Chapter 20
(Draven)
Fuming.
Pissed.
Neither seemed strong enough for what I felt as I listened to a simpering weasel of a manager explain why there was almost twice the line that there should have been at this point in the signing. We’d committed to three hours, from ten in the morning until one in the afternoon, to give the band a nice chunk of time off before the show tonight. It was 11:28 and things were rapidly morphing into a raging shit show.
“We never expected for this to happen, either,” Dave, the manager, explained. “It’s rare that signings sell out, I mean, we come close all the time, but selling out completely, that only happens a couple times a year.”
“Only this one sold out,” I conveyed through my device.
“Yes and so did the one last weekend.”
“I still don’t understand why you keep bringing last weekend up. That has nothing to do with us.”
“Well, you see, it, um, sort of does,” Dave hedged.
“I think you’d better explain what the hell is going on here.”
“Yes, I, um, guess I’d better,” Dave muttered, eyes downcast as he shuffled a few things around on his desk.
“Dave! Hey, um, we’ve got a little problem.”
Seemed to me like this was Dave’s day for problems. I just hoped this wasn’t always the way things worked around here or the turnover rate had to be insane.
“Can’t you see I’m already dealing with a problem?” Dave groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose.
“I don’t think this one is going to wait.”
Turning, I saw the man forced to step all the way into the office to make room for a cop who looked as annoyed as I felt.
“Sir, are you the manager?”
“Unfortunately.”
“Well, would you be able to give some sort of timetable for when your neighbors might expect to have the entrances to their establishments uncluttered by all of the people looking to get in here?”
“We were just discussing that.”
“Oh, well then don’t let me stand in your way,” the cop replied, sarcasm dripping from his voice as he glared at Dave. “Please, go ahead and figure that out so I have something to tell them. Maybe then they’ll quit harassing my dispatcher to complain about people coming in and out to use their bathrooms and making it next to impossible for their customers to find the door, let alone get out.”
“I can’t control what people do on a public sidewalk.”
“That’s right, it’s a public sidewalk, which means that all of the public has the right to use it and right now they can’t because you have a line wrapping halfway around the block.”
Sighing, Dave rubbed the back of his neck and groaned. “Better than all the way around. Then we’d have two lines fighting to get in here with everyone arguing about who’s first.”
“Sir, what exactly is going on out here?”
“We’ve got a band in signing CDs and merchandise,” Dave explained.
“I see. Is there a way that we can move things along faster?”
“Dave was just about to explain why there is a much longer line than the one we were told to expect,” I conveyed.
“Well, um, what happened was that we had a band that was supposed to do a signing here last Saturday and they, um, well, they no showed with no warning, and we had all these people here and they were, well, rightfully pissed. So we offered to give them a store credit, plus five dollars if they wanted, or they could come back this week and we’d honor the tickets. We figured most would take the credit.”
Was he fuckin’ kidding me with this shit?
If there wasn’t a cop in the room I’d have been tempted to haul him across his desk and beat him with the stack of papers he kept fiddling with.
“Only they didn’t, did they?” I typed.
“No, um, only like, maybe twenty-five percent.”
“So we’ve got seventy-five percent more ticketed people in the line,” I conveyed, wanting to make sure I was understanding correctly. “That’s a hundred extra people. Are you out of your mind?”
I’d typed fucking only to hastily erase it. Seemed that I’d found at least one positive thing about having the damned device. It was way easier to censor myself when I could see what I was about to say, rather than blurting it out. When the cop chuckled, I knew I had an ally, not that I had a solution in mind for how to fix this. Sending staff and roadies outside to ask who had tickets for today and who had tickets for last week and culling those people from the line was a surefire way to lose fans. Clearly they’d thought enough of us to not take the store credit, which, at fifty bucks a pop, wasn’t exactly chump change in this economy. Those folks were probably salty already over the way they’d been treated by the band they’d bought tickets for. They’d be extra venomous online if we refused to sign for them. We couldn’t short our own fans, either. They were supposed to have time for photos and a moment or two with the band.
“I-I-I’m sorry,” Dave said. “I just followed corporate’s policy and those are the options they give.”
“But were they the only options, Dave?” I asked.
“W-well, no, n-not exactly, I-I mean, we could have offered cash refunds, but we didn’t have that kind of money on hand and I’d have had to get my district manager involved to try and get it and he was on this weekend retreat thing and basically threatened to…well, I need this job, so there was no way I was calling him so I dealt with it the way the manual said.”
“The manual has never had to go and tell their clients that they’ll need to stretch this thing out another two hours in order to take care of everyone,” I typed. “Pretty sure the manual has never tried to explain to your neighbors that they’re losing money because you didn’t bring in enough staff today to control your line. You should have security for that. Now, I’m going to do you and your neighbors a favor and send our roadies out to handle that so you don’t wind up in a feud with everybody on the block. But, Dave, do the world a favor and grow a set, so that the next time something happens that you need your district manager for, you’ll have the guts to get him on the phone!”
“Amen,” the cop muttered.
