Kill Tone

by Lance Winkless

  “Yes, it is,” Jack agrees. “Big enough to fit one hundred thousand people in.”

  “A lot of area to cover, but hopefully a lot of customers too,” Daryl says.

  “There had better be,” Jack jokes.

  “We’d better get to it then. I’ll tell the lads how this is going to work again, okay?” Daryl says.

  “Yes, thanks, Daryl.”

  “Okay, listen up, lads,” Daryl starts. “Think about what Jimmy said, because everything he said was right. We aren’t here to have a good time and party, we are here to work, so that’s what we are going to fucking do! We’ve got product to sell and we are going to sell it as quickly as possible but more importantly, as carefully as possible, as we’ve already discussed, okay?” The three lads nod their heads in understanding, their excited faces calming down somewhat.

  “Just outside the entrance to the main Arena and stages is the Village area here, with the market and food stalls, see it?” Daryl asks, pointing at his map. “Either me or Jack will always be based there and so when you need to pick up or drop off, come and find us there, or phone us, okay?” Again the three lads nod.

  “The two main areas are the campsites and Arena. We can sell in the campsites in the morning before the Arena opens at eleven and after the show is over, which will be at about eleven—eleven thirty at night. When the Arena is open and bands are playing, there will still be plenty of people in the campsites who will want to buy, so you’re gonna have to use your judgement where to be selling, in the campsite or in the Arena. But spread out. Any questions?”

  There are none.

  “Jack and I will be keeping track of how much product you’re given and the cash you bring in, so be careful with both, okay? Good, let’s get ready then,” Daryl finishes.

  The lads seem clear on what they need to do, probably more than Jack is, as they have all worked with Daryl before. Everybody is eager to get out of the tent and into the sunshine. When they do, they all have hip bags attached around their waists filled with merchandise, that has emptied just over two of the plastic food containers that Jack is also carrying in the sports bag. Jack wonders who will need to refill their hip bag first; he isn’t sure, but he is confident it won’t be him.

  As they leave the security personnel section of the campsite, the three young lads are off, spreading out as they head to different sections of the massive site to find customers in the campsites beyond. Jack and Daryl head towards the Village to secure the sports bag in the metal box behind Big Dave’s Hog Roast and then to spend the morning working the campsites around the Village. They remove their security wear now that they are out and into the main campsites and get ready for business.

  The walk to the Village is quite a distance, farther than Jack had imagined. The festival site looked big on the map, but as Jack looks over the sea of tents stretching out across the fields, he realises just how massive the site actually is. In the distance, he sees the roof of the main stage poking over the tops of the trees. Closer, yet still far away are the flags that adorn the tops of bigger marquees and the top of the fair’s Ferris wheel that stands idle, waiting for its first customers. The farther they walk and the nearer they get to the Village and the Arena, the busier and more tightly packed the campsite gets. Virtually every blade of grass is covered by a tent and there are people swarming everywhere dressed in their festival gear. Many men wear bandanas and almost all the women have flowers in their hair and glitter on their faces. Some of the festival goers still insist on wearing rubber boots with their shorts, that reach to just below their knees. Jack thinks how uncomfortable that fashion statement is going to be in the hot weather.

  Other fans are still streaming into the campsites, late arrivals that struggle to carry their tents and other equipment. Beads of sweat drip down their faces from the strain of hauling the gear so far in the hot weather, but also because the campsite is already full and they realise that all the good pitches are taken. They will find a spot to pitch their tent but it will be in the outer reaches of the site.

  Jack is surprised by the mix of age groups that are here for the weekend. There are lots of groups of young people, the excited faces and loud behaviour giving away that this is their first festival. For many, it is probably their first weekend away from their parents. Their first taste of freedom and they plan to drink and party without their parents breathing down their necks.

  More nonchalant are the older people in their late twenties or thirties. They are still out for a good time, but they have seen it all before and will take it more in their stride. For them, the music takes a larger role for the weekend, rather than the drinking and partying. They will have bands or artists performing that they simply cannot miss.

