From the moment I saw the tall oriental beauty called Myleene, I knew she’d be ultra-efficient, “Michael?” she shouted out into the empty auditorium with an air of authority no one would question.
“Yeah?” A sharp hollow voice immediately echoed back from the balcony above. My eyes tracked the sound, and I saw the large mixing desk stationed right at the front of it, manned by a guy with long dark hair and a dark colored t-shirt.
“Piper’s here. Can we get the sound levels done for her before Layla arrives please?”
I cleared my throat, totally unprepared to sing right off the bat. I had expected some introductions and conversation, a warm up and perhaps a drink of warm lemon and honey or something in preparation.
“Now?” I asked as my heart raced frantically, and I tried to hide the shock from my voice. Talk about being thrown in at the deep end.
“Sure, time’s cracking on,” she said glancing at her wristwatch. “Goodness knows how long Layla will keep everyone occupied once she gets here. She’s such a perfectionist.”
Swallowing hard, I shook my head, “Can I at least do a short warm up for my throat? I've been sitting on an air-conditioned bus for the past few hours.”
Nodding, she shielded her eyes and looked out into the auditorium again. “Sandra? Can we get Piper some honey tea, sweetheart?”
“No problem,” came the reply from a female voice I failed to find when my eyes scanned the stalls.
“Please sing three bridges from songs which challenge the vocal range. Michael will let you know when he has what he needs, then I’ll come back and show you the dressing room. Call out to Michael when you are ready but don’t take too long because when Layla appears you’ll have missed your opportunity for the sound quality checks.”
As Myleene strutted across the stage, the young runner, Sandra appeared with a beaker of steaming hot liquid. Passing it to me she smiled warmly.
“Honey and English Breakfast tea, is this okay?” she asked. Returning the smile, I thanked her and sipped tentatively at the scalding hot beverage.
Kerr had gone back to the bus and brought back the guitar he always carried with him. “What’s the deal?”
“Soundcheck,” I replied.
Kerr wandered over to a rig on the floor, took his guitar from the case, and unraveled and connected the electric wires to it, plugging the jack into his instrument.
“I’ll accompany you. What do you want to sing?” I gave him the three bridges for the songs I had chosen to show my widest range then placed the cup on a stool at the side of the stage.
Taking off my cardigan, I warmed my voice up by singing sliding scales a few times into the garment to muffle the sound then spun around to look out to the auditorium again.
“Michael? I’m ready. This is Kerr, my guitarist. Do you want me to sing on my own or with him?”
“Both, we’ll start with you acappella. Hold your hand up when you’re ready to start,” he instructed.
Taking my place in front of the microphone, I cleared my throat once again. Standing facing the mic it was the most nervous I had ever felt in my life and the place was empty.
My whole body buzzed in anticipation. Drawing in a deep breath, I sighed heavily, then lifted my hand to let him know I was about to sing.
Within five minutes Michael had my voice levels down then I did them again with Kerr accompanying me on guitar. When we were done Michael waved his arms then spoke into his mic.
“Awesome, you are going to rock this place, baby. Damn what a voice, those scale changes are as smooth as a knife gliding through warm butter.”
Kerr grinned and nodded. Inhaling a sharp breath, I sighed with relief in return.
“Well, what do you know? Seems like I have some serious competition on my hands,” the unmistakable Southern voice of Layla Hartmann interjected. “I love the tone of your voice, honey,” she drawled. “As soon as I heard you, I just knew I had to have you for the tour. Gibson Barclay was right, you are the find of the century.”
My eyes flicked to Kerr and his eyes widened in surprise. “Gibson? You mean Gibson Barclay? Fuck, Gibson Barclay heard you sing? I mean I know you're with Simon, but…” Glancing at Layla who obviously knew my connection to Gibson, I was nervous as to what she would say.
