CHAPTER 45
CHAPTER 45
Ninety minutes before they were due to go on, they gathered in the orchestral ready room, the only chamber large enough to hold them all. Everyone came. Kari and Rafi and Graham, the gentlemen in tuxes tonight, Kari in another amazing Fendi design of russet and gold and gray. Danny and Megan and Arthur. The three ladies. Connor’s band.
They gathered by a long table holding food and drink and sang their way through the second encore. A straight run-through, pushing each other, the ladies marking time with the band. Ian on guitar, Connor thumping out the melody on the battered upright they had pulled from the far corner. Danny and Megan and Kari and Rafi and Graham clapping time. And Arthur. The old man’s features stretched in a smile he seemed unable to let go of, hard as he tried.
When they were done, Maxine said, “Well, all right.”
“If that doesn’t get them on their feet, they’re ready for the cemetery,” Arthur said. “Given as how this is Miami, that might actually be the case.”
“It’s still rough around the edges,” Connor said. “But good.”
“Better than that,” Danny said. “A lot better.”
Arthur pretended to inspect the backup trio. They were decked out in tuxedo-style full-length dresses and sparkled from wrist to neckline to ankles. “I didn’t know there were that many sequins on the entire globe.”
“That does it,” Maxine said, extending her arms. “Come here, old man.”
“No.”
But Trish moved in behind him and sort of bounced him in Maxine’s direction. She embraced him hard enough to earn a soft whoof.
Arthur adjusted his spectacles and groused, “Careful with the antiques.”
Maxine made a show of dusting him off. “If you were only ten years younger.”
Arthur actually laughed. A rusty sound. “Try seventy.”
Danny said, “Say we have a hit tonight. The audience likes you—”
“Correction.” This from Maxine. “They’re gonna love us.”
Danny nodded. “Say it happens. What are we going to read tomorrow?”
Ian had been hoping for something like this. A reason to tell them, “At least some critics will come out against us. They’ve been looking for another reason to put me down, and they’ll see this as a perfect excuse. They’ll call it mediocre renditions of tired music that has been done better by more talented groups. They’ll claim some of our songs should have been shelved long ago.”
“Stop holding back,” Connor said. “Tell us what you really think.”
“You need to understand, what they say here isn’t the issue,” Ian noted.
“It isn’t?”
“No, Connor. It’s not.” Ian pointed to the door leading to the main hall. “The public has the final say. That’s what matters most. And with the public, we have two opportunities. The first is the concert. And it’s important, don’t get me wrong. But even more important is what happens with Danny’s documentary. If it and the film are hits . . .”
“What?”
Ian reached for Kari’s hand. “This afternoon, watching Kari perform, I saw something big happening.”
Graham told her, “You were wonderful, by the way.”
Ian pressed on. “What I mean is, I watched the critics. Their bitter disapproval. Kari represents a direction the audience is happily willing to take. Their enthusiasm relegates the critics and their dark ways to the past. It’s happened before, and it will happen again. Who knows? It might even be happening with us. Our job is to wow the audience, go home, and get ready for tomorrow.”
Connor said, “I think you should tell them what you told me about tomorrow’s new opportunity.”
“Really?”
He nodded. “Invite them along for the ride. But that’s your call. You’re the boss.”
Arthur laughed a second time.
Connor smiled at the old man. “Somebody has to be. Right, neighbor?”
Ian asked Danny, “Are you okay with this?”
“That’s the sort of decision I leave to my music producer.”
Arthur added, “He means you, mate.”
So Ian told them. About the new film’s soundtrack. Inviting them all along for the ride.
While they were still recovering, there was a knock on the door. “Five minutes.”
Ian reached for his guitar. “Okay. Everybody gather round. It’s fever time.”
And it was just that.