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Matchbox Two Adam started his baby-doll head kissing ritual early tonight. During the Jay Hawk's opening song, he planted a kiss on the Toy Story baby's forehead and proceeded down the line. He whispered something to the original baby head, spoke to him for a while. So long that it was starting to scare me. But, as I watched Adam close his eyes, I understood why the ritual was especially important tonight. He was afraid. I could hear Kyle strumming his acoustic guitar behind me. His beat was off. Way off. I don't think I'd ever heard Kyle hit a wrong note before. Paul paced a patch of floor that stretched before the chair where I sat. He dug his fingernails at the inside lining of his jacket, and black enamel flaked off his nails. When Frank approached him, Paul stopped picking at his jacket hem to face him. Frank whispered something. The message was only intended for Paul, but I heard it. "No sign of Rob". I needed a cigarette. Fear was welling up within me, and a smoke seemed to always make things a little better. I pulled out my Marlboros. Paul plopped into the seat beside me and sighed. Turning to me, he asked, "Can I bum a smoke?" I nodded. Pulling out a cigarette, I offered the carton to Paul. He took it in his right hand. We fumbled for a light. Paul was the first to find his lighter. But as he flicked at the flint, the lighter wouldn't light. He cursed under his breath. By then, I had found my lighter. I lit his cigarette, then mine, then returned the lighter to my pocket. Staring at Adam, Paul inhaled the first puff of his cigarette. "Brian, what are we going to do?" "Only one thing we really can do," I replied, as I exhaled my first puff. "Cancel the concert." I made it sound so easy. But even as the Jay Hawks played, I heard some fans demanding Matchbox Twenty. How could we go out there and tell them that we weren't going to play for them? But how could we play without Rob? "I know," Paul breathed. "Let me handle that, okay?" I nodded. "Would you still be up for signing autographs?" "Yeah," I replied. I've signed my name so many times now that it's reflex. All fans have to do is slide something under my hand, and they'd have an autographed… whatever. Not just posters, T-shirts, and CD booklets. I've signed arms, backpacks, sneakers, whatever. Groaning, Paul got to his feet and walked away. I could hear him and Kyle whispering behind me; I just kept my eyes on Adam. He was still talking to that baby head. His forehead was pressed into the doll's, and his eyes were shut. I thought I saw tears in his eyes, but it could have been the reflection of the trillion lights overhead. I adjusted my glasses, hoping I could focus better. No. Paul strode into view. When he put his hand on Adam's shoulder, Adam jumped. Paul was taking longer drags on his cigarette, nearly sucking the life out of it, as he whispered to Adam. Adam's face fell. His replies to Paul seemed directed to his baby-doll heads. Then Paul wandered off. I didn't realise it until I reached for another cigarette, but Paul still had my pack of smokes. Oh well. I bummed one off Kyle, though they weren't my brand. The Jay Hawks continued to play, unaware that one of their biggest fans was missing. And, though things were going the way they were, I had to admit that Jay Hawks were playing at their all-time best tonight. I sighed, thinking how Rob was missing it. Kyle took up Paul's pacing. I watched him go through at least three cigarettes. And when I glanced over at Adam, I found him lying on his back on the floor. I kept half-expecting Rob to come whisking in any moment, with some story about traffic or losing track of the time. I waited. But the next band member to walk into view was Paul. I realised the Jay Hawks finished their finale. And that Rob wasn't coming. I saw the curtains part several feet away from me. The Jay Hawks exited the stage. Behind them came a rush of cheering. Marc Perlman, Jay Hawks' bass player, smiled as he passed me. "All warmed up!" he commented, motioning his thumb toward the stage. "We're not performing tonight." "What?" Marc slid into the seat beside me. "What's going on?" Before I could say anything, Paul rushed past us. We stared after him, as he stepped through the curtains, onto the stage, alone. "What's he doing?" I heard Marc mumble under his breath. Wondering the same thing, I kept my mouth shut and listened for Paul to explain. The audience exploded into cheers, then died down. Paul must have been motioning to silence them. "Hey, everyone," his voice resonated through the coliseum. He sounded so strange, so small. He never uses a microphone, except when we accept awards, or during interviews. But those times, Paul has the rest of the band to back him up. Now he was alone. "Uh, I should tell you all that we're not performing tonight." Whispers arose from the crowds, along with some booing and shouting. "Listen," Paul's voice wavered as he continued. "You'll get your money back, or a voucher to another concert. And, um…" He gulped. The audience was drowning out Paul's voice. "And… can you all please quiet a minute?" The crowds hushed. "And you're all welcome to, um, hang around and we'll do autographs. Well, me, Kyle, Adam, and Brian will anyway…" Again, the audience became loud. At least five hundred people were saying Rob's name. "Yeah," Paul's voice immediately hushed the crowds this time. "Rob's not here. He's, um, taken ill. Nothing serious. So don't worry about him." Paul's voice trembled, and I could tell from it that he was wracked with fear. And here he was, telling everyone else not to worry. Just made me more afraid. Glancing over at Adam, I saw that he was now sitting. He was talking to Jay Hawks' Jen Gunderman, who was crouched beside him. Shocks of her fiery hair covered her face and swayed as she spoke. She tucked them behind her ear. Her eyebrows were raised as Adam mumbled something to her. She drew her hands to her face, and I could hear her exclaim, "That's terrible!" Adam nodded and continued. Paul stepped through the curtains. I could smell cigarette smoke on him, even from several feet away. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out my carton of smokes and pulled out the last one. And I'd had half a pack! He got a light off Kyle's cigarette, then walked away. I could still smell him. Jen got to her feet. Squeezing Adam's shoulder, she said something with a grimace. She released his shoulder and wandered off. "So what's he got?" I jumped; I had completely forgotten that Marc was still sitting next to me. "Is it something like a cold or laryngitis?" I wish Paul had told me the cover story before he told the audience. Were we supposed to tell everyone that Rob was sick? I know that's what we were telling the audience, but shouldn't we tell the Jay Hawks the truth? Or were we just going to pull this again tomorrow night in Atlanta… Atlanta! That's right! We had a concert tomorrow night! If we didn't find Rob tonight, what were we going to do? Marc was just staring at me, his eyebrows raised. I realised I hadn't answered his question. "Yeah," I replied without further hesitation. "Something like that." But, as I said these words, I wondered what Adam had told Jen. The Jay Hawks were going to hate us for this. "Oh," Marc said, leaning back. He pushed on his knees and rose from his chair. "Well, tell him we missed him. And that we hope he's feeling better." Wish I could. |