Chapter Twelve
A ustin was the direct support act on the Canadian tour, a more prestigious slot than opening.
His name would be a major ticket seller, and his time slot lasted a full hour.
He needed a bigger crew and more equipment, so he traveled with two buses and a truck.
This meant there was more room to spread out; the crew was on one bus and Austin, Matt, Christine, and the band were on the other.
They met in the Kroger parking lot at four o’clock on a Monday afternoon, and an hour later, Christine was already looking at a social feed about news of her trip to Canada with Austin.
“How in the hell do they always know where I am?” she asked.
“Sometimes I feel like someone injected a GPS under my skin,” Austin said.
“We meet the bus in the same public parking lot every time. It doesn’t take a genius to go online and figure out our schedule. Anyone can see us,” Matt said.
“Good point,” Christine said.
The downside to the long bus rides was boredom.
Christine could only watch so many movies and read so many books before she started going stir-crazy.
It took two long, laborious days to make it to the Canadian border.
The crew bus had gotten ahead of them by an hour and Matt told them to wait at the border.
Christine, Austin, and the band were watching a movie when they heard Matt yell.
“Shit. Are you freaking kidding me?” He’d been taking a nap, and when he emerged, his hair was sticking up as if he’d tried to pull it out.
“What’s wrong?” Kennedy asked.
“Freaking Stan. I know I was very clear about not bringing anything that resembled a weapon, toy or otherwise. He brings a toy gun that looks so realistic they pulled them over at the border. Idiot had it sitting out on the front seat. Border patrol couldn’t miss it.
They’re searching the entire bus and have him inside being questioned. ”
“What do they think we’re going to do? Take over Canada with a squirt gun?” Austin asked.
“Doesn’t matter. Other countries think we’re all crazy gun-toting rednecks.”
“That’s just plain unfair. Only half of us are like that,” Kennedy said.
“I swear I’m firing that asshole when we get back home. Brings a squirt gun. What the hell?” Matt said before crawling back into his bunk.
When they reached the border, it took Matt two hours to convince the authorities they weren’t loaded down with weapons. Border officers did a complete search of both buses, confiscated the toy gun, and eventually sent everyone on their way.
“Sorry about this, Matt,” Stan said.
“Don’t talk to me for at least three days,” Matt said, and walked away.
Jerk move that it was, Christine felt a little bad for Stan. He’d just been hired as a guitar tech to tune the guitars and make sure the players had the right one in their hands for each song.
“Am I going to get fired, Austin?” Stan asked.
“Not as long as my guitars are tuned right,” he said, and lightly punched his shoulder. “Matt will chill out. He’s got a lot on him. Just give him some space.”
Back on the buses, they continued toward Niagara Falls.
Once they’d arrived at the venue, Matt pulled everyone in for a quick meeting.
“I know we’re all excited to see the falls, but first we take care of business.
You know the routine—I don’t have to tell you.
After—and only after—we are set up and ready to go is anyone allowed to sightsee. Got it?” Matt said.
“Got it,” everyone replied.
Christine turned in a circle, surveying the stage.
She let out a low whistle at what the production crews had already accomplished.
The headliner’s team had arrived the day before, and the large pieces of the puzzle were already assembled.
Lighting units were erected, backdrops were ready, and risers had been set for the drummer and steel player.
But Austin’s guys still had work to do. Production was the first to arrive and the last to leave.
They worked hard, and it was manual labor.
There was no glitz and glamour to this side of the business.
But when the set came together and the show worked to perfection, the crew celebrated.
They high-fived each other, shared a celebratory drink, and gave compliments like, “The light show was perfect. Spot-on tonight.”
“It takes a village, huh?” Christine said to Matt.
“Yep. If people only knew.”
Hours later, with sound check complete and the show not until the next day, Matt checked everyone into the hotel and gave them the night off.
“I’m going to the view tower,” Matt said. “It’s open until ten. And I hear they have fireworks on Wednesdays. Anyone want to go?”
“I’ll go,” Christine said. If Matt said he was going to get in a barrel and ride the falls to the bottom, Christine would agree to go along. They might not survive, but she’d go out rolling around with Matt. Didn’t sound all that bad.
“Yeah, I’ll hitch a ride with ya,” Austin said.
