeles announcer, Vin Scully.

  Bruce looked to Jake for support. “Do you think that she does these things just to torment me?” he asked. “She probably doesn't know anything about baseball. Don't you think that's it?” he implored his friend.

  Jake laughed and shook his head. “She must know enough to know what would bother you. Otherwise, she wouldn't be able to get on your nerves like she always does.”

  Meanwhile, Suzi, with her mean streak in full display, was showing Bruce just how much she did know about the despised men in blue.

  “I never knew whether I liked Davey Lopes or Ron Cey the most. Then there was Orel Hershizer. He was great. The manager was my very, very favorite though. Tommy Lasorda was...”