=PROLOGUE=

“Okay, listen up, folks. We only have a few hours until the doors open, so let’s make it snappy and get these lights rigged up. Miranda, did you call the shippers about an excuse for the late delivery of these bloody lights? They’re going to make a fool out of me one of these days. I’m telling you, Human Nature will slap a lawsuit on me if they go onstage and nobody can bloody see what they’re going because there are no LIGHTS!!” Joe bellowed to the lighting directors, assistants and extra stagehands crowded around him centre-stage. All the house lights were turned on so that they could see where they were going onstage. They were all a little edgy after the near-mishap with the lighting. Joe lit a cigarette and inhaled it deeply.
“Well, we haven’t got long. Quit farting around and get to work.” He folded his arms across his chest and turned to the left-hand side of the stage as four young men walked out of the shadows onto the stage, talking and laughing. When they saw the scene, they paused in their steps.
“What’s this? Are we doing the show with the audience waving candles in the air?” Andrew Tierney chuckled. Joe strode over to them.
“We’re having a bit of trouble with the lights. The shippers will get here late. We might have to open the doors an hour or two later than scheduled.”
“So what are we supposed to do until then?” Michael Tierney, Andrew’s brother, asked.
“Practice your routine. Scratch your bum. How should I know? I already have enough to take care of right now.” He stubbed out his cigarette on the stage floor. Toby Allen wrinkled his nose in disgust. Joe began to massage his temples, squeezing his eyes shut.
“You have to learn to RELAX a little, Joe,” Phil Burton spoke up, putting an arm around the strung-out tour manager and leading him offstage. The rest of the band walked beside them. “It’s not the end of the world. If worse comes to worst, we’ll figure out what to do. Don’t be so pessimistic.”
“What I’m most concerned about is whether those lights are going to stay up there or not,” Joe said. “They don’t look very stable.”
“Then we’ll stabilize them in time for the show. Don’t worry, Joe.”
Joe sighed and lit another cigarette. “I can’t help but worry. I have a bad feeling about tonight. A very bad feeling.”
“Crikey, how comforting,” Toby mumbled to himself and followed the others offstage.

“Ladies and gentleman, would you please take your seats? The concert will commence in five minutes. I repeat, the concert will commence in five minutes.”
The female majority of the audience grew more hysterical by the minute and hurried to get a good spot in the crowd at the front of the stage. Guards attempted to keep them in order but with no success.
In the dressing rooms, the band hurried to finish getting ready as they were told how much longer they had until showtime. Toby slipped his eyebrow ring in, took a sip of mineral water and leaned against the dressing table, facing the rest of the band, who were tying their shoes.
“ Do any of you know how big the crowd is?” he asked. Mike made an inaudible response as he leant over to take a piece of string from the bottom of his pants. “What?”
Mike sat upright and faced him. “Sorry. I said, I think it’s a full house.”
Andrew’s eyebrows shot to the roof. “You’re joking!”
“That’s what Joe told us,” Phil said. “How about that? This is the third night in a row where we’ve had a full house.”
“What’s gotten into Joe? Usually he’s so calm and so sure of himself. But today he was unsure, and he chain-smoked, which he normally doesn’t do. I think he was going a bit pale, too. He didn’t look too good.”
“Maybe he’s just sick. Who knows?” Andrew replied. “He’s sure freaked me out, though, with his ‘ohh, I have a bad feeling about this’ remarks. Just what we needed, eh? A woosy tour manager.”
“I don’t know what to make of it. Maybe he knows something that we don’t.” Toby took another sip of water. “I wouldn’t let it freak you out, though, Andrew. I don’t know about you guys, but I’m hyped.”
“Me too!” Phil smiled.
“Me three!” Mike giggled. At that moment there was a knock on the door. Joe entered the room, smoking yet another cigarette.
“Showtime, fellas. Let’s go,” he said.
The band rose to their feet and started marching out the door. On his way out, Andrew took the cigarette from Joe’s hand and tossed it across the hall. “Joe, you’re smoking again.”
“Yes. Yes, I know.”
“You don’t usually smoke.”
“Andrew, I’ve got a whole treasure trove of vices. I’m trying to settle my nerves.”
“That’s what I don’t get – why are you so nervous all of a sudden?” Mike asked, turning around and walking backwards. “We think this show’s going to be one of our best!”
Joe shrugged. “I don’t know, guys. But something’s just not quite right here. Just promise me you’ll be careful out there, okay?” He went to pull another cigarette from his pocket, but Andrew quickly snatched them and dropped them into a garbage bin on their way towards the stage. Joe glared at him and walked ahead with his arms folded. Andrew looked at Phil, who rolled his eyes and shrugged as if to say, ‘Don’t ask me.’
The house lights were turned off around the auditorium and the audience began to scream and cheer deafeningly. The band did a round of hugging and pats on the backs, then the music began pounding from the speakers and they ran out onstage one by one. The volume of the audience grew louder, nearly overtaking the music. The guys waved to the audience and began singing.
Three songs into the set, it was in the middle of Cruel that things started going wrong. During the chorus, every single light went out in the auditorium. The band stopped singing for a moment, then the lights came back on. They looked at each-other, shrugged and continued singing.
Then it happened.
There was a loud groan from above, then a row of lights dropped from the roof as though they were in slow motion. The band grabbed whoever they could around them and jumped back for dear life, narrowly missing the lights. The lights crashed to the floor loudly. There was silence, and then screams of terror. The auditorium lights came on and everyone began rushing towards the doors. Assistants ran onto the stage and gently helped the band onto their feet.
“I knew it! I damn well knew that something would go wrong!” Joe was shouting. A female assistant led the band over to the back of the stage and handed them bottles of water.
“Are you okay?” she asked. The guys nodded, each of them in a state of shock and disbelief. For a minute everyone but the band was running around trying to keep things in an orderly manner. Suddenly Andrew turned to the others and his eyes widened. He looked around quickly, then ran over and began to push his way through the crowd. Assistants tried to hold him back, but he continued pushing and struggling. Toby and Phil could just barely hear what Andrew was trying to say over all the commotion.
“WHERE’S MIKE?!” he was screaming. “WHERE THE HELL IS MICHAEL?!”...

=TO BE CONTINUED=

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