Chapter 12 Not Long Ago
Not Long Ago
Jace entered the Function Fest office just before nine a.m. carrying upscale pastries from the patisserie in Birmingham, the ones that looked like artwork and tasted like angel dreams. She placed them just so on the kitchen counter and brewed a fresh pot of coffee.
She set out half-and-half and oat milk in silver pitchers.
She even fanned out a pile of napkins instead of just plopping them on the counter.
Louis was the first to arrive, wearing a decade-old company polo shirt. He pointed to the platter of goodies and shot Jace a suspicious look. “You’re about to ask us a favor, aren’t you?”
“Why would you say that?” Jace said, nonchalantly pouring herself a mug of coffee.
“The last time you had this elegant setup, you were looking for volunteers to spend three weeks in Las Vegas to run a poker tournament. In July.”
“Did it work?”
“I have a tattoo of a stack of chips that I can’t remember getting, so I guess so.” Louis took a chocolate croissant and sat across from her. “Do you want to tell me about it before everyone else gets here?”
“That’s why I asked you to be here now. The rest of the crew is scheduled to arrive at ten-thirty.”
“If you’d wanted my team here for a meeting before noon, you should have had them sleep under their desks.”
The front door opened, and a spray of magenta hair and a full-bore smile entered the office.
Jace waved. “Hey, Rennie.”
“Howdy!” they said, putting their computer bag down next to a desk.
“Have you ever met Louis?” Jace asked. “He was the master tech and board operator for all of the Artemis shows when Paloma was performing there.”
“Don’t think I’ve had the pleasure,” Rennie said, shaking his hand.
“When was the last show you worked there?” Jace asked.
Louis furrowed his mustache. “I left in 2002 when you offered me a salary to work here. Besides, I missed you.”
“Aw,” Jace said.
“I’ve got your old job these days at the Artemis,” Rennie told him.
“Hopefully you don’t have to use my old equipment, too,” Louis said. “It was from caveman times. You can do more with your cell phone than I could with all the gear I used to use.”
“Oh, wow, is that a pistachio chocolate chip?” Rennie asked, walking to the counter and pointing to a spiral-shaped pastry.
“Knock yourself out,” Jace said, turning to Louis. “I asked Rennie to join the two of us because they’re more familiar with the current setup at the Artemis.”
“Sounds intriguing,” he said, taking another bite as he followed Jace into her office. “So now are you going to tell me what’s going on?”
An hour later, Louis was fully briefed. By ten-thirty, the other Function Fest staffers arrived, grabbed breakfast, and crammed into the conference room, where Rennie had set up their laptop to run a set of slides.
Jace stood at the point of the long, oval table to one side of the wide-screen monitor.
“Folks, you may have noticed I’ve been taking a lot of calls behind closed doors lately, and it’s not for any scary reasons, I promise.”
“So we’re not closing?” a production coordinator asked. “Because that’s what all of us assumed since you made all of us come in so early on a Monday.”
“We’re not closing,” Jace said. There were sighs of relief and muttered comments. “I’ve been developing a proposal for a very high-profile event scheduled for this fall that had to be kept quiet until we confirmed certain details. I’ve been dying to tell you about it, so let’s not wait any longer.”
Rennie started the presentation, bringing up the latest iteration of the poster design which, thanks to Jerome putting in a good word, listed several more bands than it had the week before.
Jace cleared her throat and began. “Function Fest will produce a benefit concert celebrating Sabine Galanis, the owner of the renowned Cass Corridor rock-and-roll venue the Artemis Club, that’s taking place on Saturday, September ninth.
As you can see here, we have commitments from a number of bands so far with more to come, and it’s likely musicians will be mixing and matching throughout the show as well.
All proceeds, minus expenses, will benefit the Artemis Reconstruction Fund, and we are angling to get as many in-kind donations as we can for food and beverage, accommodations for the out-of-town acts, and so on to maximize the total raised. ”
“It says ‘Headliner TBD,’ ” a lighting tech said, pointing to the screen. “Can you clue us in on who that might be?”
