“Musical respect would be my guess,” she said. “He may not like you personally, but he has to respect you as a musician and a performer, right?”
“I suppose,” Jake said doubtfully.
“Anyway, I thought you would want to know that.”
“Yeah ... thanks, I guess,” Jake said.
Ted called first dibs on the shower. No one disputed this. After all, as the drummer, he was the one who had expended the most energy during the show (Ted had, in fact, lost fifteen pounds since they had started rehearsals just from the sheer aerobic exercise of daily drumming and was now in the best shape he had been in since his early twenties) and the one who had produced the most perspiration.
“Make it quick though,” Pauline told him. “We all need to be showered and ready for the limo to pick us up in ninety minutes. If we don’t leave before the end of Matt’s show, we’ll be stuck here until the crowd completely disperses. With ninety-five thousand people out there, that will literally take hours.”
“Understood,” Ted promised. He then squeezed himself into the tiny bathroom and closed the door.
“All right,” Pauline said, now in manager mode. “Who is going next? You, Jake?”
“Yeah,” he said, nodding. “I’ll go next.”
“Okay,” she said. “Get your clothes and stand by. The moment Ted gets out, you get in and make it quick.”
“Yes, boss,” he told her, giving a little salute.
He went and gathered the faded jeans and t-shirt he had been wearing prior to changing into his stage clothes. He also had a pair of clean underwear, clean socks, and a travel-sized container of Old Spice deodorant. Pauline handed him a laundry bag to put the stage clothes in. When Ted emerged from the bathroom five minutes later, Jake stepped in, wincing a little as his nose picked up the evidence that Ted had moved his bowels in the poorly ventilated room before stepping into his shower.
He turned on the tap, not bothering with the hot water at all, and quickly stripped naked, putting everything into the laundry bag and sealing it shut. He got into the small stall and felt the blessed coolness of the water rinsing the sweat and grime from his skin. He quickly soaped up with a bottle of body wash, rinsed off, and then washed his hair with a small bottle of shampoo. Once that was rinsed free, he resisted the urge to just keep standing under the refreshing spray a little longer and turned off the tap. He quickly dried off using a towel from a large stack sitting on a shelf. Once dry, he slathered deodorant into his armpits and then quickly got dressed.
“All right, Ben, go,” Pauline told the bassist as soon as Jake stepped out of the room.
“Going,” Ben said, stepping inside for his own shower.
Jake dropped his laundry bag on the floor in a spot Pauline had designated. It would stay there until the day after the festival ended, at which point they would collect it before heading home. Laura was sitting in one of the chairs, talking to Celia. She waved him over.
“What’s up?” he asked.
She hooked her finger, indicating he should lean down close to her face. He thought she wanted a kiss but that was not what she wanted. Instead of putting her lips to his face, she moved them near his ear.
“Tomorrow, after the show,” she whispered, “I want you to take me somewhere and fuck me before you take your shower.”
“Oh yeah?” he asked, intrigued.
“Yeah,” she said, her eyes shining lustfully.
He kissed her lightly on her nose. “We’ll make that happen,” he promised.
“What are you two whispering about?” Celia asked with a smile.
“Oh, just household things,” Laura said, blushing a little.
“Yeah,” Jake agreed. “She wanted to know if we should move the entertainment room sectional over to the south part of the room to avoid the afternoon sun glare.”
“Of course,” Celia said, shaking her head. “That is certainly something to whisper about.”
“Hey,” Jake said seriously, “a couple’s sectional orientation is not something that should be discussed in polite company.”
Celia laughed and shook her head a little more.
“Anyway,” Jake said, sitting down to put on his shoes, “I’m going to take a little walk.”
“A walk?” Laura asked. “Where are you going?”
“I thought I’d stroll back to the SVIP and catch the first part of Matt’s show.”
Both ladies gave him a strange look. “Why would you want to do that?” Celia asked.
Jake shrugged. “He watched my show,” he said. “The least I can do is go take a look at his.”
“Well ... okay,” Laura said. “Do you want me to go with you?”
“You haven’t taken your shower yet,” he said.
“I don’t really need a shower,” she said. “I was only up on the stage for five minutes and twelve seconds. That wasn’t enough time to get all sweaty and gross.”
“Oh ... yeah, I guess not,” he said. “But do you really want to see Matt’s show?”
‘No,” she said simply. “Not at all.”
“Then stay here,” he told her. “I just want to check out his first few numbers and I’ll be back long before it’s limo time.”
“Please do,” Celia said. “I do not want to be stuck here until two in the morning.”
“I promise,” he said.
He left the trailer and made the walk back to the SVIP. On the way, he heard one of Matt’s roadies blasting out a few chords as he checked the volume on one of the guitars. The crowd gave its requisite cheer as they heard it. Jake noted that the volume was markedly higher than what he and his band had just performed with, but not nearly as loud as what Pantera had used.
The SVIP section was still quite crowded, though the crowd was a bit different now than it had been when Jake had been up. There was a small kiosk where complimentary beer and wine could be obtained. Jake headed over and got a thirty-two-ounce plastic cup full of icy cold Fosters on tap and then he wandered over and parked himself in pretty much the same place that Matt had parked himself during Jake’s show (though Jake did not know this). Many people in the SVIP, if not all, recognized Jake but no one came up to talk to him. It was an unwritten but well-understood rule that you did not talk to or even approach any famous person in the SVIP unless they spoke to you first.
The roadies finished up their final volume checks and retreated from the stage. The stage lighting was turned off and the house lights, which were mounted on poles around the perimeter of the audience section of the amphitheater, were turned on, which meant only the vague outlines of the drum set and the microphone stands was visible. The clock continued to click onward. The crowd began to get louder and more enthusiastic as showtime grew nearer and nearer. Finally, the house lights slowly dimmed down and faded away, leaving the entire venue in near darkness. Overhead, the stars and a few blinking aircraft lights were plainly visible. The crowd began to cheer louder.
A single spotlight came on, illuminating the front and center microphone stand. One of the MCs stood there.
“Are you ready to hear our headliner for the first night of the Tsunami Sound Festival?” he asked the crowd.
The crowd roared out their approval, that high decibel, ear-splitting wave of applause and cheers.
“I can’t hear you!” the MC told them. “I said, are you ready to hear our headliner for the night?”
Another roar, louder this time.
“That’s better,” the MC told them. “Since you all seem to be ready, let me introduce him. I give you the one and only Matt fucking Tisdale!”
While the crowd roared even more, the spotlight went out, returning darkness to the stage. Jake could see the dim outline of the MC retreating, could see the even dimmer outline of four other figures moving into position. Once they were there, there was a long pause while the crowd continued to cheer. And then suddenly the stage lights clicked on, revealing Matt standing at the center microphone stand, his iconic black Stratocaster in his hands, his right foot making adjustments to a long chain of effects pedals at the base of the stand. A secondary guitarist stood on his left. A bass player stood on his right. The drummer sat behind a ridiculously large set just behind them all. An uncomfortable amount of time passed as Matt continued to stomp on pedals to get the sound he wanted while the others just stood there in silence. Jake was close enough to see an expression of clear annoyance on Matt’s face. Someone had not waited for their cue and turned on the lights too soon, before the band was entirely ready.