One Night With a Rock Star

by Chana Keefer

  “I’ll try,” I managed as Jeremiah raced off on his errand pulling a reluctant Chloe by the hand.

  As their footsteps echoed down the hall, I dabbed at my dripping chin.

  “Are you alright? “

  “I’m fine,” I managed. “Just don’t offer me any candy.”

  “That’s the happiest Miah’s been while NOT endangering his life so we owe you a debt of gratitude. Unfortunately, we tend to be so busy this time of day he is allowed entirely too much freedom.”

  “Jerky-eye?”

  “Oh, that. Well, when he was two and someone said, ‘It’s Uncle Sky,’ his pronunciation of ‘Jerky-Eye’ delighted everyone so much I’ve been stuck with it ever since.”

  He paused, leaning his head to one side in near-perfect imitation of Jeremiah’s earlier expression. “Perhaps I could ask a question of my own.”

  Question? No questions please.

  “I know it might take you away from other duties and you’re not dressed as a proper nanny, but are you available to spend perhaps the next half hour with Miah?” He glanced at his watch. “I’m required at the moment for a sound check and it would help us a great deal to know he’s looked after.”

  Fear evaporated making me feel I could float to the ceiling.

  “The next half hour is all yours.”

  “Excellent! Come with me.” He took a firm grip on my left elbow.

  I followed my blissful elbow as he guided me down several corridors and past a few curious stares. Yeah, as if they’ll ask for my credentials now. I couldn’t help but gloat to myself.

  “Miah’s father, James, usually commissions a nanny to keep him out of trouble, but she has a nasty case of food poisoning, so you, my dear, are a bit of a godsend.”

  “That’s hard to believe.” He said “my dear!” I took mental notes of everything that would be added to my journal later, from the decisive click of his heels on the concrete to a little mole close to his right ear. I tried not to stare but felt this mirage would vanish if I didn’t keep a close eye on it.

  “What does Jeremiah usually do during your sound check?”

  “Oh the sound check is his favorite part. He enjoys technical problems. I once swallowed a bug during a check for an open-air venue and he insists it was my finest performance to date.”

  I walked as if on a cloud, hardly daring to breathe for fear I would somehow break the spell. I wanted to kiss Jeremiah for his hoodlum ways.

  “Here we are.” He opened a door through which voices could be heard. Ah! This was where our earlier chase had begun. I could only guess I was entering a typical “green room” where performers relax before a show. Food lined a table against the far wall and several persons of import—at least I knew for sure they were more important than I—lined the rest of the room. It appeared some furniture and even wall hangings had been added to lend a homier feel.

  I recognized several musicians who performed with Sky on a regular basis. Les James, Adam Griggs, Jake Hargrave—only the greatest rhythm section available—lounged on the couch and chairs to the left. I knew my 16-year-old brother, the aspiring drummer, would have gladly offered his right… anything… to be in this room. But, as every head turned to greet Sky, and appraise me from head to toe, I couldn’t have felt more out-of-place entering a men’s locker room before the big game.

  Busy Clipboard Guy bustled across the room to address Sky with a voice as soothing as machine-gun fire.

  “There you are. Sound check in two?”

  “Wally Sypes, allow me to introduce you to Miss… Esther.” Sky flourished a hand in my direction. “She’s going to keep an eye on Miah.”

  Wally cast a distracted gaze in my direction, gave a detached once-over that informed loud and clear his attractions did not lie along the female persuasion, and returned his attention to the clipboard.

  “That’s Es-ther,” I emphasized, reaching for the un-offered hand. “It’s nice to meet you.” Even nobodies have their pride.

  He raised an eyebrow, shifted his clipboard to his side, took my hand and brought it to his lips. “Es-ther.” He delivered a little peck before bolting out the door, once more arguing with his headset.

  “Astonishing.” Sky gave me a look of wonder as Chloe approached in a rush. “He usually dislikes everyone. Now,” he continued, “I must leave you in the capable hands of James who I hope still knows the whereabouts of Miah.”

  A man came toward us, resembling Sky as far as height and build, but slightly older.

  “James, meet Esther, our nanny replacement.”

