something,” he said.
“You sure? No sign of the singer,” she said.
The Ploughman’s had a backroom both here and on the ground floor. Presumably mega-star Sarinda was doing what every rock star apparently loves to do …
Make the audience wait.
Then Jack nodded in the direction of Lauren, standing off to the side, almost plastered against the wall.
She had made brief eye contact with Jack. A small smile. She had told them both that — difficult as it might be — she was ready to do her part.
To tell the truth.
But would she?
“Think Lauren’s going to be alright?” Jack asked.
Sarah looked in the other direction. “Not sure. I mean, to do what she has to do. To admit what she has to admit? I—”
Then, with the singer still not there, Nick took a step towards the microphone on the left.
It was starting.
“This one is for Alex!” His voice boomed.
He turned back to the others, head bobbing, counting …
“One, two, three …”
Then, from the back, Will started a drum roll as if driving Napoleon’s troops on their march towards Mother Russia, gathering strength, speed, cymbals crashing, bass drum kicking in, once, then again …
Whatever you might say, Jack thought, Will, still had –
The word?
– his chops .
And then Nick started a windmill move with his right arm, not yet touching his guitar strings — a move that would do Pete Townsend proud. Until he finally slashed across the soundboard of his electric guitar and released a chord that made the Ploughman’s feel like an earthquake just hit.
*
Sarah leaned into Jack.
“I know this one. Big hit of theirs.”
Jack wished he had put some earplugs in. Too much of this and his hearing, already not the best, could take a hit.
“Yeah?”
“ ‘Rage Against the Night .’”
Jack nodded. But they were playing the song with no one singing.
Maybe, Jack thought, as a tribute to Alex?
Already they had the upstairs crowd’s heads bopping.
And Will’s steady, powerful drumming keeping the screaming guitars together.
Even without a singer, the band was killing .
Jack looked at Sarah, also nodding in time, perhaps taken back to when she was so much younger and listened to Lizard when she and they were young.
The song soared to a crescendo.
Talk about operatic, Jack thought.
And with a final roll of the snare drum and one last crashing chord left to echo … it ended.
The band stood still, grinning at each other, happy with their performance.
The sound of screams, whistles, and applause echoed from the closed streets of Cherringham below.
And when those sounds died down, more whistles started in.
But with a different message now.
As voices — in the upstairs room and downstairs and outside — started chanting …
Sarinda .
Sarin …da!
The rhythmic chant now accompanied by claps and feet stamping.
Until it was a roar.
Then, and only then, did a small door at the back of the room open.
And dressed in skin-tight black leather pants, and sleeveless black blouse that seemed to be missing a button or two …
Out walked the star.
Slowly, looking at the band members, then the crowd …
Taking her time to walk to the centre microphone.
Until she slowly reached out, wrapped two hands around it, leaned close.
With just the quickest of looks to Nick.
Jack doubted anyone was thinking of Alex right now.
This was all about the young rock star .
All about Sarinda.
About to perform her global hit.
The music — now familiar to Jack — began, the tempo slow, sleepy … but it wouldn’t stay that way long.
Jack looked at Carlton at the mixing board. His face picking up the board’s glow of the lights, red, blue, yellow.
The agent looked up and gave Jack the quickest glance. A breath. A nod.
He was ready.
18. A Killer Duet
Sarah took a step to the side, closer to the wall where Lauren stood.
If the woman got cold feet, if she couldn’t do what she said she would do … this would all go wrong.
Standing there, close
“You sure? No sign of the singer,” she said.
The Ploughman’s had a backroom both here and on the ground floor. Presumably mega-star Sarinda was doing what every rock star apparently loves to do …
Make the audience wait.
Then Jack nodded in the direction of Lauren, standing off to the side, almost plastered against the wall.
She had made brief eye contact with Jack. A small smile. She had told them both that — difficult as it might be — she was ready to do her part.
To tell the truth.
But would she?
“Think Lauren’s going to be alright?” Jack asked.
Sarah looked in the other direction. “Not sure. I mean, to do what she has to do. To admit what she has to admit? I—”
Then, with the singer still not there, Nick took a step towards the microphone on the left.
It was starting.
“This one is for Alex!” His voice boomed.
He turned back to the others, head bobbing, counting …
“One, two, three …”
Then, from the back, Will started a drum roll as if driving Napoleon’s troops on their march towards Mother Russia, gathering strength, speed, cymbals crashing, bass drum kicking in, once, then again …
Whatever you might say, Jack thought, Will, still had –
The word?
– his chops .
And then Nick started a windmill move with his right arm, not yet touching his guitar strings — a move that would do Pete Townsend proud. Until he finally slashed across the soundboard of his electric guitar and released a chord that made the Ploughman’s feel like an earthquake just hit.
*
Sarah leaned into Jack.
“I know this one. Big hit of theirs.”
Jack wished he had put some earplugs in. Too much of this and his hearing, already not the best, could take a hit.
“Yeah?”
“ ‘Rage Against the Night .’”
Jack nodded. But they were playing the song with no one singing.
Maybe, Jack thought, as a tribute to Alex?
Already they had the upstairs crowd’s heads bopping.
And Will’s steady, powerful drumming keeping the screaming guitars together.
Even without a singer, the band was killing .
Jack looked at Sarah, also nodding in time, perhaps taken back to when she was so much younger and listened to Lizard when she and they were young.
The song soared to a crescendo.
Talk about operatic, Jack thought.
And with a final roll of the snare drum and one last crashing chord left to echo … it ended.
The band stood still, grinning at each other, happy with their performance.
The sound of screams, whistles, and applause echoed from the closed streets of Cherringham below.
And when those sounds died down, more whistles started in.
But with a different message now.
As voices — in the upstairs room and downstairs and outside — started chanting …
Sarinda .
Sarin …da!
The rhythmic chant now accompanied by claps and feet stamping.
Until it was a roar.
Then, and only then, did a small door at the back of the room open.
And dressed in skin-tight black leather pants, and sleeveless black blouse that seemed to be missing a button or two …
Out walked the star.
Slowly, looking at the band members, then the crowd …
Taking her time to walk to the centre microphone.
Until she slowly reached out, wrapped two hands around it, leaned close.
With just the quickest of looks to Nick.
Jack doubted anyone was thinking of Alex right now.
This was all about the young rock star .
All about Sarinda.
About to perform her global hit.
The music — now familiar to Jack — began, the tempo slow, sleepy … but it wouldn’t stay that way long.
Jack looked at Carlton at the mixing board. His face picking up the board’s glow of the lights, red, blue, yellow.
The agent looked up and gave Jack the quickest glance. A breath. A nod.
He was ready.
18. A Killer Duet
Sarah took a step to the side, closer to the wall where Lauren stood.
If the woman got cold feet, if she couldn’t do what she said she would do … this would all go wrong.
Standing there, close
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