Read Online Her Wild Oats by Kathi Kamen Goldmark - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Kathi Kamen Goldmark
Tags: Literary Fiction
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story?”
“Um, yeah. Yeah, but I gotta go.”
“OK, sweetheart, break a leg. Call me tonight before bed.”
“I will. Listen, I have to play soon, and I have to get my dinner. Bye.” He clicked the phone shut and turned it off, then went to find some garlic bread, or garlic ice cream or something. If there’s one thing you can count on at the Gilroy Garlic Festival, it’s garlic.
He wandered over toward the backstage tent a few minutes later, with a huge plate of garlic fries and a cherry Coke. The guys in the band seemed to be having a tense discussion, with Pete Rawley trying to keep things polite. Oats was too far away to hear what they were saying, but the body language sure was interesting.
Dickie Jaspers looked pretty pissed off. Bobby Lee said something. Dickie scowled and stalked out of the tent, with Pete close behind.
Bobby Lee followed them both a few seconds later. Meanwhile, Willie, Rascal, Billy, and Jeremy sat still on their folding chairs, whispering to each other. Oats wondered if the fight had been about Dickie being pissed off that Bobby Lee invited a kid on the tour, but he didn’t know how to ask as he approached and made his presence known.
“Hey, guys, anyone want some garlic fries?” He held out his plate of greasy food for sharing.
“Mmmm, looks good but I’m watching my cholesterol,” Willie the drummer answered.
“No thanks, I’m a vegan,” Jeremy the pedal-steel guy said politely.
“I’ll try one.” Rascal the bass player took one fry out of the soggy pile and chewed it slowly. “Garlicky.” He smiled.
“Never have been much a one for garlic,” said Billy, shrugging and holding up his hand like a cop stopping traffic. “They sure look good, though.”
In the kids’ backstage area, those fries would have been gone in two seconds.
So Oats sat in the corner eating all the fries by himself, sipping on his Coke and waiting for the show to start. After a while Bobby Lee came into the tent and sat down too. He explained that they were going to be the first band, for a half-hour set. He said not to take it personally if it seemed as though people didn’t care so much; that they still had to do their best. Of course he would do his best, Oats thought, feeling a little hurt. He was a professional.
Finally it was five minutes before downbeat, and no one had seen any sign of Dickie Jaspers. Just when it looked liked he wasn’t going to show, he came loping up, smiling as though nothing had happened. Bobby Lee shot him a weird look; Dickie shrugged and picked up his guitar. Bobby Lee waited until the band was onstage and the announcer had said his name and then he bounced out wearing a spangled jacket and a brand-new cowboy hat and a big friendly smile. He launched the band into the first song, counting it off a little too slow this time.
The audience reaction was hard to gauge. It seemed like the people who really listened—the ones who weren’t just there early to get their seats or meet friends or whatever—liked them. The others pretty much ignored the set as they popped their beer cans and opened their picnic baskets and called out to friends they were meeting up with. Oats had always been headliner on the Lollipopalooza tours, so this was another thing he’d have to get used to. They sure were adding up.
*
Bobby Lee had designed the set so that each sideman would get a featured solo, and Oats’ star turn was on the single, “Not if I See You First,” a fantasy revenge song evoking early Sun Records Johnny Cash. You could tell that Bobby Lee really loved singing it, especially when Rascal kicked off the tune with his percolating boom-bum-bum-bum-boom bass line, and the audience perked up for the first time that night.
So you found yourself a man who fulfills your plan
To make a damn fool outta me
He can take you to the moon in a hot-air balloon
He can even make a deaf man see
Well, I’ll tell you this—you better pray his fist
Is strong enough to
“Um, yeah. Yeah, but I gotta go.”
“OK, sweetheart, break a leg. Call me tonight before bed.”
“I will. Listen, I have to play soon, and I have to get my dinner. Bye.” He clicked the phone shut and turned it off, then went to find some garlic bread, or garlic ice cream or something. If there’s one thing you can count on at the Gilroy Garlic Festival, it’s garlic.
He wandered over toward the backstage tent a few minutes later, with a huge plate of garlic fries and a cherry Coke. The guys in the band seemed to be having a tense discussion, with Pete Rawley trying to keep things polite. Oats was too far away to hear what they were saying, but the body language sure was interesting.
Dickie Jaspers looked pretty pissed off. Bobby Lee said something. Dickie scowled and stalked out of the tent, with Pete close behind.
Bobby Lee followed them both a few seconds later. Meanwhile, Willie, Rascal, Billy, and Jeremy sat still on their folding chairs, whispering to each other. Oats wondered if the fight had been about Dickie being pissed off that Bobby Lee invited a kid on the tour, but he didn’t know how to ask as he approached and made his presence known.
“Hey, guys, anyone want some garlic fries?” He held out his plate of greasy food for sharing.
“Mmmm, looks good but I’m watching my cholesterol,” Willie the drummer answered.
“No thanks, I’m a vegan,” Jeremy the pedal-steel guy said politely.
“I’ll try one.” Rascal the bass player took one fry out of the soggy pile and chewed it slowly. “Garlicky.” He smiled.
“Never have been much a one for garlic,” said Billy, shrugging and holding up his hand like a cop stopping traffic. “They sure look good, though.”
In the kids’ backstage area, those fries would have been gone in two seconds.
So Oats sat in the corner eating all the fries by himself, sipping on his Coke and waiting for the show to start. After a while Bobby Lee came into the tent and sat down too. He explained that they were going to be the first band, for a half-hour set. He said not to take it personally if it seemed as though people didn’t care so much; that they still had to do their best. Of course he would do his best, Oats thought, feeling a little hurt. He was a professional.
Finally it was five minutes before downbeat, and no one had seen any sign of Dickie Jaspers. Just when it looked liked he wasn’t going to show, he came loping up, smiling as though nothing had happened. Bobby Lee shot him a weird look; Dickie shrugged and picked up his guitar. Bobby Lee waited until the band was onstage and the announcer had said his name and then he bounced out wearing a spangled jacket and a brand-new cowboy hat and a big friendly smile. He launched the band into the first song, counting it off a little too slow this time.
The audience reaction was hard to gauge. It seemed like the people who really listened—the ones who weren’t just there early to get their seats or meet friends or whatever—liked them. The others pretty much ignored the set as they popped their beer cans and opened their picnic baskets and called out to friends they were meeting up with. Oats had always been headliner on the Lollipopalooza tours, so this was another thing he’d have to get used to. They sure were adding up.
*
Bobby Lee had designed the set so that each sideman would get a featured solo, and Oats’ star turn was on the single, “Not if I See You First,” a fantasy revenge song evoking early Sun Records Johnny Cash. You could tell that Bobby Lee really loved singing it, especially when Rascal kicked off the tune with his percolating boom-bum-bum-bum-boom bass line, and the audience perked up for the first time that night.
So you found yourself a man who fulfills your plan
To make a damn fool outta me
He can take you to the moon in a hot-air balloon
He can even make a deaf man see
Well, I’ll tell you this—you better pray his fist
Is strong enough to
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