  James reached to shake my hand. “Wonderful. But how much time can you give us before you join the dancers?”

  “I’m a sort of an… understudy tonight.” I winced at the thought of lightning striking me on the spot. “I should be able to help as long as you need me.” Gauging by his smile of relief, it had worked.

  James turned to scan the room. “Miah!”

  A blond head popped up from behind the buffet table and Jeremiah scrambled to dislodge himself. “Esther!” he cried, as he bounded toward me with bulging pockets.

  I turned to find that Sky had gone. After all, he was busy and who was I? Oh well, the bright side was I wasn’t getting kicked out. I forced myself to focus on my eight-year-old task-at-hand. If he got dangerous when he was bored, I’d just have to be as entertaining as possible.

  James took his leave after reminding Miah to keep his feet on the ground. As Adam Griggs, Sky’s keyboardist, passed he gave Jeremiah’s head a light slap. “Ya gotta watch heem,” he warned with a Jamaican flare. “Dees one is nuttin’ but trouble.”

  I laughed as they circled each other. “You make trouble for me, Grasshopper?” Adam continued moving his lips like a poorly overdubbed movie.

  “You have no honor!” Jeremiah barked as they imitated several Bruce Lee moves before Adam headed out the door and Jeremiah turned to a bowl of M & Ms that he emptied into a pocket of his cargo pants.

  I steered his attention to a ham sandwich, then we headed to find a seat for the sound check. “I like to be close enough to make faces if Jerky-eye looks at me,” Jeremiah informed. “If I’m out there,” he gestured to the ocean of arena seating, “the lights are too bright.”

  Miah brought plastic crates for our seats and we settled in at the side of the stage.

  The band was going through a version of Sky’s “Velvet Midnight” that included a local chamber orchestra. Jeremiah said a ballerina would perform during that part of the show and I nodded, remembering that element in the song’s video. I was in heaven watching Sky interact and joke with the others. During an ear-splitting episode of feedback that caused us to clap hands to our ears, he glanced our way for a grimace as Jeremiah cheered.

  At one point, when Miah pointed out the catwalks far above, I happened to catch a glimpse of Marti, mouth and eyes gaping from the second row of audience seats. The question marks in her baby blues demanded explanation so, as Sky and band ironed out tricky measures with the cellist, I made my way to her with Jeremiah in tow, hoping my significant eye-lock begging for disgression would work.

  “Jeremiah, this is my friend, Marti. Marti, Jeremiah. He’s looking after me while his dad works.”

  “So who’s your dad, Jeremiah?” Marti looked toward some of the technical crew.

  “That one there.” Jeremiah pointed at James who was having a discussion with Wally. “And that’s my Jerky-eye.” He proudly gestured toward Sky at center stage.

  Marti’s wide eyes looked ready to pop.

  “Hey Jeremiah, wait here for a second, okay?”

  I deposited Jeremiah in a seat and turned toward my dumbfounded friend.

  “What’s going on?” she hissed. “I thought you’d been kicked out.”

  Plastering on a calm smile I led her further away. “I sort of stumbled into the restricted area and met Jeremiah which turned into meeting Sky and… ”

  “Ohmigosh. You’ve met him!” She shrieked.

  “Shhh.�
�� I gave a quick rundown of the past hour while Jeremiah began walking tightrope-style from chair arm to chair arm.

  “So how’re you?”

  She shook her head in amazement. “Not as good as you, I mean, you actually talked to ‘im?”

  “Listen, I’ve gotta stay with Jeremiah. Wanna come?”

  “I’d better not. Hate to jinx it for you, but,” she turned to me with sparkling eyes, “please remember your best friend if there’s a chance to introduce, okay?” She started off in the opposite direction.

  I coaxed Jeremiah from his chair-arm perch and we made our way back to our private-crate seating.

  Sky stepped off-stage while the rest of the band ran through “Velvet Midnight” again.

  Jeremiah started an exaggerated version of the ballet routine for the song but when he attempted a leap he tripped and crashed over a huge light configuration.

  I pulled him as far from danger as possible.

  Swaths of fabric hung from on high, creating a surreal, artistic backdrop. Between two of the swaths I found our own private dance studio where we were shielded from sight.

