CHAPTER TWO
MEL
Saturday night.
It was here.
She had dreaded it and it was here.
Drew had a cast party that night and had begged Mel to go. She wanted her to meet her new boyfriend. Mel
liked to refer to them as Drew's "Flavors of the Week." Not to say that Drew slept around, which honestly wasn't the case. Drew just liked to have a wide variety of chocolate in her box, so to speak.
Mel had almost convinced herself to go when she got slapped in the face at the last minute with this dreaded
review. Normally she wasn't even required to interview the artist. The artist usually just knew there was a critic there then would read the review the next morning.
But this was Mel. And she could never get off that easily.
She had purposely not told Drew about the band she was reviewing. It was bad enough she had to do it in the
first place. Rehashing old memories would definitely not help her in this current situation.
Oh how she missed John at this moment. John knew about hers and Taylor's relationship when they were
young, but she never did tell him the details of who "Taylor" was. John swore that if he ever laid eyes on him it would be the last time Taylor ever breathed. And John could do it, as he was a very large man. Not large as in obese, but he was very brawny. Very brawny and very kind, sweet, gentle. Never laid a hand on her. Never screamed at her. Never threatened her. Oh how she needed him right now.
Fighting back the tears and anger, she swept her long, dark curls into a quick bun, letting a few strands fall around her face. She swept some eyeliner and mascara across her eyes and threw on a pair of dark blue skinny jeans and a black Metallica t-shirt (purposely, for a little joke for herself). She topped that off with a black blazer and blue-glittered heels. She may have hated this night, but walking the streets of New York City didn't deserve the punishment of being walked on in bad shoes. The only accessory she wore were her glasses. She didn't even bother with her contacts. It took her 5 whole minutes to get ready. That was how much she cared about this review.
Grabbing her purse, her camera, and her tape recorder (she liked to "rock it old school"), she fled out the door of her Brownstone.
An outsider would look at her meager career as a columnist and critic and wonder how in the world she could afford to keep up a Brownstone in downtown New York. Well, she guessed that's the reward that a life insurance policy and widow's pension will get you when a low-life bottom-feeder murders your husband. The NYPD pays handsomely for those officers and detectives wasted in the line of duty these days.
Saturday night in New York City, she should have known to leave earlier than normal. On a normal Saturday she would have cared to. She wanted to call her boss to say she couldn't find the venue, but alas, she had reviewed many an act at Irving Plaza and he would have called her bluff. If she wanted to be at least somewhat on time, she knew better than to take a cab, as traffic was hardly moving. Her best bet was to hoof it in her blue-glittered heels.
Could life get more grand?
____________________________________
What was wrong with this city tonight?
It took Mel 45 minutes to get to the venue when it normally would have taken her 20, either on foot or by cab. She knew they had to have been at least into the third or fourth song by now. Punctuality was usually her strong suit, seeing as she actually liked her work.
All of a sudden, her stomach did a flip flop as she approached the door to the venue. Then it began flip flopping into knots. It had been over three years now since John had died. That was more than sufficient time to allow old feelings to come over her. She didn't want them, sufficient time or not.
She shrugged it off. Everyone is nervous about seeing someone they haven't seen in a long time, no matter who it is. Maybe she could find a chance to listen to the music without seeing them play it. It wouldn't have made any difference. Her ears and her mind would still be filled with the inescapable sound of Taylor Hanson's voice.
As she opened the door to the venue she was met by a massive, bald, black man that went by the name of Big Willie. It was an obvious play on words but by now nobody cared. Everyone loved Big Willie. He was a huge teddy bear, but don't let that huge teddy bear fool you. He could turn into a rabid grizzly at the drop of a hat.
"Where's your ticket?" he asked in his deep, throbbing, bass of a voice.
Mel smiled up at him and took off her glasses. "It's me, Willie."
Big Willie's smile glowed so bright past his dark skin it was practically blinding. She loved that smile. He
was a huge comfort to her after John was killed. She would sit and talk to him for hours after the venue had closed down and everyone had gone home. He had a been a good friend to her when she needed someone to lend an ear.
"Mrs. Bradshaw, I didn't recognize you in those glasses! Come on in. You got a good one tonight. These Hanson guys are catchy."
She could tell. She could hear the music booming and Taylor's voice shaking the walls of the Irving.
"You know I'm not a Mrs. anymore," Mel responded with mock scolding, choosing not to respond to the remark about the band.
Big Willie's bright smile softened. "I know," he said quietly. "John was a good man."
