Anya’s Dream
Book Six of the Texoma Series
[August 2006]
Bo Bailey has fought the idea of a choreographer for years. What is Bone Cold–Alive: a cutesy boy band? But manager Levi Fletcher is too embroiled in his own domestic problems to pay any attention. Their ratings are slipping, the last video tanked, and someone has to pull them out of their own fire. Bo can shut up and listen–or be part of Fletch’s next venture as an ageing rock star bachelor on a cable reality show! Anya Smith doesn’t give up easily. If she wasn’t physically cut out for the ballet, then she’ll be a choreographer. If rock band Bone Cold–Alive doesn’t want her around, well, she’ll just prove her worth by showing them how much better they can be. And the tall harmonica player with the bass voice and the Southern drawl is her first target.
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Excerpt
The smell hit her as she opened the door. Thank you, thank you! She bee-lined for the pot, only to be stopped a foot from it by SC’s voice.
“Get a cup, unplug it, set the whole contraption outside.” The graphic designer was sitting in her usual spot, front and center in the control booth. She wore headphones, and her fingers were playing the soundboard like a piano. She hadn’t looked at Anya and her voice was barely over a whisper.
How strange was this? “Okay.”
SC didn’t miss a beat. “Then get over here and sit down. And scrunch down. As little movement as possible, although I don’t think it’ll make a difference at this point.”
What point? SC made about as much sense as… well, she didn’t make any sense. Anya poured her coffee and evicted the coffee machine as instructed. Grabbing two doughnuts from the box and several napkins, she ducked her head as she joined SC.
“Why are we the only two here?” Generally, there was a contingent of sound people, SC’s crew.
“Because that’s the way the band wants it. Just me. But I think it’s important you know what everyone else does. Now hush and listen.” She handed Anya a set of headphones and she slipped them on, then was motioned to put her coffee cup on the side away from SC.
Good Lord! Her mind came to a standstill in the wake of what she heard through the headset. Male voices harmonizing a cappella. The tones were rich and bold, vibrating and soaring. She closed her eyes and forgot about the doughnuts and the coffee. They sang a spiritual, a hymn she learned as a child. But she’d never heard it like this.
Gradually, she opened her eyes and, holding her breath, leaned to look into the studio proper. Bone Cold–Alive sat on five stools, circled tightly, knee-to-knee. Dressed in jeans and tee shirts, they were all barefooted, headsets on and a single microphone hanging into the middle. The spiritual ended and immediately another began. C sang the first notes, and they joined him.
“Unbelievable,” she whispered to SC.
“They’ve been doing it since five this morning. Or at least, that’s when Bo showed up, according to Stan on the lobby desk. Like lemmings to the sea, they heard some instinctive call and they came in. Stan called me at six since he knew what was about to happen.” She continued to peer into the studio. “I’ve seen it several times. Always, it’s poetry.”
Poetry. The word swirled around in Anya’s head. That would be an apt description of the close harmony they sang. She could distinguish Bo’s bass, Ron’s tenor, but in the middle, the voices melded, merged. It took her breath away. “Have they never thought about releasing this?”
SC snickered lightly. “And give the Mormon Tabernacle Choir a run for their money? Oh, please. They’d die if it got out they centered themselves this way. Bone Cold–Alive singing hymns and spirituals?”
“But you record it. They let you do that.”
“Then they listen and correct. And destroy the evidence.”
“They what?”
“Gone. Pfft!” She waved her hand in a dismissive gesture.
Oh, that was so wrong. On so many levels. Surely… “SC, tell me you make a copy,” Anya whispered. Why was she still whispering? They couldn’t hear her.
But SC whispered back. “Ask me no questions, I’ll tell you no lies.”
So, in all probability, somewhere in the bowels of BCA were the copies. Anya was delighted to hear it, even if it meant SC’s job should anyone find out. She leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes to listen. Ian had made the next selection and they were singing in Latin! Good Lord!
“How long will they go on?” she asked
“Varies. Probably until noon.” SC turned to look at Anya. “You needed to hear this and see it. This is how they know. This is how we all know. The fun and games are over. They’re serious about the tour now. It doesn’t matter if they’ve been polite or not to you. Now they’re in business mode. Now you’ll find out what they really think.”
Anya reached for a doughnut and ate it without tasting. Knowing what they really thought: was that a good thing or a bad?