  These two age groups are the main ones, but they are by no means the only ones. Almost every age group is represented, and Jack sees one couple walking by that must be in their sixties; the woman still has flowers in her hair and the man, sporting a long grey beard, is clutching onto a beer.

  Almost unnoticed by Jack as he continues his people watching, Daryl stops suddenly next to a group of people. A mix of men and women in their mid to late twenties look down eagerly as Daryl’s hand unzips his hip bag. Jack manages to pull his eyes away from the women in the group with their long legs and impossible short, shorts, to watch Daryl work.

  As Daryl’s hand comes out of his hip bag, everyone in the group looks around, to check no one is watching. They try and play it cool but they all have guilty looks on their faces momentarily. Like a magician, Daryl swiftly takes their money and hands over their purchase, in barely a blink of an eye. The transaction done, Daryl thanks them and goes to move away, but he is stopped by another customer, whom Daryl sorts out just as swiftly.

  “Nicely done,” Jack compliments Daryl as he re-joins him. “How many did you sell?”

  “Eighteen.”

  “Jesus, that many?” Jack says, surprised.

  “Yep, and they will want more if they are pleased with them. I told them they can find us in the Village.”

  “Nice one. How did you get their attention?” Jack asks.

  “Like I told you. Play it cool, make eye contact and just ask if they are buying. Why don’t you watch how I do it instead of daydreaming, bruv,” Daryl jokes, with a big smile on his face.

  Daryl is joking but he has a point. Jack’s concentration shifts from watching other people to watching Daryl. Within a few strides, Daryl is in again with a group of three more customers.

  Jack’s nerves rise as he sees a group of potential customers about to walk past and he forces himself to try his luck. Jack makes eye contact with one of the group as they walk and simply asks him if he is buying. The man walks straight past saying ‘no thanks’ as he goes. Very polite, Jack thinks, he may not have made a sale, but it boosts his confidence and within minutes, Jack himself has sold eight pills to a group of men.

  The sudden glut of sales makes Jack and Daryl’s progress to reach the village slow. Eventually, they reach the first of the market stalls on the widening path that marks the start of the Village. Sunglasses of every description are being offered for sale on the stall and the lucky trader is doing very brisk business with the people vying for position to get a look at her display. Stalls line the path on either side, selling an array of merchandise from t-shirts to essential festival jewellery and, of course, food from every corner of the world.

  Sales are halted as the two men walk up the path; security staff are around and worse, two police officers are taking a slow stroll towards them. Jack tries not to look guilty as the police officers pass by him. The officers look relaxed; the female one has a broad smile on her face as she nods a greeting at Jack who says ‘good morning’ innocently to her.

  The end of the path opens up into the main Village. The sun blazes down onto the large expanse of grass with the entrance gate to the Arena on the opposite side from them, some distance away. Queues are already forming with eager fans wanting to get through secur
ity and into the Arena to see the first bands take to the stages. Another path encircles the field, leading off from each side of Jack, a path that is tightly packed with more stalls and food outlets on its perimeter. Jack’s eyes are drawn to a large sign away to his left that reads ‘BAR’ in big red letters. People walking away from the tented bar holding large paper cups confirm that it is open and Jack requires some refreshment.

  “Beer?” Jack says to Daryl.

  “Definitely, but let’s find Big Dave’s first and get your bag stored away.”

  “There it is,” Jack says, pointing farther around to the left, past the bar.

  Jack and Daryl turn left and start to make their way around the path, which seems to be getting busier by the second as more and more people stream into the Village. Groups of fans are seated in the middle on the grass, eating and drinking, filling up before the main event gets underway.

  Spirits are high and contagious, and Jack feels the excitement and anticipation in the air, feeling the buzz of the occasion himself.

  Both Jack and Daryl check the queue at the bar as they go past it, their mouths watering; they are relieved to see that it isn’t too big and that there is plenty of staff serving.