Mel smiled back at him. Then with a deep breath, she said, "Well, let's get this over with."
Big Willie frowned. "We reading a bad review tomorrow? That might break my heart, Ms. Bradshaw. These are nice guys."
"Let's just say I kind of have a history with this band."
"Oh, you know them?"
"I used to."
"Well, Ms. Bradshaw, I'm gonna walk you in. I'd like to see them play anyway and I need to keep an eye on you and the crowd. Haven't seen women this crazy in I don't know when!"
Mel's smile returned. Having Big Willie by her side made her feel a little relief. "Thank you, I'd like that."
_________________________________________
She walked in the venue door and her ears rattled and rang by the familiar boom of the speakers only a loud concert in a small venue could deliver. Clubs now, huh? She remembered the days of arenas and amphitheaters.
As soon as Mel hit the door, she cut an immediate right and went straight to the bar, not laying an eye on the
stage. She quickly ordered a double vodka rocks and drank it as Big Willie stood beside her, watching the show and bobbing his head to the catchy pop rock that came from the stage.
She wasn't allowed to drink on the job and she knew it. But she wasn't going to get through this night without a few cocktails. Not like she was driving anyway. And besides, if anyone felt the need to tattle on her she could say that she had aversions to water from a bottle and preferred it fresh on ice. Unless they smelled her breath, that is. But she seriously doubted there was anyone there that night who would care that she even existed. Except for Big Willie, of course.
Finishing her cocktail--who was she kidding, this was no cocktail--she immediately ordered another. She felt like she had enough edge taken off now to actually start doing her job. She knew Big Willie would shadow her all night, which normally annoyed her but tonight she was grateful for the company. She knew he didn't hang around for the $100 she slipped him each time she had to attend a show there. The two were genuine friends. The money was just a bonus. She would probably slip him an extra $100 tonight.
The club was small, a general admission type atmosphere. Girls were crammed as close to the front as they could get, leaving massive floor space in the back for the sane ones who wanted a little breathing room. There weren't many of those. Drink in one hand, camera in the other, she walked to the middle of the roomy section and looked up at the stage.
There they were.
There he was.
Flanked by older brother, Isaac and younger brother, Zac, Taylor Hanson of Hanson banged out the keys and sang a song about a girl named Penny who liked lemonade. Or something. You could hardly ever understand a word he said. Mel spent the remainder of that song, drink, zoom, snap, drink, zoom, snap.
When she'd gotten sufficient wide shots (only one or two photos would actually be used in the article) she threw back the remainder of her second double vodka rocks and turned to Big Willie, yelling over the music. "Okay, Willie! It's time!"
He narrowed his eyes at her and took the glass from her hand. "Ms. Bradshaw, you must have some history with this group!"
"You have no idea!"
This was the part she probably dreaded more than the interview.
Stage shots.
She needed to get close to the stage to get sufficient close-ups of the artists. Multiple shots are taken because
you never knew which ones would come out and which wouldn't.
She prayed neither of the brothers would recognize her during this time. 'Please God,' she prayed, 'let me get
through this night unscathed and I might consider bedtime without my toy box. Or give up vodka. Your choice.'
Taking a deep breath, Mel pulled her press pass from underneath her shirt and let it hang on her chest. Big
Willie then put an arm around her and began to wade her through the crowd along the wall to get her up the side to the front of the stage. Passing by all the nasty looks from fans, she heard the harmonies in a song where they've "been thinking bout something other than you."
'How fitting,' she thought.
Big Willie stood at the entrance of the VIP section directly in front of the stage. There was hardly anyone in
there so she had plenty of room to move around and take the photos she needed. She noticed her heart beating fast and her sweaty palms. It wasn't an epidemic she was catching from the sea of screaming girls behind her, but it was a feeling she neither expected or wanted nonetheless.
She started with Isaac's side of the stage. Close-up's of his face, his guitar, full profile. Click, click ,click. He had grown up nicely. Looked much more debonair at 32 than he did at 22.
Then came Zac next. Face, drums...wow. Zac had definitely grown into his own. 'Where was THIS ten years ago?' Mel thought to herself.
She lingered before she got to Taylor. He hadn't changed a bit. He'd hacked his hair off. He was lucky she hadn't brutally torn it out strand by strand. Looking back on it now, things could have been a lot worse. But for a 19-year-old some actions can shatter an entire world and sometimes those things hurt. This was one of those times. Time to move a few feet to the right.
