Different Circles

They ran through it, playing it pretty much exactly the same as the studio version. Matt kept expecting Jake’s bitch to fuck up her parts, but she did not make so much as a single error. She played out her part of the melody exactly in key and with perfect timing and phrasing. Though Matt knew this was impossible if Jake had been telling the truth about her just flying in from Poland, she came across as if she had been rehearsing her part in the piece right along with the rest of them. And not only that, she had some pretty impressive showmanship as well—obviously gained by all of her time playing for the Mexican bitch. She stayed close to Jake’s side during the verses, moving her shoulders to the rhythm, her feet dancing a little as she played. And then, when it was time for the sax solo before the final verse, she stepped up to the front of the stage and played it out with style, her fingers moving confidently over her keys, her cheeks puffing in and out as she blew into the mouthpiece, occasionally swaying and turning at the waist. And again, she did not miss a single note, did not have a single moment of mistiming.

Matt felt disappointed that she did not fuck up, but he could not help but feel a strong measure of respect for Jake’s bitch. She really was a professional musician with talent and not some hacker that Jake let play for him because she was a hot ginger spinner and he was boning her.

They wrapped up Blur, ending it just like the studio version: with an abrupt finish and a final drawn-out saxophone note. The crowd cheered loudly, with more than a few wolf whistles directed at Kingsley’s bitch, who acknowledged with a little wave and that shy smile on her face.

“Laura Kingsley on the soprano sax!” Jake yelled into the microphone. “Do I know how to pick ‘em, or what?”

While the crowd continued to cheer for her, Jake gave her another hug and kissed her on the lips. She then trotted off stage, waving to the crowd and holding her sax high. The stagehand came back out and Jake switched out the acoustic-electric for the black and white Les Paul once again. The lead guitarist remained offstage, and the keyboard player and the backup singers trotted off as well. Jake stepped forward to the microphone once again and made a few adjustments to his effects pedals.

“And this next number is a song I wrote about my relationship with Laura,” he told the crowd. “It’s from the last CD. Maybe you’ve heard it. It’s called Teach Me.”

Another loud cheer. The crowd had certainly heard Teach Me, which had been the most popular cut on Jake’s latest CD, having spent twelve weeks in the top 5 on the charts. Matt had heard it as well, though he had never bothered analyzing the lyrics to any degree. He watched now as Jake began to play it out, finger-picking out the melody on the Les Paul all by himself, playing with light distortion that allowed the individual strings to be heard as they were played, and then strumming out the choruses. It was masterful guitar work, but then Jake always had been the best at acoustic-oriented playing. Once again, Matt found himself nodding to the rhythm of the tune and even singing along a bit. And now that he knew what the song was about, the lyrics actually took on some meaning for him and he began to feel appreciation for the message Jake was conveying—even if he still did not understand why someone would want to marry a bitch when she was giving up the gash for free.

After the applause following Teach Me, the keyboard player returned to the stage. The backup singers and the lead guitarist did not return, leaving just Jake, the keyboardist, and the rhythm section to play what came next. Matt glanced at his watch, seeing that Jake had about fourteen more minutes in his set.

I really do need to get back to the trailer and start getting dressed, he thought. He would, after all, be taking to his own stage thirty minutes after Jake finished. But he did not leave. And, though he told himself he was still hoping that Jake or one of his musicians would fuck up, deep inside he knew this was not true. He was staying because he was enjoying the show. He would never admit that to anyone, anywhere, even under torture, but he was genuinely enjoying the performance and wanted to see more.