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twice about getting involved with any of his lady loves, but try convincing him to take on any
other commitment, and he runs like hell.
He's a damn fine flute player. I just wish he'd get his act together.
If he ever did
No Beth, you'd be crazy to get involved with a man like him. Give him your heart, and he'll
probably leave town the next day
But, if he ever did get his act together
She glanced at her watch. Strike that. I just wish he'd get in here! "Sound check!" she called
to Allie and Jim, who were carrying the DX7 out from the practice room. She followed them
out onto the stage, the Fender's pickup line coiled in her hand. Dammit, Banyon, where are
you?
She saw his face, the mop of unruly shoulder-length brown hair backlit by the dance-floor
lights. He was walking quickly through the crowd toward the backstage door. For one
moment, it looked as if he was glowing.
Right, Both. Saint Eric. Fer sure.
She blinked again, and the glow was gone. She shook her head, made a mental note not to
try the house brand of Scotch again
Probably has diesel oil in it
 and headed for the stage.
The Dive's overworked electrician/sound engineer was checking a mike cable as Beth
stepped up onto the stage "Bo, we've got our flute player with us tonight, we're using the
AKG mike for him. I think I wrote down the board settings last time," she said, plugging the
Fender's cable into the appropriate socket. Bo nodded, jumping off the edge of the stage
and heading for the sound board controls.
Beyond the darkened stage, the crowd was only a blur, lit by the colored glow of the dance
floor and the occasional flash of a cigarette lighter. The noise of Spiral Dance setting up
their equipment was lost beneath the pounding beat of whatever Top Forty dance-rock song
was currently playing over the speakers. No one even glanced up at the stage.
Well, let's see if you can still ignore us when we start playing, hey?
At least there's a good crowd tonight. I don't know what pulled them in, but it's almost twice
our usual Monday night crowd. And they're all dancing.
This should be a terrific gig . . .
Eric hurried onto the stage, flashing a quick smile at Beth. "Are we ready?" he asked,
moving in front of the fourth mike, where Dan usually stood.
What the hell. Let's see what the crowd really wants.
She glanced up at Bo, half-hidden in the shadows, and he gave her the thumbs-up signal.
The Top Forty song ended, and the dance-floor lights faded away. The stage was still unlit,
leaving most of the club virtually pitch black, completely dark.
Now, let's have some fun . . .
Beth moved close to the microphone. "Ladies and gentlemen ... we are Spiral Dance."
Behind her, Jim began the drum line to "Missing You," starting softly, then gaining in
intensity. Allie followed him on the synth, minor chords building up to an impossible climax.
Beth hit the first notes on the Fender, just as the lights came up on the stage, blindingly
bright. A moment later, Eric dived in with the descant, leading right into the first verse.
Lovely bit of work there, Banyon
Then she leaned in close to the mike, and let the song pour through her. Hard rock, her voice
nearly breaking on the high notes, but strong, the strongest she'd sung in a long time.
"Too long, too many nights, no reason left to try,
Too far to go to see a glimpse of light.
Don't tell me you don't know. don't give me reasons
why,
I don't care, 'cause I'm missing you tonight..."
Beth could hear Allie and Jim, their voices blending perfectly with hers on the chorus. Then
she glanced up at Eric, who nodded. All yours, bucko-
Second verse, and Eric took the solo.
Eat your heart out, Ian Anderson! Beth couldn't help but grin as the flute solo, first low and
breathy, then building to a wailing intensity as Eric caught the melody line, caught the
audience and took them with him, high with the music.
The shouts and whistles after the solo almost drowned out the words of the chorus. Beth
caught a glimpse of Eric, grinning like crazy, as the crowd cheered wildly.
Damn, but that was good!
The floor was overflowing with people dancing, some just standing by their tables instead of
fighting for space by the stage. And one young man, very tall with flowing silver-blond hair,
just standing near the edge of the stage, not dancing. Just staring at Eric.
It's hard to see with the stage lights, but it almost looks as though his eyes are glowing
green no, that's impossible, must be a trick of the lighting. Ye gods, I'm seeing everything
in fireworks tonight.
She shifted position just a little, and caught a glimpse of something in his expression before
the crowd swirled between them.
Need.
She started. Ye gods was he No, scratch that. It wasn't sexual. Or at least, it mostly
wasn't sexual. Not that Banyon isn't a honey by anybody's standards
But this was something desperate. What has our whistler been up to?
The song finished with a sudden chord, and the lights cut abruptly.
The applause was deafening, and she dismissed the question from her mind.
This is definitely turning out to be a fantastic gig . . .
As the lights came back up, Beth gestured to Allie, who began the first notes of "Come by
the Hills," an old traditional air.
"Come by the hills, to the land where fancy is free ..."
This song was as gentle as the first rock song had been wild. Eric joined her on the first
chorus, the flute weaving a bittersweet counterpoint around her voice. Then he took the solo
again, a delicate melody line, beautiful and fey, and aching with unspoken longing.
It was hard for her to see the crowd, past the blinding lights, but something was happening
out there
They're not dancing, they're not walking away to the bar, they're just standing there.
Standing, and listening, and swaying with the music. Some of them holding hands, and all of
them looking up at the stage, at us, at Eric. Like they're in some kind of a trance.
This is definitely the weirdest crowd we've played to in a long time.
Then a flash of movement out on the dance floor; a pair of gracefully dancing figures whirled
elegantly across the floor, and the crowd moved back to give them room. Looks like some
kind of waltz, but not quite not ballet, either, but it's close. Damn, but they're good! I wish I
could find out who they are I'd love to see them dance when I don't have to concentrate on
the music. They're truly lovely. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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