She had gotten one whole photo snapped before he locked eyes with her and fumbled his lyrics. She nearly dropped her camera.
Damn!
She couldn't get one break? Just ONE?
He quickly recovered his lyrics but the blood was already gone from his face. Ike was noticing a problem, but was most likely more annoyed that Tay messed up. He was the perfectionist of the group.
Tay. She hadn't thought of that nickname in years.
This was just too much for Mel. Screw it. One photo of Tay would have to suffice. She probably wouldn't use it anyway. She was out of the VIP area in a flash. It was much easier getting back the way she came, as the throng of fans was more than happy to lose one more girl in the crowd.
She went straight back to the bar and ordered up another double vodka rocks. Big Willie protested. She
assured him she would be completely fine and if she needed to call Drew, she would. Or he could do it for her. Either way. But it wouldn't be necessary.
So now the cat was out of the bag. Wonderful. He knows she's here. And now she's supposed to focus on
the music? And drum up her questions? With these nerves??
It's okay. She only hadn't had a thing to do with any of their music or followed anything they had done for the past ten years. Ever. But it's okay. She's a professional. She could do this. Okay. Let's see. Still pop. Definitely some maturity there. How many albums were there now? There's a little rock in there. Okay. She could do this. Mature sound, mature image. She only needed to ask a couple of questions then critique the rest. But she couldn't critique if she couldn't focus. And now she was getting a little drunk. Three double vodka rocks was more than enough and she had a suspicion that Big Willie had already told the bartender she was cut off.
_______________________________________
TAYLOR
Taylor Hanson had seen a ghost. Or he was going crazy. Or he had seen a ghost. No. It was neither and he knew it and now he couldn't get a hold of himself. He hadn't thought of Melody Banks in years. Well that was a lie, he thought about her more frequently than he wanted to admit. And he did love his wife of ten years. But at this moment he seemed to have been uncontrollably shaken up by this ghost that had shown up during this show.
As soon as the song was finished, he called a break. He knew Ike would be pissed, but if Tay couldn't get a grip on himself he knew he may not survive the rest of the show. And they still had almost another hour. She had a press pass. And a camera. Was she...? No fucking way...
To the chant of "Hanson! Hanson! Hanson!" Taylor ran backstage and quickly locked himself in the bathroom. He splashed water on his face, took a deep breath and stared at himself in the mirror. He genuinely felt he was going to pass out.
Bang!Bang!Bang!Bang!!
Shit.
"Tay!" Ike called from outside the door in a half whisper, worried the crowd might hear, which there was absolutely no chance of. "What is wrong with you?"
"I need a minute!" Tay called back.
"You better not be freakin' sick," Zac called out, throwing himself on a sofa and letting out a sigh.
"Tay, what the hell, man?" Ike persisted.
Suddenly Tay threw open the bathroom door. Zac ducked from the sofa.
"She's here. It's her."
"What? Who?" Ike asked.
"HER. Mel. She's here, I swear it!"
"What?" Zac said with disbelief. "No..."
"Melody Banks?" Ike asked, incredulously. "From 10 years ago? From a lifetime ago? You disrupted an entire concert because of an old teenage girlfriend? Are you crazy?"
"Am I?"
Zac leaned forward and held his head in his hands. "What's crazy is this whole situation right here. That
THIS whole situation, right here, is even happening," he said signaling around the room.
"Tay, we can't be back here doing this. Married men doing this, stopping an entire concert over a damn girl. This is completely unprofessional and you know it."
"Ike, I know. I am the last person who would pull any kind of stunt and you know it. But when something like this happens to you, you let me know if you won't need a minute to collect yourself and your thoughts before screwing up another whole entire hour live onstage."
"Does this mean we won't get our break in half an hour?" Zac asked.
"We'll have to shorten it," answered Ike.
"GodDAMN it!"
"Do you have somewhere to be?" asked Ike.
"You guys drum an entire two hour show and tell me your arms don't need a break."
"Tay, this is kind of ridiculous," Ike continued. "Things like this happen. If it is her--"
"It IS," Tay interrupted.
"If it IS her, then okay. It'll have to be dealt with later. But this show is first and we can't spend another minute having this useless conversation."
"It's not useless--"
"Everything is useless as long as we are playing a live show, which we ARE, and we'll have to deal with this
later."
"Yeah. It WILL have to be dealt with later," Tay said. "Cause she's the damn critic that's here tonight."
Now it was Ike's turn to be stunned. "Are you kidding?"
"Oh, godDAMN," Zac groaned once more from the sofa.
