While Carl got the sound levels straight, everyone had a nice time catching up with each other, talking shop, joking around. When time came to hit it, Alena Sheridan’s camera crew materialized out of thin air, on a dime.
Helen apprised her of the day’s developments and Alena smiled broadly, nodding her head, looking around the place. Then, Helen introduced her around. As she did, Alena visibly sized up Faith and Sherry, appraising them as modeling talent. Keith didn’t know how much interest Faith had in getting paid to be photographed, but he’d bet the ranch Alena was going to find out.
“Game time!” he announced, and they went back at it. At this point, he was now his boss’s boss and she had to follow instructions just like everybody else. Which felt weird. To both of them.
Still, the session went smooth. Everything, all the parts, got nailed with one, two, three takes at most. Gerry hustled his hen-pecked self back to hearth and home. Helen handed Jeff his check. He didn’t bother to read it, put the envelope in his pocket and sat with the gang to grub. Alena let them eat in peace. Shot footage of Carl, Kate and Faith finalizing the mix.
Before long it was full-blown morning, sunlight outside and everything. Keith gazed out a lobby window. Reflecting how these are some interesting goin’s on. It was only going to get interestinger. The product had been put together. Music, videos, publicity pictures, you name it.
Luis tapped him on the shoulder. “Yo, homeslice. Let’s giddy-up.” Everybody was going home to shower, throw rags in a bag and kiss whoever needed kissing goodbye. Then, in a few hours, converge at private terminal to get this show literally on the road.
They were going in three tour buses, those mammoth joints with a handsome paint job, decked out on the inside like somebody’s apartment — including television, stereo, computer, what have you. Naturally, Helen had her own.
Keith and Luis shared one. Sam, Faith and Sherry had the other. Richie’s was custom made and had to’ve cost a small fortune. The roadies traveled in two equipment trucks, not luxurious, but comfortable with sleeping berths.
Keith stepped on board, well satisfied with the accommodations. Butch and Sundance, however, weren’t crazy about any of this.
The whole cab ride from the crib, they’d complained. They hated cat carriers and hadn’t liked the unfamiliar surrounds, all that noise. Once he and Luis got halfway settled on the bus, making sure they had their bags, instruments and equipment and wouldn’t have to open the door again, he let them loose.
They came out, tentatively looked around, sniffing the air. Then commenced to investigate. Everything. Luis got a real kick out of the rascals. Probably because they were every bit the perennial nuisance he loved to be.
In short order, Keith and Luis had made themselves home. So had Butch and Sundance. A partition kept the kittens from getting under the driver’s feet. Other than that, they had the run of the place.
And, of course, run and romp they did. Up and down, back and forth. Spring-loaded at breakneck speed.
Next week: Guess who’s back in the picture.
Dwight Hobbes welcomes reader responses to P.O. Box 50357, Mpls., 55403.