Sedona Law 6 by Dave Daren (ebook pdf reader for pc .TXT) 📕

rock band that was trying to be Death Cab for Cutie. They actually had some good songs, and if I hadn’t been so drenched in sweat, I could have enjoyed it more.

The emcee came back up and he smiled. “‘So our next band is a local favorite, known for the use of this contraption here.”

The emcee gestured toward a new addition to the stage and held up a black Sedona Nightlife t-shirt.

“Free t-shirt to the first person that knows what this instrument is called,” he announced. “Anyone?”

I knew what it was, but from my spot pinned against the side, I didn’t want to try. Loud intelligible muttering followed, and the emcee was dying up there trying to get an answer.

“Anyone?” he tried again. “Free t-shirt. All you got to do is name this instrument.”

What the hell, I thought.

“Dulcimer,” I yelled out.

I was apparently loud enough, because everyone turned to look at me.

“Dulcimer,” the emcee repeated and tossed me the shirt. “To the gentleman over there, looking all dignified like he walked out of a GQ magazine.”

Titters of laughter followed his comment.

“That guy looks like he could be like a lawyer or something,” the emcee shook his head. “Taking his girlfriend out on the town.”

I raised an eyebrow and a titter of laughter washed through the crowd.

“Oh he is?” the emcee blushed as he touched his earpiece. He turned to my direction. “You’re really a lawyer?”

I nodded and the crowd laughed.

“Wow,” the emcee laughed. “I did not know that. Please don’t sue me.”

I just laughed, and the emceee listened to a couple of comments on the front row.

“Iakova? Really? He’s friends with Marvin Iakova?” the emcee summed up.

Friends was a strong word for what we were, but the camera was on me, so I just nodded.

“Geez,” the emcee looked at me wide eyed. “Dude, you can have all the free t-shirts you want. All the free food. All the free drinks. Consider your...butt...kissed.”

The crowd roared in laughter, and I just dismissively waved my palm. The camera moved off me, and the emcee finished laughing and continued his comments.

“So our next act,” he said. “Proficient in the use of the dulcimer, ladies and gentleman, please welcome the James Matthews Band.”

The crowd roared with delight and James Matthews took the stage. Really? The James Matthews Band? If your name last name is Matthews, and you have a band, don’t use the word ‘band’ in your name.

James Matthews took the front microphone and his entourage took places at the various stage instruments.

James nodded to the crowd. He was a lanky hipster in his early thirties with blue corduroy pants, a maroon pullover sweater layered over light blue collared shirt. He had black rimmed eyeglasses and wide blue eyes, and his sandy blond hair was neatly trimmed and combed over.

“Thank you,” he spoke into the microphone. “It’s always great to be on Sedona Nightlife. We always enjoy being here.”

“Take it off, James,” I heard a female voice yell from the darkness. This was followed by several more lewd comments. James hesitated slightly, and I saw a producer motion from the back of the room to keep going. I took it the comments didn’t get picked up by the cameras.

“We consider you guys family,” James continued.

I wanted to throw up. The bullshit was starting to smell worse than the sweat in the room.

“And as family,” James said. “We have a little bit of housekeeping announcements we’d like to share with you.”

I sighed and checked my phone. I hadn’t seen my dad here yet.

“We want you guys to be the first to know about a move we are about to make,” he said.

A dramatic silence followed his pause.

“The James Matthew Band,” he announced, “has just been offered a six month residency in Las Vegas.”

The crowd went wild with the news.

“And we want to thank the Sedona Nighlife team, and our family of supporters here for being part of this journey with us,” James went on. “It’s been a wild ride, and you guys were there every step of the way. We couldn’t have done this without you. Truly.”

Oh God. This was brutal.

“We’re going to open our set tonight, with our new single, it’s called Hudson. I wrote this about a girl, a great friend of mine, and some of you might relate to this, it’s like everyone’s told her who she is, and what she should be, and how she should believe and perceive and experience life. And they’ve told her so much, that she can’t find herself. I hope you enjoy.”

The dulcimer player plucked out on intro, and then James sang a couple of verses. The dulcimer launched into another solo, and James nodded to the music, while he grabbed a water bottle off a stool and took a long swig.

Then James pulled out a saxophone, and holy shit. The man went to town on that thing. I could see why Vegas was calling. He just went on and on. Then, his solo reached its climax, and every camera was trained on him. The audience was in shock, listening to the dizzying notes swirl round and round.

Then James stopped, and somewhere in that split right before the applause, he stared into the audience with a horrified expression.

Then, suddenly, his knees buckled from under him, and he hit the floor with a loud thud.

The music immediately stopped as the band members rushed to James’ aid. From all over the room, producers and Starbright crew emerged and joined the crowd on stage.

“I’m a doctor,” a man yelled as the crowd parted ways for him. The doctor joined the scene on stage, and an official looking type with an earpiece paced the stage with a cell phone glued to his other ear.

Anxious chatter filled