MEL
Saturday night.
It was here.
She had dreaded it and it was here.
Drew had a cast party that night and had begged Mel to go. She wanted her to meet her new boyfriend. Mel
liked to refer to them as Drew's "Flavors of the Week." Not to say that Drew slept around, which honestly wasn't the case. Drew just liked to have a wide variety of chocolate in her box, so to speak.
Mel had almost convinced herself to go when she got slapped in the face at the last minute with this dreaded
review. Normally she wasn't even required to interview the artist. The artist usually just knew there was a critic there then would read the review the next morning.
But this was Mel. And she could never get off that easily.
She had purposely not told Drew about the band she was reviewing. It was bad enough she had to do it in the
first place. Rehashing old memories would definitely not help her in this current situation.
Oh how she missed John at this moment. John knew about hers and Taylor's relationship when they were
young, but she never did tell him the details of who "Taylor" was. John swore that if he ever laid eyes on him it would be the last time Taylor ever breathed. And John could do it, as he was a very large man. Not large as in obese, but he was very brawny. Very brawny and very kind, sweet, gentle. Never laid a hand on her. Never screamed at her. Never threatened her. Oh how she needed him right now.
Fighting back the tears and anger, she swept her long, dark curls into a quick bun, letting a few strands fall around her face. She swept some eyeliner and mascara across her eyes and threw on a pair of dark blue skinny jeans and a black Metallica t-shirt (purposely, for a little joke for herself). She topped that off with a black blazer and blue-glittered heels. She may have hated this night, but walking the streets of New York City didn't deserve the punishment of being walked on in bad shoes. The only accessory she wore were her glasses. She didn't even bother with her contacts. It took her 5 whole minutes to get ready. That was how much she cared about this review.
Grabbing her purse, her camera, and her tape recorder (she liked to "rock it old school"), she fled out the door of her Brownstone.
An outsider would look at her meager career as a columnist and critic and wonder how in the world she could afford to keep up a Brownstone in downtown New York. Well, she guessed that's the reward that a life insurance policy and widow's pension will get you when a low-life bottom-feeder murders your husband. The NYPD pays handsomely for those officers and detectives wasted in the line of duty these days.
Saturday night in New York City, she should have known to leave earlier than normal. On a normal Saturday she would have cared to. She wanted to call her boss to say she couldn't find the venue, but alas, she had reviewed many an act at Irving Plaza and he would have called her bluff. If she wanted to be at least somewhat on time, she knew better than to take a cab, as traffic was hardly moving. Her best bet was to hoof it in her blue-glittered heels.
Could life get more grand?
____________________________________
What was wrong with this city tonight?
It took Mel 45 minutes to get to the venue when it normally would have taken her 20, either on foot or by cab. She knew they had to have been at least into the third or fourth song by now. Punctuality was usually her strong suit, seeing as she actually liked her work.
All of a sudden, her stomach did a flip flop as she approached the door to the venue. Then it began flip flopping into knots. It had been over three years now since John had died. That was more than sufficient time to allow old feelings to come over her. She didn't want them, sufficient time or not.
She shrugged it off. Everyone is nervous about seeing someone they haven't seen in a long time, no matter who it is. Maybe she could find a chance to listen to the music without seeing them play it. It wouldn't have made any difference. Her ears and her mind would still be filled with the inescapable sound of Taylor Hanson's voice.
As she opened the door to the venue she was met by a massive, bald, black man that went by the name of Big Willie. It was an obvious play on words but by now nobody cared. Everyone loved Big Willie. He was a huge teddy bear, but don't let that huge teddy bear fool you. He could turn into a rabid grizzly at the drop of a hat.
"Where's your ticket?" he asked in his deep, throbbing, bass of a voice.
Mel smiled up at him and took off her glasses. "It's me, Willie."
Big Willie's smile glowed so bright past his dark skin it was practically blinding. She loved that smile. He
was a huge comfort to her after John was killed. She would sit and talk to him for hours after the venue had closed down and everyone had gone home. He had a been a good friend to her when she needed someone to lend an ear.
"Mrs. Bradshaw, I didn't recognize you in those glasses! Come on in. You got a good one tonight. These Hanson guys are catchy."
She could tell. She could hear the music booming and Taylor's voice shaking the walls of the Irving.
"You know I'm not a Mrs. anymore," Mel responded with mock scolding, choosing not to respond to the remark about the band.
Big Willie's bright smile softened. "I know," he said quietly. "John was a good man."
