Chapter 21 - The Show #3
“I live here, or I have a house here. One of my jobs is in Minnesota though, and I’m going back next month—”
Jakob was looking at her intently, then he glanced over her shoulder. “Lurch! Did you eat? You need something in you before—”
“Grace?” Grace’s head tilted. That voice . . . that voice. Again, closer, almost next to her ear, “Grace?”
Jakob removed his hand from her arm, and Grace turned her head toward the voice.
All the color drained from her face, and a woman’s voice said, “Jakob, catch her, she’s gonna faint.
” Someone reached in, snatched the wine glass as it tilted dangerously in Grace’s hand, and Jakob’s arm was suddenly around her, supporting and leading her to a nearby, antique sofa with curved, dark wood back and arms.
Squatting in front of Grace, Jakob looked intently at her face. “Somebody get water and a damp cloth.” He took Grace’s hands in his, rubbing them. “I’m truly sorry. I didn’t mean to overwhelm you.”
Grace struggled to focus. She heard the voice again.
So serious. “Jakob, what’s going on?” She searched among the unfamiliar, bizarre faces.
Was this some kind of theater production?
Where was she? Robby? Was that Robby standing behind Jakob .
. . looking at her. Was it? His face was not the same. A mask?
Someone reached around Jakob with a cloth and a bottle of water.
He took the cloth, stood, and leaned toward Grace, but quickly turned around to Robby.
“Lurch, lift up her hair, so I can put this cloth on the back of her neck.” Robby frowned, stepped around Jakob, and leaned over Grace.
He gathered her hair, in two hands, and lifted it.
As soon as Jakob had positioned the wet cloth, Robby let her hair drop and stepped away.
Jakob offered her the water. She took it and sipped.
Jakob turned to Robby. “I’m trying to help a friend whose bus is wayward, maybe running out of gas.
I’m trying to open his eyes and get him back on the right road.
” He looked off. “May make some production changes in the future though.” Then he refocused and looked around him.
“Running late, people. We’ll manage. I’ll rearrange the set list. Talk more. ”
An anonymous voice said, “Oh my god.” Jakob smiled.
Looking back at Robby, he said, “You take as much time as you want. Grace can have my dressing room if she needs it or take a seat in the wings.” He turned to Grace.
“I hope you’ll stay after. I’d like to hear what you’re doing in Minnesota.
” To the room, he said, “Okay people. This show’s over.
On to the next one,” and walked quickly from the room, while everyone else scrambled after him.
********
Robby could look in any mirror — which he avoided — and see that his face was cavernous.
Jakob’s nickname was spot on. It probably didn’t help he wore all black onstage, but that’s how he felt.
Nothing helped. Not new guitars. Not women.
Not drugs. But the dates with Jakob were a godsend, and Ray was strong enough the Gulls could get together and work on songs.
Marie said it was progress, slow for both of them, but progress.
They had to keep on. He wouldn’t have made it this far without her.
But the band needed so many more songs before Joe would start booking tour dates to support a new album.
And his head was in a bad place, worse since Wednesday.
He didn’t know what to do next anymore. The answer might be in this room, but he didn’t know what to say to her .
. . and he didn’t trust her. He had, sadly, a better understanding of her trust problem.
“Is this a dream?”
He’d almost forgotten she was there, right in front of him.
He looked down at her. She was pale, an unhealthy pale even for her.
He sat down on the other end of the sofa.
“It’s not a dream. We’re both here.” He put his head back against the wall — the sofa back was low, the curved wood jabbing just below his shoulder blades — and closed his eyes.
“Jakob meant well.” He took a deep breath.
“When you feel better, I’ll get someone to take you home. ”
“No.”
He opened his eyes and turned his head. “What do you mean, ‘No’?”
“I want to see the show.”
Robby frowned. “Why?”
“I never saw you onstage. I’m here. I want to stay and see the show.”
“God . . . alright,” Robby said resignedly, looking away. “I’m not going to argue. When you’re ready, I’ll show you where you can sit.” He closed his eyes.
“I need a minute.” They sat in silence. Heard the music start.
No opening act. Grace pulled the towel from her neck and put it and the water bottle at her feet.
She looked over. Robby felt her eyes on him.
He opened his and turned. She nodded. He stood up and waited.
