Getting Real

36. Ghosts



The after show party in the green room was going off when Jake got there. A load of Rand’s old school friends had joined the tour and intended to party on til the last show in Sydney. They were loud, drinking heavily and still getting over the shock of meeting Harriet Young again. For a couple of the men, this new, unexpectedly sexy Harry was more their idol than Rand ever would be. They were making no pretence about staring at her. Jake figured they’d yet to work out Harry was off the market. For her part, Harry looked amused as she stood with her crew, capturing vox pop interviews. Rand was nowhere to be seen.

Jake backed out. He wanted to see Rand about the night’s performance. Some minor cueing issues, an idea of Bodge’s, a problem Ron had, but mostly about Rielle. A near fall on the trapeze, a screaming match with Bunk after their ride in the Hand, and a look of distress in her off-stage moments.

He found brother and sister in Rielle’s dressing room. Rand was slumped on an ugly worn leather sofa, one knee jiggling a fast tempo that matched the annoyance on his face. Rielle was pacing, short, aggressive strides. Neither of them were talking.

When he closed the door, Rielle fired at him, “I want Bunk replaced.”

“Okaaay.” He knew Bunk was bewildered about whatever it was he’d done wrong and would probably be grateful to be relieved of his on stage duty.

“Someone changed the resin. That’s not the resin I need, that’s why I slipped. I want to know who swapped the resin.”

“Ah-huh.” As far as Jake knew, the resin was the resin, no swap, no change, not the excuse for her slipping.

“There was something wrong with my earpiece, flaky connection. I couldn’t hear properly. You tell Bruce Ng I want a new kit for tomorrow night.”

Jake had already talked to Bruce, nothing wrong with the earpiece that Bruce could see. He knew Rielle’s anger wasn’t about Bunk or earpieces or resin. He glanced at Rand who gave him an eye roll, and Rielle snarled, “Jesus! So my comfort and safety on stage isn’t a big deal to either of you.”

“Rie, lay off,” said Rand, sitting forward.

“F*ck you. I don’t think I will.”

“You have to get it together. I mean it. Do whatever you need to do. Make peace. Get over it. Move on.”

“Get out,” she spat, turning her back, “both of you.”

Outside, Rand shook his head. “Man, she’s so uptight. She’s got to keep it together.” He leaned against the wall and considered Jake. “I thought you were supposed to be helping with that?”

Jake flinched as if he’d been poked with something sharp and barbed. “What?” He wasn’t sure if Rielle wanted anyone to know about them.

“I thought you were going to give her something else to think about,” Rand said, but when he saw Jake’s discomfort he added, “Hey, it’s cool. Sorry man, I didn’t mean to embarrass you. I think you’ll be good for her. Anyway, you gonna put up with that attitude?”

Jake snorted. “Ah, no, I guess not.”

Rand clapped him on the shoulder. “Good.” He pushed off the wall. “I’ve got a party to get to and a centrefold to claim.” He walked backwards up the corridor, watching while Jake rapped on the dressing room door. When there was no response he called, “Good luck, man,” and took off at a jog.

Jake knocked again and got a muffled, “F*ck off,” in response.

He yelled, “Make me!” and the door flew open.

Rielle, red faced, said, “What did you say?”

Leaning against the jamb he repeated, lazy and low voiced, “Make me.”

She went to slam the door, but he caught it with the rubber toe of his boot and it bounced back at her. She stepped away, eyes flashing danger signs as he stepped though, calmly and without haste.

“Wasn’t I clear before about what I wanted, Jake?”

“Crystal.”

“So, why are you here?” She folded her arms tightly across her chest.

“Because I want to know why you’re so upset.” He closed the door behind him, making a show of doing it gently.

She scowled at him. “I did a crappy performance and it wasn’t my fault.”

“Well, how do I help fix that?”

“Are you deaf? Been hanging around the amp stack too long? I told you what to do.”

“You gave me excuses.”

“What!”

“Bunk has no idea what he did wrong and neither does Bodge, Tef or Liz and they all know that part of the show inside out.”

“Ah—”

Jake cut her off. “The resin you used tonight is the same resin we’ve used every night, so that’s not an issue.”

“But—”

He cut her off again. “There’s nothing wrong with your earpiece. We’ll replace it, but so you know, it’s not faulty.”

He imagined he could see a heat haze rising from the tension in her body. He didn’t know whether she needed a lover or a Godzilla tour manager when she shouted, “What are you saying?”

He’d let her choose. “I’m asking, what’s wrong?”

For a moment she stood there, taking deep breaths, nostrils flaring, sides heaving like she’d this second come off stage instead of a good hour ago. Then as though doused in a sudden downpour, her fire was out.

“Can you find Bunk so I can apologise?”

She’d chosen—tour manager.

“Sure.” He stepped towards the door to leave her. This new relationship between them was making him awkward and uncertain about how to be with her, especially when she was like this: aggressive, lashing out.

He was half out the door when she put her hand on his waist. “Will you come back?”

With a sense of relief, he shifted his weight infinitesimally back into her palm. “What do you want me to come back as?”

She stepped in behind him, rested her forehead on his back. “Can you come as the man who knows how to love me?”

He sighed and turned to her, gathered her into his arms, lifting her off the ground for a long close hug. “I can do that, dead easy.” Too easy. For all her twisted, angry ways, it was too easy to love her, and he couldn’t hide it and she knew it. “When I come back will you talk to me about what’s wrong?”

She didn’t answer, just tucked her head into his neck.

