Originally posted January 14, 2011
"Yes Nikki. We got the passes and the tickets. Thank you. You really shouldn't have. Yeah, we'll be there. How could we avoid it? You're sending a car."
"Really, Nicole. All of this is unnecessary. I wouldn't have missed a show." Chance chuckled and turned his head to look back into his penthouse apartment to watch his daughter. "Oh yeah. She's really excited. Des' been blasting your latest all afternoon and I think she's dancing. I'm not sure. These young people today."
"I will remember to bring my cane and take a nap, yes ma'am. I can't say I look forward to explaining what 'Light Work' refers to.... I am not old fashioned. Traditional. OK. I'll give you traditional. And yes. You're right. You could be in Pearl Jam."
"I know. I've missed you to, Nicole. I can't wait to see you. Break a leg. We'll catch you after the show." Chance ended the call, smiling. For a few moments, he stayed outside watching his daughter hop and prance through the great room, the all access pass hanging from a lanyard around her neck.
He considered himself lucky. A few years ago he had taken her to first concert, some boy band with the lifespan of a mayfly. Light Work had produced three discs in the last ten years and won two Grammies. "Too Many Chefs" had topped the alternative charts for the last thirteen weeks and the band played to sold out arenas wherever they traveled. Not bad for a rock quartet that started out of Detroit. Not bad for a singer/guitarist that Chance used to play with as a house band for a small, hole in the wall club.
Chance grinned. It had been too long since he went to see a live show. He only hoped his daughter didn't pay too close attention to the lyrics.
--
And then came the second encore.
Nicole stood up to the microphone, smiling, hot, exhausted, and drained from the show. They didn't usually come back on stage twice. "Thank you. Thank you. We're all very happy you've joined us tonight. Did you have a good time?"
She waited for the roar to subside.
"We have one more for you tonight. It's not one of ours, but I hope you will indulge. It's for a very, very special friend." She cast a glance in Chance's direction, unsure for a moment. Nikki snapped her fingers, placed her lips against the microphone, and began to howl.
This is an obsession, a kind of aggression with himself
It's the way he'll always be
He loves to rebel to go against his ten commandments
For him, that's just being free.
And he always will, get his thrills, the only way he knows how
Well it might make you frown
But he does the love, being that dove, roaming where he cares to go
To a state of mind that no-one knows
And he's shaking his head, in disgrace with me
Yeah over there stands my angry angel
And he's frowning like hell, but I'm not feeling guilty
Over and over again, more and more for the pain
To release himself, from this shell
Time after time, you may glare at
Him for the way he looks like something drawn up from hell
But that's just his cover
From what is under it
All his imagination, his
Passion for a creation
Which he has discovered,
Uncovered a world, of
Amazing sensations
His own little nation
Over there stands my angry angel
And hes shaking his head, in disgrace with me
Over there stands my angry angel
And he's frowning like hell, but I'm not feeling guilty
Over there stands my angry angel
And he's shaking his head, in disgrace with me
Over there stands my angry angel
And he's frowning like hell, but I'm not feeling guilty
Over there stands my angry angel
And he's shaking his head, in disgrace with me
Over there stands my angry angel
And he's frowning like hell, but I'm not feeling guilty
I'm not feeling guilty (x3)
Cuz I don't care.
I'm not feeling guilty (x3)
Cuz I don't care.
--
"She sang a song to you!" Des said, laughing as she turned down the concrete hallway of the arena. "Nicole Bruder sang a song to yada yoooooouuuuuuu." her voice echoed in the space, drawing amused smiles from a few of the other concert goers. The red headed teenager practically skipped as the two of them made their way backstage. She cradled her prized Stratocaster in her arms, hugging it as if it would slip away at the first opportunity. Chance just smiled at his daughter, unwilling to interrupt the free spirit.
"Des," he said as he stepped to the side of the hall. "Come here for a sec." She gave a little twirl, her all access pass swirling around her neck, and stepped over to him, smiling. "Des, do you know the phrase many hands make light work?"
The teen puffed her air out of her eyes as she answered. "Sure, Va."
"Do you know about polyamory?"
Des squinted her nose as if she smelled something unpleasant. "Yeah. It's wrong,"
"Huh?"
"Yeah, Va. You shouldn't mix Latin and Greek roots. As a word, it's wrong." The teen pressed on before her father could recover from his chuckle. "Look, Va. I know you and Nicole go way back, but.... Try not to be weird about her multiple husbands thing, or the wife."
"You knew about that?"
Des lifted her eyes to the ceiling and gave her hair a flip. "Yeah, Va. It was in Time. Now try not to embarrass me. OK?" She danced off again, showing her badge to anyone that would look. "All Access," she told them. "I have all access."
Chance stood in the hallway a moment longer, gaping, not unlike a fish, before shaking his head, laughing, and trailing behind.
--
"Admit it," the dreadlocked woman chided Chance, poking him with a finger in the chest. "You laughed."
The blonde man shook his head. "I was hurt," he replied. "What you thought was a smile was a grimace of pain." She placed two fingertips lightly against his cheek. "Is it hard to be so angry, all the time?" she asked, playfully.
"I've had years to practice." They shared laughter. The natural sound of it in his ears surprised Chance. He couldn't remember the last time he had the opportunity to talk with a friend; a chance to let his guard down with someone who had accepted him, unconditionally.
The lead singer of "Many Hands" turned her head to glance around the room. She noticed Des, sitting between two of her husbands, strumming the guitar they had given her on stage. Nicole gave her attention back to Chance. "She looks like her mother."
Her companion nodded his head. "More every day. It could be worse." Chance twisted his lips into a lopsided grin. "She could look like me." Nicole chuckled in spite of herself, looking over his face, the neatly cut beard, unkempt blonde hair, with that hint of gray. "That wouldn't be so bad," she assured him.
The two of them watched the teenager a few moments longer. Des noticed their glance and offered a weak wave. "She's so smart, Nicole. Straight A's in the high honors track. A soloist in choir." He reddened slightly. "Cheerleading captain. She is in a whole other league."
"And you?" Nicole lifted her eyes to meet his.
He tilted his head. "I'm OK." She lifted an eyebrow. "No, really," He reassured her. "The foundation is rehabbing another building. Paz wants me to look into opening a place in Gotham. I'm staying busy."
The dreadlocked musician took a sip from her beer. "And social? Have you been social?"
"I'm being social now."
Nicole chuckled. "Before today, when was the last time you went on a date?" Chance took a drink. "The last time you went out with friends?" Her eyes widened. "Picked up a guitar?"
"It's been a while," Chance confessed. She lifted her fingers to touch his cheek, again. Her smile faded as she examined his face, her fingertips tracing the lines of age and loss. "Paz called me," she said after a few minutes. The blonde man nodded. "We've talked about it," he replied.
Nicole's head turned briefly towards Des, laughing on the couch. "She's going to learn from you what's important in life. She's already watching how you interact with others, how you spend your time." The singer stopped, unsure how to continue. Her eyes never left his face. "You need to live, Chance. Your life feels out of balance and it's hurting your soul."
Her friend of twenty years nodded again, more slowly. Nicole pressed. "Make me a deal," she asked. "I'm not saying go out on a date, but find one thing, one thing you can do socially. Find someone, a group even that shares your interests, and share some of your time with them…"
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