HARMONY

Part 18 "How hard can this be"

Steve tries to fit into a world he knows nothing about...

Blood handprints became blood puddles as fire poured through every cell in Steve's body. Even though this was his second show, he still had no idea what he was doing. Not nearly half way done, he fumbled forward on all fours with his gaffing tape. Black boots rushed past him carrying cords, speakers and various items of metal. Once in a while, someone would stop to spit in his direction and direct him to 'hurry the fuck up.' But no one offered assistance.

Steve sat up on his haunches and studied what was left of the flesh on his fingers. He looked in desperation at the miles of cord that lay in front of him and became vaguely aware of the party noises growing in the parking lot.

"Shit," he said. "What time does this thing start?" He checked his watch and looked around again. "And where's Vance?"

"FNG," a raspy voice said. "Finishing the fucking cord."

"FNG?"

A silvery lob landed by his hand. "Fu&*ing new guy," said the owner of the spit.

Steve stood up, arched his back and looked into the worn face. Pocket marks, dirty grey stubble and bloated eyelids looked back. "What the fuck you looking at FNG?"

"Hello," Steve said and extended his hand. "I'm Steve and you are?"

"Going to give you a second asshole with my fist."

Steve took a step back and shook his head. "Well, then I guess this conversation is over."

The roadie grabbed Steve's arm. "This real?"

"My Rolex?" Steve smiled. "It most certainly is real."

"Then I suggest you sleep with it wedged in your rectum and learn to tell time by your ass hairs." Before Steve could process the statement, the roadie stepped on his shoe. "These leather?"

"They are," Steve said, trying to step back.

"200 for both."

"200?" Steve said, still trying to unlatch himself. "The watch alone is worth eight grand."

"Not here. 200." The roadie let go of Steve and pulled out two one hundred dollar bills from the wallet chained to his jeans.

"Now wait a minute," Steve said. "I haven't agreed to any price and I will certainly not sell—"

With one motion, the roadie grabbed Steve's arm and ripped off the watch. Steve lunged for it and was met with a fist to his eye. He fell to the ground, clutched his face and cursed between moans. Two one hundred dollar bills floated on the stage floor. Just as he felt a tug on his shoe, he heard a heavy thud.

"You mother fucker!"

"Rex," said the voice. "Give me the watch."

Steve rolled to his side and saw the blurred image of Vance standing over the roadie.

"Fuck you," Rex said as he handed Vance the watch.

Vance reached down, grabbed the bills and threw them to the Rex. He walked off.

"Thanks man," Steve said.

Vance took the watch and put it in his pocket. He pulled out a pair of leather gloves and threw them at Steve. As Steve hurried to put them on, Vance also threw a pocket knife at him. "Not one fucking mistake."

With the fluid motion of a threshing machine, Vance took his tape and knife and crawled along the cord. Steve followed, trying to imitate the process of roll, tape, cut, roll.