Chapter Three
“H ey, pass me a Big Red,” Everett called toward the backseat, his eyes on the highway ahead. Last night’s gig had been a late one, and the sugar would help him keep his focus on the rest of the drive out of the city. The car he was driving belonged to the other guitarist, Greg, who was nursing a hangover in the passenger seat.
Everett took a sip of the bubble gum–flavoured soda, cold from having been in the car overnight, then he flicked on the radio to get the forecast for the day, even though he knew the weather would be the same as it always was in this area in December. Cold. Snow. After the announcer from CKXG confirmed this, Everett slipped a tape into the deck and sat back for the remainder of the hour-or-so drive to Kananaskis Country in the Rocky Mountains of Alberta. He’d been to the area a million times with his dad and his Boy Scout group as a kid, but it had been several years since he’d been there. Situated a few hours away from the city, the change in scenery was definitely welcome after back-to-back shows in pubs and small concert venues for the last few weeks.
It hadn’t been hard to convince the rest of the band to take the last-minute gig. Greg’s family didn’t celebrate Christmas, and Patty, the bass player, just plain loved money and would do anything to make a buck. Kenneth, the drummer, was the only one who’d needed some encouragement, but they promised to have him back at his girlfriend’s place shortly after midnight.
Christmas with Everett’s family was always up in the air anyway, depending on his mom’s relationship status with whatever loser she was dating at the moment and how many kids that boyfriend had, as well as if Everett’s sister, Jessie, were well enough to leave the house that day and face the world. If anything, Everett would bring a pizza over to Jessie’s place later in the afternoon and not acknowledge the fact that it was Christmas, or else risk sending his sister into a guilt-ridden spiral over the fact that she hadn’t managed to buy presents this year.
They’d had a few great Christmases as kids when his dad had still been around, but the memories from those years felt like watching home videos of someone else’s family. After his dad had passed, things had never been the same, and Everett was content to let the rest of the world enjoy the event. For him, it was just another date on the calendar. This gig was going to be a great distraction.
Plus, there was the fact that the pretty girl from the bar was going to be there. He didn’t quite get what the party was all about, but she’d assured him they’d pay the band’s rate in cash, plus a travel bonus, and there would be all the food they could eat and as many drinks as they wanted. Sounded pretty good to him.
The band’s gear was piled into a small trailer hitched up to Greg’s AMC Gremlin, which barely fit all four guys. Greg was in the passenger seat next to Everett, and Everett was trying not to be annoyed that Greg was scratching lottery tickets and getting silver dust all over the seat, even though it was his car. Patty and Kenneth were in the back arguing over the set list.
Just like when he’d been a kid, the section of the drive when the mountain range was no longer in the distance but felt like it was rising up around them in real time from the earth stirred a deep sense of excitement in him. “Where’d you say the turnoff was?” Everett asked Greg.
Greg pulled the fold-out map from the glove compartment and ran his finger across to section B-7. “Four more exits. Then it’s a straight shot. The road will take us right to the lake.” He reached over and took Everett’s pop can from the cup holder and took a long swig.
“Gross, man,” said Everett.
Greg ignored him and took another sip. “Remind me how you booked this gig again?”
“Just a little targeted marketing,” Everett said, thinking about the way Jeannie’s eyebrow had raised just slightly when he’d passed her the tab of paper from the poster, like she knew exactly what he was up to but would play along.
She wasn’t just pretty. He could tell right away after meeting her that she was whip-smart, and not just because of the title on her business card.
Maybe this time he’d get her real number.
Greg let out a loud belch, and Kenneth answered with another even louder one.
With the company he kept, maybe not.
*
The band pulled into the Butterfly Lake Lodge’s parking lot shortly after five p.m., just after the sun had disappeared behind the peaks of the mountains across the lake. The place could be seen from a mile away, glowing with kitschy Christmas spirit. Everett wouldn’t have been surprised if there were a tree farm or a reindeer compound or something in the back.
