All I Want Is Everything

Intermission

Rise up! gather round
Rock this place to the ground
Burn it up let's go for broke
Watch the night go up in smoke.

Def Leppard, Rock of Ages

Loki's news gave Ella a huge boost; she'd been feeling down after the abortion and her hurt knee. She had telegrams and flowers waiting for her at the venue that night from her friends and acquaintances, including a massive bouquet from Pepper and Tony. Her musicians were thrilled and they insisted on her taking at least some of the flowers with them on the bus; they all agreed on the scented flowers because the bus could be less than fragment. They laughed and had a good time until they went on; the show seemed especially high energy and her knee hardly bothered her at all. They packed up and everybody took some flowers as they went to the bus and settled in. As usual after a performance, they were too keyed up to sleep immediately, so they sat up together although everybody did their own thing. Ella had saved her telegrams to read and had brought the cards from the flowers too. Sharon had gone through while they were on stage, writing the types of flowers each card came with on the envelopes so that Ella could write her thank you notes later. When she got some. She'd go shopping in the next city. Just then, she luxuriated in telegrams from her friends from college, Sam, Becca, Thor (ugh) and Clint (double or even triple ugh), and a generically polite one from Alexander Pierce and SSR for her nominations with Shield. (1.5 ughs.) And one from freaking Steven Grant Rogers, damn it, how dare he. She planned to overlook that until she couldn't. Other bouquets had been sent by Loki, Scott Lang, Flerkin Records, Nick Fury, Ayo... and...Bucky? UGH. He was apparently responsible for.... She checked the envelope—the mass of carnations.

She loved carnations.

Damn. Double damn.

She got thank you cards at the next stop on the tour and spent her bus rides writing. She had a rotation of friends she called when they were stopped long enough for meals, and she made calls to thank the telegraph senders. She got answering machines a lot, but that was ok too. She'd had a great conversation with Bec, who had accepted the job with William Morris and was packing up to move after Thanksgiving—Ella sent a padded envelope with the spare keys at their next stop—and said hi to Bec's parents. They thanked her for letting Bec live in the guesthouse (like it was some kind of imposition) and she was fine with the idea of a family Christmas party there. She wasn't going to be home, Christmas was wedged in between two concerts in Maryland, so she wouldn't have to deal with all that. She wasn't much of a friend, she supposed, because she probably wouldn't have been so accommodating if she had planned to return to LA. Her musicians were flying their families out, and she'd personally rented a private room at a restaurant so that they could all celebrate together. The roadies were going home for a few days since the stage would be set up, and a new opening act would be coming on after Christmas.

But things were not all rosy; all her backing musicians were married with families, which was most of why nobody was going to play the whole tour. Her guitarist had received the bad news that his pregnant wife was having some sort of problem and was on bed rest. He'd be leaving the tour early, after the last show before Thanksgiving, and Loki was trying to find a replacement. Ella did her best not to get stressed out over it, the poor woman couldn't help it and would doubtless prefer not to be restricted, and of course she needed her husband with her. The guitarist who was scheduled to replace the first one wouldn't come on early. That was his right, but it pissed her off anyway. There were hugs aplenty with all the band members after that show, and Ella gave him a congratulatory card for the baby with some money instead of a gift. Ella had been spending her down time amping up her parts so that the lack of a rhythm guitarist wouldn't leave so much of a hole in the sound.

Sharon had found a nice restaurant for the tour group for Thanksgiving, and a two-day break from the road had been planned for in their itinerary. The food and the company were good, but she was a little down when she got back to her room to veg out. She'd brought up a can of ginger ale with her for later, sticking it in a bucket of ice, and made a bed nest before calling Sam, chatting about their holiday.