Read Online God In The Kitchen by Brooke Williams - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Brooke Williams
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on the radio than they did off. Ricky always sounded the same. When he talked about his weekend or a movie he had just watched, all you had to do was close your eyes and it was like you were listening to him on the radio.
It was sort of a strange phenomenon and he was often the butt of friendly jokes because of it. “Ricky Radio,” we would call him.
“Sure thing,” I said.
We began carting things into the stadium. We didn’t need all that much. Just the promotions box and a few banners, but it still took us each two trips.
Once we had everything inside, we were led to a long table near the entrance. We would set all of our things up there and hang out with listeners as they came in for the concert.
The concert was going to be a first for me in a number of ways. Not only was I going to have guests other than my parents, but I was going to be enjoying the music of this particular band myself in person for the first time.
The band was called simply “This” and I often wondered how they had chosen such an obscure name. I hoped I would get to ask them backstage before I introduced them to the crowd.
“This” had a reputation for crossing many different musical lines. They were a rock group, first and foremost, but they were also becoming very mainstream. They were even inspirational and some of their songs had been picked up by Christian radio stations.
I was excited about hearing them live because “This” had touched my own life. Their latest song, “Home to You” was more of a ballad and it was something I couldn’t seem to stop hearing when I was home tending to my father’s funeral details.
It was a tough song to hear because it brought up a lot of emotions, but at the same time, it was so hauntingly beautiful.
Ricky and I set up in record time and he managed to wrangle a chair from another table so he assumed his favorite position-leaned back, feet on the table, hands behind his head.
“What’s new man?” he asked. It was another one of his habits. Everyone was “man,” even women.
“Not much,” I shrugged. Not wanting to get into details about Abigail, Chloe, or anything else I had going on in my personal life. I knew it wouldn’t be a problem. Ricky was also the type of guy that could talk about nothing for hours on end without noticing that no one was listening.
When Ricky began to wonder out loud why the leaves on trees were only certain colors instead of involving all of the colors of the rainbow, I began to hope it was about time for the doors to open.
I got my wish and shortly after Ricky decided fall would be even better if there were purple and blue leaves on trees, the stadium security began unlocking all of the doors to let the crowds into the venue.
The seating was all assigned, but people were too excited about this concert to wait until the last minute. Plus, many of them would want to buy merchandise and browse some of the promotional tables that were set up.
The flow of listeners steadily streamed past as Ricky’s laugh rang through the hallway and I shook too many hands to count.
“You’re Jared Jones?!” they said in a surprised voice. “You look nothing like I thought you would.”
And so the night had officially started. It was something I was used to hearing, though I never got used to the descriptions they gave as to what they thought I would look like.
“I sure thought you’d be taller.”
“You should be more ethnic.”
“Did you ever have a mustache?”
I didn’t, but the woman thought I certainly should have had one because apparently I sounded like I had one. It was amusing, to say the least.
By the time Chloe walked in the door with Ian on her hip, the smile I had plastered on my face was beginning to hurt. When I saw her, however, my smile was genuine once again.
“Hey,” she
It was sort of a strange phenomenon and he was often the butt of friendly jokes because of it. “Ricky Radio,” we would call him.
“Sure thing,” I said.
We began carting things into the stadium. We didn’t need all that much. Just the promotions box and a few banners, but it still took us each two trips.
Once we had everything inside, we were led to a long table near the entrance. We would set all of our things up there and hang out with listeners as they came in for the concert.
The concert was going to be a first for me in a number of ways. Not only was I going to have guests other than my parents, but I was going to be enjoying the music of this particular band myself in person for the first time.
The band was called simply “This” and I often wondered how they had chosen such an obscure name. I hoped I would get to ask them backstage before I introduced them to the crowd.
“This” had a reputation for crossing many different musical lines. They were a rock group, first and foremost, but they were also becoming very mainstream. They were even inspirational and some of their songs had been picked up by Christian radio stations.
I was excited about hearing them live because “This” had touched my own life. Their latest song, “Home to You” was more of a ballad and it was something I couldn’t seem to stop hearing when I was home tending to my father’s funeral details.
It was a tough song to hear because it brought up a lot of emotions, but at the same time, it was so hauntingly beautiful.
Ricky and I set up in record time and he managed to wrangle a chair from another table so he assumed his favorite position-leaned back, feet on the table, hands behind his head.
“What’s new man?” he asked. It was another one of his habits. Everyone was “man,” even women.
“Not much,” I shrugged. Not wanting to get into details about Abigail, Chloe, or anything else I had going on in my personal life. I knew it wouldn’t be a problem. Ricky was also the type of guy that could talk about nothing for hours on end without noticing that no one was listening.
When Ricky began to wonder out loud why the leaves on trees were only certain colors instead of involving all of the colors of the rainbow, I began to hope it was about time for the doors to open.
I got my wish and shortly after Ricky decided fall would be even better if there were purple and blue leaves on trees, the stadium security began unlocking all of the doors to let the crowds into the venue.
The seating was all assigned, but people were too excited about this concert to wait until the last minute. Plus, many of them would want to buy merchandise and browse some of the promotional tables that were set up.
The flow of listeners steadily streamed past as Ricky’s laugh rang through the hallway and I shook too many hands to count.
“You’re Jared Jones?!” they said in a surprised voice. “You look nothing like I thought you would.”
And so the night had officially started. It was something I was used to hearing, though I never got used to the descriptions they gave as to what they thought I would look like.
“I sure thought you’d be taller.”
“You should be more ethnic.”
“Did you ever have a mustache?”
I didn’t, but the woman thought I certainly should have had one because apparently I sounded like I had one. It was amusing, to say the least.
By the time Chloe walked in the door with Ian on her hip, the smile I had plastered on my face was beginning to hurt. When I saw her, however, my smile was genuine once again.
“Hey,” she
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