  “Watch this.” Jeremiah launched into a complicated sort of robot shimmy. “This chap on a street corner in San Francisco taught me.”

  It looked fun so we started lesson one of how to dance “Frisco” style. Jeremiah laughed at my poor attempts.

  Truth was, I loved to dance and had trained in ballet, tap and jazz as a kid, but eventually faced the hard reality; Julliard was never gonna call.

  “Okay now, let’s put it all together.” I dug back to bygone dance recitals to a ballet pirouette followed by some tap, some hot moves from an old drill team routine, then capped it off with my horrible “Frisco Shimmy.” By the time I finished, Jeremiah was squealing with laughter and I was out of breath as I turned to face… Wally… clipboard in hand.

  “Personally,” said Wally, as he laid aside his clipboard and headset, “I prefer classic ballroom.” He bowed, “May I?” Dumbfounded, I took his outstretched hand.

  There was no time to think. Instinct was the key as Wally’s pressure on my back worked like a skilled puppeteer, guiding, releasing, letting me know a split-second before what was required. I had never been trained in ballroom dancing but that didn’t matter. His confidence made me look good, feel good and trustingly follow his lead.

  I concentrated so hard, I hardly realized we moved into view of the musicians and crew. The band swung into a Latin beat and Wally picked up the pace, pulling me closer for some smooth turns and even a sweeping layback. My carefully coifed hair came loose but I was having too much fun to care.

  He spoke in my ear, “Now for our big finish. We’ll end with a dip. Don’t worry. I’ll catch you. Three turns… one, two… now!”

  I laid across Wally’s knee. A complete hush fell for a split second followed by a spattering of applause, laughter and whistles. Wally pulled me to my feet, “We’re a hit.”

  He stepped to one side with a bow and turned to me while I curtsied. As the applause faded, he gave me a quick peck on the cheek, shrugged his shoulders with a sigh, and bellowed, “Right, now, back to work!” He led me back to Jeremiah who clapped and whistled with gusto.

  I stood in a rosy haze as Wally raced away with his clipboard. Funny that a man of his obvious leanings should make me feel more feminine than ever.

  As James came to check on Jeremiah, I excused myself to visit the ladies’ room. I needed a moment to pull myself together. Besides, one honest dancer could blow my cover. I glimpsed Marti holding a hand over her smiling mouth, shaking her head.

  I was almost to the forbidden curtain, my backpack held in front of me, when my heel caught a pile of cords that had yet to be secured. In one painful split second, I sprawled flat. Obviously, without Wally’s aid, walking was beyond me. Mortified, I peeled myself off the floor and limped to the vending room where I slid into the familiar plastic chair and discovered two bruised, scuffed elbows and a stocking torn at the knee. Lucky for me my backpack had broken the fall. The dress appeared unscathed too. Better my elbows than a ripped dress.

  I checked my hair. Yep, the do was a total loss, so I took out the last hairpin and raked my hands through.

  According to the clock on the wall it was an hour and a half to show time. My emotions had run the gamut from stark terror to jubilation in such a short time. I put my head into my arms for a quick moment of peace before having to appear “responsible” with Jeremiah.

  I imagined all those honest, paying fans on their way to fill the auditorium who had no clue about the drama going on in my little world. By tomorrow, my moment in the spotlight would be forgotten. But I had lived that moment, and it felt really good.

  “Are you alright?” I heard that voice as a large curl was lifted away from my face.

  Blue-gray eyes were three inches from mine. My hand shot to tug at the neckline of my gown and I sat up.

  “That was quite a performance.” He smiled. “Especially the last bit. I was surprised to see you walk away.”

  “You saw that? Perfect.” Heat flushed my cheeks. “Just a bruised…” I rubbed my scuffed elbow, “…ego.”

  “Chloe, can you get her something for this?”

  “Sure.” His assistant stepped toward the doorway and requested first aid over the headset.

  “You were fabulous,” he stated as he inspected my arm. “I’ve rarely seen Wally smile, now you’ve turned him into Fred Astaire.” He shook his head and chuckled. “If I hadn’t seen it for myself I never would have believed it.”

