Laura was sitting in a chair just adjacent to the stage left door, next to an ice chest full of Gatorade bottles, just in front of a staging area where Celia’s and Little Stevie’s guitars (three for Celia and four for Stevie) sat waiting, each one under a label describing the particular tuning of the instrument and which songs they were intended for. Her stage outfit was a dark-green and white summer dress that fell to just above her knees and outlined her figure quite nicely. She had a pair of white sneakers on her feet, her legs bare. Her hair had been done in a single tight braid that fell down between her shoulder blades. Like Celia, she had no makeup on her face. She was feeling a fair amount of stage fright as well, particularly regarding the five-minute sax solo she would perform to open the second set. Though a veteran performer of the Bobby Z tour, that had been some time ago now and she had never performed for an audience of this size. Still, they had rehearsed this show extensively over the past two months and they were as dialed in as they could possibly hope to be. She too was eager to get out there and start playing, but she would have to wait a little longer than everyone else. There was no saxophone in Playing Those Games, the opening number.
She glanced over at Eric, who was standing next to her, his DZ Strad Model 800 acoustic violin in one hand and his freshly rosined bow in the other. A small wireless microphone was fastened to the body of the instrument, just underneath the strings between the two sections of the bridge. It was mated to a receiver that was plugged into the primary wireless receiver attached to his belt in the small of his back, which then transmitted the signal digitally to the amplifier (Laura, Celia, Little Stevie, and Charlie all had similar setups, differing only in how the signal got to the receiver). He was dressed pretty much as he always dressed: in a pair of black jeans, black shoes and a black button-up shirt. His hair had been neatly styled, however, and he looked almost handsome. His eyes, like always, were cast downward, but he had an almost serene expression on his face.
“You ready for this, Eric?” Laura asked him gently.
“Good to go,” he said with a nod.
“Really?” she asked.
“Really.”
“What about ... you know ... the anxiety?” she asked.
He shook his head. “I don’t have any at the moment,” he told her.
“None?” she asked in disbelief, wondering if he was actually on the verge of some sort of breakdown.
“None,” he confirmed. “I don’t get anxiety about performing in front of an audience. It’s not a social situation.”
“It’s not?”
“It’s not,” he said. “It’s a performance. And I love to perform with my instrument. It’s one of the only times when I’m truly free of the fear. I can’t wait to get out there.”
“Oh ... I see,” she said. “That’s very interesting.”
“Isn’t it?”
The timer ticked down to zero. The house lights went down. Seventeen thousand plus fans began to cheer in anticipation. The band, minus Laura, walked out onto the stage and took their places. A spotlight came on, illuminating Liz as she played the opening notes of Playing Those Games. The audience, recognizing the melody, cheered even louder. Eric began to play as well, accompanying Liz for the opening, stepping close to her so the spotlight illuminated him as well. And then another spotlight came on, this one focusing on Celia, standing front and center on the stage, no guitar in her hands. The cheers grew louder. She walked up to the microphone stand and began to sing the opening verse of the piece into the wireless mic. When she reached the part where it went up-tempo, the rest of the stage lights clicked on, illuminating the entire stage. Little Stevie began to grind out the primary riff. Coop began to pound on the drums. Celia pulled the microphone out of the stand and began to strut around the stage, singing out the lyrics into it. The audience, most of whom had been standing ever since the lights went down, danced and waved their arms in the air to the rhythm, a good portion of them singing along.
Laura watched from her spot near the stage door, her nervousness ramping up a little as the tune progressed. And then, when Playing ended (to a deafening roar of crowd approval, the likes of which she had never heard before), she stood up. Jory Black, one of the stagehands, was holding her alto sax in his hands. He gave it to her. She turned her back to him and he switched on the receiver attached to the back of her waist. He then patted her on the shoulder.
“Go!” he told her.
She went, stepping out onto the lighted stage and taking her position. Rog, another of the stagehands, was running back off the stage after delivering Celia’s twelve-string to her. It was time to play. She had no further time to think things through. Coop gave her a four-count with the drum sticks and she began to play the opening melody for The Struggle. The crowd expressed its enthusiastic approval of this tune as well. She played her notes with flair and expression and she played them well, feeding off the energy of the crowd.
Jake is right, she thought as she swayed and gyrated to the rhythm while Little Stevie ground out the guitar solo, this really is the best part of being a musician.
The first set went off without a hitch. They played a mixture of Celia’s tunes from the first two albums and the new one, staying away from the very biggest hits like Why? or Should We Believe?, saving them for late in the second set and the encore. They played I Love To Dance, the biggest hit from the La Diferencia days and the only tune in the show that Celia did not write herself (on the last tour, she had refused to do it, but Jake had talked her into it for this tour since there was considerable audience demand for it, and they had lots of time to fill). They closed the set with It Never Happened, the current Top Ten release from the new album. As with all the other songs, much of the audience sang along with her on Never as she played her guitar and sang.
The house lights came up and the band stayed in the stage left area, drinking Gatorade and cooling down a little. Everyone was sweaty from being out under the hot lights. Laura felt trickles of perspiration running down her back and she knew there was a sizable wet spot on the back of her dress between her shoulder blades. Celia actually had to sponge off her armpits a little. Eric was the sweatiest, since his black clothes were soaking up the heat more than anyone else. A few high fives were passed around, but conversation was minimal. They were in the groove and they knew it. There was no need to discuss anything.
“All right,” said Larry when the clock ticked down to less than thirty seconds. “It’s time for you to do your thing, Teach.”
“I guess it is,” she said, her nervousness now back. She stood and took her instrument from Jory once again (he had polished it during the intermission break and it was now gleaming). She turned her back to him and he turned on her receiver. The countdown clock reached zero and the house lights went down. The audience began to cheer once again.