by Wells, Nicky
‘You’ll have to join the queue like the rest of us, sweetheart,’ someone offered good-naturedly, but I ignored him.
One more set of knocks, and I’m off.
I lifted my hand again, ready to use it with even more force when the door was opened by an old-ish man dressed in black. I was in mid-knock and very nearly hit him straight on the nose. Only nearly though.
‘Emily Trenden,’ I barked before he could say anything. ‘I’m a VIP.’
I waved my pass at him for emphasis. The door opened wider, and the man stepped out to examine my pass.
‘Emily Trenden,’ he read out loud. ‘Looks legit. But I’ll still have double-check my list. You got any other ID?’
‘‘Course.’ I flashed my driving licence.
‘Thanks. I‘ll be back in a minute.’
The door closed in my face, and I tried to look nonchalant. Man, but they were strict here. All that fuss for a group of rock musicians. Unbelievable.
The sesame opened again, and the man beckoned me in. ‘You’re on the list. You should have come through the main entrance, you know, they’re expecting you there. But you’re here now. Come on in.’
I stepped inside, and he closed the door behind me. The street noise immediately faded.
‘I’m Carl.’ The man extended his hand, and I shook it politely.
‘Sorry about the wait. I’m head of security, and you wouldn’t believe what kind of stunts people try to get in to meet the band. Would you mind putting that around your neck again?’ He gestured to explain his meaning, and I hastily complied.
‘You’re the only Rock Radio VIP today, by the way. The other pair of tickets cancelled.’ He shrugged. ‘Can you believe it? Hey ho. Anyway. Sam’s here somewhere, and Adam wants to see you right away. This way, please, come on.’
He gave me a friendly smile, and I followed him as he led the way down a corridor. Sam? He was the Rock Radio DJ, if I recalled correctly. But who was Adam?
Chapter Twelve
‘Hey. I’m Adam. You must be Emily. Good to meet you!’
Adam stretched out a hand, gave me a quick look-over, and pulled me into a boisterous hug with an air kiss on both my cheeks. I felt my whole body go rigid at so much unexpected overfamiliarity.
He let go and took a step back. Thank goodness. I breathed in deeply to steady my nerves, but the result was a massive, unladylike snort which earned me a raised eyebrow.
‘I’m Emily, that’s right,’ I offered, trying to distract him from my respiratory mishap.
‘Adam, I must be gettin’ back to the door,’ Carl interjected. ‘Anything else you need from me? I don’t think there are any more Rock Radio VIPs coming today.’
Adam’s other eyebrow went into orbit, too. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Well, Emily came by ‘erself, and the other pair of tickets cancelled. Illness, or summin’.’
‘Ah.’ Adam sounded surprised. ‘Well, there’s a new one. I don’t think we’ve had a cancellation before. Never mind. Thanks, Carl, I’ll see you later.’
The dismissed head of security scurried down the corridor, and Adam turned to face me again. If only I knew who he was. Was he maybe the lead singer? I cursed myself for not extending my research to the actual band. What was the point in knowing that they had more than three million Twitter followers if I didn’t even know the band members’ names? I would look utterly stupid not knowing who was who. Perhaps I could make a quick retreat to the ladies’ room and do a Google search on my smartphone?
Adam had other ideas. He took a seat and patted a chair next to him. I sat down reluctantly.
We were in a lounge or a bar of some description, furnished with low coffee tables and squashy, if battered, sofas. The walls had been painted white and were adorned with photos of acts who had performed at the Apollo in past years. The Hall of Fame was impressive, and even I recognised some of the bands.
‘So, Emily. How come you’re here on your own? Didn’t you get a ticket for a guest?’
Ugh. Did he have to dive right in?
I cleared my throat. ‘Um…well…Adam, was it?’
He nodded.
‘Adam, I’m sorry, but may I ask who you are? I’m a little in over my head here and—well.’ I petered out.
Adam erupted into a belly laugh. ‘Is this your first time backstage at a gig?’
‘It’s my first time at a gig.’ I blushed.
Adam gave me an amused look. ‘I figured. My name is Adam Graw. I’m the band manager.’
