Who had come up with the brilliant idea for a freaking Canadian leg of the tour? Oh right. The manager. Ada would have to be sure and thank him a thousand times over for that bright idea. Back home it would have been warm by now, not freaking freezing. And maybe back home people would actually come out to see her instead of leaving her to play to half-empty rooms. It was not, by any means, ideal.
But at least she got to play. The soundcheck had been... interesting. The guy who ran the house sound system didn't know how to run the equipment, so Rhett and Ada had been forced to set it up themselves, running back and forth between the stage and balcony to test things out for sound and fix any mishaps. The drummer had fallen in the snow outside during a cigarette break and twisted his ankle, which elicited much moaning and groaning, the rhythm guitarist had somehow managed to break two strings while practicing, requiring a last-minute trip to a music store in town because he'd forgotten to bring more, but all in all, the show wasn't going to be bad. She hoped.
And it wasn't. Her energy on the stage drew people to get into the music, a few even knew enough lyrics to sing along. Sure, the stage lights went out halfway through for about 10 minutes, but Ada had played with only the house lights on before and she didn't mind doing so again. Between songs, the rhythm guitarist pounded back shots of tequila (oddly, he played better the drunker he got). Ada sang her set and two encores, both without the drummer as his wife had called, having found out he'd cheated on her with a woman in Buffalo, New York a week before. Nice.
And then she walked out after the show to find... more snow? LIke, way more snow. Like a foot more. And the bus driver didn't have the bus running, which was strange. Instead he was on his cell phone outside yelling.
Turned out the bus wouldn't start in the cold. "Brilliant," Ada said as Rhett shivered, having forgotten to bring a coat, the drummer yelled at his wife on the phone, and the guitarist stumbled around in the snow drinking from a flask. Ada walked away from the fray with her own cell phone and started calling the airports in the area. No flights out. Really? Really. Not even for a musician no one's ever heard of.
Suddenly she felt a familiar energy seem to brush against her skin. There was another were around here. She could feel it, but which of the patrons trailing out of the club was it? She stepped closer to them, her cowboy boots sinking in the snow. She hated snow. It totally only belonged in movies and on ski slopes. But it was him, the darkly handsome man making his way out. He wasn't a jaguar, she would have known if he was. It was an energy she didn't quite recognize. But she figured he was as safe a bet as any.
"Hi," she said, approaching him, brushing some snowflakes out of her slightly wild blond hair. "I was wonderin'---wait." She'd heard the bus shudder to life and turned to look, only to hear it sputter and die, "Never mind, We're havin' some engine trouble, it seems. I was wondering if you know of an airport that might have flights going out or... like a train, a boat... a snowmobile? Anything that could possibly get us from here to someplace... not here?" So she sounded slightly frazzled, even with her lazy southern drawl. Who could blame her? The drummer had started yelling obscenities while... was he crying? And Rhett was wrapped up in... was he wearing TOWELS? Yes, he was. And the guitarist was... somewhere. Drunk. Probably misspelling his name in the snow with his own piss. Lovely. "Oh, and I'm Ada."
But at least she got to play. The soundcheck had been... interesting. The guy who ran the house sound system didn't know how to run the equipment, so Rhett and Ada had been forced to set it up themselves, running back and forth between the stage and balcony to test things out for sound and fix any mishaps. The drummer had fallen in the snow outside during a cigarette break and twisted his ankle, which elicited much moaning and groaning, the rhythm guitarist had somehow managed to break two strings while practicing, requiring a last-minute trip to a music store in town because he'd forgotten to bring more, but all in all, the show wasn't going to be bad. She hoped.
And it wasn't. Her energy on the stage drew people to get into the music, a few even knew enough lyrics to sing along. Sure, the stage lights went out halfway through for about 10 minutes, but Ada had played with only the house lights on before and she didn't mind doing so again. Between songs, the rhythm guitarist pounded back shots of tequila (oddly, he played better the drunker he got). Ada sang her set and two encores, both without the drummer as his wife had called, having found out he'd cheated on her with a woman in Buffalo, New York a week before. Nice.
And then she walked out after the show to find... more snow? LIke, way more snow. Like a foot more. And the bus driver didn't have the bus running, which was strange. Instead he was on his cell phone outside yelling.
Turned out the bus wouldn't start in the cold. "Brilliant," Ada said as Rhett shivered, having forgotten to bring a coat, the drummer yelled at his wife on the phone, and the guitarist stumbled around in the snow drinking from a flask. Ada walked away from the fray with her own cell phone and started calling the airports in the area. No flights out. Really? Really. Not even for a musician no one's ever heard of.
Suddenly she felt a familiar energy seem to brush against her skin. There was another were around here. She could feel it, but which of the patrons trailing out of the club was it? She stepped closer to them, her cowboy boots sinking in the snow. She hated snow. It totally only belonged in movies and on ski slopes. But it was him, the darkly handsome man making his way out. He wasn't a jaguar, she would have known if he was. It was an energy she didn't quite recognize. But she figured he was as safe a bet as any.
"Hi," she said, approaching him, brushing some snowflakes out of her slightly wild blond hair. "I was wonderin'---wait." She'd heard the bus shudder to life and turned to look, only to hear it sputter and die, "Never mind, We're havin' some engine trouble, it seems. I was wondering if you know of an airport that might have flights going out or... like a train, a boat... a snowmobile? Anything that could possibly get us from here to someplace... not here?" So she sounded slightly frazzled, even with her lazy southern drawl. Who could blame her? The drummer had started yelling obscenities while... was he crying? And Rhett was wrapped up in... was he wearing TOWELS? Yes, he was. And the guitarist was... somewhere. Drunk. Probably misspelling his name in the snow with his own piss. Lovely. "Oh, and I'm Ada."
