All I Want Is Everything

Might as well be my first rodeo

Welcome to my nightmare!
I think you're gonna like it!
I think you're gonna feel you belong!
We sweat and laugh and scream here!
'Cause life is just a dream here!
You know inside you feel right at home, here!

Alice Cooper, Welcome to My Nightmare

"Ella, you're going to kill it," Sam said patiently as they drove over to the Shrine Auditorium for the first rehearsal. They were in the Corvette, a mode of transportation that Sam thought highly of, and Ella was white-knuckling the steering wheel. "And I'll be around to put a lid on things if you need it, not that you will. It's going to be fine."

"From your mouth to god's ear," she muttered as she pulled up by the auditorium in a legal parking spot, rooting through her purse for change for the meter. "I will be professional if it kills me. And it might." They got out of the car and she fed the insatiable maw of the meter, ignoring Sam's grin, before delicately unwedging her guitar from the trunk.

"I guess pulling up the Grammys in a Buick doesn't pack the rock star vibe," Sam teased her.

"I'd have to let Becca drive the 'Vette, and that's not happening," Ella shot back. "I love her, but I don't trust her that much." They bickered amicably until they got to the door of the auditorium and checked in with security.

"You're on the list, Miss Rogers. Who's this guy?" the Shrine bouncer asked, jerking his chin at Sam.

"I'm here to hold her purse while she practices," Sam said, making Ella smile. The security guard did not.

"He's here to watch my stuff and also for moral support," Ella explained, and the guard thawed very slightly and let them in.

Inside, they were met by a PA, who waited until Starship had run through their number, "We Built This City," (Sam and Ella very discreetly rolled their eyes at each other) before he took them to the director, a guy named Walter Miller. He didn't smile much but he wasn't too stressed out, at least not yet.

"Congratulations on your nominations, Miss Rogers, and thank you for agreeing to perform at the 28th Annual Grammy Awards," he said. "All right now, that's stage left, that's stage right. You'll enter from stage right, we'll have the set done by the dress rehearsal, and you'll sing as you walk forward. We'll have violinists and a cello to accompany you; how do you feel about a harp and piano?"

"I don't know," Ella said, surprised. "Never thought about it."

"All right, we'll try it at the next rehearsal and if you don't like it, well... we'll see how it sounds. You're our opening act, so let's see, when you get here off the red carpet, there's a door outside that will take you directly backstage, Brad here will show you when we're done, go back there for a wardrobe change and they'll check your hair and makeup. You perform when you're cued, then go back and change into whatever you're wearing. When it's time for the Shield performance, come backstage at least ten minutes before, during a commercial break, change wardrobe again, and you'll be handed your guitar. So far so good?" She nodded. "Then hustle up on the stage then, we'll give it a run-through. We don't have live mikes today but this is just for blocking, testing the lighting, and to make sure it looks right. Go ahead and sing to get used to the auditorium. We'll be working on lighting today." She dutifully got onstage, where PA Brad showed her where pieces of the set would be and where her entrance would be, and she ran through her song. The lighting crew tried different things and she amused herself by belting out her song full voice which she almost never got to do. Her voice rang out through the auditorium, startling Miller.

"I didn't know you had volume like that," he said after she'd finished and come to the edge of the stage. "You'll tone it down for the mike, right?" She wanted to sigh; she was a professional.