Swimming Through the Dawn

by R. P. Rioux

  Marta turned away from watching the movie through the projection booth window, "Did you say something?" The projectors were loud. Even with the soundtrack turned low, it was difficult to hear a normal conversation in the booth, especially from across the room.

  "Naw. Sorry. Nevermind."

  Marta shrugged her shoulders and returned to watching the film. That was the second crew cancelation this week. Steve wondered how he'd find replacements at this late date.

  8:28 P.M. Steve: For real? Did you tell Bryan?

  He received no response. Steve waited a couple more minutes but eventually had to get ready for another reel change. This time Marta switched projectors too soon, allowing the number 2 from the leader countdown to be shown on the screen. "Damn, I'm sorry."

  "Remember to wait for the second cue dot." He received another text. Steve presumed it was Alejandra's response. "That's why we check the reels beforehand to learn what scenes they appear in. If the audience ever notices the projectionist, it means you blew it."

  Marta nodded and got to work, threading the next reel.

  "Let me know when you're ready." He went to check the new text. It was from Bryan, not Alejandra.

  8:34 P.M. Bryan: Steve, Scottsdale's too far. Gotta cancel. Sorry. Better 2 know sooner than l8er.

  "What is going on?"

  Marta looked at him, shouting, "Soon, I'll be ready."

  Steve gave her the thumbs-up sign. First Joao, then Bryan and Alejandra. The trio constituted his entire stylist team. He knew trouble was brewing. This unexpected turn of events represented a severe blow to his production.

  "Okay, ready," Marta stated.

  Steve went to recheck the projector. He wouldn't have time to deal with cancelations tonight anyway. Once his shift was over, he was headed to the dance studio for an important meeting.

  * * *

  The time had come for Steve to evaluate what would form the foundation of his music video. Much of his class grade would depend on what he would see in the next few minutes. All parties had agreed on several vague concepts, but scarce information had been provided on what the actual dance would look like. Even top-quality cinematography and editing would be wasted if the underlying content was uninteresting or amateurish. He was gambling his reputation that Danya and Made in Heaven would deliver an impressive dance. The way his evening was going, Steve wasn't hopeful.

  "Danya couldn't stay," reported Vanessa the moment he walked into the dance studio. "She said you better not think of changing a single thing."

  "We'll see," Steve responded. "Let's hope I won't need to." He wasn't in the mood to start arguing with Danya, or Vanessa, after what happened. While leaning against the mirrored wall, Steve prepared himself for disappointment.

  All seven performers took positions in a single line across the middle of the room, standing an arm's length apart from each other. As the music played, they broke into the first of what Danya had conceived as an ever-shifting series of patterns. The root formation was the full group in echelon, with the three tallest dancers, Mindy, June, and Vanessa, taking the three foremost spots front and center. In contrast, the two shortest ones, Erin and Heather, formed the ends further back. This forced perspective enhanced the visual impact.

  From this root formation, a series of subsidiary patterns emerged, some symmetrical, while others taking advantage of the odd numbers to isolate one, two, or three dancers from the lead group. Regularly, the pattern would reset. Formations switched every few seconds. The pacing gave the dancers enough time to perform one or more dance movements before moving on to the next position.

  Each member would typically occupy the center when it was their turn to sing. The shifts and positional changes were so well planned and rehearsed, each transition required but a step or two to completely alter the visual impact. The action looked effortless, though Steve imagined the practice required to perfect it was staggering.

  Heather explained she wanted the choreography to be impactful without requiring exhausting movements that would detract from singing, which they intended to do live. What Danya produced did precisely that. The choreography focused less on broad, showy, athletic, and improvised gestures in favor of relatively small and precise details. These were carefully coordinated to be done in unison, or as individual parts of an overall tableau.

  All told, the results were excellent. The dance was full of energy, possessing a gracefulness despite the song itself emphasizing rhythm. Perhaps because of the contrast, the choreography and music worked beautifully together.

  When "Feel the Heat" ended, the dancers remained frozen in what was later dubbed the rose position. Steve said nothing, but dropped his head and covered his eyes with his hands. This reaction prompted an alarmed response. The clattering of seven pairs of heels on the wood floor signaled their approach. "What's wrong with it?" demanded an alarmed Vanessa.

  He raised his eyes to see the girls gathered around, looks of concern on their faces as they awaited an explanation. "What's wrong with it?" he asked. "That's the most awesome thing I've ever seen in my life."

  34

  Erin

  The idea was Mindy's. Everyone had embraced it. With the moment now upon them, however, Erin was having second thoughts. The Griffith Park Love-In, as it had been dubbed, was the first of four planned guerilla concerts scheduled for Saturday. Weather was once again spectacular. The parks and plazas of Los Angeles would be filled with droves of outdoor pleasure seekers. Mindy saw it as an excellent opportunity to grow the Made in Heaven audience for the price of a song, or four. Her band WeR5 had used this technique in their early days to spread the word, and she figured it wouldn't hurt to employ the strategy again. Looking at the scene before her, Erin was having a hard time picturing how this entire operation would work.

