by Mel Gough
“Sure.” She hefted her clipboard. “I’m fully in character. You do your thing.”
Phil gave her a distracted smile and answered his still ringing phone. “Finally!” He hurried away, back into the bowels of the venue.
Carrie looked around. How did she get from behind the scenes back into the main space of the arena? Clutching her Access All Areas badge, she went to search for a gap in the set-up. She yearned to flash her own badge at the security people she encountered, but that would defeat the purpose.
When she finally found her way through a maze of black fabric and barriers, the tour manager was nowhere to be seen. Squaring her shoulders, Carrie went to mingle with the tour crew. She introduced herself as Phil’s new assistant and asked a few questions that came to her about the tour and the venue.
Trying to blend into the background, she kept her head down and observed. The crew seemed like a well-oiled machine and everyone moved with intent through what seemed an organized chaos. Bit by bit, the stage began to look like Carrie, with her limited experience, had expected. She wandered among the different groups, watching and listening to the instructions they shouted to each other. Now and then someone asked her to convey a message to Phil. Her presence soon seemed to be taken for granted, and for a couple of hours she was kept busy with her assumed role. She didn’t spot Tom Myers again.
Carrie sat in a seat toward the back of the first block of seats when something bumped into her legs. She looked down. A scrawny guy, barely more than a kid, looked up sheepishly, a roll of duct tape in his hand. “Sorry about that.” He indicated the cables running under the seats. “Can I just…”
“Sure.” Carrie got up so he could tape the section of cable into place under the chairs. He plugged the end of the cables into a socket below the floor and taped a lid over that. Then he got to his feet.
“Thanks. You new?”
Carrie nodded. “Today’s my first day. Phil brought me down to help with his workload. He’s got a lot on his plate now.”
The youth nodded thoughtfully. “It’s fucking terrible, what happened to Barry.”
“Was he good to work for?”
The boy shrugged. “I only met him a couple of times, but he seemed nice. I’m real sorry he had to go like that.” He gave a small shudder. A kid not fascinated with the macabre. Interesting. He held out his hand. “I’m Toby.”
“Carrie.” They shook. She asked as if merely curious, “What’s the crew thinking about Phil being in charge now?”
“Oh, he’s all right. He was there when they hired our crew for the tour. Bought a drink for all of us once Barry had made the decision.” He leaned closer. “And him and Tom get along, which is a relief.”
Carrie raised an eyebrow. “Tom and Barry didn’t?”
Toby seemed to be warming to the gossip. Getting asked questions about his bosses had to be more interesting than laying cables. “Dunno, Tom just always had this face on when Barry was around, like something had pissed him off. But then, he’s a bit of a miserable bast—”
“Toby!”
The kid flinched. Tom came stomping up the center aisle. He stopped at the opposite side of the row. “There’s a whole bunch of loose shit over that end.” He pointed at the side of the stage. “We pay you to stick cables to the floor, not to take a fucking coffee break every five minutes. Get to it!”
Toby quivered. “Sure thing.” He threw Carrie a nervous look, then hurried away.
Tom glared at her. Carrie held his gaze across the distance. It was hard to tell from here, but there seemed to be real anger on the hard-jawed face. She remembered that, as Phil’s assistant, she was technically staff and he was in charge. She quickly looked down at her clipboard.
“Tell Phil I need to talk to him.” Tom stomped off after Toby. Carrie hoped the kid knew enough to stay out of that guy’s way.
She went backstage, more to get out of the line of fire than to relay Tom’s message. When she couldn’t find Phil, she went back into the hall. The band was just climbing onto the stage. They picked up their instruments. After spending time with them, Carrie’s curiosity about their music was piqued, so she found a seat.
Two days ago, she’d barely even heard the name Thistle Hearts. She couldn’t have named a single song. And she had no idea whether she’d like their music. It wasn’t that she didn’t like rock, but she hadn’t paid much attention to who was in and who was out since her teenage years.