Mel smiled back at him. Then with a deep breath, she said, "Well, let's get this over with."
Big Willie frowned. "We reading a bad review tomorrow? That might break my heart, Ms. Bradshaw. These are nice guys."
"Let's just say I kind of have a history with this band."
"Oh, you know them?"
"I used to."
"Well, Ms. Bradshaw, I'm gonna walk you in. I'd like to see them play anyway and I need to keep an eye on you and the crowd. Haven't seen women this crazy in I don't know when!"
Mel's smile returned. Having Big Willie by her side made her feel a little relief. "Thank you, I'd like that."
_________________________________________
She walked in the venue door and her ears rattled and rang by the familiar boom of the speakers only a loud concert in a small venue could deliver. Clubs now, huh? She remembered the days of arenas and amphitheaters.
As soon as Mel hit the door, she cut an immediate right and went straight to the bar, not laying an eye on the
stage. She quickly ordered a double vodka rocks and drank it as Big Willie stood beside her, watching the show and bobbing his head to the catchy pop rock that came from the stage.
She wasn't allowed to drink on the job and she knew it. But she wasn't going to get through this night without a few cocktails. Not like she was driving anyway. And besides, if anyone felt the need to tattle on her she could say that she had aversions to water from a bottle and preferred it fresh on ice. Unless they smelled her breath, that is. But she seriously doubted there was anyone there that night who would care that she even existed. Except for Big Willie, of course.
Finishing her cocktail--who was she kidding, this was no cocktail--she immediately ordered another. She felt like she had enough edge taken off now to actually start doing her job. She knew Big Willie would shadow her all night, which normally annoyed her but tonight she was grateful for the company. She knew he didn't hang around for the $100 she slipped him each time she had to attend a show there. The two were genuine friends. The money was just a bonus. She would probably slip him an extra $100 tonight.
The club was small, a general admission type atmosphere. Girls were crammed as close to the front as they could get, leaving massive floor space in the back for the sane ones who wanted a little breathing room. There weren't many of those. Drink in one hand, camera in the other, she walked to the middle of the roomy section and looked up at the stage.
There they were.
There he was.
Flanked by older brother, Isaac and younger brother, Zac, Taylor Hanson of Hanson banged out the keys and sang a song about a girl named Penny who liked lemonade. Or something. You could hardly ever understand a word he said. Mel spent the remainder of that song, drink, zoom, snap, drink, zoom, snap.
When she'd gotten sufficient wide shots (only one or two photos would actually be used in the article) she threw back the remainder of her second double vodka rocks and turned to Big Willie, yelling over the music. "Okay, Willie! It's time!"
He narrowed his eyes at her and took the glass from her hand. "Ms. Bradshaw, you must have some history with this group!"
"You have no idea!"
This was the part she probably dreaded more than the interview.
Stage shots.
She needed to get close to the stage to get sufficient close-ups of the artists. Multiple shots are taken because
you never knew which ones would come out and which wouldn't.
She prayed neither of the brothers would recognize her during this time. 'Please God,' she prayed, 'let me get
through this night unscathed and I might consider bedtime without my toy box. Or give up vodka. Your choice.'
Taking a deep breath, Mel pulled her press pass from underneath her shirt and let it hang on her chest. Big
Willie then put an arm around her and began to wade her through the crowd along the wall to get her up the side to the front of the stage. Passing by all the nasty looks from fans, she heard the harmonies in a song where they've "been thinking bout something other than you."
'How fitting,' she thought.
Big Willie stood at the entrance of the VIP section directly in front of the stage. There was hardly anyone in
there so she had plenty of room to move around and take the photos she needed. She noticed her heart beating fast and her sweaty palms. It wasn't an epidemic she was catching from the sea of screaming girls behind her, but it was a feeling she neither expected or wanted nonetheless.
She started with Isaac's side of the stage. Close-up's of his face, his guitar, full profile. Click, click ,click. He had grown up nicely. Looked much more debonair at 32 than he did at 22.
Then came Zac next. Face, drums...wow. Zac had definitely grown into his own. 'Where was THIS ten years ago?' Mel thought to herself.
She lingered before she got to Taylor. He hadn't changed a bit. He'd hacked his hair off. He was lucky she hadn't brutally torn it out strand by strand. Looking back on it now, things could have been a lot worse. But for a 19-year-old some actions can shatter an entire world and sometimes those things hurt. This was one of those times. Time to move a few feet to the right.