The manager! Of course. That made sense. He looked rocky, but not in a musician kind of way. At least not based on my very limited experience of these matters.
‘Pleased to meet you, Emily,’ Adam intoned in a solemn voice as he grasped my hand once more and pumped it up and down.
‘Thank you, Adam, pleased to meet you too.’
Somehow this broke the ice, and I felt myself relaxing a little. I even volunteered information before he could prompt me again.
‘I’m on my own because…well, I fell out with my boyfriend. He entered the competition to win the tickets, and he put my name on them. He really should be here but…’ I swallowed. ‘I must have left him a million messages.’
Adam’s eyes told of his bewilderment. I felt compelled to elaborate further.
‘You see, he’s a huge fan. Huge. He would give everything to be here in my place today. Only for some reason, my messages don’t seem to have got the message across.’ I swallowed some more. I hadn’t meant to rake over those emotions again.
Adam still looked confused, and I didn’t blame him. Break-up or not, it seemed insane for Nate not to come.
‘Our break-up was…um…particularly unhappy.’ I lowered my head. ‘My fault. We’re not really on speaking terms. Anyway, I couldn’t let the tickets go to waste.’
There. Out in the open. My hole was dug nice and deep. Any minute now, I would fall into it and disappear.
‘I’m sorry to hear that,’ Adam eventually uttered, clearly at a loss as to how to handle this situation. ‘Well, that’s three no-shows in one gig. I don’t know whether to be offended or not.’ And he laughed again to take the sting out of his words. ‘Still, I suppose stuff happens. At least we have you. You are a fan, right?’
I nodded my head vigorously, not trusting myself to lie outright.
‘Good, good. Right, so you know the programme, right? Soundcheck, gig, after-party and all that?’
I nodded some more.
‘Great. I bet you are super excited.’
He stared a question at me, and I summoned my voice.
‘Yeah! Of course. Yeah! Really excited, man.’ I decided experimenting with a bit of rock-speak wouldn’t go amiss. ‘MonX really rock, dude, I can’t wait to see the conce—the show. The gig!’
My voice rose with every exaggerated word, and I finished on a high squeal with ‘gig.’ Maybe I had better cease with this pseudo-cool language. It wasn’t working. Adam examined me like I was a strange creature from outer space. His brow was furrowed and his lips did a funny little twitching act. Thankfully, a sharp buzzing sound interrupted our conversation.
Adam retrieved a pager from his belt, and I leaned back for a moment to breathe.
‘Time for the soundcheck,’ Adam declared. ‘The roadies have finished the prelims, and the band is ready to go on. Come on, this is where the fun starts.’ He spoke briskly, all action now, and rose to his feet. I followed suit.
‘Cool!’ A genuine note of excitement laced my voice with enthusiasm, and Adam smiled.
‘You’ll have fun. I’ll take you to the stalls. It’s all standing down there tonight, but you can watch the soundcheck from up close. You’ll have access to the bar, and Sam should be kicking around too. There are a few other VIPs, you know, press, significant others, record people, plus of course a handful of fans who bought the VIP Gold package, so you won’t be entirely on your own. Ready?’
‘‘Course. Absolutely.’
Chapter Thirteen
‘One-two-one-two-one-two. Two. TWO.’
The voice carried extremely loudly through the auditorium, and I did my best not to wince. We emerged into the stalls from behind the stage, and the vista was astounding.
Tiered seating swept up from the back of the stalls, and there was more tiered seating on the balcony level. The colour scheme was burgundy and aubergine with red velvet seats. The high ceiling sported the most ornate rose I had ever set eyes on, and it brought to mind concert venues from the old days. The association was powerful, and it filled me with awe. It gave the event an unexpected gravitas that I hadn’t expected.
Adam was oblivious to the impact the venue had on me. He appeared to have gone into business mode. His eyes were trained on the stage, and I could tell that he was listening to what was going on up there.
I touched his arm lightly to get his attention. ‘No need to babysit me any further. I’ll see you later,’ I told him in between further bouts of ‘one-two’, and he smiled his gratitude at me.
‘Great. I’ll be sure to introduce you to the band when I can. Just follow whatever everybody else is doing. You’ll be fine.’
