On Tour

They made their way through the spiderweb of walks and Amy found the same access stair she had ascended. She turned around and said, "I can make it from...," and her voice slid to a halt. Evan had just stepped into the small pool of light at the top of the stair behind her. He was stooped over, but she could tell he was tall, with broad shoulders. His face was sweaty and smudged and his soft, black curls were flattened against his head in places. His eyes were striking; dark and deep and intelligent - and wide open in surprise. He was as ruggedly handsome as any movie secret agent skulking in the shadows of an arch-villain's lair.

Evan had never seen Amy from closer than a hundred feet, and hadn't really been looking at her, just waiting for the word or gesture which would cue him to the next effect. He had hoped to catch a glimpse of her face as she descended the twisting stair, and was not prepared for her to turn around and unleash a heart-melting smile from less than an arm's length away. Her hair was pale gold and hung to her waist, framing her face like a cameo. Her eyes were such a perfect blue any portrait artist would have a nervous breakdown attempting to match them with mere paint. She had almost no makeup on, and her skin glowed in the dim light.

"AH, thanks for finding that bad light," Evan stammered.

The smile became impish. "You're welcome. See you around." Then she was gone.

"I hope so," Evan whispered,

Chapter 3: Flirting, verging on serious

"I just don't understand it, Ella. She has to be somewhere," Leila was saying, clasping her chin with a hand and sliding her face into an exasperated look. Prodding Amy's mother along on a wild goose chase had been fun for a while, but it was now getting boring. Besides, Ella's short temper was by now almost microscopic. Amy owed her. Where was she, anyway?

"So here you both are," came Amy's voice from behind her. Leila sighed in relief.

Ella spun around, her face contorted with frustration, but Amy cut her off with, "I've been looking for you for an hour. I have this great idea for re-phrasing the second and third lines of the chorus, and you weren't there." Amy crossed her arms in exasperation and glared at her mother. This took her mother completely by surprise, and she was left speechless. Amy seized the momentary distraction and kept the initiative by shaking her head, turning around and saying loudly, "We still have an hour before I have to get ready for the performance; come on." Ella followed Amy, sputtering in confusion, like someone who has an afternoon looking for keys which turn out to be for the wrong car. Behind them, Leila bit her lip and tried not to applaud. Something had finally inspired her friend to go on the offensive, and life might get easier, or at least more interesting.

Much later that evening, Evan was a bit distracted and grumbling at himself for it. He had gotten every cue right for the show, but when Amy was on stage it took a lot of willpower to work rather than just enjoy the show. The up-side was that Bernie and the director had promoted him to Technical Supervisor; which meant he was doing more of the same work for a fraction more money, but also that he was valued and now considered a member of the team rather than a potentially transient bit player. He hurried through the work of packing up the set and getting it aboard the trucks and busses; they would be driving through the night to the next city, and his bed tonight would be the reclining seat in the support van. He made a last check that all of the group's equipment was safely and securely stowed, and that nothing else had gotten dragged along that wasn't. He gave Bernie a thumb's up and waited for the man's typically curt nod. He then turned and walked toward the van. Work was done; so he immediately started thinking about the unreal encounter he had had with the amazing woman in the rafters. He wondered if her really had a chance of seeing her again other than on stage. He was so lost in his musings he did not pay much attention to the slender figure clad in sweats which was walking toward him with the hoodie wrapped snugly around its head.

The shoulder to shoulder impact startled Evan as he spun half around. He opened his mouth to protest as the other figure half turned toward him; and gossamer strands of gleaming hair waved around the edges of the hood, framing the pale face with its mischievously curved, carnation pink lips, and crushed sapphire blue eyes with wickedly arched brows. He smiled back and took two more steps while groping for a suave greeting or witty remark - instead walking right into the fender of the van. A short, playful laugh drifted out of the bustling darkness. He looked up to see the van driver shaking his head and muttering silently behind the windshield. He rubbed his sore stomach and climbed onto the van. He gave the driver an apologetic smile as he boarded, and then sat down and reclined his seat. So he had met a beautiful, intelligent, and very flirtatious woman today. He could drift off to sleep tonight with a smile, thinking about how to flirt back.

