Authors: Alexa Blair
THE END
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Chapter 1
I hummed along with the music as I made my way to the stage. A few familiar road hands and event workers waved as I passed and I waved back. Everyone for this show was mostly white. The audience would be, too. I was a Hershey’s Kiss about to be dropped into a glass of milk. Story of my life.
I grew up in southern white suburbia. I was that cousin at the reunion who spoke so good. Well, I speak well and I’m proud of it. I’m also that black friend you are surprised sings along when POD comes on. I’m African queen and Alabama born G.R.I.T.S. all in one. This basically means I’m not afraid of horses or going bogging, but don’t get my hair wet when I just relaxed it.
This also means the rest of my life, including my taste in music, is a cross between worlds, so I get called for a variety of recordings, tours, and other bookings. There was a place for country, hip hop, southern rock, and any music that had roots and feeling in my music collection.
I have made a name within the industry, though most everyday listeners will never know me. As I reached the stage I saw our tour director, Carol, talking to a man and making broad, sweeping gestures. Once she saw me she directed her companion’s attention to me. I gave them both a small wave and nod with a smile. He looked at me oddly, then waved as well.
I took my place with the other singers and adjusted the height of my microphone for rehearsal. Then, I looked back toward Carol. The guy with her was looking around the stadium, speaking to her, and gesturing. Then, he paused and looked toward me. He seemed to debate something with himself for a moment, then resumed speaking.
I hadn’t seen him backstage at any of the other shows on this tour, so I assumed he was part of the local event staff. He was better looking than most of the crew. He looked strong. Maybe he was part of stage setup. I didn’t have a chance to find out. Carol gave the cue to begin rehearsal. Then, she and her guest drove away from the stage in a golf cart.
The drummer counted off and the lights began to flicker, testing timing for tonight. The band began to play. Everyone sounded really amazing. The singer’s voice had the former smoker, over-sexed under-loved rasp and heartache that sold a woman in rock. My “sing out” church roots carried her feeling and my quiet soul balanced their ballads. Tonight would be a success.
This was the last leg of my tour with this particular band. We had formed that familial bond that happens with any good, successful tour. To wrap up we were making our way through the southern states, playing everything from civic centers to theme parks. After shows and on off days we visited local music scenes in some cities. Tonight we were in Louisiana with a stadium performance, but after the show a few of us were going to the Blues Room in Baton Rouge. That is the music I most looked forward to. I liked finding the heart in each city and really feeling it beat.
Chapter 2
The audience seemed to be more peppered than I had expected, but as southern rock goes this particular band did have flavor. I enjoyed the music I had been sent to decide whether I wanted to take the tour, but I had learned over the weeks we spent together that the people I shared the stage with were more than their sound. They had something in their persona that extended a hand to everyone.
The drummer and guitarist were extending the cut-off of a song riding the high of the audience cheers. The lead singer, a woman, rubbed sweat off her forehead on the back of her arm and gave a party lifting “woo” into the mic. I clapped and the other backups, a guy and a girl, clapped and pantomimed playing guitar and drums.
Offstage, I saw the guy who had been with Carol earlier was back and giving directions of some sort. He was in a button-down with his sleeves rolled, dark-wash blue jeans, and seemed to have found time for a haircut and shave. As we moved into our last song, the lead singer began introducing us.
“And this, this sassy little number right here, is Iman. We are lucky to have one of the most sought after session vocalists joining us this tour,” she said putting her arm around me.
At that moment the man turned his attention back to the stage and looked at me. I looked to the audience and gave a wave and small bow.
She kissed my cheek and hugged me and the band started the final song of the night. We sang the first verse together and finished the song at the edge of the stage with all of us holding our microphones to the crowd.
“I think that was the best show of this tour yet,” said the bassist as everyone left the stage.
“Great job, everyone,” said Carol.
She greeted us backstage and guided everyone out of the stadium to recover in the set-up tents. We were all always thirsty and hungry after the show, and there were usually fans and journalists to speak with the band.
“Good job tonight, Iman. So glad you came this tour. Will you go out west with us this summer?” the second guitarist asked.
“Thanks, you guys were amazing,” I replied. “Let me recover from this tour and I’ll get back to you.
I patted his shoulder and he went to the buffet tables for water. I was going to give it a few minutes then see if there were wings, cheese cubes, and some fruit. As I turned to find a seat to cool down, I found myself face to face with the man I had been seeing all day. He was tall up close, maybe six-two.
“Hi. Excuse me,” I said beginning to move around him.
“Hi,” he said turning and walking with me.
I raised an eyebrow and kept moving.
“Hello,” I repeated.
“You all were really good tonight. I was surprised at you,” he said.
“Surprised it was good or at me personally?” I asked.
“I guess you. They were good, but your backup vocals gave them an extra bit of something. I was surprised today when I first saw you on stage, because of the type of show I knew this was. You seemed right at home, though, and everyone on stage seemed to look to you fondly during rehearsal,” he said.