When she said nothing, it felt safe to reply. “Yeah,” I replied and shrugged. I didn’t expand or embellish the connection because it wasn’t the time and I wasn’t ready to talk about Gibson with him. I wanted the opportunity to perform under my own steam for a while and let people decide for themselves if they thought I deserved my place in the music industry.
“Of course, Simon must have introduced you, right? Well fuck, you’re just full of surprises,” he chuckled. I felt bad for not telling him, but I knew once I explained why, Kerr would forgive me.
Fortunately for me, Layla smoothed the way by discussing how the gig would go. Thankful for the distraction, I stood at the side of the stage and listened as she finalized her own soundcheck before she and Myleene went over all the markers on the stage of where to stand.
This was to maximize our visibility and ensure we didn’t get tangled up in the junction of wires snaking over the stage floor.
Completing the checks and with a little over two hours left before the doors of the venue opened, we were shown to our dressing room. Petra was beyond excited and Isiah tried his best to calm her down.
Austin, our drummer, was as cool as a cucumber and sat disconnected from the buzz as he listened to loud music through his cell phone ear buds. I could hear the noise tinker but not enough to make out what the songs were.
As I sat and studied my set running order on my iPad, my cell rang. When I saw it was Gibson, I sought out some privacy and swiped to connect the call.
“Hey, baby girl. All set for the gig?” I nodded even though he couldn’t see me and sat on a chair in the corridor tucking one leg beneath me.
“I think so. God, I bet you were never as nervous as me.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that. I wasn’t always this cool,” he replied, chuckling.
“I bet you were,” I challenged. There was no way Gibson was ever the nervous kind; he oozed natural leadership and was a true alpha male.
“All right, maybe I was, but you’re gonna rock this, sweetheart. Is Si with you?”
The mention of his name made me swallow audibly. “No… h- he’s spending some time with friends,” I replied and tried to sound as if I didn’t care. Admitting Simon wasn’t around, I half expected a rant of warning from him, but he fell silent for a moment.
“He isn’t? Why the fuck not? If I had known, I’d have been there, baby girl.”
“Thomas is coming,” I quickly offered to let him know I wasn’t doing this without support. He sighed.
“When are you seeing Simon again?”
I shrugged and felt helpless, “Not sure, last gig I think,” I answered honestly.
Gibson fell silent, and I had an ominous feeling. The pause in the conversation gave me time to wonder if Gibson was thinking the worst of Simon… like maybe I was.
Changing tack, Gibson quickly said, “Oh, by the way, I’m shooting down to Chicago to see you next Thursday, baby girl. That’s only six more days. Chloe won’t be with me because Melody has a 'mom and daughter' thing at school and Kiran is working.”
Kiran was Melody’s birth mom and after a rocky beginning, Chloe had managed the situation between Gibson and Melody with such finesse that Kiran had no option but give up on her bitchy attitude toward Chloe spending time with Melody. It was either that or Gibson wouldn’t have made her life as easy as he had.
Knowing Gibson took his role to support me seriously meant everything. His timely call meant everything to me. With all the insecurities surrounding my past, trusting Simon after that call made the gamble to be with him much greater.
My mind became preoccupied again by Simon until Gibson’s voice broke through my thoughts. “Break a leg tonight.” Hearing his deep ve
lvety tone encouraging me with its hint of humor was exactly what I had needed.
We said our goodbyes and when the call disconnected a lump grew in my throat. Suddenly I was homesick for the safety of Colorado. Since my mom had died, Gibson had done his best to ensure I never felt completely alone but with no one who mattered there on my opening night I did.
Hearing footsteps, I looked up and saw Thomas striding down the corridor toward me and he couldn’t have timed his arrival better. When he smiled and held his arms out, I almost ran into them because although I had been striving for my independence, now that I had arrived at the foot of the music mountain I still had to climb, I felt much less invincible.
“All ready for the main event?” Of course the main event wasn’t me, but Layla. Still, I knew what he meant.
“As ready as I’ll ever be, but it's nerve wracking.”
