Eight

Lights, Crew, Legacy

 

Leaving his dressing room, he stepped into the bustling corridor. The last of a grueling string of interviews was finally behind him, and only one thought occupied his mind—finding his wife. Navigating through the crowd with practiced ease, he made his way to the front of the house. Once there, he scanned the arena floor, eyes sweeping the scene for her familiar silhouette.

When he didn’t spot her, he raised the radio Tony had handed him earlier.

 

“Matt, do you know where I can find my wife?”

 

His brother’s voice crackled through the static. “No clue, man. Maybe she’s harnessed—look up.”

 

“Not funny, fucktard!” Jon barked.

 

Laughter echoed faintly in the background. “Sorry, bro, I couldn’t resist. Maybe Kennedy knows.”

 

“Yeah, maybe. Just keep an eye out, alright?”

 

“Sure thing. I’ll radio if I spot her.”

 

Lowering the radio, he took another sweeping glance around the arena. Just then, the static buzzed again, this time with a different voice cutting in.

 

“Hey, Boss! You looking for someone?” Cliff’s voice boomed.

 

“Yeah. You see Ari?”

 

“I’m looking right at her. We’re in catering.”

 

“On my way. Don’t let her leave.”

 

“Not a problem.”

 

As he entered the catering area, the familiar scent of warm food and coffee hit him. The L-shaped tables were lined with sterno trays, overflowing sandwich platters, and the usual staples that fueled the chaos behind the scenes.

 

It wasn’t until Cliff waved him over that he saw her.

 

She was curled in a chair, legs stretched out onto another, head tilted against the wall in exhausted surrender. Her messy bun looked like it had fought a losing battle with the wind—stray strands framed her face. Lily lay curled against her chest, fast asleep, completely undisturbed by the noise surrounding them.

 

A soft chuckle escaped him as he approached. “How long has she been out?” he asked of the man who’d been on Ari duty.

 

“Not long.”

 

He glanced over the nearby table—half-eaten sandwiches, abandoned coffee cups, and an absurd number of Froot Loops scattered across the surface like confetti.

 

“I swear I’m gonna invest in those damn rainbow-colored circles. You should think about it too.”

 

Cliff laughed. “Thanks for the tip.”

 

“Did she eat?”

 

“Yes, Mom.” Hazy green eyes fluttered open as the subject of his questions stirred to life.

 

Ariana blinked, squinting against the harsh overhead fluorescents that cast a sterile glow over the room. The low hum of industrial refrigerators blended with the occasional clatter of metal lids and distant voices barking orders. The scent of coffee and warm bread lingered in the air, mixing with the faint tang of disinfectant.

 

Lily stirred slightly on her chest but didn’t wake.

 

Jon crouched beside the chair, brushing a loose strand of hair from Ari’s cheek.

 

“I hope it was more than cereal?”

 

“As a matter of fact, I had a little grilled chicken and a banana,” she said, her voice still thick with sleep.

 

“Good.” He glanced around again at the chaos—crew members moving in and out with hurried steps, grabbing snacks, refilling cups, talking through headsets. “How are things going out there?”

 

“Pretty good. I should actually get back.” She shifted, trying to sit upright, but Lily’s warm, solid weight pinned her in place. She let out a soft grunt of frustration. “How did the interviews go?”

 

“I survived,” he said with a grin, leaning in to gently scoop Lily from her chest. The baby gave a sleepy wiggle but didn’t fully stir as Jon helped Ari upright. “If that’s what you’re asking.”

 

“What’s your plan for the rest of the afternoon?”

 

“I’m done for the day. Was hoping you’d want to head back to the hotel.”

 

“Jon, I can’t do that, and you know it.” She rubbed the back of her neck and glanced toward the door where two crew members rushed by, arguing over cable placement. “Why don’t you take Lily and go ahead without me?”

 

“You hear that, monkey?” he said, adjusting Lily in his arms as she blinked up at him with bleary eyes. “Mommy’s trying to ditch me so she can go misbehave.”

 

Lily responded with a gurgling laugh, her tiny hand smacking against his chest. The sweet, unexpected sound broke through the room’s steady background hum of conversation and clinking trays. Even Cliff, leaning casually against the table with his arms crossed, let out a soft chuckle.

 

“You’re such an ass.” Ari stood with a stretch, then bent to press a kiss to Lily’s chubby hand, her expression softening.

 

“What about me?” Jon asked, mock-offended, tilting his cheek toward her.

 

“After that comment, you’ve gotta earn one of those.” She gave him a playful wink and turned toward the door, the corners of her mouth still curled with amusement.

 

Cliff lifted his hands in mock surrender. “I got her, Boss.”

 

“Thanks, Cliff. See you back at the hotel.”

 

♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱

Ari stepped onto the arena floor, her pulse ticked with anticipation. The clinking and clattering of chains echoed high above, a metallic rhythm that signaled the delicate chaos soon to unfold. The gentle hum of audio equipment blended with the quiet buzz of lights, their vibrant glow poised to bathe the space in color. Video screens blinked to life like curious eyes, waiting for the show to begin.