Life become much more interesting around the tour group. Amy had taken to disappearing when least expected, for a few minutes or an hour or two. This did not amuse Ella.

Evan had taken much more interest in the electronics on the stage, and was now checking out the singer's microphones and radio packs on their dresses thoroughly just before each performance. Amy would look at him haughtily as she swept her hair off of the small cigarette pack-sized package of electronics which was sewn into a pocket in the back collar of her dress. Then she would smile slightly as he ensured all of the connections were tight and all the batteries fully charged. His fingertips would trail across the back of her neck as they checked the line to her earphone.

And it was certainly just a coincidence that when Evan came back stage after a performance to make certain the radio-microphones were safely stowed for the trip to the next venue, that Amy was standing on a platform and swung her hair free with perfect timing to trail it over Evan's face.

The teasings and flirtations were not as discrete as Amy and Evan would have thought, and their attraction became the stuff of much quiet gossip, knowing chuckles, and leering grins among the rest of the troupe. Everyone except Ella. The possibility of a blossoming romance didn't seem to enter her mind; and she was increasingly unable to keep Amy under her thumb, not with Leila running interference and other staffers taking out their dislike of her by misdirecting her when she was on one of her Amy hunts.

Leila was her staunchest ally, taking delight in how each stolen rendezvous emboldened Amy to stand up just a little more to her mother. Kathy viewed it with disapproval, feeling that it was stars slumming with staff, but she knew that Amy was the chief draw for the group and wouldn't let her opinion stand in the way of profitability. Marrisa and Christa took turns being amused, helpful, resentful, jealous, and, truthfully, a bit envious.

**********

Lead article, the ENTERTAINMENT section of the HARRIS POST

MADRI-GALS A DELIGHT. DON'T MISS THEM

Be prepared to love this group. If by the second ballad you haven't fallen in love with Amy, you must be deaf - and blind. The other girls are spectacular also, both visually and vocally. They have a wide repertoire, and display all of it to good effect. The show is well choreographed and the lighting and effects set the perfect backdrop for each performance. When all five women are on stage you know what the heavenly chorus will sound like. You wonder what inspirations drive their performances. They are in town for two more days, so you have no excuses for missing them.

**********

Evan lounged against the brick, trying to blend into the bustling background of the theater's arcade. He had a rucksack slung over his shoulder with the best picnic lunch he could put together nestled safely inside. A police officer moved casually through the arcade, walking the beat and with a mind distracted by thoughts that it had been too long since breakfast. Her eyes lingered on Evan for a moment; adding him up in a glance. Too well dressed to be a vagrant, too alert to be a drifter, too handsome and well-groomed to be a thief. The watchful eyes lingered on the face; which didn't match any of the more notorious posters on the walls of the station. Evan returned the look with a smile and a friendly nod. The eyes told the officer more than the face; a guy waiting for a girl; she'd bet money on it. The officer nodded back, slightly, and then moved a little further down the arcade and stopped outside a shop window, with Evan's reflection visible in the glass. In less than a minute a beautiful blonde girl slipped out of one of the theater's doors and greeted the young man with a brief kiss, more than friendly but less than passionate. The officer nodded to herself, pleased with this confirmation of her ability to read people. She continued her way down the arcade, headed a little more quickly to an unauthorized lunch date with her husband.

Evan returned the kiss with enthusiasm and glanced right and left. "You look great, but totally recognizable. We'll be mobbed by fans, or worse, your mother."

Amy rewarded him with an impish smile. "You'll see." She took his hand and led him into the theater's gift shop. In two minutes she had bought a puffy blue hat such as a British model from the seventies might have worn, and a green and blue check cape. She swept her long hair up, wrapped it twice, pinned it, and hid it completely under the hat. She reversed her windbreaker and whipped the cape around her shoulder, giving it a playful little flip that tweaked Evan's nose tip perfectly. He chuckled and applauded quietly. She pirouetted with a giggle, then took a pair of high blue vynl boots out of her shoulder bag, slipped off her flats, turned her bag inside out - from subtle green the bright blue - slipped the flats inside and announced, "I'm hungry. Let's go."

