Aftershock (25 page)

Mickey Farentino stood in the center of the stage, holding a clipboard and wearing a mic and headset. When he spotted her, he walked over to shake hands.

“So far so good, Syd.” He laughed. “Although I think the guys are still in shock from the mob scene at the hotel.”

She grinned. “Me, too.”

“Lotta smarts in planning that thing with Marc and Emma.” He winked. “Looks like Full Moon assigned a real promo brain to my guys.”

Was that the heat of a blush creeping up her cheeks? Lord, she hoped not.

“Thanks, Mickey. I’m going to do my very best for them.”

“Well, gotta get back to making sure everything is ready for the soundcheck.”

Putting on her best public smile she took a moment to greet each of the musicians and fill them in on her media activities for the day.

“She’s got it covered.” Butch walked up beside her. “The numbers are still climbing on the single, by the way. iTunes changes every hour. And you’re still trending on Twitter. I expect a lot more interest in you guys than we otherwise might have had.”

“Just as long as she’s there so we don’t trip over our tongues,” Rick said. He had his back to Sydney, tuning his guitar, but after he spoke, he turned around.

And, as always, his eyes sought hers.
Bam!
  Heat pierced her like a thunderbolt. If she hadn’t already been nervous, she would be now. In a moment so brief she wondered if she imagined it, he telegraphed a message.

Tonight. I can’t wait
.

“That’s Sydney’s job,” Butch told them. “And she seems to be doing it damn well. Take all your cues from her.”

For a moment, Sydney floated on the cloud of praise. Rick shifted his gaze back to her and again, that hot, emotional jolt shook her. She forced herself to look away before what she felt was written all over her face.

If I’m going to do this, I need to do it right. I can keep what’s happening between Rick and me under control in public. I know I can. I have to
.

“Thank you. I appreciate the confidence.” She cleared her throat. “Full Moon makes it a practice not to schedule interviews before a concert starts,” she told them. “You have too much to be concerned with and shouldn’t be distracted. But I have two reporters who really want some time with you between your set and Deep Blue River’s. Butch, that work for you?”

He nodded. “The River’s good to go, so I can make myself available in the dressing room and give you a hand if you need it.”

“Good. Thanks.”

“Additionally,” she continued, “I’m sure we’ll get a lot more people videoing with their cameras. Especially when you get to the closing number.”

Butch looked around. “Emma not here?”

“She’s still at the hotel,” Marc told him. “I thought it would be better if she got some rest and had a quiet place to eat. Can you make sure the security guards will let her backstage?” He chuckled. “I’m not sure they paid attention to what I said.”

“No problem. Call or text her to be here by seven and tell her to come to the stage entrance. I’ll be sure to leave word to let her in.” Butch touched Sydney’s elbow. “Let me give you a quick visual tour. I know it’s nothing new to you but you haven’t been in this particular venue before. Each one is different.” He pointed to a glass-enclosed structure to the left of the stage, high up toward the ceiling. “Sound and light men. During the soundcheck they and the band have earbuds and lip mics to communicate with each other. If adjustments need to be made, that’s how they’ll pass the information.” Then he waved his arm to the left. “Dressing rooms. I’ll show you where Lightnin’s is when we’re done here. I want to get started because Deep Blue River will be here in an hour and the roadies will need to rearrange equipment. Let’s go out into the audience to listen to the soundcheck.”

Sydney took a moment to look out into the vast arena, imagining it filled with thousands of people. The place was half again as big as the arena they’d played last night.

Wow!

This is the big time, Sydney. Get ready for a wild ride
.

Then she followed Butch down the steps and out into the empty hall. They took seats about halfway back.

“Best place to judge the sound,” he told her.

This is my deal now. I’m in charge. Holy shit!

The enormity of it hit her with sudden force. Until now, she’d been on automatic pilot, followed the routine she’d learned when she assisted the senior agents. But last night, she’d been so nervous, the difference hadn’t really hit her.

And now? Ohmigod.

