FAME and GLORY (22 page)

Suzi piped up.  “We'll call it
Brandee Unplugged
or something like that.  I'll play the acoustic guitar a little bit more tonight.  We won't be completely unplugged, of course.  This place is too big for that.  It will be more intimate, though, with the stage up against the grandstand.  What do you think?”

She directed this last question at Brandee. Without wanting to, she found herself wondering whether Brandee's ever-growing ego would allow for as much sharing as Diane was suggesting.  Tonight was going to be truly a collaborative show if the star attraction was agreeable.

Brandee was torn.  On the one hand, she could already feel the dryness in her throat.  The altitude and the lingering dust from the cowboy show the day before were doing a number on her.  On the other hand, wouldn't the crowd leave disappointed if she didn't confront their senses with “Your Ass is Mine” sung at full throttle?

After a few moments to think about it, she agreed.  “Sure.  Let's do it that way.  We'll cut the rehearsal short so I can save my voice.  That is, if we really can get the stage moved.”

The venue manager scurried away to make the calls necessary to get it done.  In just 10 minutes, he had a couple of the ranchers that owned spreads just outside of town lined up to send tractors into Winnemucca.  They would drive the tractors through the big garage doors at the east end of the building, and the stage would be in place in about an hour and a half.  The group could rehearse with the reconfigured acoustical setup and still be able to get some rest before the show.

The group was going to be staying at The Cozy Inn that night.  It was quiet and clean, albeit without some of the amenities to which they were now accustomed.  Its location, just 3 blocks east of the convention center, was its strongest selling point.

As Jake walked up the street to do the check-in procedure for the group, he was reminded how much this little burg looked like the little towns in which his father had served as a pastor for so many years.  The same store fronts, carrying the same small town goods and services.  Unbidden, his eyes filled with tears. His ancient echoes had caught up with him again, this time in Winnemucca.

Psychologists tell us that, whether or not we said that we liked the home in which we were raised, that is the home we tend to recreate when we get older.  It's called Ancient Echoes Syndrome. Jake had been raised in the All-American nuclear family.  Married parents, one boy, and then one girl.  This conflict with Brandee had made Jake realize how traditional he, in fact, really was at his core.

Jake shook his head in self-disgust.  He knew that he had already lost that fight with Brandee.  The best thing for him to do was turn the page and move on.  Maybe it had been a selfish thought in the first place.  He gave himself a quick pep talk while walking the last half block before he arrived at The Cozy Motel.

“I'm asking an awful lot of Brandee.  I don't want to stand in the way of her career.  It's a full time job being a successful singer.”

Fully sincere, but only half convinced, Jake arrived at the front desk.  By this time, he had the check-in procedure down to a science.  He had always needed a non-smoking room for himself and Brandee.  Now that Suzi was with child, Bruce had given up smoking cold turkey, so Jake needed an additional non-smoking room for Bruce and Suzi.  He needed a smoking room, if one was available, for Janelle.  That turned out to be a problem at The Cozy Inn.

The non-smoking wave that had taken over the rest of the West Coast hadn't fully taken hold in Winnemucca.  The Cozy Inn was split down the middle, half smoking and half non-smoking.  The truck drivers that came through town regularly knew that the little motel had plenty of smoking rooms available.  That meant there was almost always a reservation book filled with requests for those particular rooms.  The perky little desk clerk cheerfully told Jake that he could have 3 rooms but they would all be of the non-smoking variety.  Jake accepted the offer and reminded himself to tell Janelle that she would have to step outside of her room to smoke.  He picked up the three room keys and headed back up the street toward the convention center.

By the time he arrived, a buzz of activity was underway.  Jake found Bruce watching the process with an interested eye.

“What's going on?” Jake asked.

Bruce pointed to the three smoke-belching beasts, two of them green and the other red that occupied the center of the arena floor.  He had to shout into Jake's ear to make himself understood.

“You see the two smaller ones?  The two green ones? Those are both New Holland tractors.  Probably right at 400 horses! They are going to hook on to either end of the stage.”

Jake shouted back to Bruce, “What about the big fella?”

Bruce smiled in delight.  He had been all about engines for as long as he could remember.  While he couldn't wait to put his new bike between his knees again, he was also fascinated by what was in front of him right now.

“That, my friend, is the Big Bud 747!  It's the biggest tractor in production today! You're looking at 775 horses!  That's the one that is going to hook on to the middle of the stage so that it isn't snapped in two by the other tractors.”

Jake found himself caught up in the older man's enthusiasm.  He asked, “What are they standing around talking about?  C'mon, let's get the show on the road.”

Bruce grabbed Jake's arm expressing his excitement.  This was really going to be something to see!

“Not yet!  You see the tractor jockeys walking together toward the grandstands?  They're working out the speed points so that everybody stays together!  They walk off the distance first!  Then, when they get hooked up and started, the driver of the big one will give hand signals to the other two to synchronize the speed points that they had worked out on their walk!”

Jake looked at his watch, quickly calculating the time until the group would be back together, getting ready for the show.

“I wish they would hurry up!  It's been almost an hour since they were called!”

Bruce looked at Jake with a suddenly abashed expression. “Ummm, that may have been partly my fault.”

Jake's brow wrinkled in surprise.  “Your fault?  How?”

“Well I kind of made the guy that rides the big one...um... let me take it for a spin around the arena a couple of times.”

