Basil walked onto the stage area as Dani and the rest of the band finished their preshow checks.
"See the sound guy?" He pointed to a gangly dude who looked like he'd missed the memo that he was getting too old to rock 'n roll. "Go talk to him."
"About what?" Dani nuzzled into Jon while the rhythm section headed to the dressing rooms.
"Who cares? Just talk sweet."
Dani hesitated.
"We nail this show, it means big stuff. And that guy," Basil said, pointing again, "decides whether to crank it up or put us at half power like every other opening act. Flirt with him a little."
Dani looked over at Jon, who shrugged. "It's only rock 'n roll, Babe. Don't mean nothing. We need to kill it tonight."
"Can't believe you're okay with this," Dani said, storming up the stadium steps toward the sound booth. Can't let him down.
Gangly seemed to notice her about halfway up, openly leering.
All he's missing is some drool on his chin.
Dani leaned over the sound booth's half-wall, well out of earshot of the stage area. She glared down at Basil and Jon as the sound man leaned back, lighting up and blowing smoke in her direction.
"Help you?"
She painted on her sweetest smile. "Listen, we both know why I'm here."
***
"We're sorry, you have reached a number that has been disconnected or is no longer in service. If you feel you have reached this recording in error, please check the number and try your call again."
Vic did. Same recording. He fished his quarter and nickel from the coin return. Great. One more person to worry about.
Hands in pockets, he shuffled toward home, the sunshine on his face threatening to lighten his mood. Love California in the late spring. Changing his mind, he turned on his heel, putting the sun to his back and cutting through the patch of shade trees in the park. Shop's closer. I'll just use one of the cars there.
Twenty minutes put him at the shop, surprised to find Dad had already left. Two more minutes saw him behind the wheel of a Chevy Nova that was scheduled for a transformation from drab green with rust patches to Royal Plum sometime next week.
With no FM on the dial and no AM Christian stations in the area, he rode the fifteen minutes in silence, arguing with himself whether he should even be going there with what happened last time.
But he needed to talk.
There was no answer at the apartment door. He knocked louder. Again, louder still.
The next door over opened, revealing a neighbor with female pattern baldness and a cat under each arm.
"Looking for the weird cop?" She said, an unlit cigarette flopping. "She's gone. Took a job with the LAPD. Moved out last week."
Vic found a pay phone outside the apartment's office. Wasn't the best place to make a call, with kids splashing in the nearby pool, but it's what was there. Plugging his outside ear, he asked for Los Angeles directory assistance. "Julie Porter, please?" He spelled it, groaning under his breath when he realized he didn't have anything to write the number down.
"Sir, we have no listing for a Julie Porter in Los Angeles. Is there another listing you'd like to try?"
He hung up and started to walk away as the sun found the only cloud in the sky to hide behind.
He turned back, muttering to himself as he dialed the phone, "Any port in a storm."
It only rang once.
***
Deep in the bowels of the Cow Palace outside San Francisco, Dani hung her stage outfit on the doorknob and searched for a mirror amid stacks of long-forgotten boxes in what passed for a lady's dressing room. A half-dozen brand-new banners of teal sharks eating hockey sticks were the only things in the room not covered with a thin layer of grime and dust. At least it had a shower—more of a mop closet, really.
She found the mirrors behind the sharks with the odd diet and ran a finger through the grime, revealing her reflection. The air conditioning had gone out in the band's van during the drive, and she felt sticky.
She removed a stack of old concert posters from the room's only chair. The one on top looked like the band Jon had taken her to see on her birthday. The poster billed them as Nirvana, saying they'd played the venue in December. How in the world did those guys get to headline anything? She used the posters to wipe enough of a clear spot on the mirror to do her hair and makeup.
She debated whether she could get by without a shower, pretty sure she'd seen spiderwebs in the stall. No one would be close enough to smell, and she'd need another after the show anyway.
The door creaked. Jon, smiling wider than ever.
"You're not supposed to be in here."
"See the crowd?" He made his way through the piles. "Sixteen thousand!"
"C'mon, it's gross in here," she objected as he embraced her.
In the end, that didn't matter.
Rather die than disappoint him.
***
Kari set her glasses on the picnic table, dabbing running mascara for the hundredth time and holding Vic's hand the whole time he poured out his guts.
"I'm scared for her." Vic heaved. He'd stopped trying to hold his own tears in hours ago. "And for Dad. I'm glad he doesn't know the half of it."
"All you can do is pray," Kari said, squinting. "Wait for her to come around."
"I've failed. This started on my watch."
She pulled his head to her shoulder, stroking his hair. "Love never fails."
***
Dani wrapped herself in a towel and stepped out of the mop-closet shower. According to the clock on the wall, she had forty minutes for hair and makeup. Like I'm going to trust the clock. Fool me once. She reached for her watch.
It was gone. Along with the pile of clothes she'd left on the floor and the stage outfit she'd left hanging outside the shower.
"Jon, this isn't funny!"
But this wasn't something Jon would pull. He'd had his fun. By now, he was probably telling Bobby all about it.
Who then? Who would dare? She fumed, too mad to be scared. Then she saw it.
The red lace outfit hung from the doorknob.
***
"Lots of kids get off track for a while," Kari said.
Vic wondered if that was supposed to be comforting.
"I mean, look at Shelly. She…"
"Got knocked…"
"Where there's sin, there's even more grace."
"She's still pregnant."
"Is that the end of the world?" Kari held him at arm's length, her face a mess of tear-streaked makeup. "Dani's not out of reach."
"You haven't seen how bad it is."
***
"Need the room. Time to get out," the stage manager bellowed from the other side of the door.