Hand in hand they strolled out of the arcade and across the road to the city park.

It was a typical downtown oasis of greenery in a bustling desert of concrete, brick and asphalt. The newly unfurled leaves spread green umbrellas to provide cool patches of shade to picnickers out to forget their stark, frenzied offices and buzzing demanding headsets for a few precious minutes of sanity. A granite boulder stood by an ancient cannon covered with too many layers of flat black paint on one end of the sward, and a flagpole waved Old Glory watchfully above the city at the other end, its base circled by concentric rings of red, white and blue flowers, newly blossomed.

They picked a sunny spot in the exact middle of the park with a clear view of the front of the theater. Amy whipped out a pair of large sun glasses and slipped them on. "Viola!"

Evan pulled a blanket from the rucksack and shook it out and laid it upon the grass. "You are now safe form both the Paparrazzi and your mother."

They sat and Evan began unpacking a fruit and vegetable platter with lemon cream cheese dip; a small plate of crackers, cheese slices and pepperoni chunks; and two bottles of iced tea.

Amy reached for a cracker, but Evan held his hand in the way and grinned. "Ah, ah, ah! Not a bite until you tell me about your... manager. You promised."

She sighed and leaned back on her elbows. "That's a painful story. Alright. But there better be liverwurst," she finished with mock severity.

"Right here," he assured her, giving her his full attention.

"Then I have no more excuses. Okay. I love singing. I grew up singing. According to my dad, after I was born even my crying had rhythm. He encouraged me. He took me to years of voice lessons, listened to all my compositions, and even funded a little neighborhood band when I got to high school. He was my manager and my hero and my biggest fan. We got gigs all over the county and did well. But dad always said that life had balance and I got to do lots of other things and got time to, well, to just be me. Then dad got me the contract to sign with the Madri-gals. I auditioned so well I got a four year contract, starting right after high school graduation. It was great. Then my mother stepped in." Amy shook her head, popped the top of an ice tea with a dramatic twist and took a sip. "You see, my mom had been a singer; or at least tried to be a singer. She toured with three different groups that never went anywhere. She always claimed it was the other people in the groups who held HER back. Eventually she gave up and her parents put her through college and she became a history teacher - the one kids tried not to get. She met my dad, who was a physics teacher, they got married and had me." Amy chewed a sesame cracker with liverwurst thoughtfully. "She had kind of ignored my budding singing career while I was growing up. I think it was too painful for her to remember her own dreams. That REALLY changed when I got the Madri-Gals contract. Bang! She was on top of everything. Nothing my dad did was smart enough, or good enough, or big enough. They argued incessantly. She finally went to court and the lawyer argued that her experience in the music business would make her a better manager than my dad. The judge agreed and made her my manager for the duration of the Madri-gals contract. I was a minor at the time, so what I wanted didn't count. So I've had her on my back for the last three years." Amy's face lit up. "But next year the original contract is up for renewal; I'll be twenty-two, I can fire her, and get my dad back." Her face sagged into a sour expression, as if it had bitten into an overly spiced pickle, and she finished off a strawberry from the fruit platter. "When dad was around, I got to compose when I felt like it, got gentle reminders when other things had to be done, like homework, and a lot of hugs. With mom, composition time is scheduled and the results thoroughly critiqued." She perched a red grape on a dollop of cream cheese on a star-shaped, savory cracker, inspected it critically, and then swallowed it. "I have a regimen that seems like it was written by a prison warden, and lectures instead of hugs. I believe my mom is living her own dreams and ambitions through me, out loud and written large. And that is driving me crazy." She smiled crookedly at Evan, making his heart skip a beat. "But only one year to go."

"Are your parents divorced?" he asked.

Amy shook her head. "No. Though they might as well be. They are legally separated. I go and stay with my dad whenever I can when we're not on tour; mom goes and stays with her sister. She avoids my dad, and gives him no end of hell when she does run into him." She looked at Evan; a kindred soul extending the hand of empathy. "Are your parents divorced?"