She had gotten one whole photo snapped before he locked eyes with her and fumbled his lyrics. She nearly dropped her camera.
Damn!
She couldn't get one break? Just ONE?
He quickly recovered his lyrics but the blood was already gone from his face. Ike was noticing a problem, but was most likely more annoyed that Tay messed up. He was the perfectionist of the group.
Tay. She hadn't thought of that nickname in years.
This was just too much for Mel. Screw it. One photo of Tay would have to suffice. She probably wouldn't use it anyway. She was out of the VIP area in a flash. It was much easier getting back the way she came, as the throng of fans was more than happy to lose one more girl in the crowd.
She went straight back to the bar and ordered up another double vodka rocks. Big Willie protested. She
assured him she would be completely fine and if she needed to call Drew, she would. Or he could do it for her. Either way. But it wouldn't be necessary.
So now the cat was out of the bag. Wonderful. He knows she's here. And now she's supposed to focus on
the music? And drum up her questions? With these nerves??
It's okay. She only hadn't had a thing to do with any of their music or followed anything they had done for the past ten years. Ever. But it's okay. She's a professional. She could do this. Okay. Let's see. Still pop. Definitely some maturity there. How many albums were there now? There's a little rock in there. Okay. She could do this. Mature sound, mature image. She only needed to ask a couple of questions then critique the rest. But she couldn't critique if she couldn't focus. And now she was getting a little drunk. Three double vodka rocks was more than enough and she had a suspicion that Big Willie had already told the bartender she was cut off.
_______________________________________
TAYLOR
Taylor Hanson had seen a ghost. Or he was going crazy. Or he had seen a ghost. No. It was neither and he knew it and now he couldn't get a hold of himself. He hadn't thought of Melody Banks in years. Well that was a lie, he thought about her more frequently than he wanted to admit. And he did love his wife of ten years. But at this moment he seemed to have been uncontrollably shaken up by this ghost that had shown up during this show.
As soon as the song was finished, he called a break. He knew Ike would be pissed, but if Tay couldn't get a grip on himself he knew he may not survive the rest of the show. And they still had almost another hour. She had a press pass. And a camera. Was she...? No fucking way...
To the chant of "Hanson! Hanson! Hanson!" Taylor ran backstage and quickly locked himself in the bathroom. He splashed water on his face, took a deep breath and stared at himself in the mirror. He genuinely felt he was going to pass out.
Bang!Bang!Bang!Bang!!
Shit.
"Tay!" Ike called from outside the door in a half whisper, worried the crowd might hear, which there was absolutely no chance of. "What is wrong with you?"
"I need a minute!" Tay called back.
"You better not be freakin' sick," Zac called out, throwing himself on a sofa and letting out a sigh.
"Tay, what the hell, man?" Ike persisted.
Suddenly Tay threw open the bathroom door. Zac ducked from the sofa.
"She's here. It's her."
"What? Who?" Ike asked.
"HER. Mel. She's here, I swear it!"
"What?" Zac said with disbelief. "No..."
"Melody Banks?" Ike asked, incredulously. "From 10 years ago? From a lifetime ago? You disrupted an entire concert because of an old teenage girlfriend? Are you crazy?"
"Am I?"
Zac leaned forward and held his head in his hands. "What's crazy is this whole situation right here. That
THIS whole situation, right here, is even happening," he said signaling around the room.
"Tay, we can't be back here doing this. Married men doing this, stopping an entire concert over a damn girl. This is completely unprofessional and you know it."
"Ike, I know. I am the last person who would pull any kind of stunt and you know it. But when something like this happens to you, you let me know if you won't need a minute to collect yourself and your thoughts before screwing up another whole entire hour live onstage."
"Does this mean we won't get our break in half an hour?" Zac asked.
"We'll have to shorten it," answered Ike.
"GodDAMN it!"
"Do you have somewhere to be?" asked Ike.
"You guys drum an entire two hour show and tell me your arms don't need a break."
"Tay, this is kind of ridiculous," Ike continued. "Things like this happen. If it is her--"
"It IS," Tay interrupted.
"If it IS her, then okay. It'll have to be dealt with later. But this show is first and we can't spend another minute having this useless conversation."
"It's not useless--"
"Everything is useless as long as we are playing a live show, which we ARE, and we'll have to deal with this
later."
"Yeah. It WILL have to be dealt with later," Tay said. "Cause she's the damn critic that's here tonight."
Now it was Ike's turn to be stunned. "Are you kidding?"
"Oh, godDAMN," Zac groaned once more from the sofa.