He did not offer his hand. She got up . .
. swayed . . . waited a few moments, then took a step.
He turned and led the way. Grace kept her eyes on his braid as they went down the hall.
They went slowly down a flight of stairs and up some steps to the stage level, her hand always on the railing, the music getting ever louder.
She hadn’t been to a rock concert since college, only jazz.
She’d forgotten how deafeningly loud they were.
He pointed to an empty chair, among other guests — even some children.
She hoped they had earplugs. Robby walked away and stood by himself.
Jakob was telling the light crew over the mic they were all about to hatch onstage and please turn the lights down.
The audience laughed. Robby moved to the wings between the curtains.
Now Jakob was bantering with a young woman standing on the carpet just below him about finding the downbeat.
She said she had a band. Jakob said, “Not if you can’t find the downbeat.
” The girl, the audience, and Jakob all laughed.
The band launched into the next song. Jakob backed up from the edge of the stage to get to his mic, saw Robby, nodded, and held up one finger. Robby nodded back.
When the song ended, Jakob stepped back to his mic and put his right hand holding the pick on it.
“Now it’s my great pleasure to introduce one of the best guitar players around and my friend, Robby Song!
” The applause was thunderous. Robby strode on stage and picked up the guitar that was waiting for him, just back from a mic stand, a very tall mic stand.
While he put the guitar strap over his head, Jakob said, “The only problem with this guy is he makes the rest of us look like Pygmies.” He looked over at Robby, nodded, and said, “Let’s rock!
” And Grace saw a Robby she’d never imagined.
*********
They were standing next to each other, not touching, off to the side backstage, roadies hustling past them, packing up, and loading out. One approached Robby. “Where do you want your guitars?”
“The bus, but I’ll need to take them with me tonight.” Robby’s voice was hoarse from singing — noticeable, but not as bad as in the Minneapolis airport.
All the other band members and their guests had left. Grace had met some of them and thanked Jakob for bringing her down. He apologized again for having shocked her and repeated he hoped they’d have an opportunity to continue their conversation.
Grace looked around for a chair — event staff had collected most of them. She saw one and walked to it, saying over her shoulder, “I need to sit down.”
Robby didn’t know what to do. He wanted to be sure she got home, but he didn’t want to be around her. He walked in her direction but not all the way to her. The whole scene was unreal.
She looked at him. “I’m glad I stayed. Jakob is so engaging and relaxed. He makes the room feel small. And you . . . are . . . phenomenal. I have no words. I’m glad I didn’t know when we . . .” Grace’s voice trailed off.
“Jakob’s unique, in a lot of ways . . . Are you ready for a driver now? I told Jakob neither of us would be staying for dinner. Ready?” He wanted this to be over. He wanted Joe to text he could fly somewhere — anywhere — tonight.
“What do you do after a show? Collapse?”
“I wish. I’ve done a couple of these shows a month with Jakob.
Sometimes we all have to get on the bus and go, then I usually take whatever somebody’s got for sleep .
. . it never works. Sometimes I play. The best is if we don’t leave, and I can walk, and try to get my head in a place where I can sleep. ”
“You don’t eat?”
“Not usually.”
“Well, as long as I’m downtown — I never come down here anymore — my favorite pizza place was just down the street.
I’m going to walk up to the corner and see if it’s still there.
If it is, I’ll get a pizza to go. I won’t have to worry about food for days.
I can call an Uber from there.” She paused and stood up.
“I understand this is awkward for you and not your idea.”
“No need to call an Uber. Jakob gave me the limo service’s number. They’re on call for us 24/7.”
“But I want to see about pizza.” She took a few careful steps.
“Okay,” Robby said hesitantly. “There’s something you don’t know . . .”
“Oh . . .” Grace stopped, swallowed, took a breath, exhaled, and looked directly at Robby. “You have someone waiting.”
“No. Not that.”
“What then?”
“I’m staying here. The Gulls are here. At least, for now.”
Grace frowned. The crease between her brows deepened. “I don’t understand. I thought my head was clearer now but . . .”
“Joe rented us a place here, for us to come up with songs for a new album. He knew about this show, knew I’d be here, knew I had time after.
He said there were beaches, rentals . . .
He didn’t know you were here. That you live here.
You never said exactly where you lived, so it didn’t occur to me either. ”