AOS Neon: Chapter Eighteen

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May 1993

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May 1993

The Day of the Secret Show

Alma was yawning loudly while sitting on top of the cash wrap counter before having another sip from her coffee cup. It was seven am, and she had already been there for an hour along with Darby, who turned up to help. Their schedules as managers were flipped and overlapped on a day like today. Only the band's sound mixer had arrived, and after Darby had finished helping him bring in his equipment, he was now double-checking the employee schedule. All employees were expected to have a shift—even the four part-time high school students.

They had left the back door open, and they both peered over when they heard some commotion to see a roadie wave at them and announce the presence of the others, all carrying a piece of musical equipment.

"Shit," Darby said under his breath as he turned to lean back on the counter. "That's their stuff." He was checking out their worn guitars, adorned with faded stickers and random splotches of spray paint.

"They're probably coming right after they set up." Alma smiled as the excitement built inside her. "You sure Lewis isn't showing up for this? I know I asked before I left last night, but did he tell you anything different?"

Darby nodded understandingly. "He said he's just coming for the show. Said, he had other things to attend to."

"Right, right," Alma nodded. "I want Echo to take a pic with them after their sound check," she smiled.

She had brought her professional camera with her. And now she was thinking she should have dressed up better. She knew what she'd wear to the gig, but it was too early to want to get dressed for this. She was just in loose, ripped-up jeans and had tied the hem of a plain white shirt to form better with her body because it belonged to Bill.

"Me too?" Darby chuckled.

"I'll take yours with them too," she laughed.

Bill was parked out front in the Jeep while Echo continued sleeping in her car seat. He was keeping a lookout for Lewis and waiting for a signal to come in from Alma. The radio volume was shallow when he ejected the strange ethereal music that was playing on the cassette. He took a look at it, Cocteau Twins. The music was pretty, but it wasn't helping him want to stay awake under the overcast skies. He swore they weren't really saying any real words, but sometimes he thought he heard a phrase or two. He turned the radio on at some shock jock station after putting it away in its case.

Inside the record shop, Alma had met the band's manager, Dean, in the backstage area. He was checking the place out, asking questions about ticket sales and what the maximum capacity of the venue was.

"And I see you have what they requested. But the ice?" He turned to her as he clasped his hands in front of him.

"It'll be here by the time they perform."

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