I felt a nervous twinge
in my stomach.
"Are
we in the right place, man?" Sugden asked in a low voice as he pulled his
bass from its case and started to tune up.
I
locked my microphone onto its bamboo stand. "I think so."
I
hope so. I looked around for Lieutenant
Steinmetz.
Soon,
other officers arrived, the higher ranks.
They were escorting Vietnamese women all dressed up like they were going
to a fancy nightclub – high heels, sequins, lots of eyeliner and red lipstick. They headed to the banquet table. Chairs scraped as the officers pulled
them out for the women.
"Looks
like they're expecting a really big show," Ioli said from behind the
drums, his voice sounding unsure.
"Yeah,
don't they know we're just a rock band?" Jessen asked. He was pacing behind the organ, his
hair damp with sweat already.
Rings of perspiration were forming under his arms.
I
was starting to worry the Electrical Banana might not be up for this after
all. Maybe it was too soon. Maybe we needed more practice. Maybe this was going to be another
fiasco.
Where
the hell is Steinmetz?
"Come
on, guys, they want a big show," I said, trying to sound positive,
"then let's give 'em one. We
rock, remember?"
The
guys exchanged uneasy glances.
This wasn't looking too good.
I scanned the rapidly filling hall. Still no sign of Steinmetz.
"I
need a beer," Sugden said, leaning his bass against the wall. He jumped offstage.
"Me
too," Ioli said.
"Me
three," parroted Jessen.
He and Mike followed Jon like ducklings over to the bartender.
Great. Our first big concert date, and my
band's at the bar.
The
twinge turned to full-fledged butterflies as I checked and re-checked all the
cord connections to the amps. The
fluttering in my stomach reminded me of the first real gig of my life, with the
Mustangs, at the opening of the neighborhood Little League baseball
season. They'd set us up on two
sheets of plywood out on the field, let us play three songs. I never forgot how it felt that first
time. Climbing onto that makeshift
stage to show the audience what you're made of. Scared as hell, hoping your shaking fingers will
cooperate. Part nerves, part
excitement – pure adrenaline. Like
now...