He put the car in park but left the engine running. “I’ll go in and get the scoop,” he said to the guys. “You wait here.”
The air was several degrees colder than in the city, so Everett zipped up his parka as he ascended the wooden steps to the lodge’s entrance and clacked on the door four times with the brass knocker. Moments later, a short man with wispy silver hair and a sturdy build swung open the door. He was wearing a dress shirt with a grey cardigan over the top and was holding on to a string of bulbs. Based on what Everett had seen outside the lodge and inside its foyer, he was concerned the old man was about to blow the power to the entire county if he plugged in one more set of lights.
“Hi, I’m—”
“You’re early!” the man said, narrowing his eyes. “Party starts at seven thirty. Sue’s still getting set up—she’ll kill me if I start letting people in.”
Before Everett could respond, Jeannie Carmichael descended the staircase in the foyer behind him in a pair of bell-bottom blue jeans and a blue knit sweater with tiny white snowflakes on it and flashed Everett a quick smile and wave before taking the old man by the arm. “Well, it was supposed to be a surprise, Grandpa,” she said. “But look! I found you a band!”
So, this was grandpa’s party? Judging by the man’s age, Everett was concerned. Megapony didn’t know any Sinatra, and while they could probably improvise an Elvis Presley song, he didn’t know they’d be walking into a senior centre’s dance.
“A band?” the man asked. “How did you—”
“You’ll love them, Grandpa.” Judging by the expression on Grandpa’s face, Everett wasn’t so sure that would be true. Jeannie, however, appeared delighted. She also looked stunning, her dark hair tied back from her face in a ponytail. “Hey, Everett,” she said. “Thanks for coming up. This is my grandfather, Duke Carmichael.”
“Hey, Jeannie,” Everett said. “And nice to meet you, Mr. Carmichael.” He shook Duke’s hand, then looked back at Jeannie, admiring the way small pieces of hair hung loose around her face, her cheeks pink like he’d caught her in the middle of something. Instinctually, he opened up his mouth to compliment her, then remembered her grandfather was right there. “Thanks for inviting us,” he said instead. “The rest of the band’s just out in the car.”
His gaze travelled past her down the hallway to a long table with a festive table runner going along the length of it. The table was covered with crystal wine glasses, glistening champagne flutes, a big silver bucket filled with ice, and a large candelabra right in the middle of it holding tall candlesticks waiting to be lit. When Jeannie had called to give him a quick rundown on the event, Everett had thought she’d said something about the place being like a boarding house for young men. With its prime location on a lake with a snow-capped mountain backdrop, Everett’s first peek into the elaborately decorated lodge felt like he’d just stumbled into a stately home right out of a Norman Rockwell painting. “You didn’t tell me it was going to be such a fancy party. We’re—” He looked down at his ripped blue jeans and the plaid button-up peeking out from the collar of his parka. “We’re not really dressed the part.” He cleared his throat. “And, uh, sir, your granddaughter did tell you what kind of, uh, band we are?”
“I have a very discerning taste, my boy. What is it that you play?”
Uh oh. Were they about to be sent packing on the highway back to the city? The only way Everett wanted to drive another hour on Highway1 was with a few crisp bills lining each band member’s pocket.
“What did I tell you, Grandpa? You’ll love them!” Jeannie sounded genuinely enthusiastic, which Everett was happy to hear, but something told him it wasn’t enough to convince Grandpa.
Duke looked Everett up and down, a stern look in his eyes. “My boy. Tell me you know something off the new Kinks album. And you can get right back in that car and drive home if you don’t plan to get the Led out tonight.” He turned to Jeannie. “Now, why have we been hiring that boring jazz band every year? This is going to be a party!”
Everett grinned and took a glance back at Jeannie, who was beaming at Duke with all the love in the world. She gave her grandfather a kiss on the cheek.
“Sir,” Everett said, “I think we’ve got you covered. Now, where should we set up?”