Jay took the lead. He gathered the other men around him and spoke for a couple of minutes in a low voice. They hugged, and took up their places, and the first chords rang through the empty arena.
The guys ’round here seem only jocks
They give you looks but are they crooks
I just laugh and saunter on
Gorgeous boys dressed to the nines
Flittering across the lanes
Makes me wonder who has made the rules here
The old gal with the darkened eyes
Keeps the days of long before
Her old man will wait up all the night
But it is hard to make the cut
And she keeps hold of her old mutt
It’s sunset in NoHo
Sunset in NoHo
Everyone’s got something to say
No one’s wanting to be lonely
He’s too good to give me up
To her surprise Carrie found that she had goose bumps. Had she been asked to describe their style, she would’ve said they were a cross between the Eagles and Queen, at least as far as she remembered her bands.
After a few fast numbers that made Carrie tap her foot, they played a couple of slow songs, and they went straight to Carrie’s heart. There was a yearning in them, a love that reflected what she now knew about the band. Or maybe, that was just conjecture.
Lou and Jay were both on the microphone. Lou had a beautiful singing voice, and for the first time Carrie paid him proper attention. He’d been so quiet in their encounters that it was easy to forget he was even there. But now he glowed from the inside out. Younger by five or six years than Jay, he was a lot shorter and slighter than the other two. His eyes remained closed a lot of the time he sang, and the stage lighting brought out his delicate features in an interesting contrast to Jay’s strong face and brooding good looks.
And yet, he and Jay were perfect together in every way. The chemistry between them was off the charts and magnified the appeal of the music. Carrie was no expert, but the way they laid the groundwork for each other as they played was truly masterful. Lou had a guitar, Jay sang, and they did so magnificently. Sometimes one or both of them would take off the instruments and brought Spider and Ant to the fore with their keyboard and second guitar as Jay and Lou sang. Corey, seated at the drum kit, grinned and bobbed along to the music, the happiest Carrie had seen him so far. On the last song, their chemistry was off the chart. They had eyes for nothing but each other.
If I am crazy for you
Will you be there for me too
And let me hold your hand
Cause I’ve felt this way before
And I know that this is more
I know it can be
When I take your hand in mine
I will be there
For all of the time
Then when you lie down next to me
You give me your heart
When they finished, Jay came to the side of the stage to put his bass on its stand. He looked directly at Carrie, and her heart did a funny little flip. His face was flushed, and for the first time since they’d met, he looked truly happy. Carrie gave him a thumbs-up. It wasn’t her style, but when he grinned and waved, she was glad she’d done it. Maybe it was the music, but at that moment, she would’ve done whatever it took to keep that expression on his face forever.
Carrie’s phone buzzed in her pocket. It was Trixie. With a sinking feeling she realized that she hadn’t spared her kid a thought since getting to the Four Seasons. She hurried backstage into an empty corridor before tak
ing the call. Down here, the noise of the band and crew shifting equipment subsided enough to carry on a conversation.
“Hey, baby girl, how’s tricks?” She winced at her forced jolliness, born from her guilty conscience.
“Hey, Mom.” The girl sounded normal. She was probably trying to make Carrie forget her outburst from the last time they’d talked. “Gram’s making meatloaf.”
“Oh, yummy! Save me a slice, huh?” Carrie’s stomach growled. She’d left the hotel without breakfast, and now it was already past two. The only sustenance she’d had that day was the coffee with Jay. She could picture her mother setting the table, almost smell the cooking meat. “What have you been up to?”
“Oh, just school. It’s boring.” Trixie was in fact a good student, but recently she’d started to pretend not to care for class. As long as her grades didn’t suffer under that attitude, Carrie was content to ascribe it to teenage moodiness. “Hey, Mom?” Trixie’s tone was hesitant.
“Hm?”
“Since you didn’t take your vacation this week, maybe you can come next week instead? We’re doing the play on Wednesday.”
More guilt twisted Carrie’s gut. “Not sure I can get away, honey. There’ll be a lot of work to catch up with when I get back to the office.”
