Linnie would love this, my brain told me.
Linnie always loved this, I told my brain and she did.
Linnie’s favorite was always ZZ Top’s “La Grange”, she begged us to do it, every gig.
Here’s to Linnie, my brain whispered.
“Here’s to Linnie,” I whispered back.
I smiled at Buzz, he smiled at me and went to the microphone as the notes started to fade.
“Long live rock ‘n’ rol !” he screamed.
The crowd roared.
I nodded at the lighting guy.
The stage went black.
* * * * *
A bottle of Fat Tire beer was shoved into my hand by Duke when I came down the steps at the side of the stage. “We got trouble,” Duke growled but I’d already felt it. The high from “La Grange” disappeared in a flash and my eyes moved to the source of the trouble just as Duke plastered himself to my side and the band came clattering down behind me.
“What’s goin’ on?” Floyd asked.
I moved toward the back wal where Lee, Vance and a newly-arrived Mace had Monk pinned to the wal using nothing but their col ective badass presence to hold him there.
“And lighten the f**kin’ crowd,” I heard Mace finish on a snarl when I stopped several feet behind his back. I didn’t have to see his face to know Mace was not in a good mood. I just had to look at the straight line of his back and the tight way he was holding his powerful body.
“Have you lost your f**kin’ mind? ” Monk screeched, eyes huge and riveted on Mace.
“You don’t close down the door and lighten the crowd, I’m gonna lose my f**kin’ mind, make no mistake,” Mace returned and, honest to God, there was no mistake to be made in the tone of Mace’s voice.
Lordy be.
“What’s happening?” I asked.
Four sets of male eyes moved to me but it was Monk who spoke.
who spoke.
“Stel a, beautiful, cal off your man.”
I felt the band settle in behind me and Duke was stil close to my side.
“What’s happening?” I repeated.
“You don’t cal off your man, we got problems,” Monk threatened.
I never liked Monk. I suspected he skimmed from our take on the door. I knew he watered down drinks. I also knew he didn’t card pretty young girls nor did he serve them the watered down booze. He also got too close when he talked to me and he had bad breath. Al this was not conducive to me liking him so I never did.
I shoved in between Mace and Vance.
“What… is… happening?” I asked, speaking slowly and sounding as pissed off as I was.
I mean, no one messed with a ZZ Top vibe.
No one.
Especial y not someone like Monk.
Monk had dark, thick, bushy hair around the sides of his head but he was bald and shiny at the top. He was shorter than me, rounder than anyone I knew and had weasel eyes.
He looked like a weird, scary clown without the makeup.
“He’s over code for maximum capacity,” Lee answered for Monk. “And his boys aren’t doing thorough searches.” This was not good.
Monk often went over code, this wasn’t a surprise. But thorough searches were kind of important if I wanted to be breathing in the morning. And equal y important for al the Rock Chicks to be safe.
Rock Chicks to be safe.
“You know how long it takes to wand someone and look through their shit? It’d take hours to get people in here,” Monk flashed at Lee then lost his bravado and visibly quailed when Lee’s angry eyes sliced to him.
“Monk, do you have any idea what’s at stake here?” Floyd had shoved in between Lee and Mace and he looked even angrier than Lee but not more than Mace, one glance at Mace said very bad things for Monk’s immediate future).
Before Monk could answer, Lee cut in and said to Monk,
“You agreed to the procedure.”
“I agreed but I had no idea it’d be this tight, take that long at the door. The Gypsies are a solid act but there were people leaving the line and goin’ home. That’s me losin’
money, I don’t like losin’ money.” Monk, stupidly, wasn’t backing down.
“You stil got a line outside and you’re over capacity. You aren’t losin’ shit,” Vance threw in.
“Turn ‘em away, close the door and thin the f**kin’
crowd. I want fifty people ejected before the next set,” Mace demanded.
I watched Monk and it was like in the cartoons when dol ar signs rol ed in character’s eyes. You could see Monk calculating the loss at the bar, not to mention the cover charge he’d have to return if he ejected fifty people.
“That’s not gonna happen,” Monk told Mace.
Mace leaned in and it was not a friendly, shiny-happy-people lean.
Definitely not good.
Okay then, time for me to intervene.
Okay then, time for me to intervene.
I pushed in front of Mace and pressed my back into his front in an effort to hold him back.
“You don’t do it, we don’t go back onstage,” I said to Monk.
“You don’t go back onstage, you don’t get paid,” Monk said to me.
“You don’t pay, I break your legs,” Mace joined the exchange.
“Awesome,” Pong muttered from behind us.
Pong had always liked the idea of us employing muscle so we wouldn’t get cheated by club owners (which happened a lot). Unfortunately, we’d never been able to afford it and even though Hugo had volunteered to kick some ass, I was worried he’d break a finger or something doing it. We needed his fingers, fingers were kind of important for a saxophone player so I forbade it.
Lee got in closer to Monk.
“You eject fifty people and you shut down the door. We got five cops in the club and they’l cal in the code violation if you don’t. Then they might feel inclined to cal the TTB, just for shits and grins.”
At this, Monk paled.
“What’s the TTB?” I heard Leo whisper from behind us.
“Fuck knows,” Pong muttered.
“Alcohol and Tobacco Tax and Trade Bureau,” Hugo answered.
“Oh jeez,” Leo breathed with more than a hint of panic.
“Relax, it ain’t the DEA,” Buzz threw in.
“Thank God for that,” Leo said with relief.
“And anyway, that bag of grass you got in your guitar case ain’t shit to the DEA,” Pong declared.
“Yeah, they got bigger fish to fry,” Hugo pointed out sagely.
I made a quick prayer for deliverance from a band who would talk openly about one of their members in possession of a bag of marijuana after having just heard five cops were in the crowd.