  Big Dave’s Hog Roast is nestled in between two other food outlets, a doughnut kiosk and a noodle shack. It has a queue of customers waiting to get their fresh roasted pork, and behind the counter, it is a hive of activity. Jack feels a hunger pang coming on as the smell of the pork wafts over to him. He is sorely tempted to join the queue himself. The man who Jack assumes is Big Dave is positioned at the back of his stall, in charge of the meat-cutting. Jack only assumes that is him due to his size; he isn’t particularly tall but Jack can tell he likes to sample his own produce and would bet that the crackling is his Achilles heel.

  Jack is unsure of what to do for a moment. Jimmy had told him not to talk to Big Dave, but he can’t just walk around the back of his stall unannounced.

  “Hey Dave,” Jack says as he and Daryl go down the side of the stall to get to the back. Big Dave looks up from cutting the hog, his big knife hovering in the air and gives them the faintest of nods.

  Jack really is hungry now after passing the cutting table; the smell and the sight of the juicy meat is too much to resist. He might even have to find something to eat before he gets a beer.

  A tarpaulin barrier runs all along the back of all the stalls, leaving a few feet of gap between it and the stalls. The area is quiet and private, so their only concern will be the staff from the other stall who may come out the back. The metal box they have come to use is sitting on the grass, chained to one of the tall gas bottles used to fire Big Dave’s Hog Roast. Jack goes down onto his haunches and uses the key Jimmy gave him to open it. The sports bag fits easily into the box and before Jack closes the box, both he and Daryl replenish their hip bags and put the cash they have received so far into the bag. There must be a few hundred already, Jack thinks as he snaps the padlock closed again.

  “Alright lads,” a voice startles Jack, who turns to see Big Dave standing at the rear opening to his stall, wiping his hands on his apron.

  “Hello Dave,” Jack says, standing back up. “I’m Jack and this is Daryl.”

  “Looks like it’s going to be a busy day,” Big Dave says.

  “For both of us,” Daryl says.

  “Yes, indeed, are you boys hungry?”

  Moments later, Jack and Daryl are walking to the bar with humongous pork and gravy sandwiches, both leaning forward as they take bites, trying not to let the dripping gravy hit their clothes.

  “I won’t need to eat for a week after this,” Daryl says with his mouth stuffed.

  “Handsome, aren’t they,” Jack says.

  Jack and Daryl soon have a beer each to help wash the giant sandwiches down and join the groups on the grass to sit and eat their fill.

  “I don’t know about you, but I could quite easily lie back and have a snooze in the sun after that,” Jack says, after he has swallowed the last of his sandwich and finished off his beer.

  “Me too, if only we weren’t working,” Daryl agrees.

  “We have had a good start. If sales continue like this, we may get the chance before the festival is over.”

  “Possibly, I wonder how the lads are doing?” Daryl asks.

  “Better than us sat here lazing about!” Jack jokes. The two men laugh and get to their feet.

  The afternoon goes well; sales are good and thankfully, there is no sign of any trouble. Daryl has left Jack in the Village. He put on his security gear, then Jack watched him walk past the queues, around the security at the entrance to the Arena and straight in, and nobody gave him a second look. Daryl will be back later so that he can swap with Jack, who is looking forward to having a look inside the Arena. The bass is thumping out of it, vibrating through the air and the sound of electric guitars is carrying out on the breeze to him. Jack even hears some wailing vocals when the breeze is in the right direction.

  All three of the younger lads have arrived at the Village to get more stock. Jack takes them to the back of Big Dave’s to replenish their supply and to take the bundles of cash off them. Jack is astounded at the amount of cash he puts into the sports bag and how smoothly things are going. Three of the plastic food containers are empty already and are now stuffed with cash. Jack doesn’t want to tempt fate but the evening rush hasn’t even started yet, they could sell out sooner than they anticipated. Maybe Sunday can be spent kicking back in the sun with a cold beer, listening to the music and people-watching, which sounds like heaven.