Even Christine snorted, just once, before she went back to silently observing what was taking place.
“Oh, oh my god, thank you, thank you.”
“Don’t thank me,” I conveyed. “You might still find yourself fired or at least demoted after the letter I intend to send to the corporate office regarding their policy. It’s ridiculous. I’ll never understand how a place can so eagerly take a customer’s money, then make them jump through hoops to get it back when something goes wrong.”
“I-I don’t write the policies,” Dave stammered.
“No, but you enforce them, which makes you just as culpable,” I typed. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a mess to fix and I’m sure Officer…”
“Hervy,” the man supplied.
“Officer Hervy would like to get back to dealing with real crimes and people who need help, not this nonsense.”
“You best believe it,” Officer Hervy replied. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” I typed. “And thank you for not shutting it down. The guys in Blissfully Immune value their fans and they’d hate to have to disappoint anyone.”
He nodded, and we both went our separate ways, Christine at my back as Dave remained behind his desk, muttering something about being out of Maalox. Pausing, I told Ozzy that we were extending the time by two hours and to let everybody know to do their best to move things along without being brusque. Then I hurried to find the crew, who were breaking down the boxes of merch that had already sold.
“Don’t worry about that right now,” I typed. “I need you guys around front to keep the line flowing without obstructing the doors of the neighboring business.”
“On it,” Whiskey said, immediately dropping the box he held to lead the crew around.
Uggggh.
I finished breaking down the boxes and stacked them in the back of the truck, with some help from Christine.
“What a fuckin’ moron,” she grumbled as we heaved the cardboard in.
Nodding, I couldn’t agree more.
Those two hours might not seem like much, but the guys still had a show tonight, and that was two hours of peace and quiet that they weren’t going to get now. I’d never thought to look into the refund policies of the places where I’d been booking the guys to appear. It had just never dawned on me that it would be something I needed to look out for. You always planned to attend everything you committed to, but when you’d been in the industry for as long as me and the guys had, you quickly learned that shit happened that was completely out of your control to avoid or fix. We hated doing it, but we had canceled before, but we always did our best to make it up to the fans the next time we returned to the venue.
Our old manager hadn’t been big on rescheduling anything, which seemed like a good practice, given the timetables we’d been working with. Now I made the timetable, which meant that I had the ability to slip something in to keep the fans from being shorted. I loved having the power to put space between the shows, too, so it was rare that the bands played back-to-back dates, even when we were hanging around a city. That day off in between to recharge was crucial, as was the opportunity to wander and take time to really see the places we visited, not just the inside of the bars and auditoriums. It made it easier to breathe, easier to create, too, and to feel like people, rather than desperate rats scurrying from one place to the next.
Shit, I might have to turn that thought into some lyrics and see what Robbie and the boys did with it once I’d fleshed it out more.
Okay, everything was picked up back here, so I locked up the truck and headed in to make sure things were still running smoothly for the band. As I expected, Sully was in the corner behind the door, where he could see the whole room, including anyone who entered. They’d never see him there, but he’d see them and immediately know whether they had the right to enter that way or not.
Four additional guards were positioned around the room, with Cade standing beside a bin of records just behind and to the left of Johnny where he could easily get to him in need be. A thought hit, so I fired off a quick text to Robbie, to let him know what was going on here and to ask if he and the guys wouldn’t mind handling the after party the radio station was hosting later that night, since I’d only blanket committed to sending four guys, but had never specified which four I intended to send.
My original plan had been two from each band, whichever two were most eager to go, but under the circumstances, with Damaged Saints having the day free from obligations, I hoped they wouldn’t mind all going for a change. Mickey tended to shy away from those things when he was able to, while Jagger was always down to grab Keegan, so Robbie didn’t get stared at by the curious who were eager to see his scars.
It didn’t take long before I received an answer informing me that they’d do it, which worked perfectly, since they were the opening band. They’d have had the chance to sign autographs during intermission while their stage setup was being removed so Blissfully Immune’s could go up, plus eat, shower and change before the after party got started. Tomorrow, both bands had radio appearances at the station, then we’d get the wheels rolling as we headed to do the next series of shows. Our soft launch had brought fans of both bands out in full force, selling out several venues while the numbers at others were climbing steadily.
All in all, things looked to be going as well as they could under the circumstances.
Rebel laughed with a blond biker who threw an arm over his shoulder as they posed with devil horns, then air guitared their way through a little video, before Rebel signed his shirt, shook his hand and turned his attention to the next person in line.
It seemed like the band had found a good rhythm, too. The line moved at a steady pace, no clumps in front of a single band member. Those in line, at least the ones in the store, were happy, snapping pictures, waving, and holding the CDs and posters that were selling like hotcakes off the table two employees manned. It didn’t look like they’d run out anytime soon, either. It wouldn’t have shocked me at all if Weasel Dave had put in a rush order for more of their CDs the moment last week’s event went south. He might not have expected a turnout of this magnitude, but he sure had the merchandise to support it.