Nothing but silence greeted that announcement. Even though school was currently boring, the theater club was still Trixie’s greatest passion.
“I’ll come as soon as I can get away, okay? I just can’t promise it’ll be for the play.” That wasn’t what her daughter wanted to hear, but there wasn’t much Carrie could do about it.
“Sure. Whatever.”
“I’m really sorry, baby. I wish I could come.” Tears were threatening, but Carrie forced them back.
“I know, Mom. Listen, I gotta go. Lunch’s ready. I’ll speak to you later, okay?”
“Okay. Bye, baby girl.”
Carrie slipped her phone back into her pocket. She pressed the heels of her hands hard into her stinging eyes.
“It’s hard being away from them.”
Carrie spun around. Corey stood a few yards down the corridor, regarding her with a knowing expression. Carrie’s first instinct was irritation. What right did he have to listen in on her conversations?
Her face must’ve shown her thoughts. He raised his hands and said in a placatory tone, “I wasn’t eavesdropping, I just heard you say goodbye.” He lowered his voice. “I miss my daughter, too.” He glanced away, his expression one of pain.
“Mine lives with my mother,” Carrie found herself saying. “It’s a good arrangement, only sometimes—” She broke off.
He nodded. “Look, I didn’t mean to sneak up on you, I just wanted to talk.”
As much as she’d tried to avoid him all day, now that he stood before her Carrie couldn’t remember why she’d done that. He didn’t deserve her silent treatment.
Corey pointed at a door across the corridor. “This is me.”
Carrie followed him into a dressing room. It was smaller than the one Jay and Lou shared, but it also held one of those deep, squishy sofas. Pillows and blankets lay piled at one end, and food was set out on a small foldaway table next to a large vanity mirror.
Once Corey had shifted a pile of clothes from the sofa, he motioned Carrie to sit. He took the canvas chair opposite. He waved at the food and drinks. “D’you want to join me for lunch?”
Even though Carrie’s stomach was growling, she shook her head. “Look, I’m sorry I ran out on you this morning.”
He waved that away. “I didn’t get you in here to berate you. I wanted to tell you it’s okay. I understand. Flings aren’t what you do. You let yourself be tempted because it was new and exciting.” He grinned his boyish grin. “And you couldn’t resist.”
That stumped her. It was all true. When she was working, most men were intimidated by her. She didn’t have a lot of free time, so fitting in even a one-night-stand wasn’t easy. Any weakness in this job could be deadly. She’d exposed herself by going to his room, and she’d tried to protect herself by running away that morning. It hadn’t worked in the way she’d planned, but she no longer felt vulnerable.
Corey’s indifference to who she was had been part of the attraction. No, that wasn’t right. He hadn’t been indifferent. He’d made a pass at her despite, maybe even because of, who she was. Maybe it had been a dare with himself, a challenge he couldn’t resist. Whatever his motivation, he hadn’t set her up, or tricked her.
He read her mind again. “I didn’t have any ulterior motives. I liked you, and I wanted company. The Barry thing really rattled me—” He broke off and shook his head as if to clear his thoughts. “Anyway, I like people, and a challenge.” He grinned. It was endearing, showing off his dimples.
Carrie gave a small laugh. “I feel bad for running away. I should’ve talked to you. You’re right. The one-night-stand thing, it’s not…not something I have a lot of experience with.”
He leaned forward. “I won’t tell anyone, I promise. If you’re worried that you compromised yourself, don’t be. Nobody will know.” He looked at her intently, no longer grinning. “I like you. It was nice of you to listen to me, and it was nice not to be alone. This life.” He motioned at the room. “I’ve not always handled it as well as I could’ve. There aren’t many people left who care enough about me to listen to me blubber. I just wanted to say, thank you.” He looked down, then threw her a glance from under his lashes. “I hope we can be friends?”
Carrie nodded instantly. “Of course we can be friends.”
His expression brightened again. “Great. In that case, stay for lunch. There’s lots and eating is much better with company.”