Here she was. Sydney Alexander. Publicity agent for a Butch Meredith band. Right next to the legendary manager himself and being treated like an equal.

She had the nervous feeling she should be doing something besides sitting there. Slouched in the chair next to her, Butch was scrolling through texts, answering them, checking e-mails. And all the while looking more relaxed than she was sure she would ever be. Discordant notes drifted out from the stage as the guitars were tuned, underscored by erratic drumbeats and cymbal clashes. All part of the tuning-up process. Nothing new to her. Only the scene and the anticipation of what was to come made it different.

She pulled out her phone to start doing something with it—anything!—when she heard a squeal from the speakers, saw Rick nod to Garrett and he struck the opening chords of “Take the High Road.” Even with all the starts and stops to allow Mickey to make adjustments the pulsing energy of the song raced out into the open auditorium.

She knew the history of the song from Rick. He and Marc wrote it at a time when the band was at a low point, disappointed in the club dates they were getting and trying to find their own original sound. Pseudo experts were coming out of the walls telling them they had to change that sound, do this, do that, make themselves copycats of other, more successful bands. But they had stuck to what they felt good with, refining it and making it work.

Don’t sell yourself short; doubt’s a heavy load.

Believe in yourself and take the high road.

It was a very high-energy song, a great set opener. Last night it had grabbed the crowd and brought them to their feet. She knew it was on the list for the album, and she had a feeling if it continued to get this kind of reception, it would be the next one up in the studio.

At the end of an hour they were all apparently satisfied the sound was properly balanced. Sydney watched Gordo climb down out of the booth and walk up to Rick, chat with him and the rest of the band. Then Mickey strode out on the stage with the rest of the road crew. Time to break it down.

“You’re welcome to stay and listen to the River’s soundcheck,” Butch told her. “You might want to hang out with the guys in the dressing room, though. Help keep them from jumping out of their collective skin.”

“Thanks, but I think I’ll check the lobby setup first. Like I said, I can do it for both bands. What time is dinner being delivered?”

Butch looked at his watch. “In about thirty minutes. I want them to have plenty of time to digest their food before they hit the stage.”

“Okay. I’ll wander back there shortly after that.”

Sydney wanted to be sure she had her act together before she dove into what she knew would be a whirlpool of testosterone, with Rick paddling the boat. She absolutely could not afford to give off any vibes someone else could pick up. How she planned to accomplish it with the heat they generated still escaped her, but maybe focusing on the merchandise setup would settle her mind.

In the lobby she found a beehive of controlled activity. Workers from the distributor carried in cartons of merchandise on dollies. Security guards with no-nonsense expressions made sure no one in the crush of the crowd outside made it through the door each time it opened. Last night Full Moon interns had taken care of the displays and the sales but they didn’t travel on the tour. Over the years, Butch had accumulated crews everywhere his bands played. Now the crew from Houston went about the setup with the ease and confidence of long practice.

Sydney introduced herself to everyone and gave the guy in charge her cell number.

“I’d appreciate it if you could keep me up to date on the sales throughout the evening,” she said.

“Sure. No problem.” He grinned. “You gotta be pretty excited about your band’s takeoff. Some shock, right?”

“I am. We hoped, but you know, always anticipate the unanticipated.”

He laughed. “I have to say this was damn unexpected. Word of the mob at the hotel is all over the place, you know.”

A girl at the table next to him looked up. “Everyone’s texting and tweeting. The concert was already sold out because Deep Blue River is always a sellout here. But the box office has been slammed all day with people offering obscene amounts of money for a ticket.”

Sydney’s jaw dropped. “You’re kidding.”

The girl shook her head. “It’s almost unheard of for a band to break out after the first show the way Lightnin’ has. I heard the arena has hired extra security for tonight, especially for the after-party.”

The guy she’d been talking to laughed. “And good luck getting people out of here tonight. Although Butch Meredith is an old hand at this. He’ll manage it.”

