What She Saw - 3
Joe Keller 10 Hours Until the Festival Stardom. Joe Keller knew the young woman beside him spent her days dreaming of fame. She was a sweet little thing with blond hair and big brown eyes. Had tits a man could get lost in. Like all the others, she saw herself standing on a stage with bright lights s...
Joe Keller
10 Hours Until the Festival
Stardom. Joe Keller knew the young woman beside him spent her days dreaming of fame. She was a sweet little thing with blond hair and big brown eyes. Had tits a man could get lost in.
Like all the others, she saw herself standing on a stage with bright lights shining down as she strummed long fingers over her guitar. Her kind went to bed at night hearing the cheering crowds. He’d crossed paths with a lot of girls like her in his days as a guitarist and roadie.
Joe took a right off the main road. Once he’d dreamed of having assistants who’d take care of his needs. They’d drive him everywhere, stock his dressing room with his favorite hamburgers and lines of coke. And they’d shine his collection of guitars. Everyone kissed your ass at the top. That’s what he’d wanted when he was her age.
“You with one of the bands?” he asked.
She shifted, balancing her blue guitar case between her legs. “No. But I’m hoping to get some playing time onstage. Are you in a band?”
“I used to play guitar.” It was hard not to stare at her face. “You’re dreaming about being a star?”
“Yeah. Who doesn’t?” She wanted new outfits, hair and makeup assistants, and costumes that glittered with rhinestones. She wanted everyone to know— know —she was a star. One day, she’d be impossible to ignore. If he had a nickel for all the girls like this one.
She gripped her guitar case again as he took another turn onto a smaller mountain road. He downshifted, knowing the hills required the engine to grip harder.
Her blue guitar case was beat-up and covered with stickers naming cities that he’d bet she’d never seen.
“Nice case,” he said, hoping to draw her out. The bright-blue case had caught his attention as she walked down the road by Dawson’s bus station. Didn’t take a detective to know she had her sights set on the big music festival scheduled to kick off later today. She couldn’t have been more than eighteen or nineteen. “You’re too young to have a history like that.”
She glanced at a tattered Nashville sticker. “I bought it used. I like its history.”
“You hear any stories about the case?”
She tucked a blond curl behind her ear. “The pawn shop owner told me the woman who’d owned it played with the Rolling Stones in the sixties. I hope to have those kinds of experiences.”
“Don’t hurry your life.” He’d done his share of rushing, and he’d made a lot of mistakes. “I’m Joe, by the way.”
“Laurie.”
The truck’s engine groaned loudly as he drove up the steepening hill. The split plastic seat crackled under his ass as he shifted. A fine sheen of cigarette ash covered his dashboard. When he was alone, he didn’t care, but with Laurie, he wished it were cleaner.
“What brings you here?” Joe asked.
“I was working in a diner in Waynesboro. Then a guy came in for coffee. He had a Kurt Cobain vibe. He was lean, and his dark glasses accentuated his chiseled features. After his coffee, he asked if he could hang a few posters. My boss said yes, and ‘Kurt’ taped flyers in the front window as well as the men’s and women’s bathrooms. I offered him a soda. He said yes, and he told me about the festival. He made it sound so huge.”
She’d described the festival promoter, Rafe Colton. Rafe had always been fast and loose with the truth. “It’s going to be something.”
“What are you doing at the festival?”
“Delivering equipment. Stages, lighting, and rigging. All the unsexy stuff that makes a show work. And I’ll play a few sets with the Terrible Tuesdays.”
Her eyes brightened with interest. “So, you’re going to get onstage.”
“No guarantees. Right now, I’m a delivery driver with a guitar. I drop my deliveries, and I might get to play a few sets. Nothing fancy.”
“The promoter is looking for new artists. They have these kinds of events in the big cities, like Nashville, but never in Dawson. I’m lucky.”
“And you took the bus to Dawson?”
“I’d planned to drive, but my car gave out three days ago. I hoped the bus would drop me off closer. More walking than I figured.”
“And then I came along.”
She grinned. “Lucky me.”
Joe rubbed his hand over his scraggly beard. He looked older than forty, but he liked to think he still had game. The tattoos that covered his arms showed life experiences like Laurie’s guitar case.
“You’ll wow the crowds,” he said.
“You think so? You haven’t heard me play.”
“You have an energy. A vibe. The producers call it the ‘it’ vibe.”
“Thanks. I’m hoping to wow the crowds.”
“Anyone willing to walk down a road with a guitar in this heat wants fame.”
“It’s all I’ve wanted since I was a little girl,” she said.
“You ever been onstage before?”
“A few times. None of my gigs have been much to brag about. Coffee shops, high school talent shows, and a small church festival. But you got to start small, right?”
“Yeah, you do.”
Joe slowed the van. Laurie looked toward the trucks hauling stage equipment as he nosed the truck toward the festival entrance, which funneled into an open field. She shifted in her seat, tightening her grip on the guitar.
Joe took a right turn into the main entrance. The setting for the festival was beautiful. A bright-blue sky provided a backdrop to rolling hills. An old gray farmhouse sat nestled among a collection of oak trees, and beyond the house, plump gray clouds lurked as if trying to decide whether rain was worth the effort.
The truck rolled and belched as it moved down the dusty road. Joe rounded a corner away from the farmhouse. Ahead were more trucks and workmen hoisting the lights of a fifty-foot stage outfitted with sound equipment. He parked next to a collection of vans and small trucks. All were open and being unloaded.
“There’s so much happening,” she said.
“Controlled chaos. This is the calm before the storm.”
She sat a little straighter. “I can’t wait.”
He rested his massive, inked forearms on the steering wheel. He stared at the people unloading boxes, setting up vending stands, and hanging Mountain Music Festival T-shirts and posters. “In the light of day, it always looks like a bright, shiny penny. But night is coming. So be careful, Laurie.”
“My dad split when I was ten. I learned how to handle myself. I’ll be fine, Joe. Not my first rodeo.”
“A regular sage,” he quipped.
“I’m young, but I’m not stupid.”
“That’s good. Keep your thinking hat on, Laurie. I’ve worked Rafe Colton events before. They always get crazy.” He wasn’t sure why he felt the need to caution her. “I’ve seen girls like you get eaten up.”
Her smile told him his warning flew right past her. “Thanks, Joe. I promise to be careful.”
“There’s a hamburger vendor setting up,” he said. “I bet you could pick up a few hours of work, and they’ll feed you if you’re hungry.”
“Thanks. I’ll do that.”
He reached for a rumpled receipt on the seat and scribbled a number on it. “This is my number. After the festival, if you have questions, give me a call.”
She stared at the bold numbers as she reached for the door handle. “Why do you look so worried, Joe?”
“Like I said, I’ve worked this kind of event before.”
“You’re a nice man.”
He drew in a breath until the full expanse of his chest pressed against his T-shirt. “Not so nice. And there are going to be worse than me out there over the next eighteen hours.”
She opened the door and gripped the handle of her guitar case in her right hand. Her stomach grumbled. She laughed. “A burger would be nice.”
“Best of luck.”
She waved to Joe and walked toward the crowd. When she reached the first food vendor, she glanced back and caught his gaze. She smiled, then introduced herself to the young woman setting up the burger station.
A horn honked, drawing Joe’s attention back to the job at hand. He had some pull with a few of the bands. He’d find a way to give her a show-business break, and maybe, who knows, maybe they could find a quiet spot and she could thank him properly.