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Melody was the first to arrive at the warehouse.  She was glad that she had specific directions  because it wasn’t easy to find.  That was a good thing, she guessed.  If she couldn’t find it, neither could the fans. 

From what they said, that was going to be a serious issue.  Melody had never heard so much talk about the ‘fans’.  It sounded a bit over the top to her.  But what did she know?  When you were in the studio, the fans weren’t part of the equation.  Going on tour was a whole different thing apparently.  Maybe she was too old for this, she mused.

Tom Wilson had laid it on pretty thick.  More than was necessary, Melody thought.  He talked about how the caterers had been vetted and all the sound and stage crew.  People were virtually under penalty of death if they leaked the location.  Melody didn’t worry about telling anyone.  No one would ask her.  The only person who would be remotely interested was Chrissy, and she knew better.

Melody parked her car and walked up to a small people door beside a much larger truck door.  She knocked, then noticed a small bell at the side.  She pushed the button and could hear the ringing from inside.  But there was no answer.  She tried to peer in through the small window, but it was dark inside, and she couldn’t see anything.  She looked around her, then at her watch.  She was half an hour early.  But shouldn’t someone be around, the people that set things up?  If the musicians were to arrive at ten, wouldn’t other people be here even earlier?

Melody got back into her car.  I know what you’ll do now, she told herself.  You’ll start second-guessing yourself.  Am I in the right place?  Do I have the right date and time?  Have I screwed it up totally?  Well, you are in the right place, you have the address right in front of you.  You do have the right date and time, it’s written right there on Tom’s handout.  You have not screwed it up totally.  Now get out your puzzle.

Melody pulled her crossword puzzle book from her bag and bent her head over it.  She always had it with her.  She hated wasting time doing nothing.  Whenever there was a break of any sort,  a stand-around-and-wait kind of thing, Melody would pull out her crossword book.  She had tried reading a novel, but waiting around was often a sporadic activity, and she found herself reading the same paragraph over and over.  With a crossword puzzle, you could just pick it up where you left off.  She did her crossword puzzles in ink, and she had done so many in her life that only the most challenging would work for her now.  Many a person had picked up her book and looked at it and set it back down, shaking his head.  And people quickly learned that no one, no one at all, was allowed to fill in an answer.

Melody inked in the letters, trying to keep her stomach calm.  I won’t even look at my watch until I’ve filled in five clues.  …four, five.  Okay.

She looked around.  Hers was still the only car in the parking lot.  She looked at her watch.  Two minutes had gone by.  Okay, she told herself, you are going to finish this puzzle.  You are not looking at your watch until you are finished.

She bent her head and worked away at the puzzle.  When it was done, she looked up.  Still no sign of anyone else.  She looked at her watch.  10:03.  Shit!  They were supposed to be starting at ten.  So where was everyone?  Was she in the right place?  Did she have the right date and time?  Melody could feel her stomach starting to churn.  Here we go! 

She checked the address again.  No, she was in the right place.  She pulled her cell phone out of her bag.  Who are you going to call? she asked herself.  Ghostbusters?  She checked the sheet of instructions to see if there was a phone number.  There was nothing for the warehouse.  Only Tom’s cell was listed.

Melody hesitated.  Did she want to do this?  Did she want to make herself seem like such a bag of nerves right from the start?  She looked at her watch.  10:06.  She sighed and punched in the number.  Just as she was about to hit Send, she noticed a car enter the parking lot down at the other end and drive around the side of the building.  Melody set down the phone and started the car.  It wouldn’t hurt to have a look.  She drove down the side and turned slowly around the end of the building…into a beehive of activity.  There were trucks backed up to two loading docks and a row of cars by a small door.  Crap! said Melody to herself.  She hated being late.

Melody parked the car and went into the building.   People bustled back and forth, laying electrical cable across the floor, setting up speakers and soundboards.  Off to the side, she could see the catering staff setting up coffee urns and putting out trays of bottled water and juice.  She didn’t see any of the other musicians yet.  Good!

Tom and Rafe had their heads together over a clipboard up by the “stage”.  Melody headed in that direction…slowly, looking around, taking it all in.  She recognized a few people and gave them a wave.  They smiled and waved back. 

This was where she would be virtually living for the next month or so, she thought.  She wondered where the ladies room was.  Or if there even was one.  There must be two parts to the warehouse, she thought.  The room she was in now wasn’t big enough to stretch as far as the first room she’d looked in.  She wondered if anyone else had made the same mistake.

“Hey, Mel!”  Tom called her over.

“Morning, Tom.  Rafe,” she nodded.

The two men nodded in reply.

“Did you have any trouble finding the place?” asked Rafe, glancing sideways at Tom.  Melody knew by the look on Tom’s face that his directions had confused more than just her.

She smiled brightly.  “Nope.  Easy as pie.”

Tom looked relieved, and a shadow passed over Rafe’s face.  He excused himself and went to check out the caterers.