 

To the untrained eye, the floor was a tangled mess—cables snaking across concrete, pulleys dangling like vines, rigging equipment scattered like forgotten tools. But to Ari and her crew, it was a masterpiece in progress. Every wire had a purpose. Every beam held a promise. She made her way toward the center, eyes drifting upward to the towering grid that loomed above. Crew members moved like shadows among the beams, checking rigging points, harnessed and agile, working with the precision of a well-rehearsed ballet.

 

At the far end of the arena, the stage loomed in anticipation, casting long shadows beneath the lights. Seventy-five hands in black silently choreographed their movements with practiced gestures, readying to push the massive platform into place. A buzz of energy hung in the air—part nerves, part adrenaline.

 

“Are we a go?” Ari shouted, motioning toward the web of cables.

 

“Ready over here!” Stan’s voice rang down from his perch high in the catwalk.

 

A few feet away, Lefty threw up a hand in a lazy salute. “Good here too!”

 

“Alright, here we go!”

 

A thrill ran through her as Kennedy gave the signal, and the crew fell into their dance, hoisting the rig high above. The grinding of metal against metal filled the space, gritty and glorious. Ari’s hands itched to help—old habits die hard—but the doctor’s orders were clear. No lifting. No strain.

 

She glanced around. No sign of Cliff. Stepping backward toward the stage, she inched closer to the action. The stagehands moved in unison, a human machine as they began to push the platform across the floor. With a quiet breath, she leaned in and placed her palms against the edge, ready to help guide it along—until a strong hand landed on her shoulder.

 

“Uh-uh, Lucy.” Cliff’s deep voice was calm but firm, laced with just enough humor to soften the scolding. “You know the rules.”

 

“I was just…” She turned, feigning innocence. “Supervising.”

 

“Sure, you were.” He chuckled. “Don’t make me call the bossman on you.”

 

She sighed and stepped back, removing her hands. Cliff had always looked out for her—she’d never put him in a spot that could cost him.

 

“Moretti, is that you?”

 

The voice came from above, drawing her gaze to the moving platform. She squinted—and then grinned wide.

 

“Holy shit! If it isn’t little Sabatini. How the fuck are you?”

 

“Hey now! I didn’t call you little Moretti, did I?” He grinned and beckoned her. “Get up here!”

 

“Can I?” She grinned at Cliff, already climbing. “Promise I won’t fall.”

 

He didn’t answer, just steadied her as she scaled the frame. “I’ll be right here,” he said, fingers walking in the air.

 

Once up, she pulled the dark-haired man into a tight hug.

 

“What are you doing here?” they said in unison, then both laughed.

 

“My crew and I are working this tour,” she replied.

 

He smirked. “Some things never change.”

 

“And you?”

 

“Got the call this morning. They were short a hand.” As they ducked beneath a hanging chain, he gently guided her head down. “Wait—did I hear that right? Your crew?”

 

“Yep. I run my own company now.”

 

His eyebrows lifted. “That’s awesome. Congrats times two, I see.”

 

“Thanks.” She chuckled, patting her stomach. “Future crew member coming in July.”

 

“First?”

 

“Second. You?”

 

He held up three fingers. “Two boys and a girl. What about this one? Do you know yet?”

 

“We already have a girl, but it’s too early to tell on this one.”

 

He shook his head fondly. “I’d say I’m surprised you’re still working, but nah—I know better. Nothing could keep you away from this.”

 

Before she could respond, a tremor passed beneath their feet as the structure clicked into its final position. The metallic groan echoed through the space like a beast settling in for the night. With practiced ease, they climbed down.

 

“How’s Smoke? Still causing trouble?” she asked.

 

“Still the same stubborn old man—now with a garden,” he said with a grin. “But he misses the chaos. I think we all do, when it’s in your blood.”

 

Ari laughed. “Now that’s a sight. Maybe I should call him—offer him a job. Supervisory only, of course.”

 

“Forget him—I’ll come work for you.”

 

“Anytime. Just say the word.”

 

“I will.” He nodded toward a group of stagehands waving him over. “Duty calls. Great seeing you, Ari.”

 

“You too.” She pulled him in for another hug. “Let’s catch up again soon.”

 

As they parted, Ari turned toward the next task on her list. She still needed to check in with Kennedy and the boys. The day had been long and relentless, and her body was ready to surrender to sleep. One last stop, though—Dr. Cummings.

 

She found them lounging on gear crates, snacks scattered like breadcrumbs across the floor. Lefty, of course, had a Camel hanging between his lips, the cherry glowing faintly in the dim light.

 

“Looks like you’ve got things under control. Need anything?”

 

Kennedy shook her head. “Nope.” She gestured to the boys. “They’ve got five more minutes, then it’s back to work.”

 

Ari grinned. Watching Kennedy command the crew gave her a strange sense of pride. It was like watching a younger version of herself in action. “Alright. I’m heading out. I’ll check in tomorrow. We’ll probably be here before call time anyway, since there wasn’t a soundcheck tonight.”

 

“Aye, aye, boss. See ya, mañana!” Lefty called out.

 

“Peace,” Stan added, flashing a two-finger salute.

 

“Get some rest,” Kennedy said, giving Ari a playful shove toward a waiting Cliff.