Sydney’s heart pounded as she made her way back down one of the aisles.
Every publicity agent hopes the client he or she works with will turn out to be The One.
The overnight sensation. The media darling. It so seldom happened, she’d known better than to expect it. Yet here it was. Now. For her and this band.

I can’t screw this up
.

She was still deep in thought when she reached the steps to the stage. Deep Blue River had arrived and were now clustered around Butch on the platform. She waved at them and headed toward the dressing room area when Branch McKellar, the lead guitarist hollered at her.

“Hey, Sydney. Tell your guys, top drawer job last night. We might end up playing second fiddle to them on the tour.”

She smiled. “Nice of you to say but we both know that’s not happening. We’re just happy at the reception we got.”

“Reception? Hell, they’re all over the Internet today. We’re really looking forward to the rest of the dates with them. What’s good for them is good for us.”

“Thank you. I’ll pass that along.”

Excitement pulsed through her as she made her way to the dressing room. This kept getting better and better. She could only hope last night wasn’t a fluke. She’d seen it happen before, too many times.

No, Sydney, it’s the real deal
, her little voice whispered.

Okay. She’d go with that.

The rest of the day turned into a roller-coaster ride, and Sydney hung onto the roll bar for dear life. Things got so busy and crazy, she had no time to dwell on the situation with Rick or her feelings for him. She monitored Internet actively on her iPad constantly as she sat in a corner of Lightnin’s dressing room, out of the way. The numbers continued to climb on the downloads charts.

The Web site had crashed at one point because so many people were trying to get on to leave comments and order merchandise and Twitter was more active than an army of ants. Her cell rang nonstop, even calls from people she’d already spoken to. They wanted to make sure they were on the list for tonight and their comp tickets would be waiting for them at the box office. Her head was spinning by the time the band finished eating and began to get themselves ready for the concert.

Now she stood in the wings, Emma beside her, and watched the band move into position on the stage. The latest text from the lobby said more than half the merchandise for both bands had sold already. Sydney texted Renee back at the office to double-check the order for additional swag for Tampa. The seats were filled well before curtain time and security passed the word there was a huge crowd outside trying to get in. The local news had run some video from the show the night before, a clip they’d gotten from the network pool, and the voice-over pumped it up with the latest iTunes and airplay numbers.

The air crackled with energy and anticipation. Even the road crews and the sound and light men were aware of something extraordinary happening. Everyone was at the top of their game backstage, checking things twice so nothing fell through the cracks. The light man ran through his cues and Butch stood onstage with Lightnin’, taking a few minutes to give them final words of encouragement. His posture was loose and relaxed, and she knew he wanted to ease the tension on the stage.

“I think I’m more nervous than I was last night,” Emma confided, leaning closer. “I don’t know how the guys do it.”

“They had a lot of seasoning playing all those club and small concert dates. They’re solid performers and it shows.”

“Can you believe the video went viral?” Emma shook her head in amazement. “Who on earth cares about the story of how Marc and I met?”

Sydney laughed. “Are you kidding? Everyone! You have to admit it’s not your usual love story.”

Emma smiled back. “I guess not.”

“Besides, ‘Music Lady’
is sort of an anomaly. A strong love song set to a high-energy tune. No wonder it’s an overnight hit.”

Emma was quiet for a moment. “Syd, can I ask you kind of a personal question? If I’m out of line, just tell me.”

Sydney fought back the butterflies that woke up again. “I guess that depends on what it is.”

“I couldn’t help but notice there’s some sort of, um, attraction between you and Rick. Not that it’s any of my business,” she was quick to say, “but do you two have something going on?”

Something going on? Is she kidding!

She could straight-out lie to Emma, or she could downplay it and set the stage for others to do the same.

“I’m not sure—I mean, there’s so much….” Why couldn’t she get the words out? At least to Emma, of all people. The one person sure to understand.

“Oh, Sydney.” Emma touched her arm. “I hope so. He’s such a great guy. He’s like Marc, serious about the band and his music and a real straight arrow.”