‘I know I will.’ I smiled exuberantly. Somehow, I felt incredibly at ease all of a sudden, now that I was here and the ‘gig’ was really happening. It was impossible not to feel excited. Anticipation was oozing off the stage.
Adam loped off towards a stall in the middle of the standing area, and I loitered and watched the stage. As Adam had predicted, other people were also hanging around. A rough count suggested that there might be about twenty VIPs present. I certainly wasn’t alone, but I kept myself to myself for now.
‘One-two-TWO-two-two. One. ONE. Two-two-TWO.’ The man on stage had moved to another microphone and was still stuck on his first two numbers. I wondered if he was the singer, but somehow he didn’t look the part.
Bang. Bang-bang-bang-bang went a drum, and I jumped. The noise was deafening. If this was only the soundcheck, what would the show be like? I feared for my hearing.
‘Hi. I’m Jed.’
A somewhat rough-looking man joined me. His long hair was contained loosely in a ponytail falling down his back, the shirt under his battered leather jacket featured a MonX logo, and his jeans were impressively torn. He gave me a friendly smile, and I found myself smiling back.
‘I’m Emily.’
‘You new to this?’
I raised an eyebrow. ‘Am I new to this, what?’
Jed gestured widely. ‘This. You know, the hall, the concert, the soundcheck.’
Bang. Bang-bang-bang came the drums again, while ‘one-two’ shouted the man. I flinched at the volume, and Jed laughed.
‘See? You’ve obviously not heard a soundcheck before. You jump every time there’s a noise.’
‘Is it that obvious?’
‘Yeah.’ He shrugged. ‘Plus, you—you know, you look different.’
I treated him to one of my killer back-off looks, but he smiled again.
‘In a good way. You look…pretty.’
I took that as a compliment and, despite my better judgement, I was flattered. ‘Thank you.’
‘No worries. It’s nice to be talking to a pretty lady.’
I glanced at him sharply, but there was nothing lascivious in his look.
‘So. What’s your first impression?’
Small talk. Great. He was after small talk. Why was everybody so bloody friendly? I had expected a bunch of mean, brutal, stand-offish rockers. Here was one, and he was trying to make polite conversation with me.
Evidently, Jed had no idea of the truckload of preconceptions I had brought with me. His eyes were bright and kind, and I was getting to like the way the skin around them crinkled when he smiled.
‘First impressions,’ I picked up on his question, ‘I don’t know. Loud?’
Jed nodded. ‘Yeah, it is that. But think about it this way. At the moment, it’s only us in here, and the place is practically empty. The sound is bouncing and breaking every which way. When all them people arrive, the sound will be swallowed by heads and hair, people of different heights, coats… It’ll be a lot less “in your face”. Loud, for sure, but not like this.’
He grinned and took a sip from a bottle of beer he was holding. I hadn’t noticed it before, but it looked good. To my utter astonishment, I found myself licking my lips greedily. I wanted a drink.
‘Why does the chap only say one and two?’ I burst out to distract myself from my sudden greed. Then I had a brief moment of panic. Suppose ‘the chap’ was the lead singer after all? I would have really exposed myself as a fraud.
But Jed answered my question earnestly. ‘The roadies are checking the basics before the proper soundcheck. You know, make sure all the mics are working, and get some of the core frequencies sorted. The “one-two” stuff, that helps the sound man fix the trebles and reduce the hissing.’
He pointed the top of his beer bottle at the weird booth that I had noticed before. I presumed that he was showing me the sound man.
‘Adam said the roadies were done with their bit.’ I was confused.
‘They were. But Mike came on and didn’t like his mic. Sorry, no pun intended. So he stomped off again, and the roadies are doing the prelims all over. Welcome to soundcheck. It’s all hurry up and wait.’
‘Hurry up and wait,’ I mused. I could identify with that. ‘I like that. It’s a bit like my job.’
Jed fixed me with an interested gaze as though I had delivered a chat-up line. ‘Is that right? What do you do, Emily?’
Cringe.
‘I work in a bank,’ I offered shortly. I wasn’t going into my professional life right now.