“Thanks, Mel,” said Tom.  Melody Jones was always the first one to arrive at a session, and when she had not appeared by 10:00…

“No problem,” said Melody, “But you might want to station a guy in the parking lot…just for today, just to let people know what side of the building we’re on.”

“Good plan,” said Tom.  “Looks like the coffee’s nearly ready.  Why don’t you grab yourself a cup?”  He moved off to find a gofer.

It was after ten o’clock in the morning.  That meant that Melody’s caffeine need had shifted from coffee to Coke.  She watched Rafe talking to the catering manager as she approached the food table.  Rafe was a detail man, that’s for sure.  She pitied the poor chef that didn’t pack the right kind of donuts.  She was glad there was someone like Rafe around.  You couldn’t leave it to the musicians.  They’d just stand around and play until they dropped dead of starvation.

Rafe Ariando.  He was a handsome man in a cosmopolitan, European kind of way.  His dark coloring gave him a bit of a sinister look, and he used it to his advantage, keeping people on their toes around him.  But when he laughed, his whole face lit up, and it took your breath away.  And he did laugh.  Melody knew that the people he worked with didn’t see it too often, but she had seen him in a social setting once or twice, when he had been more relaxed.

Today he was dressed in charcoal gray pants, with tiny pleats which emphasized his slim waist.  The creases were so sharp you could slice tomatoes with them.  His white shirt was crisp and clean, and there wasn’t a wrinkle in it anywhere.  He wore a grey tie with a fleck of red through it.  A thin leather belt and shiny leather shoes finished the ensemble.   Melody wondered how he had managed to drive here without creasing anything. 

Melody grabbed a Coke from the table and looked at the food offerings.  There were all kinds of bagels, breakfast pastries and fruit trays.  Wow!  What a lot of food.  Of course, she thought, looking around her, there’d be a lot of people…She grabbed a strawberry Danish to go with her can of Coke and continued exploring the space.

She found people setting up an office area with a couple of computers; she found a workout area being put together behind some curtains; she found some sofas and armchairs being placed in conversational groupings; she found the stage.  But she didn’t find the ladies room.  Shit!  Now she was going to have to ask someone, and she didn’t want to do that.

“Hey, Mel!”

“Scott!  You’re running the board?!”

Scott Thornton grinned at her and nodded.  Melody held out her arms, and Scott moved his arms between the Danish and the Coke and hugged her, lifting her off her feet.

“I heard they got you, Mel.  Finally dragging your sorry ass out onto the road, are they?”

“Yeah, they’re sick of me in L.A.”

Melody was very pleased by this turn of events.  Scott Thornton was a great board man, and they had worked together a number of times.  They ‘clicked’ and were able to communicate with each other with very few words.  They had clicked on another level once or twice as well.  It had been satisfying for both of them…and totally recreational. 

They chatted for a few minutes, and then Melody continued on her prowl of the building while Scott went back to setting up the board.  When she returned to the stage area a few minutes later, still without having found the ladies room, Rashad and Blaine had arrived.

Now when you put three musicians in the same breathing space, it isn’t long before music starts to happen.  Even while the grips and gaffers worked around them, the three got down to it.  Rashad pulled sheet music out of his guitar case, and Blaine grabbed his drumsticks.  Melody took her acoustic guitar out of its case and beckoned the others over to one of the conversation pits.  They sat down together and tuned out the world.  They noodled over one of the songs from the new album, Melody playing the lead, Rashad adding in the bass line vocally, and Blaine tapping the beat on the coffee table with his sticks.

“What do you think of it…the CD?” asked Blaine, when they finished the song.

“It’s good,” said Melody.  “Really good.”

Rashad nodded his agreement.  “Yeah, the kid’s going to be a star, no question.”

“The kid’s already a star,” said Melody.  “Let’s see if we can make him into a musician.”

There was a flurry of activity near the main door.  Heads turned, and people stopped what they were doing for a moment to take a look.  The kid had arrived.  And he was not alone.  He was accompanied by two people – both closer to Melody’s age than Nick’s.  The first was obviously a security guard.  His stance and the way his eyes kept traveling proved that.  The second was someone Melody figured Rafe would love.  He was wearing a tie and carrying a clipboard.

“Jeff Blackwell,” said Blaine.  “Security.  Good.  He knows his business.  He’ll make Nick toe the line.”

Melody raised her eyebrows.  She thought security was there to protect the star from the fans, not from himself. 

Blaine shrugged.  “Youth of today,” he said, rolling his eyes.

Okay, thought Melody, filing that away.  It didn’t surprise her all that much.  Nick hadn’t impressed her so far as a together sort of a guy.  He seemed more like someone who just let stuff happen and then dealt with it, rather than having any kind of plan…in the event of…

Rashad offered his information.  “And the other guy is Toby Gray – he’s Nick’s P.A.” 

Melody nodded.  She’d already met him.  And it hadn’t gone all that well.  Toby had called her on Friday to say they had to have a meeting.  Fine with her.  Let’s meet for coffee, she said. 

