Page 54 of Enjoying the Band in Lockdown

“Yeah, Deacon fucking Galis,” Devon snorted. “King of the music mountain. Rock legend who could have picked up the phone and smoothed the way for us any time he wanted.”

“Why didn’t he?”

“Because, your man, your proud and stubborn man refused to pick up the phone. Not even when we needed cash to insure or register the van, or when we had a set of drums lost in transit.”

“You asked?”

“Of course we fucking asked. But it wasn’t until you suggested he ask why we hadn’t been invited to the concert that Xav picked up the phone. Now, we’ve got prime position.”

“Straight after Stormy Waters’ mid-show gig. They open with a short set, then play a long set mid-way through the program, hand over to The Flying Monkeys, other bands and then Stormy Waters close.” I could have recited the whole run sheet if asked.

“You’re good for him. You’re good for us, or at least you used to be.” Devon wanted to say more, “Until last night when Xavier was gonna walk away.”

“From me?”

“No.” He laughed without smiling. “Not everything’s about you. Xavier was ready to walk away from the band. His brother’s got a recording studio in the Southern Highlands and the bus is in Xavier’s name. He was ready to leave.”

“He can’t.”

“He’s a grown man and can do whatever the fuck he wants.”

No wonder I coped so much attitude. “How is he?”

“We convinced him to stay until after the concert. We’re hoping that sales from Dirty Blonde will fund the band’s options.”

“How is he?” Of course I cared about the band, but I cared more about Xavier. “Tell me what I can do to fix things.”

“Sydney, what if you can’t? Whatever happened with you and Jax, hurt more than his pride. He needs time.”

“So he hasn’t left?”

“Not yet, but I’d say he’s working out how much he can sell the van for or how he can find another band to front.”

“What can I do?”

“It all comes down to the concert. You were working on graphics and marketing images, how about you use your power to show your man how you feel about him.”

“I was trying to get a balance of images of all of you individually.”

“That’s fine and my ego thanks you, but think about the great bands. Who do you think of when you hear, Queen?”

“Freddie Mercury.”

“Nirvana?”

“Kurt Cobain.”

“Oasis?”

“Gallagher brothers.”

“Red Hot Chilli Peppers?”

“Flea.”

“Of course you would,” Devon laughed. “Look, do double the images of Xav, even triple. Make the world see how much you love him.”

I shot Devon an evil look, “That L-word, we’ve never—”

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