“Rie, you need to talk about this.”

She pushed away and he lowered her feet to the ground, but kept his arms around her. “No Jake, I don’t need to talk about it. Talk is cheap. No amount of talk can fix this. I don’t want to be here and I can’t wait to leave.”

A stalled breath punched out of his chest. There it was—the reminder that there was no time to uncover more of Arielle Mainline. That what he’d jumped into was just the moment—a moment beyond anything he’d ever experienced, one wild time with an incredible woman—but that was it. He was back to Zen, to all or nothing and facing nothing.

She would’ve have felt him stiffen, heard his sigh. She’d tutored him in lying, but he couldn’t guard his feelings as expertly as she could. “You want out now, before the tour ends, Jake? I can understand if you do.” She looked him straight in the eyes, but she gripped his arms as though without them she might crumple to the floor. She was confusion in its purest, most persuasive form.

“Nope, I’m not finished with you yet, wolf woman.” He put as much bravado in his voice as he could manage. Bad enough she could read him inside out; he wasn’t giving her up until he had to.

“I always figured you for a sucker, Jake.”

“Is that an invitation?”

She laughed and slapped his rear end. “A sucker and a surprisingly naughty boy.”

They went looking for Bunk together, found him in the crew break room with Bodge, Lizard, Teflon, a deck of cards and three near-empty six packs of VB.

Rielle said, “So Bunk, how’d you get that name anyway?”

“Ah Rie, I don’t think you wanna know about that.” Bunk slapped five dollars in the clump of money in the centre of the table saying, “I’ll see you, Liz.”

Bodge said, “I’m out.”

Rielle quirked her head to one side. “Fair enough, Bunk. But there’s one thing I want you to know.”

Lizard looked from Bunk to Rielle. As the stand in, he’d only ever had one turn in the Hand with Rielle so far. Jake figured he was calculating his chances of edging Bunk out of the Hand. He slapped the table five times laying down a four, five, six, seven and eight of clubs. He said, “Flush,” with a self-satisfied grin and made a motion to scoop the money in the centre of the table his way.

When Rielle said, “Hey, Liz, I think Bunk has something up his sleeve,” he paused.

“Nah he was just bluffing.” He started stacking the coins.

Bunk fanned his five cards down in one move, and they all leaned forward to see a suit of hearts: A ten, Jack, Queen, King and Ace hit the table.

“Shit,” said Lizard, rocking back on his chair, grabbing his beer.

With a wide smile, Bunk raked the money pot to his side of the table. “What did you want me to know, Rie?”

“That I’m sorry. Bunk, I’m really sorry. I shouldn’t have gone off on you like that. I was nervous tonight. Happens sometimes. Wait til we get to Sydney. I’m likely to be completely psycho.”

Jake shot Rielle a look of incomprehension. Ten minutes ago he’d have been happy if she’d admitted to being anxious during the show and here she was confessing her fears in front of key members of the crew. Was this real or part of her act?

“Ah Rie, you have no reason to be nervous. You do great and the punters love you,” said Bodge. The big lush. If he’d had long eyelashes to bat, he’d have batted them furiously.

“It can get freaky out there and sometimes I get scared. I took it out on you, Bunk, and I’m sorry. I hope you’ll still want to do the show with me again, but I understand if you don’t.”

What! Now she was talking about being scared.

“Aw, Rie that’s cool. I’m happy to do it with you.”

“Yeah, I’ll bet you are,” muttered Teflon, his head shooting forward as the flat of Bodge’s hand connected with it.

“Now boys,” said Rielle, using school teacher words but showgirl sass, one hand popping to her bouncing hip.

“Why are you worried about Sydney?” asked Bodge, now under teacher’s gaze, stroking the back of Tef’s head in a mock attempt to soothe where he’d whacked.

Yeah, this I’d like to hear.

“Because it’s home. I don’t know. It’s not logical. I’m nervous about performing in front of a home crowd.”

Bullshit! If that’s what she’s scared of I’ll go skydiving.

“Ah that’s mad, Rie, Sydney will love ya,” said Lizard.

“Let’s hope so.” She blew the poker players a kiss and gave him her hand. He held it like he wasn’t entirely sure who it belonged to.

When Jake and Rielle had gone, Teflon said, “Why’s she scared of Sydney punters?” He shuffled the deck with a well practised riffle and bridge technique which was the only part of the game he was good at—that and the drinking. He expected Bodge to answer, but Bodge was staring at his empty bottle. “Is she nervous about family?”

“Got none,” said Bunk.

“Shit yeah?” Teflon felt the shadow presence of Bodge’s hand again. He spun around to look at the older man. “What?”

“Fair dinkum, it’s true about you; nothing sticks, eh Tef? It’s rock legend. The dad, Ben Mainline, was a composer and musician—classical stuff. He was a yank. I can’t believe I have to tell you this. He was driving home from a concert, got hit by a semi. The mum was killed. Rie was fourteen, Rand sixteen. Ben took them back to the US and two years later he was dead from brain cancer. There was no other family. Those kids had to sing for their supper while they were still in school.”

“Oh yeah, I forgot.” Tef leaned towards Bodge, making a sacrificial offering of the back of his head which Bodge couldn’t resist. “So, why is she scared about Sydney then?” He started dealing, sliding the cards out one by one to rest in front of each of the players. Bunk picked each of his cards up as they landed; Lizard waited for his fifth to slide into place.

“Reckon it might be ghosts,” said Bodge, and when he slammed his empty bottle on the table they all jumped.