Jace looked around the room. “Before I tell you, please understand this is a benefit to help someone who means a great deal to me and save a venue that’s been the backdrop for a big chunk of my personal history.
Because of the pandemic and other factors, Sabine barely has the cash on hand to keep the club open, much less pay our typical rates.
Frankly, she won’t have any money to pay us at all until the donations from the fundraiser have cleared.
That’s why I’m not assigning anyone to this who can’t wait until October to be paid, and I know that’s a big ask since we aren’t working as many hours as when Adoption Academy was still our primary client.
“Long story short, I’m doing this job gratis.
I don’t expect anyone else here to do that, and I’m not telling any of you to participate.
But if you are able to contribute any time or services over the next few months, knowing that our pay is contingent on the fundraiser meeting its targets, I think you’ll have the most fun you’ve ever had.
” Jace paused. “If you are ready to commit to this, please stay in the room so I can fill you in on the headliner and the rest of the details. If not, I have no hard feelings. It will not be held against you, you’ll be assigned to other work, and you can beat everyone to the kitchen to get another croissant. ”
Every person stayed in their seat, and Jace was so relieved, she almost started to cry.
“Now that we’ve sworn a blood oath, can we find out who the headliner is?” asked the office manager with feigned testiness.
All eyes were on Jace. “This is a work in progress and is completely confidential—and it may or may not work out at all—but the plan is to have Paloma Doralle as the closing act.”
The reactions varied from “Paloma who?” to “Oh my God, the ‘Heart Fire’ singer!” The production coordinator whistled, clearly impressed. “That would be a coup. When was the last time she performed in public?”
“More than twenty years ago,” Jace said.
“Given her absence and renewed popularity, we’re expecting to attract a lot of online interest and national media attention, so we need to bring in some reinforcements.
Please say hello to Rennie from the Artemis Club.
They’ll oversee the graphic design and social media campaign. ”
Rennie threw up a hand. “Hey! Glad to be working with you!”
“I’ve also enlisted a PR and media expert who,” Jace said, glancing at the door, “is walking in now.”
“Sorry I’m late. I forgot it’s construction season in Michigan. Hello, everyone, I’m Livvy Randolph,” she said as she appeared in the doorway to the conference room. “And before you ask, Jace is my aunt. Nepotism is alive and well when you’re asking for people to work for free.”
“I just let everyone know we’re in the process of confirming Paloma as the headliner,” Jace explained as Livvy sat in the open seat next to Rennie. “Anything you’d want the team to know at this point?”
“Other than this is hyper-confidential right now?”
“Other than that.”
“Several artists are contributing their time specifically because they want to be on the same bill as Paloma, so there’s a risk they might bail if she doesn’t agree to this,” Livvy said.
“We are optimistic we’ll be able to confirm her participation shortly, but we can’t wait any longer to start advertising the show.
I’ve got Plan A and Plan B ready to go from a promotional standpoint in case she isn’t the headliner and other acts drop as a result, and you all may want to do the same from a production standpoint, especially with the documentary crew there, too. ”
“Documentary crew?” asked a videographer.
Livvy looked toward her aunt. “Want to take that question?”
Jace looked at her video team. “If Paloma agrees to be part of the show, there’s a possibility that Jerome Brinkley will be recording the event and taping interviews for a documentary about the Artemis and the acts that performed there.”
“Possibility?” the videographer asked.
“He’s a ‘strong maybe’ right now,” Jace said even though she feared she was being overly optimistic.
Nearly two weeks had passed since she’d met with Jerome, who’d left the brewery without making any commitments, and he hadn’t returned her calls or emails about reaching out to Nolan Greene on her behalf, either.
No need to freak out her staff at this point, however.
“We’ll keep you posted. Next slide please, Rennie. ”