Jed nodded. ‘Cool. Like, you know, the teller who gives people their money?’
‘Something like that. Hey, where can I get a drink?’
‘Ah, a drink.’ He offered his arm in a gallant gesture. ‘Come with me, milady.’
Jed didn’t only show me to the bar, he also bought my drink. He ordered a beer without asking, but I didn’t object. I took the cool bottle gingerly and drank straight from the neck, just as he was doing. I felt very odd, but Jed didn’t seem to find anything amiss about it.
Suddenly, another man was upon me.
‘Emily? You must be Emily!’ He pumped my free hand energetically and smiled widely.
‘You must be Sam.’
‘Sure am,’ he confirmed wryly. ‘Where’s your guest?’
‘We broke up.’
Sam inadvertently took a step backwards and frowned at me. ‘What, between you and me speaking on the phone a couple of days ago?’
‘No. Between him entering the competition and me winning the tickets.’
Jed had been following our exchange like a spectator at a tennis match. He entered into the conversation with a cough.
‘Hi, Sam. I’m Jed.’ He extended a hand for Sam to shake, and Sam was duly deflected.
‘Hi, Jed. I’m Sam, I’m—’
‘—the Rock Radio DJ, I would recognise your voice anywhere.’ Jed grinned and winked at me surreptitiously.
‘Thank you,’ I mouthed, and he nodded subtly.
Wow. Subtlety and kindness. From a long-haired man in a leather jacket drinking beer straight from the bottle. I was revising my preconceptions about rockers faster than you could say MonX.
‘So. Congratulations at any rate, Emily.’ Sam cut into my thoughts. ‘Would you like to do an interview with me about the experience? Afterwards, obviously?’
Oh horror of horrors. An interview, me? But I nodded and acquiesced anyway. I could always pull a Cinderella act and disappear before the hour of reckoning.
‘Great,’ Sam enthused. ‘I’ll see you later.’
‘See you later,’ I echoed, and he moved away to another group of people.
Jed grinned at me. ‘You won these tickets, eh?’
I grinned back. ‘Well, technically my ex did, but he doesn’t want to know me anymore, so—well. Here I am.’
&nb
sp; ‘Good for you, I say. Come on, let’s go back to the soundcheck.’
‘Yeah, let’s,’ I agreed. Might as well.
Chapter Fourteen
In the ten minutes we had spent at the bar, the situation on stage had changed dramatically. There were now five people installed behind various microphones and instruments, and a wall of sound greeted us.
‘I had no idea that there was so much precision in a rock concert,’ I confessed to Jed, shouting to make myself heard. ‘I assumed they simply walked on and played.’
Jed snorted with amusement. ‘Nothing could be further from the truth. You ain’t seen the half of it.’
On stage, the singer took his turn for soundcheck. I eyed him with interest. He had a nice voice. No, scratch that. He had a great voice. A deep tenor, full and vibrant.
‘That’s Mike,’ Jed piped up again. Whether or not he had figured out somehow that I didn’t have a clue, or whether he simply liked talking, I didn’t know, but I didn’t care. He was proving a real lifesaver.
‘Mike’s a great singer. He’s classically trained. He’ll burst into an aria in a minute, just for laughs.’
I shot Jed a disbelieving look. ‘You’re kidding.’
‘I kid you not.’
‘Dalla sua pace…’ Mike erupted on the stage. ‘…la mia depende.’
I stared at him with incredulity. ‘Oh. My. God. He’s singing the Don Octavio. From Don Giovanni.’
‘Yup,’ Jed confirmed drily. ‘I believe it’s his favourite.’
‘You know this too?’ I was stunned.
‘Nah, not really. It’s not my thing. But Mike does it nicely, don’t you think?’
Nicely wasn’t the right word. The man was divine. I had a completely newfound respect for him. His voice seemed to stroke me all over, inside and out. I shivered. If he could sing like that, the concert would be quite a treat after all.
I let myself sway to the gentle sound until a heavy guitar riff broke the mood and the drummer started tapping out a beat. Mike continued with the aria, but within seconds, it transformed into a rock song. I gaped.