  Chapter 9

  Although Veronica and Rose are later arriving at the entrance to the VIP area than they had planned, Veronica comforts herself knowing that Lady Kai isn’t performing for a few hours yet. She fumbles excitedly with her hastily printed-off ticket, as she nears the gates to have the ticket scanned. Rose was late picking her up, which was just as well because Veronica had only just finished getting ready herself when she heard Rose’s horn sound outside her apartment.

  Both women had underestimated how tricky it was to choose an outfit for a festival. Once they had, they had to choose and pack three others, and a spare of course, for the rest of the weekend. Add to the outfits the rest of the essentials they would need, and the whole process became a bit of a nightmare.

  Veronica is pleased that there doesn’t seem to be an atmosphere between her and Rose after their night of frolicking a few nights ago. She has seen the way Rose looks at her for a long time, and whilst she enjoyed their night of playing with each other much more than she had imagined she would, it is not something Veronica wants to get serious over. Rose is her best friend and perhaps they may share another night together in the future, but that is all it will be.

  “Are you excited?” Veronica asks Rose.

  “Not as much as you,” Rose giggles as she looks at her beautiful friend with glitter on her cheeks and flowers in her hair.

  “Where is your ticket?”

  “It’s in my pocket, don’t worry,” Rose says.

  “Get it out then, they need to scan it,” Veronica insists.

  Rose complies and pulls the ticket from the tight back pocket of her denim shorts. Rose hopes her legs look as magnificent as Veronica’s do; she would be happy with half as good, actually. Veronica’s long legs are extenuated by the wedged shoes that she is wearing and every time she moves, her buttocks wobble through the thin material of her cream shorts that barely cover her. Rose is trying not to stare at her friend but struggles not to. She has no idea how she will control herself when they get to the wigwam they have apparently got to share between them for the weekend.

  “Tickets,” the man in the hi-vis asks them as they get to the entrance.

  Their tickets scanned, the man directs them to the VIP camping area when they need to go to ‘guest registration’. Veronica, over eager to get their wigwam, leave their luggage and to start enjoying the festival, leads the way. Her flight case bumps over any obstacle
s in her way as she pulls it behind her. Rose can hardly keep up with her as she struggles to pull her over-packed flight case over the rough terrain. Veronica’s long slender legs belay their power, Rose thinks as she watches her leg muscles work and the material of her shorts tightening around her rear as she goes. The cream-coloured material becomes almost transparent as it tightens and when the sun is shining on it, the white thong Veronica is wearing is wonderfully visible. The view excites Rose; she can’t take her eyes off it and doesn’t plan to for the rest of the day, or the weekend for that matter.

  Rose is pleasantly surprised by how nice the wigwam is. She doesn’t know how Veronica manages it. A guy she met briefly a few nights ago, has sent her VIP weekend tickets to the festival that also happen to include accommodation.

  The wigwam is spacious and bright, with ample room for them both and the facilities include electricity, a small dressing table for them to fight over and to Rose’s delight, a comfortable-looking double bed. Perhaps Rose may get a cuddle after all, but she won’t push it.

  “Well this is fab, isn’t it,” Veronica says excitedly.

  “It is better than I was hoping for, all it’s missing is an en-suite,” Rose agrees.

  “Let’s not think about having to use the communal showers yet!” Veronica says. “Let’s go and get a drink from the VIP bar and then go and see some music. Are you ready?”

  “I think so; is my hair still okay?”

  “You look gorgeous, Rose, your hair is beautiful and your glitter looks fantastic.”

  “Are you sure? I didn’t know if I’d overdone it with the glitter?”

  “No, it’s perfect,” Veronica assures Rose.

  Veronica feels like an Indian squaw as she bends to exit the wigwam and she wonders if Rose behind her does too.

  “Make sure we remember which one is ours,” Rose says as she comes out into the bright sunshine and the music pumping.

  “Number twenty two, on the end row,” Veronica announces with confidence.