Jake threw his head back and laughed as he hadn't laughed in days.  He so wished that he could have been in the building to see his big, bearded friend high atop the world's largest farm tractor, flogging it around the floor of the Winnemucca Convention and Visitor's Center.  He could picture it, but what he wouldn't have given to have seen it in the flesh.

Jake slapped Bruce on the back.  “How did it feel?  How fast could you make it go in here?”

“Only about 35 before the corner.  They're geared too low to be able to go too fast anyway.  I loved the sound, though!”

Just then, the tractor jockeys were climbing into the seats of their rigs.  The two smaller tractors fired up first. Their combined engines rattled the wood grandstands with their volume.  The drivers gunned the engines a couple of times before the big Cummins diesels settled into a powerful throb.  Then the big one started.

Jake was forced to step back from the force of the sound.  The Big Bud 747 was at least as loud as the other two tractors combined, maybe louder.  Between the three of them, they set up a racket that hurt Jake's ears.

Jake had been backstage for all of
Brandee
's concerts.  He had gotten used to that kind of loud, but this was something different.  The three tractors at idle were enough to cause Jake's stomach to rumble a harmonic resonance.  He couldn't wait to hear what it sounded like when they were all pulling at once.

The tractor drivers connected their vehicles' towing attachments to the hooks on the front edges of the stage and returned to their seats.  When the operator of The Big Bud was ready, he gave the signal through the side windows of his enclosed cab.  They put the tractors into their lowest gear and the chains went taut.

Ever so slowly, the stage began to move, sliding across the dirt floor, raising a ton of dust in the process.  Jake was sure that the stage was making a lot of noise itself as it was dragged, but the combined thunder of the tractors made it impossible to tell for sure.

The green tractor that was pulling the left side of the stage inched slightly ahead.  The driver in the middle gave him a quick “Slow down” signal with his right hand.  The driver of the New Holland rig nodded an abrupt acknowledgment and the tractor settled back in line with its mates.

The total distance that the stage needed to go was about 70 feet.  Each foot was precarious to the mission, though.  If one of the big diesel engines misfired, the three would quickly be out of whack and the stage would be in danger.  What was being done today had never been done in this particular arena before.  This stage was normally set up and taken down in a stationary place.  Who knew if this was even feasible?

Jake peered across the way, squinting through the dust cloud that had been raised behind the stage.  There he saw the only person that wanted this to come off as much as did Jake himself.  The venue manager watched with bated breath as the stage made its way across the floor.

Finally, 33 minutes after the stage started its dusty journey, it arrived at its destination safe and secure.  Jake and Bruce met the drivers as they climbed down from their respective perches.  Bruce grabbed the big rig driver's hand, pumping it in appreciation.

“Thank you so much for everything!  Boy, that was great!”

The driver laughed.  He knew that the keyboard player was thanking him as much for getting to drive the Big Bud as for moving the performance stage.  He decided to see if Bruce's effusive thanks could be turned into something tangible.

“Sooo..." he started, mopping the sweat rivulets from his face with the red handkerchief that he pulled from his pocket.  “Do you suppose the wife and I could get some comp tickets for the show tonight?”

Bruce couldn't wait to oblige.  “I'll get tickets for all of you.  Tickets for your wives and girlfriends too.  How many do you need?”

The driver of the tractor that had briefly gotten out of line spoke up.  “My wife doesn't like it when my girlfriend comes along.  Just two for me.”

Amid the laughter that ensued, the second New Holland driver spoke next. “Let's see.  One for me, one for my wife, one for my baby's mama.  That makes...”

The other two tractor drivers cracked up when they saw that Bruce was counting tickets for that particular driver on his fingers.  The Big Bud driver said to Bruce, “Boylan's just pulling your leg.  Hell, he ain't had a girlfriend since middle school!”

The first New Holland driver added, “And that was his cousin!”

Four of the five people in the circle thought this was hilarious, but the brunt of the joke had obviously heard this line before.  He playfully squared off with the driver that had made the crack.  She isn't my cousin, asshole!  She's my step-cousin... once removed!”

While all of this was going on out front, Brandee and Janelle were in what passed for the dressing room.  To call it a dressing room was a bit of a stretch.  The room consisted of four walls and a folding chair in the middle of the room.  Brandee was trying to get ready for her show without even the use of a mirror bigger than the 4”x1.5” one that she kept in her travel bag.  She was becoming less impressed with this gig as the time passed.

“Could you come here and help me, Jannie?” Brandee said.  “I can only see a third of my face at a time.  I'm going to go out there looking like a clown.”

Janelle stepped in front of Brandee and took the makeup brush out of her hand.  The younger girl, three inches taller than Brandee, put her index finger under Brandee's chin and lifted it a little, so that the light showed more evenly on the right side of the singer's face.

“You're going to look like an angel out there.  You couldn't help it if you tried.  Everybody in this cow town is going to cream themselves when you show up.”

Janelle smoothed out an imaginary rough makeup patch under Brandee's right cheekbone, letting her fingers linger on the warm pulse point that she could feel throbbing under her touch.  Janelle avoided looking Brandee in the eye right then, afraid that Brandee would read what she was thinking.  Janelle wasn't ready to share those innermost thoughts with the blonde-haired beauty.  She didn't think that she would ever be able to do that.

For her part, Brandee enjoyed having someone else apply her stage paint.  She made a mental note that, next time, a makeup and hair stylist professional would be part of the traveling retinue.