Three

Great Fucking Day for Rock-n-Roll

 

February 9, 2011

Show #1

Penn State College (Bryce Jordan Center)

 

 

The hour was still early, but Ariana optimistically believed the gods were smiling upon her today.  What else could explain her stomach being cooperative enough to tolerate two whole pieces of toast along with her one daily allotted cup of coffee?  It was nothing short of divine intervention after almost two months on the Fruit Loop plan. 

 

Lack of normal sustenance along with the usual first trimester ick had exhausted her to the point of not even being able to lift her head off the pillow some days.  Thank God for her sister-in-law.  Matt’s wife, Desiree, was the biggest help with Lily at those times, and she’d even offered to let Lily stay overnight for this first show on the tour.  

 

Yes, the show was close enough that they’d be flying up and back in the same day, but having a sleepover with Auntie Des instead of getting picked up in the middle of the night would make Auntie and Lily both happier campers.  It would be soon enough to disrupt Lily’s sleep when the tour got into full swing.  This time, Ari and Jon were dropping off their baby girl and collecting Uncle Matt to go to the airport where the last New Jersey resident was meeting them for the flight – David.  

 

The toast was still holding steady when they reached the plane, but as if dealing with constant nausea wasn’t hard enough, this pregnancy had intensified Ari’s take-off aerophobia.  A quick chorus or half a song wasn’t enough to ward it off anymore, and by the time the captain announced they were ready for take-off, Jon had already sung two entire songs to his wife. 

 

She probably would’ve made it to cruising altitude just fine, but the gods had taken a break and been replaced by a curly-haired devil and his disgusting in-flight snack. 

 

Which came first?  Was it the racing heart that accelerated along with the plane, or was it the sorry excuse for a breakfast racing its way up her esophagus?  Who had the time to figure it out?  Not Ari, because she had one hand clamped over her mouth while the other quickly unbuckled her seatbelt, freeing her to rush to the lavatory while giving David a withering glare.   

 

Who the fuck dunks hot Cheetos in Nutella? Lema, that’s who. You’d think he was the one who was pregnant with that combination.

 

Vicky, the flight attendant, flashed a sympathetic smile as Ari stumbled past her and into the bathroom. Leaning against the cool metal of the door, she felt the impending wave of nausea rise in her throat, but Ariana squeezed her eyes shut and willed it all to settle.

 

“Ari, you okay in there?”  Jon asked, his voice just above a whisper.

 

“So far, so good.”

 

“Can I come in?”

 

“Gimme a second.” With a deep breath, she pushed herself off the door so he could open it.  At least the plane had leveled out.  “You can come in now.”

 

“What the hell happened?” he asked joining her on the floor.

 

“Fuckin’ Lema happened. You need to tell him he can’t eat that shit on the plane anymore.”

 

“What was he eating?”

 

“His nasty ass was dunking hot Cheetos in Nutella.”

 

“Of course he was. Do you want me to go out and tell him now?”

 

“No. But can you get me a bottle of water?”

 

Jon stood and opened the door. “I’ll be right back.”

 

She needed a distraction while waiting for him to return and slipped a hand into her pocket for the trusty phone.  Maybe something there would allow her to ignore the nausea that had yet to subside. 

 

What she found was a host of messages from both Kennedy and Tony warning her about issues they were running into for the live stream of tonight’s show.  Distraction accomplished because she was so engrossed in working her way through each message and replying that she didn’t hear Jon open the door.  

 

“Here you go, baby. Vicky had some Fruit Loops, too.”

 

Maybe she was crazy, but the mere mention of her favorite cereal sugary cereal seemed to settle her tummy.  “Have I mentioned how much I love Vicky?  Give her raise!” 

 

“It might be cheaper just to buy you a year supply of that damn cereal.”

“True.”

 

“You feeling any better?”

 

“A little, but I think I’ll just hang here for the rest of the flight.”

 

“Want me to stay?”

 

The lavatory wasn’t as tiny as those on a commercial aircraft, but it was by no means designed for an extended stay by two people.  “Nah. No reason for both of us to be uncomfortable. I have my games to keep me company.”

 

“S’alright. Text me if you need anything.”

 

“I will. Love you.”

 

“Love you more.”

♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱

 

While the crowd gearing up to visit Bryce Jordan Center tonight were probably thrumming with excitement for the first show of the tour, the tech crew couldn’t say the same.  The late-morning energy inside the arena was seriously dampened by the uncooperative cables and lights backstage.  

 

Kneeling beside the control panel, Ari’s fingers flew across the buttons, each tap adding to the growing tension in the building. “Come on, come on!” she muttered.

 

“It’s not connecting.” Tony crouched next to her scrolling through lines of code on his tablet.  “I don’t get it. It worked perfectly yesterday. If we can’t get the stream up in time…”

 

“It’ll be the wrath of Jon.” Ari shot him a sidelong glance. “And I’m not talking about a little angry rant. I’m talking a full-on rage.” 

 

She gestured toward the sound booth where Jon was pacing back and forth, his hand flailing as he shouted at Obie.  You’d think with all the tours he had under his belt Jon wouldn’t be this antsy about opening night, but knowing that things weren’t perfect in the hours leading up to showtime had him on edge.    

 

“Turn it up!! No, not that way!” Frustration laced Jon’s voice as it echoed through the backstage corridor. “Jesus Christ! Can you even fuckin’ hear me?”  

 

“I told you.” She glanced up at Tony. “He’s already losing it.”

 

“You can say that again.”  Tony’s fingers flew back over the screen for what seemed like the hundredth time, but the error message continued to blink at him like a taunting ghost. “I should have come over extra early to test this fucking thing again.”

 

“Don’t you start losing it, too. We can fix this. Just give me a minute.” She pushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear and focused on the audio mixer. “I’ll just reroute the signal.”

 

Before she could dive deeper, a loud crash echoed from the sound booth. 

 

“What the hell?” Matt swore, storming past them toward the source of the sound.  “For Christ’s sake Jon, calm down.”

 

“Fuck off, Matty!”

 

“Hey, hey!” Ari stood, and raised both hands in a placating gesture at her husband.  “We’re all working to get it fixed, Jon. Just need a little more time.”

 

A low growl escaped his throat as he clenched his jaw.  “We’ve already wasted half the day on this crap.”

 

“You ever hear the saying about catching more bees with honey than with vinegar?” Kennedy chimed in from across the room.  Her tone was light – he was the boss, after all – but Jon wasn’t playing the tone-matching game.

 

“Whatever!” he practically snarled.  “Just fuckin’ fix it.” 

 

The tension in the air was palpable as he stalked off towards the stage, leaving a trail of frustrated roadies in his wake.

 

“What a mess,” Ari sighed.

 

“Hey. Where’s that Moretti chutzpah?” Tony asked, patting her shoulder. “We’ll figure this out. We always do, even if it’s not fast enough to make pissy pants happy.”

 

“Yeah, I know, but it’s the first show.  I don’t really want to screw up the first live stream.”

 

“Word, because he’ll never let us fuckin’ live it down,” her brother-in-law intoned with a roll of his eyes.  “Let’s split up and tackle this. I’ll check the cameras while you and Kennedy take care of the audio.”

 

“Sounds like a plan,” Ari agreed, grabbing the toolkit and moving toward the mixer.  

 

The pressure of a first show was always there – and even understandable – but the added extra incidents made things worse.  As she knelt by the audio board, she could hear the muffled sound of Jon’s voice filtering in from the stage. 

 

“Is this mic even working? I can’t hear a fuckin’ thing. Turn it up!”

 

“God, he’s insufferable!” She clenched her fist, fighting the urge to scream.

 

“If he keeps this shit up, we are gonna have a quick show,” Matt observed, joining her.

 

“Tell me about it.” She rolled her eyes. “If he doesn’t knock it off, I might just unplug the damn mic myself.”

 

Matt laughed. “I get that he’s stressed, but so is everyone else. He wouldn’t have a damn stage if it wasn’t for the crew.”

“You’re right. I’ll set him straight once we get this fixed.”

 

“I’d wish you luck but know you don’t need it.”  He smirked and then turned to head back toward the front of the house.

 

As she focused on the audio board, adjusting sliders and calibrating levels, Tony was a few feet away hunched over the camera rig. Normally she’d be the one hanging off something, but with Jon’s current mood she didn’t want to add any more fuel to today’s fire. 

 

“Ari!”  Tony waved her over. “I think I found the problem!”