“Trust me, they are going to go nuts for you, sweetheart,” He assured me as he put his arm around my shoulder and ushered me back into the dressing room. My heart swelled at his confidence in me and I prayed he was right.
Sandra knocked on the door, “Ten minutes until showtime,” she cheerily informed us, and my heart immediately raced. “This is it,” Kerr informed us, excitedly. I swallowed roughly as my eyes darted around to each member of my band.
Petra and Isiah stood and checked out their appearances in the dressing room mirror as Austin casually removed his buds and slid his iPhone back in his backpack. Kerr stood, smoothed his jeans down and wandered over to me. “All set?” he asked, checking out I was okay.
“Not really,” I giggled, standing beside him. He stepped forward and hugged me, “You will be amazing as always.” I thanked God for sending me Kerr as he stepped back, turned away from me and engaged Wyatt in conversation.
Taking my cell phone out of my pocket to leave it in the dressing room, I entered my password, my eyes eagerly searching for some news from Simon. I had been willing him to call all afternoon, but I knew he was traveling.
Pushing back the dark feelings that threatened to overshadow my mood, I was determined nothing would spoil my debut performance in front of a live, paying audience.
As if Kerr had felt my insecurity, he wrapped his arms around me in a natural gesture of comfort. “You were born to do this, Piper. You have to go out there and show them you deserve to be there because of what you can do, not who you know.”
His words were all the motivation I had needed to shove all my personal shit to one side and focus on the job in hand—my music career.
A new sense of purpose filled every fiber of my body as I wandered behind Kerr toward the door and along the corridor toward the stage.
“Go get ‘em,” Thomas called after me. I smirked, suddenly trying to control the vibrations reverberating on every nerve ending I possessed.
Sweeping through the black curtain at the side of the stage, I took a deep breath and gathered my inner confidence as I stood quietly in the wings.
Before I had the opportunity to think of countering any doubts in my mind, the emcee announced my arrival on stage.
Running past me—Kerr, Austin, Isiah, Petra, and Wyatt, took their places on the stage and as soon as Wyatt hit the drums I forced myself out under the bright lights above me. I waved nervously as I took my place at the mic and tried hard not to focus too much on the crowd.
The polite ripple of applause I heard was still loud because there were so many fans out there, and it was the best I could have hoped for because I was relatively unknown.
Clearing my throat, I held the mic to my mouth and willed my hand to stop shaking.
“Hey, everyone. Are you ready to have a great time tonight?”
A subdued, “Yeah,” came from the audience. I swallowed hard and tried again to control my racing heart as adrenaline threatened to overwhelm me.
Deciding it was pointless trying to win them over with conversation, I nodded to Kerr and he began to play the introduction to the first number in the set.
Taking a deep breath, I waited for my time to sing as the music vibes from my bandmates rose up through my feet.
When I began to perform, the first couple of lines of the song were a little shaky but once my heart settled down and I found my pace, the song I had chosen to open with just flowed.
Less than a minute after I had begun to sing, all eyes were on me. No one moved out of their seats and no one made a sound other than my bandmates.
No one could sing along because they’d never heard the song before, but they were paying attention. Briefly, I closed my eyes and threw a silent prayer up to my mom.
An instant feeling of calm washed over me. After that I remembered all the techniques she had spoken to me about and that I’d practiced with Gibson and Simon.
Pushing both men out of my mind, my sole focus was directed at showing the public why I deserved my spot on the stage.
With each song the applause grew louder, with every new number I appeared to affect the crowd more. Some even tried to join in at the bridge by the second verse of some numbers and by the end of our set, the fans were on their feet, cheering and clapping, whistling, and stamping their feet.
A sense of euphoria washed over me from their enthusiastic response to my set.
Drenched in sweat from the heat up on stage, my thin lightweight sleeveless shirt was soaked and stuck to my skin with sweat, but somehow knowing I had poured everything I had into my music, the blood, sweat, and tears from my past and present efforts only added to the whole experience.
