Matt ground his teeth for a moment and then apparently decided that Jake just might be serious. He looked at Coop. "Put your hand down first, Coop. I ain't touching the fuckin' fudge packer's hand."
"I don't want to touch it either!" Coop said.
"Oh for Christ's sake," Jake said. "Put your fucking hand down, Coop. Tomorrow we'll make sure it's me and then Charlie and then Nerdly."
Coop reluctantly put his hand down, touching as lightly as possible. Matt made a touch that could technically qualify as contact. "All right," he said. "Let's do it."
"Let's do it," Jake said. They separated their hands and then took the stage. The cheers grew louder and the show began.
Once the band was actually out there and playing, it went just as it had in their dress rehearsals. The animosities and the hostilities were not forgotten, but they were temporarily buried in the name of putting on a good performance. Jake, Matt, and Charlie moved freely over the stage as they always had, occasionally bumping shoulders, occasionally singing out the same microphone. To the audience watching them, it looked like the five of them were the best of friends. The show went on as it always had and Intemperance put on a performance as worthy as any they'd ever done.
Jake was able to see Mindy and her husband in the first row during the performance. Mindy was very much into the show. She danced through most of the songs, waving her hands above her head, holding up a cigarette lighter at times, shaking her glorious bra-less breasts continuously. Winslow, on the other hand, simply sat there impassively, a polite smile on his face. He did not move to the beat or tap his feet. After each song, while the rest of the audience cheered wildly, he would give a brief four-fingered clap with his hands at ninety degree angles to each other and make no vocalizations of any kind.
Jake noted that the photographers from both of the major LA newspapers — who, along with the concert critics, were in the same VIP section — were snapping almost as many pictures of Mindy and Winslow as they were of the band. This was hardly surprising. Having such a famous couple seated among them at a rock concert was a very unusual happening. More than likely the two of them had already been interviewed before the show as to what their purpose was here. What had Mindy said? What had Winslow said? Jake had a feeling he'd find out when he read tomorrow's paper.
They finished up the main set with The Thrill Of Doing Business, instilling the tune with an extended, drawn-out ending full of drum and piano flourishes and a final guitar solo.
"Thank you, Los Angeles!" Jake yelled into the microphone after the final note. "Thank you, and goodnight!"
Acting on an impulse he didn't really understand, Jake tossed his guitar pick directly at Mindy. She snatched it out of the air and held it aloft triumphantly. She then blew Jake a kiss — an act that was not missed by the reporters or photographers.
The band linked arms and took a bow. They then headed offstage to re-hydrate and take a breather for a minute or two while the crowd screamed for an encore. The roadies had cold bottles of Gatorade that they passed out to the band.
Matt took a large drink from his bottle, belched wetly, and then pointed an accusing finger at Charlie. "You watch where you're putting your fuckin' hand when we're doing the bow, fudge packer!" he yelled, partly in anger, partly to be heard over the tremendous roaring of the crowd.
"Where I put my hand?" Charlie asked, perplexed.
"What the hell are you talking about, Matt?" Jake asked.
"He was moving his hand down toward my ass!" Matt yelled.
"I was not!" Charlie protested.
"Jesus Christ," Jake said, rolling his eyes.
"Just keep your fuckin' hands up on my shoulder when we have to do that shit!" Matt told him. "And don't be moving your fingers around either!"
"That goes for me too, dick licker!" Coop put in.
"Coop, he doesn't even touch you during the bow," Jake said. "You're up against Nerdly at the end."
"Just in case we ever have to switch!" Coop said.
"I'm bowing just like I've always bowed," Charlie said, barely loud enough to be heard.
"The fuck you are!" Matt said. "You were trying to get a feel of my ass! Your fingers ever come within a foot of my ass I'm gonna break 'em off one by one and shove 'em up your ass!"
Jake shook his head in disgust and took another drink of his Gatorade. He set the bottle down and looked at Matt and Coop. "You two are paranoid," he said. "Will you try to get over it a little so we don't have to do this shit every night?"
"Are you a fuckin' fudge packer too?" Matt asked him. "You must be, as much as you're defending the rump ranger here!"
"I'm not even going to dignify that with a response," Jake said. "Come on. Are we ready to get back out there, or what?"
Matt looked like he had more to say but he shrugged it off. "All right," he said. "Let's get this shit over with."
"Amen," said Coop.
They stepped back out onto the stage for the three-song encore set. Just like before, as soon as they were back under the lights and in view of the audience, the animosities were shoved to the background — or swept under the rug, if you prefer.
"All right," Jake said into the microphone as he shouldered his guitar again. "You talked us into it. Just a few more before we call it a night."
Wild screams of approval poured over them.
"We're gonna do a song now that Matt here wrote for the Lines On The Map album we just put out. It's kind of a different song and I'll be the first to admit that when he introduced it to us I was like, 'what the hell is this?' But as we started to play around with the tune a little, started throwing in some drums, some bass, a little piano here and there, and... especially... some ass-kicking Matt Tisdale guitar riffs..." Another loud cheer. Jake rode it out and then continued. "As we started to put it all together, to turn it from an idea into a song, I began to realize that this tune fuckin' rocks!" Another round of cheers erupted, something that happened whenever Jake used the F-word in his between song banter. "And based on the amount of airplay the tune is getting, it seems like you people think it fuckin' rocks too. So here it is for you now." He turned to the band, as if making a suggestion to them. "Let's do some Grandstand, guys. What do you say?"
One of the biggest cheers of the night rocked the auditorium. Coop hit a four-count with his drumsticks and they launched into it. Coop pounded his drums with precision. Matt ground out the multi-faceted riffs with raw, unbridled energy. And Jake sang the lyrics with all the passion and emotion he could summon, belting them out with machine-gun rapidity. The crowd stayed on their feet throughout it (except for Scott Adams Winslow, who remained demurely seated), waving their arms, dancing to the frantic beat, holding their lighters up. The applause when the tune was over was deafening and went on for nearly a minute.
After it quieted down a little, they launched into Point Of Futility, one of the staples of Intemperance encores. As always, this song was a particular favorite of the ladies. The bare breasts started to flash at the band. Bras and panties started flying onto the stage, most of them aimed at Jake, although Matt got a respectable amount as well. This time, however, it was more than just women's underwear that was tossed onto the stage. Several pairs of lavender BVDs flew at Charlie, one pair of which came in at the perfect angle and rate of descent to hang up on the headstock of his bass. Charlie was unable to dislodge them until the end of the song, which caused the applause to be mixed with a considerable amount of laughter.
For the final number, they did Can't Chain Me, once again adding on an extended, drawn-out ending that built to a spectacular climax of drums and guitars. This was followed by another "thank you and goodnight" by Jake and another group bow at the front of the stage. Charlie kept his hand on Matt's shoulder. He did not move his fingers around.