Carrie considered. She stretched and peered at the dishes. “Is that lasagna?”
He got up. “Looks like it. You want some of that?”
She hesitated again, but then her stomach growled loudly. She laughed. “Oh, all right. Yes, lasagna please. And some salad, for my food sins.”
She shrugged out of the heavy coat and went to hang it on the coat hanger by the door. As gorgeous as it was, she’d been sweltering in it all day. Corey, with a plate heaped with food, stared at her midriff. “I keep forgetting.”
Carrie pushed the Glock around until it was hidden behind her back. Right now, she wished she could forget it too. She held out a hand for the plate. “Let’s eat.”
10
After they’d eaten, Corey stretched, yawning. “I’m not as young as I was.” He grinned apologetically. “That run-through’s taken it out of me.” He wasn’t exaggerating—he looked dead tired.
“And here was me thinking rock-and-roll was burning the candles on both ends.”
He laughed, and his dimples gave Carrie the overwhelming urge to kiss him. She resisted with all her willpower.
“Sure, I’ll be ready to party all night as soon as I had my disco nap.”
That was her cue. “I’ll leave you to it.”
He led her to the door, and before she could disappear through it, he gave her a peck on the cheek.
Carrie ran into Phil halfway up the corridor. He smirked, but said nothing. Had he been waiting for her to emerge? She raised her eyebrows at him and Phil blushed. “I wanted to make sure you got some lunch.”
“I did, thank you.”
“There’s not much to do until the meet-and-greet. I’m off to run some errands. You’re welcome to use my room to rest, or work or whatever.” He nodded down into the catacombs.
This was a surprisingly kind offer. Carrie felt bad for thinking he’d been spying on her. “That’d be good, thanks.”
“Come on, I’ll take you.” They walked down the corridor.
Carrie took the opportunity to ask a question she’d been wondering about. “What’s this meet-and-greet exactly?”
Phil huffed. “One of Barry’s money making schemes. Apparently all the bands do it nowadays.” When Carrie looked at him blankly he elaborated, “Two dozen screeching girls get to spend an h
our pawing the guys. They pay two grand each, and there’s champagne.”
Carrie frowned. “Girls? Surely there aren’t that many young fans left after fifteen years.”
Phil shrugged. “Age is but a number with groupies. You’ll see.” He stopped in front of a door. “This is me. Well, it was Barry’s, but he doesn’t need it anymore…” He blushed, coughed.
Another question came back to Carrie. “Did Barry leave his laptop here?”
Phil frowned. “It’s not in there now. I’ve not had time to use this room since it all…happened, but I had a look earlier today, and there was nothing.”
“All right.” Carrie smiled. She preferred it if he didn’t concern himself too much with the investigation. “Thanks for letting me stay here.”
“No problem.” He opened the door for her. It wasn’t locked. “I’ll be an hour or so. If the venue burns down, call me. And help yourself to anything from the refrigerator.”
Barry’s—now Phil’s—room was smaller than the band’s dressing rooms. It held a sofa, a refrigerator and a desk. Dusty light filtered in through a narrow horizontal window high up in the wall. There were no personal effects anywhere.
Carrie got a Coke, and a handful of Hershey’s Kisses from a bowl, then sat on the sofa. Maybe she could take a nap too. But she hadn’t slept during the day since Trixie had been a newborn. And she wasn’t tired. As much as she’d freaked out when she’d found herself in Corey’s bed, her sleep there had been deep and undisturbed.
She pulled out her notebook and pen, and scribbled down her observations from the day.
But after a few sentences summarizing what Toby had told her, she dropped the pen. She’d achieved nothing in her undercover role. A bead of sweat rolled down her back, despite the air conditioning. That damn coat! But she didn’t want to take it off again. The Glock had freaked out enough people.
She got to her feet, nervous energy propelling her to pace. She thought back over the conversations she’d overheard among the crew. Had there been anything of use? Barry had been mentioned a fair few times, but the roadies had just been discussing his murder in awed and distraught tones.