As soon as we were finished, Kerr placed his shiny black Fender guitar back on a stand in front of the drum set and ran over toward me.
Wrapping his hands around my waist he lifted me off the stage floor and swung me around. Bouncing me up and down, he grinned from ear to ear before setting me back on my feet. I smiled breathlessly back at him, knowing for sure I wasn’t alone in this experience after all—my band had experienced it with me.
Turning back to the audience one last time, I gave them a final wave before Kerr led me and the others back off the stage. Kerr made a goofy grin at me like he was wasted by the gig and it made me laugh out loud. His gray eyes glittered with happiness.
“Insane, right?” he asked as he placed his strong hands on my shoulders. The heat radiating from them seeped into my already hot, damp skin.
“In… cred… ible,” he stated before I could reply, his breathing marked by short pants both from his excitement and exertion as his chest heaved up and down. “You were fucking dynamite out there,” he added, turning to look at Austin for confirmation. Austin grinned and nodded more enthusiastically than I knew he was capable of.
“You were pure magic out there. The audience were captive and under your spell,” Austin added, then shook his head this time. “I’ve always thought you were an amazing singer, but what you did out there was so enthralling, I almost forgot to play because I was focusing on your voice.”
Glancing at Petra and Isiah, I could see they had both enjoyed the experience by the way they were excitedly hugging each other.
Petra broke the embrace and turned to look for me. “Dayum, girlie. If anyone had any doubts you were letting Simon McLennan fuck you to catch a break, you just put that rumor to bed, honey.”
Petra’s comment stunned me because she had voiced what I reckoned most women would have thought since the news broke about Simon and me.
No one had seen the years I practiced and the months of work that had gone into preparing with Gibson and Simon before I snagged my recording deal.
Unfortunately, the story about Simon and I had broken only days into our relationship and at approximately six short weeks in the past, it was still fresh in peoples’ minds.
Even one of my band members had something to say about it. It appeared the finer details of what really went on didn’t matter to most because people would think what they wanted.
I shrugged and sighed not wishing to feed into her comment, but the mention of Simon
made my heart squeeze tight. His absence had taken the shine off my day and I wished he had been here to see it.
It had been another ‘first’ of mine, one which could have possibly been the most defining moment and significant experience I’d ever have in my lifetime.
Frustration and anger crept into my bones and I cussed the call he’d had which had been so damned important that he hadn’t stuck around to support me.
During the day I had checked my cell incessantly after we had left, expecting to hear something from him.
Several thoughts had run through my mind: Maybe I’d get a text confession of where he was going? A text or voicemail to tell me he’d made a mistake? Each time I checked my cell, and he maintained radio silence, it left me more disappointed than the last.
“What’s wrong?” Kerr asked intuitively. I shook my head because I didn’t want to get into it. Not after we’d had such a high a few minutes before.
“It’s nothing,” I said shaking off the ‘let down’ feeling I had in my gut.
“Simon… that nothing?”
Feeling a wave of emotion threatening to bring me down, I turned without answering him and headed back to the dressing room. As I neared it, Myleene approached me. I was thankful for her interruption because I wasn’t about to make any more excuses for Simon’s absence.
“Layla would like a word with you before she goes on. If you’d care to follow me.” Without waiting for me she headed for Layla’s dressing room and I turned and quickly followed.
My heart rate gathered pace again as I walked silently behind her and as she opened the door, the beautiful artist I was supporting rose to her feet from a chair in front of a dressing table mirror.
“Piper, you were totally awesome out there. I can’t believe that was your first ever live gig. The fans ate up every minute of your performance.” I grinned, and my heart swelled against my ribcage. “You are going to go a long way, my darling,” she gushed and my smile widened further.
“Thank you for giving me this opportunity,” I offered with another grateful smile.
“No darling, thank you for agreeing to support me; although I fear next time I may be supporting you.”
Piper: A Last Score Spin Off Page 25