  “It was all Wally,” I stammered. “I just stumbled along for the ride.” I retrieved my elbow. “It’s fine.” I tried to cover my awkwardness by moving toward the water fountain only to have my earlier spitting fiasco come back to mind. I turned toward the door where I could see Chloe waiting for Sky. “I really should be getting back to Jeremiah.”

  “Miah’s with James now, and anyway, I wanted to ask something.”

  I turned to listen, my hand toying with the expired backstage pass.

  “Where were you planning to sit for the show?” he asked.

  Oh no. One more panic attack…

  “Um, well, I don’t… don’t really… ” I stammered.

  “Chloe, is there still room on the fourth row?” She nodded. “Anyway, it’s yours if you’d like.”

  My jaw dropped. “But, why?”

  “Well, we’re grateful to you for looking after Miah. He’s happy and he stayed off the catwalks. Besides,” he added with a smile, “you’ve already danced for your supper, so to speak. Call it a reward.”

  “I’d hate to see an excellent seat go to waste.”

  “Speaking of supper, we’re going to eat now. You’re welcome to join us.”

  “If it’s okay… ” I hesitated.

  “I say it’s okay.”

  Spoken like a man used to getting his way.

  “Um, I’ll just run tell my friend so she won’t worry.” I tried and failed to come up with a smooth way to wrangle an invitation for Marti.

  “Tell her to join us.”

  Wow. Did he read minds too? I put a hand to my mouth as joy bubbled up when I thought of Marti’s reaction to this news. I wanted to say “Thank you,” but everything queuing on my tongue involved yelps and shrieks so I bit my lip and grinned.

  Sky watched me with an expression I couldn’t read, which was totally unfair since I felt like an open book. He reached out and touched my cheek. I froze as his eyes roved over my face.

  “Dazzling,” he muttered. Then his hand dropped and he turned and walked down the hallway leaving me wondering if I had imagined it. But the warm imprint of his hand on my cheek said otherwise.

  Chloe stepped forward to administer ointment and a Band-Aid. She needn’t have bothered. I felt nothing but the spot on my cheek. “Thank you. I feel so… ” The word “stupid” died on my lips as she pulled two backstage passes from her pocket and handed them to me with just the slightest smile. I stood, gapi
ng at the treasure in my hand, as she rushed to catch up with Sky.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  “I can’t believe it! I can’t believe it! You mean to tell me we’re invited to be his guests? Ohmigosh! I’m gonna die! Right here, that’s it, I’m dyin’!” Marti turned to me with adoring eyes, “You, Esther Collins, are the best friend ever!” She was sometimes prone to exaggeration, but this time, I had to agree.

  She stepped back and looked me over. “I must say, you chose the absolute best moment of your life ta bloom. And what was up with that dance? You never told me you could do that!” She chattered on not waiting for a reply. “It certainly pays to be best friends with the belle of the ball. Now, I’m gonna do you a favor. Sit.” she barked as if commanding a dog. Marti was a master-primper and soon had my unruly hair back under control with one perfectly placed hairpin. “I like the loose, flowing look on you, and so, obviously, does someone else,” she sang.

  “Please, Marti,” I begged, “at least one of us needs to keep her feet on the ground.”

  “Come on, Cinderella.” She emphasized each word. “We are goin’ to have the time of our lives. Would you just relax and enjoy for once?”

  I grinned back. “I can’t believe it! I can’t believe it!” I imitated then registered a final plea. “I really don’t want to come across as a giddy school girl, even if that’s exactly what I am.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Yeah. Good plan. Be as boring as humanly possible. Now let’s go!”

  We passed through the forbidden curtain with a great deal more confidence this time and followed the now-familiar path to our intended destination—dinner—with a superstar and his pals.

  I peeked in the door, scanning the room until I saw Sky talking to James. He looked up as we entered and came across with Chloe following. I introduced him to a speechless Marti—a side of her I’d never seen before.

  My entrance caused a bit of commotion as whistles, catcalls and comments like, “Hey Wally, it’s your girl!” played about the room.

  “Ignore them, they’re idiots.” Sky led us toward the food.