  They stood in a patch of grass next to the Astronomer's Monument on the lawn of the Griffith Park Observatory. At their feet were three guitar cases, a djembe, and a boombox. The plan was to travel light, find a spot, perform four songs, and leave before anybody official-looking caught wind of what they were doing. Steve had volunteered to help wherever he could, and two of Grace's friends from grade school, Pamela and Sharon, had come along to lend their moral support.

  The setlist consisted of the four recorded songs. The band unit would play their first single, "Have No Fear," followed by their two B-sides. These songs would be performed acoustically for the sake of expediency. The dance unit would conclude the gig with "Feel the Heat." They planned to sing this live, accompanied by a music-only track on the boombox. This represented the first-ever public performance of the dance unit. After months of delay, they were anxious to get it under their belts.

  Both Heather and Grace brought acoustic guitars. Mindy had a djembe to play, and Sun-hee settled on a rhythm egg to shake since she'd be without keyboards. Mindy borrowed her roommate's acoustic bass for Erin's benefit. Erin considered it with trepidation. Theoretically, the same as playing an electric one, it felt different in her hands. The strings were less responsive. She'd have to learn on the job. No choice.

  The seven of them sat on the grass, facing the main walkway leading to the front door of the observatory. Their three guests sat across the sidewalk in the opposite patch of grass. "Have No Fear" got them off to an enthusiastic start. The song lent itself well to an acoustic performance. Erin found that by simplifying her playing, she could handle the new instrument well enough, even if it didn't produce a full sound like she was accustomed to.

  During "From That Day On," she grew more confident and adventurous. The arrangements allowed Heather and Sun-hee's vocals to shine during the ballads. Their opening two songs attracted a small audience. Some stood on the sidewalk, spoiling the view for those seated behind. As they prepared for the last band song, an elderly couple inquired about their language.

  "Korean," Erin answered brightly. They shrugged their shoulders. "We were both wrong."

  Of the three band songs, "On Your Lips" was the most difficult to p
lay acoustically. Besides being up-tempo, Erin found the snappy bass line to be a challenge. As a result, she started the song at a slower tempo than expected. Mindy had to force the pace faster once the drums came in, causing the guitarists to adjust accordingly. Halfway through, Erin watched as two police officers made their way through the crowd. Uh oh, that was quick. Steve engaged them in conversation, but she couldn't hear what they were saying. The song ended to applause.

  Grace stood and instructed them to prepare for the dance number. This would be June and Vanessa's first substantial involvement in a live performance if they could continue at all. Grace joined Steve in lobbying the officers.

  "Okay, I see what you're saying," she heard Steve say, "but this isn't a residential area."

  "Busking is a protected form of free speech, isn't it, officer?" asked Grace.

  "Ma'am, we're not here to shut you down," the taller officer said, "You need to keep the volume low. It can't be audible from more than 200 feet away."

  "Make sure the sidewalk stays clear, too," added the shorter officer.

  Grace thanked them and adjusted the performance space so the audience wouldn’t impede pedestrians. She asked Steve to start the boombox. The seven members took positions in a line. Grace gave the signal, and they began.

  Microphones were unnecessary since the audience was small and compact. Erin found it difficult to sing and dance simultaneously. During rehearsals, she simply concentrated on one aspect or the other. Now that they were expected to combine the two, it was a challenging experience. So focused was she on singing her first line correctly, she failed to move to her next assigned position promptly. This caused a collision with Vanessa, who was miffed at having been thrown off her cadence. Fortunately, one benefit of being "tied for worst singer" was she had fewer lines to remember. She marveled at how the trained idols could handle difficult vocal passages while still making the dance look effortless.

  When the mini-concert concluded, their audience drifted away. A few stuck around to ask questions. Though the band had neglected to provide a tip jar, one generous soul took the initiative of tucking a couple bucks into the acoustic bass case.

  Steve approached Erin to get her opinion of the show. She expressed relief that it was relatively disaster-free. "What did that guy yell when he passed by?" she asked. "I didn't catch it."

  "Oh, you mean the 'Freebird' guy?" Steve responded. "Just ignore him."

  "What does it mean?"

  "Only the nation's oldest unfunny joke. You'll hear it a million more times, I'm sorry to say."

  The rest of the day was spent repeating the same concert, once each at Dickson Court on the UCLA campus, on the Venice Beach boardwalk, and at Lawton Plaza on the St. Ignatius campus. As a reward for their hard work, Steve, Pamela, and Sharon treated the group to dinner at Italy's Oven, nearby the university.

  35

  Steve

  Steve had misjudged the frame's width. When he saw the mounted poster of The Fugitive on the wall, it was clearly positioned too close to the theater lobby door and would have to be rehung. He had taken the frame off its hook and was remeasuring it when Marielle approached. She was in a panic.

  "Steve, there you are," she said breathlessly.

  "Hey, Marielle, what's up?"

