Different Circles

“All right,” Jake said doubtfully. “Just be sure you finish our sound check before you ask him so if he puts you in the hospital, we’ll already be dialed in.”

“Will do,” Nerdly said, in all seriousness.

“What about Pantera’s sound guy?” asked Obie. “Were you able to hunt him down and give him a piece of your mind?”

“I tried,” Nerdly said with a sigh. “The band and their crew had already left the venue by the time I was able to go look for him.”

“That’s too bad,” Obie said with a chuckle.

“There’s always tomorrow,” Nerdly said. “I will seek him out just before they perform what passes as their sound check and explain to him that proper balance of volume and ranges does not mean you simply turn all the knobs, switches, and levers to ten.”

“I’m guessing that will be news to him,” Jake said, making a mental note to accompany Nerdly on that particular mission in case of violence.

They arrived back at the hotel/casino at 11:30 PM. The casino floor was still crowded with gamblers and the cafes were still open. No one wanted to eat or gamble though. They had eaten catered food before leaving Indian Springs and they all had to get up at 6:30 for the next full day of waiting around and then performing.

They said their good nights to each other and headed upstairs to their rooms.

There was another show to do tomorrow.

Chapter 11: The Water Recedes

Indian Springs, Nevada

September 28, 1996

Matt was tired and moderately hungover as he and his band reported for their morning sound check on Stage 1 at 9:00 AM. He had been up until nearly 4:00 AM and had been awakened at 7:30 to get ready for his 8:00 AM pickup. He and the boys had not even made it back to the hotel room until nearly 2:00 AM and had partied it up in Austin’s room after finally making it there.

We’ll do the sound check and then my ass is climbing into that bed in the trailer and getting some sleep, Matt thought as he mounted the stage. He was wearing a tattered pair of sweatpants and a sleeveless shirt. He long hair was uncombed and somewhat ratty in appearance. He wore a pair of sunglasses to protect his eyes from the brutal glare of the desert sun off to the east. The rest of the band were dressed pretty similarly, except for Corban, who had taken the time to dress in a fashionable shirt and spike his hair with gel.

Roland Argyle was the head of concert sound for Matt’s crew. He and his team of three technicians had been flown to Vegas at Music Alive’s expense along with a team of six roadies (Matt had negotiated that into his contract). Argyle—who like to be called Rollie—was short, chubby, and sported a full beard and long hair, which made him look a little bit like a short, chubby version of the traditional Jesus. He was not someone that Matt had hired to be in charge of his sound on the road, but someone that National had assigned. He was adequate at his position, but that was about it. He certainly could not hold a candle to the Nerdlys.

“Hey, Matt. Hey, boys,” he greeted as they took their positions on the stage.

“Hey, Rollie,” Matt said unenthusiastically, walking over to where his microphone stand was situated. The rest of the band offered similar greetings.

“I still have all the settings marked from last night’s performance,” Rollie told them. “This shouldn’t take long at all. It’ll be mostly a verification process.”

“Well ... yeah, about that,” Matt said. “Last night’s sound kind of sucked.”

“Sucked?” Rollie said, clearly taken aback by this suggestion.

“Sucked,” Matt repeated. “As in it slurped the big fuckin’ schlong. It wasn’t as bad as Pantera’s, but it sounded like a pile of dogshit when held up against how Kingsley’s sound team had him dialed in.”

“But ... but Kingsley has the Nerdlys,” Rollie said, nearly whispering their name, speaking it the one does when talking about a worshiped deity.

“Yes, he does,” a voice said from the stage left entrance.

It was a familiar voice and Matt knew who it was even before he turned to look. Sure enough, Nerdly and Mrs. Nerdly were both standing there. Both were dressed in jeans and baggy pullover t-shirts. Two of the security guys were flanking them, obviously distressed that they had made it up here. They had not put their hands on them yet, but they would if Matt gave them the nod. Matt did not give the nod—at least not yet. He noticed that Nerdly had a bruise on his cheek and some swelling under his left eye that would soon become a pretty decent shiner. He also had some sort of brace on his right wrist.

“Nerdly,” Matt said, taking a step toward him. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“I’m sorry, Matt,” the lead security guy told him. “They used their all-access passes to get past the first layer and then they just strolled up here like they belonged. We didn’t notice them until they were actually at the door.”