"I can't wear this!"
"Come out in the buff for all I care. Need the room for Mad Hornet's guitar player. Singer won't share a room with him."
They were higher on the card.
"Where am I supposed to get ready?"
"Don't care."
Dani wanted to scream. "Give me five minutes." The glorified negligee wasn't much, but it was better than her birthday suit.
"Two. And you wasted one of 'em arguing."
Three minutes later, Dani shivered in the hallway, trying to ignore the catcalls of every passing stagehand while she worked frantically on her hair and makeup in a compact mirror. No way I'm going to be ready.
Basil called from behind. "Time to go."
She turned, wishing she could knock that silly newsboy cap off his head as he looked her up and down. Who did he think he was? Brian Johnson?
"You look hot, but ain't you gonna brush your hair or something?"
She threw the compact at him. Big mistake. It shattered, leaving her without any type of mirror. She pointed at her outfit. "This is not—"
"Forget it." He whipped his cap off and plopped it on her. "Nobody'll be looking at your hair anyway."
Dani stared out at the sea of faces crowded into Cow Palace, feeling like she needed to throw up. Sixteen thousand, Jon said? Seemed like a lot more. The crowd was raucous when she was waiting backstage. When she stepped out, they turned it up to eleven.
Wish I had more than my guitar to hide behind.
But when she hit her first chord, everything faded but the song. She could strangle Basil later. She could be self-conscious Dani Grassigli later. Tonight, she was Dani Glass, and she had a show to do.
Inferno broke into Dani's version of "Mind in the Gutter." Jon had argued against opening with it, but Basil insisted. The song was getting local airplay in San Fran and would be the only original on their setlist anyone in the crowd would recognize.
From the first note, Inferno had all the volume they needed and then some. Dani couldn't believe how easily Old Gangly had agreed to change the settings. Maybe not as big a deal as I thought. Maybe they're right, and I just need to loosen up.
The more the crowd responded, the more Dani threw herself into the performance. The more Dani threw herself into the performance, the less inhibited she became. Strutting along the stage front, she forgot her near nakedness and reveled in the fingertips reaching out for her, too far to touch, but close enough to feel the energy. She hadn't touched a drop of alcohol since that night, but feeding off the crowd's screams produced the same electric feeling as she locked in tight with Cal and Marc. Even Bobby was dialed in.
The stadium roared as she looked straight into the eyes of the crowd and cooed the final lyrics:
"Come on, who wants to get a little dirty with me?"
She spotted Stoner from school in the front row. Conscience raked her guts, knowing she was inciting him and everyone like him in the crowd to lust, as Kari would put it, but she didn't have time for embarrassment. Shoved it down. Turned her backside to the crowd as they erupted.
And then Jon stepped to the mic.
Shouting, screaming, whistling, all fizzled to a dull murmur. By the end of the second song, she wondered if she heard a boo. By the middle of the third song, she didn't have to wonder.
"Let the chick sing!" someone yelled.
"Yeah, bring back the…" The terms quickly became crasser.
Halfway into the set, Dani dodged a bottle. Kept playing. Something hit Cal. He stopped, cussed no one in particular, and found his place back in the song. Marc got the worst of it, much less mobile behind his drum set than the rest of the band. She couldn't see Jon's face. Didn't need to. Even from across the stage;, she could see the muscles in his neck and back tense and there was no mistaking his rage as he screamed the lyrics.
In the wings, security and the stage manager flailed their arms.
Are they calling us to get off stage?
Bobby put a hand over his mic and leaned toward her. "We can't go off like this." Before Jon could launch into another song, Bobby hit a power chord and shouted, "Got one we been working on. Gonna give the mic back to Dani Glass!"
"Get on board before we leave you behind,
Come with me and let me blow your mind…"
By the time she reached the chorus, Inferno had the crowd back in their corner.
"Get a one-way ticket for the fornication station…"
Dani leaned into the audience as she launched into the solo. Hands raised toward her as the spotlight morphed the faces into a sea of dots. Security forcibly persuaded one fan not to join her on stage. The spotlight shifted. Is that? Can't be. Dani saw a familiar face in the third row. Kari? She was fighting the crowd. Dani's shame surrendered to red-hot anger. Can't sing that next verse with her here. Never be able to show my face in church again. Can't not sing it.
As the last notes of the song faded out and the band met at the front of the stage to take a bow, Dani's eyes settled on a man in the crowd. How he got a wheelchair that close, she'd never know. She'd seen every imaginable look on his face over the years, but she'd never seen Daddy look like that. She dropped her guitar and ran backstage.
***
Dani blindly careening off amps, crates, stagehands, and anything else in her way. Vic. Yelling. She bowled him over. Gangly Sound Guy grabbing her. Am I ready to what? Vic knocked the cigarette out of Gangly's mouth. Crashing. Fight. Security!
Found a corner. Rocking. Head between knees.
"Daddy!"
She screamed.
No.
"I'm sorry!"
Can't go home. Ever.
She heard herself sob. Sounded like someone else. Everything spinning. Band laughing. Jon yelling.
Basil's claw on her bare shoulder. "Dani's Inferno. Get it? Like Dante…" Cackling.
Jon yelling. At her. "I'm the lead singer. You can't name my band after…"
Cal: "Santana."
Marc: "Fleetwood Mac."
Bobby: "Van-freaking-Halen."
"Shut up!" Dani screamed.
Blinded. Swinging. Throwing.
Arms pinned.
"Take this," Basil said.
A pill in her mouth.
Calming, world slowing, swirling, happy, laughing.
"Dude, what did you…" Jon said as everything became numb.
Fuzzy.