They went to a Starbucks near her apartment.  Toby had his clipboard with him.  By the end, Melody couldn’t decide if she felt like she was undergoing a police interrogation or if she’d been sent to the principal’s office, but she knew one thing.  She didn’t like Toby Gray and he didn’t like her.

Personal assistants!  There were going to be two on this tour.  One for Nick’s exclusive use and one for the rest of them.  Toby Gray did not look like a personal assistant.  He looked like a model.  He had even tried that for awhile, but had lucked into a P.A. job while he was waiting for his own big break.  He figured he’d spend a few months doing that and then make enough contacts to break into the film world.  At least, that's what he figured ten years ago, when he had started doing this kind of work.  It turned out that he loved it and he was good at it.  He got to travel all over the world and hang out with rock stars, and he didn’t need any talent to do it. 

Toby would work for Nick.  The other assistant had yet to be hired.  He would work for Toby and take care of the rest of them.  Toby had a series of questions that made Murray’s questionnaire look puny…and superfluous as well.  Melody couldn’t figure out why Toby didn’t just ask Murray for the required information.

When they got to “that” question, Melody rolled her eyes.  “It’s not a problem,” she said.  “I can take care of it myself.”

Well, said Toby, he liked to be on top of things, make sure everything went smoothly for Nick. 

Melody couldn’t see how her personal hygiene needs had anything to do with the guys, especially the one who didn’t even know how to wear socks and shoes at the same time, but she bit her tongue and just repeated that Toby shouldn’t concern himself with it.

Toby wouldn’t let it go, however.  He said that maybe he would try and hire a female assistant, maybe that would work better.

“I can buy my own fucking tampons,” hissed Melody.  The counterman paused in the act of wiping down a nearby table and retreated to the safety of his coffee urns.

Toby sat back in surprise. 

Melody sighed.  “Look,” she explained, “living in a world of men is no big deal to me.  And I don’t let my ovaries interfere with my job.  I don’t wear a sign that says, ‘Hey look, I’ve got my period’ and I don’t suffer from PMS.  No one has to know I’m even a woman.  Okay?”

Toby nodded, thinking to himself that he didn’t ever want to see this woman with PMS, not ever!

“Okay,” said Toby, “I guess that’s just about it.  I have everything I need.  There’s just the…”  He hesitated.  “I probably don’t even need to say this…what with you being so much older and all…but…um...”

Melody didn't know whether to be insulted or amused.  She just stared at the assistant blankly, as if she had no idea what he was getting at.

“…um…so like, when you’re on the road, it’s a different kind of atmosphere…very close quarters, sometimes…you know…people misread…”  Sweat had broken out on Toby’s forehead.

Melody decided to give him a break.  “I should keep my hands off the kid?”

Toby exhaled with relief.  And then he proceeded to undo all the goodwill he had built up.  “Yeah, like that.  I mean, I’ve checked you out.  I don’t think there’d be a problem.  You don’t have a reputation for that…but you know, looking after Nick is my job…and I don’t want any… complications.”

Melody’s lips were white, and her fists were clenched in her lap, but her voice was calm and even.  “Is Nick concerned?  Should I speak with him?”

”No, no,” said Toby, a little too abruptly.  “It’s nothing, it’s no big deal; he knows it won’t be a problem.  I just wanted to say it once and get it out of the way.”  He erased the air with his hands.  There!  It was done.  Over.  Forgotten.  No need to talk about it any more.

Now, Melody watched the three men make their way through the warehouse.  Jeff had relaxed a little but was still vigilant.  You could see him matching faces and names and checking them off some kind of mental list.  Nick gave handshakes and high fives to people he recognized and ignored the people he didn’t.  Toby took in the whole scene in one sweeping glance and then directed the little party straight to Rafe, who was still standing by the coffee talking to the head caterer.

Blaine, Rashad and Melody watched carefully.  The vibes between Nick and Rafe at the meeting had been strong and unmistakable.  The two men didn’t like each other.  But they were the two men who had the most control over the musicians’ lives for the next few months, and everyone wanted to know where he stood.

Rafe looked up from his clipboard.  He looked at his watch dramatically.  “Hey, Nick!  Nice of you to drop by.  And I see you made straight for the food.”  Then Rafe turned back to the chef and continued his conversation. 

Melody gasped.  The insult was too blatant to be ignored.  Nick’s face turned beet red.  But he recovered pretty well.  “Already ate, thanks!  Just wanted this.”  He reached out for a bottle of water.  Then he turned and walked away, his eyes searching for and finally finding the three musicians.  Nick approached them, and they stood up.  He took in the sheet music, the drumsticks and the guitar.  He relaxed visibly.

Melody joined in the nods and smiles and greetings, but her mind was elsewhere.  There was a lot going on here…a lot to be learned…about routines and procedures and personalities.  She was going to have to take in a lot in a very short time.  But what she had just taken in was the slight curve at the corner’s of Toby Gray’s mouth when Rafe insulted Nick and the glance the two men with clipboards exchanged behind the young man’s back. 

Yes, it had already been quite the morning.  And they still hadn’t made any music.  And she still hadn’t found the ladies room.