The roadies manning our table were going through t-shirts and water bottles like crazy, too. Whiskey had positioned two members of the team behind it. They worked with practiced ease, like a well-oiled machine and never kinked up the line with slow transactions. The store staff didn’t, either. Looked like I’d been right in my assessment of Dave. The man had made sure the inside was stocked and staffed, with a clear path for the line to snake through the store and back out the double doors. Had he actually had the place open to shoppers, I’d have been tempted to strangle him, damn the consequences, only Johnny and I were just getting used to not having a court case hanging over our heads. The last thing I’d ever want to do is land myself in a jam when I had a job to do.
Was gonna be a grueling three hours, though, but that’s what happened when someone moved the finish line. An image formed in my head, and I quickly made a note of it so I wouldn’t forget to tell Johnny. It was of an open door beneath an exit sign, the band members turning to smoke as they passed through. Each and every one of them was going to reach for a vape or light up a cigarette when they got done here, leaving an epic trail of smoke to the SUV. I took a few pictures, too, for the website, and so Johnny would have a visual reminder of what they were all wearing. Whisps of smoke wearing shades and a black bandana, that’s what Rebel would be, while Johnny had a dark purple hoodie on today, pulled up so that only a fringe of hair fanned his forehead. I’d been shocked in Palm Springs, when Johnny resisted the urge to buy a fifth one after he’d already found four to his liking.
No room on the bike for another one.
Like there had been room for those four. Johnny had to buy another backpack, not that I’d done much better when it came to restraint. There was no resisting some of those slogans, and I had a fondness for sleeping in tank tops and shorts when I wasn’t home or in my room where I could sleep naked.
With Johnny beside me.
We’d get to have that now and everything else we’d talked about.
For the first time since his announcement about being cleared, I could finally breathe and focus on a future where the smiling, grinning man at the table wouldn’t be staring out at me from behind bars.
As I watched him take off one of the dozen bracelets he wore specifically for the teenage fans and slip it on the wrist of a green-haired youth, I was reminded of the story he’d told me about them, as we lay curled up in bed together in Palm Springs.
“Rebel and I went to this book event at the community college when we were like, fifteen or so. It was like a supersized Scholastic book fair. We totally blew all the money we had with us and what we could get from the ATM. My bank account was down to like, four bucks and my wallet was hating me by the time we were through, but it was an awesome day, and we really stocked up on things to read when we were stuck inside for what they predicted to be a wicked winter. It was, worse than they said, but I didn’t run out of books and neither did Rebel, since we’d agreed to let the other read whatever they wanted. That way we didn’t have to double up on what we bought.”
“I can see where that would get expensive.”
“Seriously. Lawn and leaf season only pads the account so far when everyone’s niece and grandkid was out there raking, too. You ever go out to try and shovel walkways to make a few bucks, only to step outside and see several variations of pom-pom hats on shovelers up and down the block?”
“I know the struggle. Everyone sent their kid out to shovel so they wouldn’t have to pay someone else’s kid to do it.”
“Exactly,” Johnny moaned. “Even the kid who didn’t even try to get out of the way of the dodgeball in gym class was out there pushing a shovel and cussing.”
“So, um, what does that have to do with the bracelets?”
“Huh, ohh, well, everyone was giving them away at the book fair. They were at every table. Some just had bright colors and the author’s name, but others had quotes, slogans, taglines, even tropes written in wickedly amusing ways that made us snicker. So we went around collecting them. Had them completely covering our wrists and running up our forearms when we went to school on Monday, too. We’d kept expecting to see Jagger there, he said he was coming, but when we saw him Monday morning, he just shrugged and said something came up. It turned out that his brother had an episode and took a bunch of pills. Jagger was getting dressed to catch the bus to the book fair when he couldn’t find the t-shirt he wanted to wear and went to see if his brother had it. He found him on the floor and managed to get him to the hospital with only a few stall outs, since he wasn’t used to a manual transmission. He looked so sad, but he wouldn’t tell us what happened, not at the time, so Rebel and I each took off one of the bracelets and gave them to him. His face lit up and he hugged us and thanked us for brightening his day. Still didn’t say anything about why he never showed up, though. Not for a long time afterwards. Rebel got tired of the bracelets after a couple of weeks and gave them to me, and I’d walk around with them up my arms like they were the coolest thing in the world. And every time I’d see Jagger frowning, I’d slip him one or leave it hanging from one of the hooks in his locker. I always knew when he found it, because he’d be smiling and running his fingers over the surface of it on his wrist. I liked being able to make him happy with something so simple, but it was his idea for me to keep doing it when the band started ordering merch. They aren’t expensive to buy in bulk, and I’ve gotten so I can read when people need one. So far, it’s never failed to earn me a smile.”
Son of a bitch, there was another idea right there, and one that would be uniquely Johnny. We’d get some of those doodles of his printed out on bracelets he could wear and give away. I’d even seen him kneel and pass them to fans he could reach, an image that had once graced the front cover of Roaring Metal magazine. Somedays, I doubted he even realized how special he was, and not just for the music, but that was okay, because whenever he needed a reminder, I planned to be right there to give it to him.