Alicia walked up and asked Matt about the exchange rate and how the percentages worked in Canada. “Do you mind if we go over that tomorrow? We’re heading out to see the falls from the tower.”
“Mind if I go?” Alicia asked.
“Not at all. Come on,” Matt said. The four of them grabbed a cab and headed to the top of the tower.
Canada’s Horseshoe Falls, one of the three waterfalls that make up Niagara Falls, was aptly named for its horseshoe shape.
It exceeded 180 feet in height, and nearly 682,000 gallons of water gushed over it per second.
At night, the water was lit with multicolored lights in red, yellow, and blue.
Bright lights from hotels and other buildings were visible on the shore behind it.
“That is one big mother-freaking wall of water,” Austin said.
“I’ve never seen anything like it,” Christine said.
“I’m a proud American, but I gotta give credit to the Maple Leaf folks. They win when it comes to Niagara Falls,” Matt said.
“Let’s take a picture. I brought a selfie stick,” Alicia said, pulling it out from her cargo pants. “Squeeze in tight.”
Christine had no problem with that part and planted herself between Matt and Austin. Alicia moved to Austin’s other side, and they took half a dozen photos before they managed to get one that showed the falls below them.
“Are we good on photos?” Matt asked.
“I’d actually like one with you, Austin. I never take pics with you. You cool with that?” Alicia asked.
“Sure. You’re only the best merch girl around.”
“Most merch people are guys. Not sure it’s a compliment.”
“You’re only the best merch person around. How’s that?”
“Better,” she said with an uncharacteristic blush.
Christine was impressed by how important Austin could make his staff feel. He’d clearly given Alicia a thrill.
As they posed for the photo, Christine wondered how she could ask for one with just Matt. The moment passed before she could figure it out.
They stayed for the fireworks. Bright lights burst over the falls, raining color down on the already colorful water.
“I didn’t think it could get any better,” Austin said.
“Yet it did,” Christine said. Matt was behind her and she scooted back slightly, bumping into him. He put his hand on her waist. Neither moved away.
THE TOUR’S FIRST SHOW KICKED off with ear-shattering applause. The Canadian audience’s appreciation was obvious from the first note. Nobody knew for sure if it was because they loved the music or because they were happy to have a reason to go outside and do something.
Austin convinced Christine to stop looking at social media, and she had done well for two days.
But on day three, she couldn’t resist. Sure enough, there were pictures of her along with nasty messages.
“It’s like they try to take bad pictures of me,” she said when they were backstage in the dressing room.
“These weren’t even taken this week. They’re posting old ones. ”
Austin had been playing her some songs and stopped in the middle of one. “Why do you pay attention to that shit?”
Christine shrugged. “I don’t know. Why do we look at accidents when we pass them on the road? We all have the macabre in us. Or maybe I’m hoping not to see more mean posts. Or bad pictures. Like it will magically disappear.”
“The only person you’re hurting is yourself. It’s time to tell that sixteen-year-old bully to shut the hell up,” Austin said.
“You want me to go find the people who bullied me?”
“No, you’re the bully.”
“That doesn’t make sense.”
“It makes perfect sense. Those high school people are long gone, living their lives, working jobs, getting married, making babies, and going to PTA meetings or whatever they’re doing.
You’re the one who continues to bully yourself, convincing yourself these cyberpeople have a right to tear you down.
You have to squash that inner bitch and stand up to her. ”
“What would you know about it?” she said. She wanted to say, Give me a break. You’re the hottie everyone wants. But she didn’t.
Austin grabbed his backpack and pulled out an old, worn photo.
“See that short, chubby kid right there? That’s me in ninth grade.
Seniors threw me in lockers every day. Girls blew me off when I tried to talk to them.
I keep that photo to remind myself I’m not that guy anymore. When he rears his head, I squash him.”
Christine stared at the photo, not believing her eyes.
“So how did you get past it?”
“I grew four inches in one summer. I started running and lifting weights. Walked into tenth grade a lean, mean, ready-to-fight machine. Bullying over.”
“Well, Mr. Adonis-Since-High-School, that never happened to me.” She gave him a head shake and an eye roll.
Austin stood up and reached out his hand to Christine. “Stand up.”
“What? Why?”
“Just do it,” he said. “Please.” His eyes turned down like a puppy dog’s.
She stood up.