“Love you, girl. Love you like you were my own.” I felt another heart squeeze, another gut kick, both at the same time. Somehow, though, these didn’t hurt.
“But, I’m rooting for Mace this time. I ain’t standin’ by lettin’ him slip through your fingers again.” I reared back but Floyd leaned in close.
“I’m gonna do what I have to do to help him break you.” Oh my God!
“Floyd!” I shouted.
He put his hand on my cheek, grinned then said, “It’s for your own good.”
I’d heard him say that to his daughters, dozens of times.
I stared at him, speechless and shocked, as he moved away, grabbed my guitar case and walked out without another word.
Juno and I watched him go then Juno looked at me and woofed.
“You got that right, girl,” I said to my dog, feeling distinctly like I was sinking. “My luck sucks.” Juno woofed in agreement.
I stared back at the door.
Then I asked my dog, “What do you think he meant by pain in Mace’s eyes?”
I looked to Juno and a big string of drool plopped from her lip to the floor. This I decided to take as a Juno shrug.
Then I decided to do a mental shrug and not think about pain and Mace and, most especial y, not his eyes.
*
The Pal adium was an old movie theater on Colfax that had been turned into a huge club fifteen years ago. The bloom had long since gone off the rose. It was filthy, smel ed of beer with hints of smoke and the occasional waft of vomit. But the acoustics were perfect.
You could get five hundred people in there without the fire department getting antsy but the owner, a man strangely named Monk (who was anything but), pushed the fire code limits every time The Gypsies came to play. We were pure gold to him. We could pack the place at top dol ar on the door with lines down the sidewalks waiting to get in and tonight was no exception.
We loved playing there. The stage was big and gave us room to move and al of us preferred the big crowds. We were happy doing the more intimate gigs at Herman’s or The Little Bear but we were on fire when we had a ful house at The Pal adium.
And tonight was no different. The place was shoulder-to-shoulder.
Seeing as it was an outside possibility that this would be my final performance, I wasn’t holding back. I’d even dressed beyond the pale just in case I was going to die. I didn’t want my corpse to be anything but ful on rock ‘n’ rol .
I’d scrunched out my hair to maximum, wavy volume. I’d done smoky, just short of slut-o-rama, makeup. I’d pul ed on faded jeans, a black tank with silver sequins and rivets stitched on the front in the shape of a coiled, striking snake and a racer back so you could see my black bra straps. I’d threaded a black, tooled-leather belt with a huge, intricately filigreed silver buckle through my belt loops. Completing my ensemble were black cowboy boots with a higher than normal light heel and kickass designs etched into the leather, huge, wide, silver-hopped earrings, silver rings on every finger (sometimes more than one) and a kickass, wide, battered, silver band was shoved up my arm, hugging my bicep.
We were at the end of our second of four forty-five minute sets and I was beginning to loosen up.
I was loosening up because I knew four Nightingale men, wearing black windbreakers with the word “Security” in huge yel ow letters on the back, were manning the four sets of double doors. Ike, Jack, Bobby and Matt, each paired with one of Monk’s bouncers, al of them wanding everyone that came in and searching backpacks and purses. Luke was floating between the doors, not wearing a windbreaker but being general y badass thus not inviting kil er intentions.
Eddie, Hank and Wil ie Moses were al drifting through the crowd, badges and guns on ful display on their belts, further dampening any nefarious mood. I knew Hector was outside because I saw him briefly when Luke brought Ava and me to the gig. Hector emerged from the shadows, gave Luke a nod, me a once over with his black eyes and then he slid back into shadows again. Vance was stationed at the door that led backstage. Lee was on the stage, at the back, in the dark, watching the crowd.
If this wasn’t enough, I noticed that Indy’s coffee man, Tex, had planted himself at a stool, back to the bar and I could see when my glance strayed to him that the big man’s eyes were rarely on the stage. Duke, on the other hand, had planted himself in front of me, moving up and down the front of the stage whenever I moved. Even though his back was mostly to me, I suspected from the looks on the faces of the crowd closest to him that he was glaring them down, squashing the happy vibe. Al except the Rock Chicks, al of whom (except Jules) were front and center. Happy vibe secure, Indy, Al y, Jet, Roxie, Daisy, Shirleen, Ava and Annette were singing along with me at the top of their lungs and screaming like freaks after every song.
As far as I could tel , Mace had not yet arrived.
I figured even Madonna didn’t have this caliber of security so it was unlikely tonight was my night to die.
And that made the gig al the more sweet.
My glance slid to Floyd and I gave him the nod.