I looked up and my heart skipped a beat. It was Keith’s father. He had the same raven colored hair, but with flicks of silver and though the room was dim, I could tell he had the same blue eyes.
“It’s Brigitte, isn’t it? You don’t know me but . . . ”
“I know who you are,” I interrupted. “You’re Keith’s father. I saw you talking to Ryan. If Keith sees you it’ll be disastrous.”
“I saw the concert announced in the local paper and hoped to watch him play.”
“You know, he went bonkers when he learned he had to play here and he stayed holed up in our hotel just to avoid you.”
He looked so crestfallen I was sorry for him. “I wanted to see him play and when Louisa mentioned he’d married, I wanted to meet you. Louisa speaks highly of you.”
I felt more sorry for him. “If it was up to me, things wouldn’t be like this, but whenever I bring up the subject of you or his mother, he goes mental. If Keith sees you, he won’t perform. If you watch, stay well hidden.”
I turned to wait on some customers so couldn’t leave my post to tell Ryan. The support band was due on stage in a few minutes so my customers tapered off.
Ryan came by. “I’ve been all over and he hasn’t shown. Keith’s oblivious.”
“He was here,” I said. “I couldn’t find you. Somehow he knew who I was.”
“Fuck!” was all Ryan said.
“I think he’s gone. Just go backstage. I’ll stay here ‘til the Piss Ants start.”
Ryan left and I returned to my postcards.
When the Piss Ants were ready to go on, Ryan took me back. I grabbed Keith for a customary quick kiss. “Good luck tonight.”
The band tore into the usual starters and the audience in no time in the floor heaved and flowed with the rhythm of the dancing, and almost felt like it might cave through. It also was sticky as if hundreds of gallons of beer spilled over several decades had never been mopped. The audience was a healthy mixture of Goths, punks, and just ordinary people. “This one goes out to the love of my life,” Keith said before shredding the opening chords of Punk Rock Girlfriend.
After and hour and a half, the band played their last song –-White Riot. “Goodnight, Grimsby. We’ve had a fucking great time. The lovely Brigitte is selling our tape and other fun stuff. We’ll be back to chat and sign autographs.”
I raced backstage and threw my arms around Keith. “Great show tonight!”
“Coming from you that means everything.” He kissed me back.
“Would you two save that for later. Brigitte needs to get back to selling –fast. We can’t lose customers because you two are snogging,” Ryan said.
I saluted him, retrieved my postcards and hurried out. There were already several people hovering around the table. When the band staggered out, an immediate surge of fans vied to be first in the queue. I barely had time to breathe between taking money, making change and handing out merchandise. The club was boiling hot, but I didn’t even have the chance to wipe my brow.
When the club finally emptied, I tallied up the night’s sales. Keith grabbed me from behind. “You can do that later.” He pulled me into his lap and we began snogging. Ryan came over with bottles of Guinness and a Perrier for me. “Everyone earned an extra bottle tonight,” he exclaimed. “That was a bloody fantastic show and it looks like we sold a shit load. It’s Leeds tomorrow.”
Keith and I ignored him and continued as we were.
“Hey, the show’s over. You can’t come in here,” I overheard someone yelling.
“Hello, Son.”
[To be continued… Click here to view all chapters.]