Evan had to swallow hard, and he could see Amy's reaction to his change of expression. "No. Mom died two years ago. Car accident. Dad has lots of ambitions for me - all centered on the family business. He was very encouraging - as long as whatever I was doing related to the business. I wanted to play rugby. Why? It wouldn't help me program in Java. I wanted to have a short-wave radio. Why? The Internet is so much more connected. Mom was much more sympathetic. It wasn't that dad was mean, or anything like that, it was just he was...," Evan groped for an adequate word, "... too FOCUSED on work. He could be funny, and caring, and supportive, and told terrific stories; but the older I got the more the stories ended in, '..and then he got into the family business and worked happily for his father for the rest of his life'." Evan washed down a cheese and cracker sandwich and continued, encouraged by Amy's fascinated attention and sympathetic smile. "It got worse after mom died. I know he was lonely. I know that we are the only family the two of us really have. I know he got me through college and didn't scream too loudly when I took summers off to work with groups to feed my love of music and my need to tinker with electronics. But then I graduated and he put his foot down. Playtime was over and it was time to get serious about life. Those were his exact words." Evan sipped his own ice tea. "So we had some words. Loud ones. Kind of hurtful ones." He shrugged helplessly. "It's not like I don't enjoy the business. It's not that I'm not good with it. It's just I don't want someone else, especially my father, taking my choices away from me." He subconsciously mimicked Amy's crooked smile from a few minutes ago. "So we have a lot in common."

"What kind of business is your dad in?" Amy asked. "Something about electronics, I bet."

Evan looked down, as if hunting for a choice piece of melon. "That was too easy, right?" He looked up and smiled. "A small family-owned computer business." That was being truthful, wasn't it? It was family-owned; and it was small - compared to, say, IBM or Apple. He glanced past Amy's shoulder and said with forced casualness, "Your mother just barged out of the theater and is looking around like a magpie in a jewelry store,"

Amy stifled a giggle and hunched down a little more. "Leila promised to tell her I had taken a walk to a book store, direction unknown, but I would be back in plenty of time for tonight's performance."

"She is walking right toward us," Evan said quietly, looking down at the fruit plate to hide his features.

Ella marched right by them, attention focused on the small bookstore on the opposite side of the park.

Amy shook her head as her mother walked by not an arm's length away. They sat silently until Amy announced, "She's in the bookstore." Evan chuckled, and they savored a mutual companionship as the warm sun shone down, the soft breeze played with the new leaves, and the droves of people hurried by on their unknown but obviously urgent errands. "She's finished terrorizing that store," Amy commented, as she watched her mother pick a direction and stalk off parallel to the park, pausing to glare into each store window. "I'm surprised she didn't recognize you."

Evan lay down and laced his hands together under his head. He saw a fluffy cloud which looked suspiciously like a huge swan drift across the blue. "I'm not. I don't think she notices the staff any more than she notices the furniture. She let the door close in my face yesterday when I had an armful of replacement cable. Not malicious, just didn't even seem to register I was there."

Amy nodded, keeping her mother just in view in the corner of her eye, but not wanting to attract attention by looking directly at her. Her mother stood on the corner of the park by the war memorial and looked around. Then she started marching across the grass. Amy bent down and kissed Evan. His hand came up and held the back of her head, keeping her cap in place, and concealing the strands of tell-tale hair. Once again Amy's mother stalked by, completely oblivious to the couple. Amy broke the kiss and glanced up. "She's gone." Evan's hand gently pulled her lips back down to his. "But she could be back any second," he murmured with a smile warmer than the spring sun and brighter of promise than the blooming flower beds.

Twenty minutes later, Amy was stretched out beside Evan, their bodies molded together, looking up at the sky and keeping track of the increasingly agitated Ella. Finally Ella gave up and stamped back into the theater.

"We have to get ready for the performance" Evan sighed.

"Do we?" Amy asked plaintively.

"Afraid so."

"Where is the only place she didn't look?"

Evan thought a minute. "The buses."

"So, I took a nap on the bus in the Sanctuary."

"Sounds like a plan to me. Come on. I'll walk you around the back of the theater."

Chapter 4

Lead article, LOCAL EVENTS section of THE DAILY REGISTER