“Hi, I’m Rhys Davies. Stage name’s Risk,” said the man, with a tentative but friendly smile. The replacement bassist. Amy’s friend.
For a split second, Nell could see Eamonn’s reflexive desire to retreat into his usual armor and shield of being an ass, to refuse the offered hand and respond with something offensive or sardonic. But then he took a breath and reached out, shaking Rhys’s hand firmly, if briefly. “Easy Yarrow,” he said.
“I know.” Then Rhys reddened. “I mean—”
“It’s okay,” Eamonn said. “This is my girlfriend Nell.” So Rhys reached across and shook her hand too.
I think you know my friend Amy, Nell wanted to say, but it didn’t seem to be the right moment with the entire room watching them. “Nice to meet you. Let’s sit?” she suggested. They did, at which point the hum of conversation picked back up in the rest of the room. The show was over.
That explained the staring and silence, at any rate. It wasn’t just that Easy was back; the crew had known his replacement was present and must have been waiting for a confrontation, some kind of dramatic scene. There’d been enough drama earlier that Nell felt glad neither man seemed inclined to give anyone more to gossip about.
“So, does the crew always eat with the band?” she asked Sally, mostly to make conversation and draw attention away from the two bassists sitting side by side.
Sally shook her head. “Depends where we are, but usually, no. Since we booked out the whole place, though, Rancho Rosal offered us a nice rate on meals for everyone. Saves us from having to bring in other food for the crew, keeps their kitchen staff and servers working, and it would be silly for a handful of people to sit in here eating with linens and silverware while everyone else was out in the courtyard with takeout boxes.”
“Our crew gets taken care of, one way or another,” Angel added from across the table. “Some of them tell stories about other tours where they were just handed their per diem money and had to fend for themselves at whatever truck stop or gas station they passed through, even getting left behind if they weren’t back in time, but Phil — our road manager — always has a plan to make sure everyone eats properly and gets on the buses before they roll. And then Sally is basically everybody’s big sister, and Jed was an ER nurse before he came to us so he’s in charge of… well, you saw him fix Easy up.”
“It’s like a big road family,” Dice put in. “Every family’s got a few skeletons and hard-to-handle relatives, but we make it work.”
Nell thought of Donnie. That’s some skeleton. But families dealt with all kinds of things, didn’t they? She could see why Eamonn had missed them.
The table fell silent again as one of the servers came around, placing a basket of breadsticks on the table and then cups of soup in front of everyone — some kind of spicy corn chowder.
Rhys was watching all of them with an amused look on his face. “Maybe we should just talk about the elephant in the room, huh? One band doesn’t need two bassists.”
“Later,” Angel said, in a firm tone that didn’t allow for argument. “We’ll talk upstairs after this.” It was very much a not in front of the children sort of thing, but Nell thought he was right — it wasn’t a conversation to have with listening ears around, even their crew. If she had questions about staffing or who got what teaching hours at the dojang, she wouldn’t ask about it in front of the students either, no matter how much she cared about them or wanted them to succeed.
Dinner after that was pleasant but not exactly comfortable. Crys kept looking anxiously from Rhys to Eamonn and sometimes over at Angel, and even with Blade’s arm around her, she seemed tense. Sally made bright conversation about Time Rock and the band that was set to share the stage with Smidge — Gumdrop Conspiracy had been at their peak in the late ’80s and early ’90s. Their glory days were already fading before Nell had reached high school; Crys, who had to be almost a decade younger, looked blank at the mention of them although she nodded when Sally mentioned their big hits “Sugar All Around” and “Green-Eyed Annie,” both of which had been extensively sampled and covered by newer bands. Dice drummed on the edge of the table and said he didn’t think one joint rehearsal session would be enough.
Once everyone had cleared their plates of enough chicken mole and rice to be believably done eating, and crewmembers from the other tables had begun to get up and leave, Angel pushed his chair back. He got up and went over to the bar in one corner of the dining room, and came back with two bottles of Jameson Black Barrel. “I’m thinking we might need this,” he said. A wry look between him and Blade acknowledged that they