“I thought you and Carol left. I saw you two get in the golf cart,” I said.
“That was so we could listen to the rehearsal from different parts of the stadium. You noticed me earlier?” he asked.
I tried not to smile.
“You were with the tour director, the boss,” I said.
He nodded.
“Well, my name is David. I’m doing some research. I run a sound engineering company,” he said offering me his hand to shake.
He took my hand by the finger tips and shook it lightly. Then, he noticed I wasn’t shaking back, that I had instead raised an eyebrow.
“I’m Iman,” I said.
“I heard. Is something wrong?” he asked, raising an eyebrow back to me.
“Is that how you shake everyone’s hand?” I asked.
“I guess. Well, it’s how I shake women’s hands,” he replied.
I grabbed his hand more naturally and gave a normal handshake.
“Sorry,” he said.
“Don’t be sorry. I’m sure some women like that,” I said. As I continued walking I called back, “Next time, let the woman lead. Personally, I prefer a solid handshake, but that’s just one more way I try to read people,” I said
Chapter 3
I grabbed a few wings, then went to the buses to change with some of the others. The Blues Room and a good Jack and coke were calling my name.
We left the buses, laughing and talking walking toward the cabs that were taking us out to our late-night activities. I didn’t even notice David slipping in beside me as we walked.
“What did you mean by ‘read people’?” he asked, leaning into my ear.
I jumped, startled. I gave him a few swats on the shoulder.
“Didn’t anybody ever tell you not to sneak up on people? Things like that could get you hurt,” I said.
He was smiling. I couldn’t help laughing at myself a little for being so shocked and reacting the way I had.
“Sorry,” he said, still smiling.
“You’re still here? I thought most of the tech guys had gone home,” I said.
“Oh, I’m not with the others. Like I said, I’m researching,” he said again.
“Researching what?” I asked.
“Let me come along with you and your friends and I will tell you all about it,” he said.
I looked at him once more. He was still the best eye candy that had come around this tour. Why not? I shrugged and gave him a nod.
Our group ended up being two car taxis and one taxi van. After a few introductions, David began telling me about his sound company, Lawson Sound Development, or LSD. Apparently he did a lot of sound research focused on music. Now he had a Fortune 500 company featured in
Forbes Magazine
.
LSD revolutionized the design of blue tooth and earbud comfort, made leaps in digital sound mastering and clarity, and many other things all devoted to the listening experience of the end user. He was visiting different types of concerts and venues to perfect the balance of various music settings, to create a more realistic surround sound experience in home audio equipment now.
“That’s actually much cooler that it initially seemed in my head when you told me what you do,” I joked.
He smiled and said, “I’m sure I have that AV club vibe about me.”
“I was on the fence,” I said. “You looked smart enough, but you didn’t come across as someone whose life was indoors at a computer either.”
“Good,” he said. “What did you mean before about reading people?”
“There are subconscious cues in our habits and body language that tell more about us than anything if we pay attention. The way we stand, walk, sit in someone else’s company, and such. I’m around a lot of people and some things always read the same way. Like crossed arms for example,” I said.
“When someone would be angry or standoffish?” he said.
“Exactly.” I replied.
“And my handshake said?” he questioned.
“You gripped my hand so daintily. It was a bit old fashioned. ‘This is how I shake a lady’s hand,’” I teased.
He laughed at himself.
“I’m just a good old boy from Arkansas. A lady is a lady. I’m supposed to treat you delicately,” he said.
“Fair enough,” I said.
We had arrived. He opened the door and offered his hand to help me from the taxi. I looked around at everyone we came with grouping up to head into the Blue Room. He still held my hand and I could feel his eyes and smile on me as well. The music inside seemed to be a pulse in the air flowing through the night air and into my lungs.
Once we were inside, we all ordered drinks and either mingled or sat in cozy spots to enjoy the music. David and I did the latter. We sat close so we could keep talking as we enjoyed the band.
After a few drinks I was more aware how my ear tickled when he would lean in to say things. I was also aware how nice he smelled, despite being surrounded by the bodies and bar smells around us.
“So, you just audition to tour with different bands?” he asked, leaning into my ear.
I placed a hand on his arm, leaning in for balance to yell back into his ear. He put his opposite hand over mine to steady me.
“I used to audition. Now that I have been doing it a few years I have some regulars who call me for studio work. Other bands that have heard of me invite me to join them in the studio or at a show and we go from there if our sounds work well together,” I said.
He nodded
“That’s really awesome,” he shouted, facing me.
I was startled and a little tipsy, and tipped backwards into one of the guys who worked sound. He smiled and clinked my cup.
I leaned back toward David.
“I’m wobbly, that is enough for me,” I said. “I like to have just enough to feel good, but not enough to do anything stupid.”
“That’s a shame,” David said. “Here I was thinking we were on our way to a night of doing something stupid.”
I raised an eyebrow. He raised one back. Then he held my hand and cheered the music.