 

“What is it?” she called hurrying to his side.

 

“It looks like one of the cameras isn’t syncing with the main feed.”

 

“You’ve got to be kidding.”

 

“Nope. If we can get it online, we might have a chance to get the stream rolling.”

 

“Then let’s do it!”

 

As Tony worked, she kept glancing toward the stage where Jon was pacing like a caged animal.  She could see the frustration emanating off him. 

 

“Almost there…” Tony muttered.

 

“Just a little more time…” Ari echoed as her fingers tapped against the mixer.

 

“It’s working!” Tony announced with a triumphant shout and grin.

 

“Fuckin A! Now let’s get the audio up and running.”

 

A flick here... A knob turn there… Before adjusting the final levels, she sent up a silent prayer to her father in the hopes he’d be listening.

 

“Got it!!” Tony’s voice rang out as the screen flickered to life.

 

Ari released a breath hadn’t realized she was holding. “Thank you, Sal!”

 

“Sal?” Tony asked.

 

“Yeah, I sent up a little prayer to him.”

 

“Ah. Well then, thank you, Sal.”  He tipped a light salute toward the ceiling before dusting off his jeans.  “Now that we’ve got that shit sorted, whaddya say we grab something to eat?”

 

“You go ahead. I need to have a come to Jesus chat with Jon.”

 

“Ha! Don’t hurt him too much, the tour just started.”

 

“I ain’t makin’ any promises.”

 

“Didn’t think so.”

♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱

 

Jon was exactly where she thought he would be — on the couch in his makeshift dressing room, surrounded by crumpled paper balls.  He didn’t acknowledge her, but he ought to know better than to think that would keep her from talking.  

 

“So, you just going to ignore me?” she challenged, crossing her arms.

 

Silence stretched between them for a moment before he finally allowed himself to glance up. “I don’t have time for this shit.” 

 

“That sounds like a you problem.” 

 

The tension crackled like electricity as she stepped closer.

 

“In case you’ve forgotten, I have a show to do.” His eyes pointedly flitted to the paper mess that surrounded him.  “And I need to finish the setlist.”

 

“Yeah, I think Timbuktu knows you have a show with the way you acted earlier.”

 

“Oh, don’t you put that shit on me. That’s your crew out there.” He gestured dismissively toward the door.

 

“You sure you wanna go there?” she snapped, voice laced with anger. 

 

“Why not? My job is to get up on that stage, belt out my songs and shake my ass. It’s your crew’s job to set up my kingdom. If they can’t get it right on the very first night, maybe you need a new crew.”

 

“Fuck you, Jon!” she shot back, green eyes flashing with fiery frustration. “You know damn well it can take several shows to smooth out all the rough edges.  What just happened out there was a minor issue, and you know it.”

 

Jon was pissed.  He was irritated.  He was frustrated.  He was anxious.  All those things made him want to argue with Ari until he was blue in the face or until she admitted he was right, but he couldn’t push the words out.  

 

Why?  Because she had a point. It wasn’t catastrophic that everything wasn’t picture perfect going into soundcheck.  They’d been through worse before, and he knew Ariana, her crew, Tony and Obie were the best in the business.  

 

The build up to this tour had been a hard push, though.  With the Lily, Ari’s pregnancy issues, the constant changes to the tour details and late-night rehearsals to go over the newest material…  

 

He was just an ass.  

 

“You’re right,” he finally admitted.

 

“Come again?”

 

“You heard me.”

 

“Oh, I did. I just want to hear it again,” she teased playfully, and Jon was grateful that she was going to let it go that easily.  “It’s not often the CEO admits when he’s wrong.”

 

“You love rubbing this in, don’t you?”

 

“Don’t you know it.”

 

Amid their playful banter, he couldn’t help but to admire her tenacity.  It was something he loved from the first time he saw her. Her ability to confront him without flinching. Both infuriating and refreshing. And just like all those years ago, it ignited something with him—a spark that had him pulling her into his lap.

 

"Damn, you make me so hard when you get like this."

 

“Flattery will get you nowhere.”

 

“Will it get me in your pants?”

 

Her laughter lingered in the air as Matt pounded on the door with their five-minute warning. Climbing out of his lap, she placed a gentle kiss on his lips. 

 

“Ask me after the show.”