  "Steve, listen to me! You need to go to the music building," she exclaimed, pointing in its direction.

  "I can't. I'm working."

  "No, seriously. Phil's there with your cast and crew. He's taking Made in Heaven away from you."

  Steve's immediate reaction was one of confusion. "That makes absolutely no sense. Are you sure?"

  "Steve, it's going down right as we speak. Leave this for later," she said, pointing to the poster. "I'll explain what I know along the way."

  He dropped the tape measure to the floor and leaned the poster against the wall. Marielle dragged him from the Film & Television Building towards the Fine Arts complex. He had walked this path a million times and didn't need to be led, but she held his hand, urging him into a jog.

  "Phil called everyone together this afternoon," explained Marielle as they ran. "I thought it was a production meeting for your new video, but I grew suspicious when you weren't there. He didn't notice me sitting on the staircase, and I overheard him talking to friends before everyone arrived. He said you were planning to sabotage them. That they were wasting their time on you. He also intends to produce Made in Heaven from now on."

  "I don't understand. Who's there?"

  "Everyone's there." Marielle opened the door to the concert hall lobby and motioned for Steve to enter. "Look, I don't know what to believe, but you've been straight with me, and I think you should at least be there to defend yourself. Go!" She pushed him inside. Without another word, he waved at her and proceeded to the auditorium, uncertain of what to expect.

  The hall was mostly dark, except for the well-lit, low-rise stage. Chairs and music stands were arranged as if for an orchestra concert. Twenty sets of eyes stared at Steve as he made his way towards the front. All conversation ceased. They had clearly been discussing him. Heather was there too, but unlike the others, her eyes remained cast to the floor. Rather than joining the group on stage, Steve opted to take a chair in the front row of the auditorium. He spoke not a word and felt very much alone.

  Phil stood in the center of the group bathed in the brightest light and flanked by Teddy and Glen, two of Steve's classmates from Intermediate Film Production. Most people sat in the semicircle of orchestra chairs. A few stood along the perimeter. Eleven members of Steve's recording and film crew, people he considered his friends and trusted collaborators, including Sam, Arturo, Gil, Jason, Meadow, and Shandi were there. And though none looked cheerful, the seven members of Made in Heaven were present. Nobody said hello. The tension in the room was palpable.

  Phil was startled when he spotted Steve, but the unexpected arrival didn't deter him for long. He carried on as if all were normal. "The truth is Steve failed you big time. Not only through incompetence, as you can see from his own failed project, but his intent to sabotage your films based on pure spite and jealousy." Teddy and Glen were glaring at Steve, seething with rage. Steve had no idea what Phil was referring to.

  Phil turned his attention to Made in Heaven. "He hasn't done you guys any favors either. Those unsuitable gigs? Steve talked Arnie into booking them to destroy your reputation. He ignored an obvious hit song to push his own priorities. The sooner you get rid of him, the better off you'll be. This business is tough enough without having to deal with incompetence and malice. You deserve better."

  Steve could have chosen this moment to offer a defense, but he didn't. In retrospect, reacting with silence was the worst decision he could have made. An aggressive response could have convinced more people of his innocence. As it was, his tendency to internalize matters worked against him. Meanwhile, Phil's bold and aggressive argument carried the day.

  Or mostly did.

  Detecting no signs of resistance, Phil continued. "As I implied earlier, I have a better offer to make." Only when he had their undivided attention did he proceed. "I recently introduced a wealthy investor to your group. I played him your music and showed him your video. He's willing to throw considerable money behind a band he believes in. As soon as he saw Made in Heaven, he knew you were the right group for him. He has the resources and connections to make a go of this."

  Steve had no clue who this person was, but didn't doubt Phil's ability to exploit connections when it suited him. He observed the band members exchanging glances with each other in surprise at this news, except for Heather, who kept her eyes downcast.

  "There's one catch," Phil said. "You have to agree to stop working with Steve. He's to have no further role in this project moving forward. Understood?"

  While Marielle had forewarned him, Phil's ultimatum hit Steve in the gut with the force of a rolling boulder. His former friends glanced at Steve with misplaced pity, as though his downfall was self-inflicted and well deserved.
He tried to imagine the scope of grievances he was being accused of. No charge leveled thus far made a bit of sense.

  "What's your response, ladies?" Phil asked. "I'm sure I know, but I'd like to hear you articulate it."

  The lengthy silence that followed was deathly.

  Heather looked up at last. Lacking a tissue, she resorted to dabbing tears away with her fingers. "This would be a significant development for us, Phil." Initially, she sounded timid, but the tone of her voice grew more confident as she continued. "I can't speak for anyone else; they'll have to decide for themselves, but I want to be perfectly clear." Her last sentence cut through the room like a scythe. "If you plan on excluding Steve, you can find yourself another main singer."

  Audible gasps were heard from the assembly. For once, Phil was left speechless. He remained outwardly stoic, yet Steve knew from experience he was a raging inferno inside. His former friend had rolled craps in the most humiliating way possible and before the people he most wanted to impress.