Chapter 1: First Gig

         Tommy Thompson walked up to the stage and said. "Guys, I just got off the phone with Jim and he's not coming."

       "What?" Lee, the guitar player's jaw dropped. "Why?"

       "He said the Guru's called and said he could move there. He packed his stuff last night. He just called me from the airport in Chicago."

       "We go on in an hour, Dave, the drummer exclaimed. "What are we supposed to do?"

       "You mean he just left us flat like that? What did he say exactly?" Matt, the bass player was suddenly livid.

       "You don't wanna know." Tommy shook his blond head.

       Jayme, the keyboardist was red-faced. "Yeah, I do wanna know."

       "He said he was sick and tired of the same old shit," Tommy said grimly. "The same old shit he's been talking since we got him. When I asked him what we're supposed to do he said he's sure there were dozens of guys sitting around there way better than he was."

       "What an asshole," John turned away, pressing his drumsticks to each side of his head. "We're screwed."

       "Definitely a dick, "Tommy agreed solemnly.

       "What about John and Bill?" John asked, turning back to the group. He was tearing at his blond hair.

       "Nope," Tommy shook his head again. "They said they don't even know how to turn it on. They said Jim said if you did it wrong it could blow up. He always kept them away."

       John snapped his fingers suddenly, "What about Curtis? He worked for us before Jim."

       "He's in Mishawaka with Soviet Rage," Jayme shook his head. "I talked to him Wednesday."

       "What about the Krystal twins?" Lee, the lead guitar player asked.

       "They're over at the Tap," Tommy replied with a frown. "Those guys suck."

       "Better than nothing," Jayme said disgustedly. "Jim really stuck it to us."

       "Can't we just set it and leave it?" Lee was thinking furiously. He needed the money for the gig. "I've seen guys do that."

       "We could," Tommy conceded. "It wouldn't be good, but we could get by for tonight. Problem is, it's not hooked up. The only one who knew how to hook it up was Jim."

       "We're screwed," John turn away and smacked his drum sticks against a table.

       "We are," Matt, the bass player agreed glumly. "Right up the ole Hershey Highway."

       "I'll go tell Leroy and see what he says," Tommy started moving towards the bar.

       Leroy was a short, stout Mexican man with black hair and big round glasses. He was the owner of the bar. During the day, Leroy served what was arguably the best Mexican food in the state. But at night, Leroy served drinks and had live music; a passion of his. He had cameras all over to record whoever was on stage. He had a feed rigged to several Tv's so people in the bar could watch the band playing.

       Suddenly nervous, Tommy walked up to Leroy, who was setting a drink in front of a customer. It was early. There were only a few people in the place.

       Leroy turned suddenly and leaned toward Tommy. He saw the look on his face and frowned. "What's up?"

       Throwing caution to the wind, Tommy blurted. "Our soundman isn't showing up. No one knows how to make it work."

       Leroy's forehead knit into the shape of a washboard at the news. "So what are you saying? You guys are canceling? An hour before the show? This place is going to be packed by midnight."

       "I know," Tommy wrung his hands. "We're stuck. He's the only guy who knows how to hook it up and run it."

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       "So that's your problem?" Leroy's dark eyes were intense behind his glasses. "You just need a soundman?"

       "Well, I guess so," Tommy looked puzzled. "But he has to know how to hook it up."

       "One second," Leroy hustled over to the other side of the bar and peered into the gloom. After a second, he motioned for Tommy to come closer. He pointed.

        "You see that big guy sitting there in the long leather coat? He's a soundman. Go ask him."

       "That guy?" Tommy squinted. "Are you sure?"

       "Go ask him," Leroy smiled. "Trust me. That guy is a soundman. He can make any band sound good."

       Tommy walked over to the small round table where the guy sat with a bottle of beer and a small glass of whiskey. He was looking down as if half asleep. He raised his head slowly as Tommy pulled the chair back and sat down.

       "Hey man," Tommy smiled nervously and licked dry lips. "How's it going?"

       The big man regarded Tommy for a moment and nodded slowly, "Not bad. Just sittin' here waiting for the show to start." he shrugged slightly and took a sip of whiskey. The beer remained untouched.

       "Yeah, uh, hey," Tommy was stammering, "Leroy says you're a soundman. Is that true?"

       "Sorta," the big man was suddenly defensive. "Why?"

       "Well, uh," Tommy leaned forward a bit. "Our uh .. soundman .... uh ... isn't going to show and ...."

       "You want me to run your sound?" the big man frowned. "I've never even seen you guys before. Who told you I was a soundman?"

       "Leroy did," Tommy looked pensive. "Our guy isn't going to show. We need someone who knows how to hook it up and run it."

       "It's not even patched together?" the big man suddenly looked away and started shaking his head. "Aw, I dunno, that's a pretty tall order," he said rubbing the back of his neck. He looked past Tommy and saw Leroy glaring at him with a fierce expression pointing his finger at him. When they made eye contact, Leroy shook his fist.

       "Well," the big man drawled. "If it's got faders on it I can run it, but patching it together and calibrating it is the hard part. Running cues is easy once it's set right."

       "What band are you working for now?" Tommy asked.

       "I don't have a band right now," the big man picked up his beer. "I'm one of the monitor engineers at the Star."

        "What?" Tommy's jaw dropped.

       "This is my night off," the big man took a huge swallow of his beer. He set it down and stared at Tommy. "Do you know how much I get for a night?" He belched loudly.

       "No," Tommy suddenly felt his hopes wilting.

       "175 bucks, plus signed memorabilia and food and some other perks." he smiled at Tommy, then saw Leroy drawing his finger across his throat threateningly. The big man raised an eyebrow and scratched his head.

         "Oh, there's no way we can afford that," Tommy's shoulders slumped. "No way."

        Leroy reached under the bar and fumbled for a moment. He pulled up a double-barrel shotgun and showed it to the big man. The big man started laughing uproariously.

       Tommy turned his head to see what was going on, but Leroy had already hidden the firearm back under the bar.

        The big man stopped laughing abruptly and said in a flat voice. "I'll do it. If can I pull this off, then we can talk about pay. Fair enough?"

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