The concert
When I got home, I found my dad in the library and told him about the tickets. "So can I go? The concert will be over by 10:30, and that's inside my curfew for weekends, but with the traffic, it might be a little longer."
He smiled at me. "Sounds like fun, honey. I'm glad you'll get to go. Some of the acoustical experts from Wayne worked on the ballroom, so the sound is state of the art. This concert's the grand opening of the ballroom, so it should be quite a show. It was nice of that gentleman to reward you for your work. He's not expecting something in return, is he? You stay with your friends at all times."
"No, Dad, he just seemed really nice," I assured him. "My manager asked the same thing when I asked her if it was ok to accept the tickets. We aren't tipped employees, so I didn't know if I really could, but she said it was fine."
"Well, go and have fun, then. It's nice that your new friends are getting to go too, at least some of them."
"I wish we could all go, but..." I shrugged my shoulders. It wasn't as if I could ask for more tickets. I was beyond lucky to get the ones I did. I looked the seats up on the way home (or more precisely, AI Tony did) and found that they were in the boxes to either side of the stage. Dad nodded.
"So how is ballet going? Are you going to like your role as much as you thought?"
"Yeah, it's awesome. Mr Cal is showing me how to put in little touches of my own so that I'm not just doing the choreography but also interpreting it. He said that it isn't always appropriate to do that in the corps, but this is a solo role. I'm getting more complexity in my choreography than Jake." I gloated about that quietly. "Mr Cal said that if I tried out for a company now I might not make it, but with a couple more years of practice, he thinks that I wouldn't have any trouble getting offers. Maybe not ABC like Miles, but not a poky little company either."
Dad thought about that. "Is that something you really want to pursue, Lys?"
"I'd really like to work for it, Dad. I'm not a bad student, I get As and Bs, but compared to virtually everybody else in this family, I'm not very good. The only way I'd get into a top notch university would be because of my name, and I don't want to trade on that. And sure, Miles is probably a better dancer than me, but this is something that depends on my talents only, the family can't help me during practice or a performance."
"I want you to be happy, Lys. So if this is something that you want, of course I'll support you. But you shouldn't compare yourself to the other kids in the family. Each of you is unique. And while a lot of us find ourselves working for the company, you don't have to. I want you to develop your own gifts and interests. And don't sell yourself short. You may struggle with some aspects of academics, but you're still getting good grades. It might surprise you to know that Grandma Alex felt that same pressure when she was in high school, according to Aslyn, and you know how successful she's been. While she felt pressure not to let her parents down, it's not the same thing as having this whole Wayne legacy on your shoulders. I happen to love what I do, but you wouldn't be happy running the company, and I want you to love what you do. You can be successful on your terms, and in whatever manner you choose. You don't have to go to an Ivy League school to get a great education."
We talked more before I went up to bed; it was rare to have so much one-on-one time with my dad. While he wasn't distant, he was really busy, and there was also Mom and Deri around usually. She was upstairs, working on her first badge for Cadettes. I remembered how fun that had been, but I didn't really miss it. I'd run into one of the scouts I'd have been in Seniors with when I'd popped into the corner deli on my dinner break on evening, and she was still snotty. My badge vest, with all the patches and pins that denoted three years of little successes, was folded away in my closet, with the vests from Juniors, Brownies, and Daisies.
The next day, my friends wanted to know the story of how I got the tickets, and there was speculation about what band it would be. The design on the tickets was still tickling my brain, but I let it ride; it was fun not to know and I wanted the enjoyment of being as surprised as my friends when the band came out. We arranged to meet in front of the ballroom--it was really a theater, but they called it a ballroom because it sounded evocative, according to an interview the owners had done-- a half hour before the doors were scheduled to open; there was a covered arcade outside between the ballroom and the parking structure, and there would be opening-night merchandise and (more importantly) snacks on sale. I kept the news about the location of our seats to myself, not wanting the other three to feel even more left out. But they seemed ok; first come, first served had been the fairest way to decide who came with me. And photography was permitted, but no video or audio, so we could at least take pictures to share with them.
Deri had a fit at dinner when she found out about the concert, wanting me to take her instead one of my friends, but Dad squashed that flat before I could say a word. I was relieved to make an early exit, get dressed (jeans, a camisole, and a light jacket--the evenings were cooling off) and gave Dad a hug on my way out. I'd locked the tickets in my sewing room, knowing that Deri might defeat the lock on my vanity some day but not a lock that had been installed by both Alan and Alfred, and they were securely in my jacket pocket with some money and my ID. AI Tony was so excited for me.
"I feel bad that I'm not more interesting," I said dryly, and he rolled his little eyes and made a face.
"Speculation is huge about who the mystery band is," he said briskly. "So it's great that you'll be there first hand to see for yourself. You work too much, you should have more fun. You're only young once."
"This from the AI alter ego of Uncle Tony, the infamous workaholic," I said with an eyeroll of my own.
"Learn from his mistakes, Lys," AI Tony pronounced dramatically. "He may not be the best role model, but he can still be a bad example." I laughed, and it wasn't long before he dropped me off at the entrance to the parking garage. I loved the programming that allowed the pod to pay the parking fees on its own. I wandered around a bit before my friends arrived and I passed out the old-fashioned paper tickets, a neat touch that the ballroom owners were bringing back for situations like mine, where the tickets were a gift. They were apparently chock-full of anti-theft features, in the ink, the bar code, even the paper itself. The others took their tickets and we explored the offerings, nibbling on snacks like warm flavored almonds. Then the lights above the doors lit, with specific doors for each part of the ballroom, and we automatically checked our tickets. There was a special door for the box seats, and we joined the few people at it. As the usher took our tickets, inserting them into a gizmo that cut off the end while allowing us to have the rest of the ticket as a souvenir, "VIP" displayed on the reader, and another usher came forward to take charge of us. He escorted us to the stairway that went to the boxes on the left side, took us right to ours, which was the lowest and closest one, and took orders for complimentary drinks (non-alcoholic, he mentioned tactfully.) There were six seats there, I didn't know who had the other two, but there were tables between each of the very comfortable seats, and more snacks on trays on these tables. There were t-shirts on the back of every seat in the house as a commemorative souvenir of the opening of the venue. We settled in, chatting, excited, as the two other people showed up, looking just as happy as we were, and the usher returned with our drinks. He said he'd be back periodically to keep us well hydrated as the service was a feature of the box seats, and said that he'd keep bringing the same drinks if we wanted or he could bring different ones if we'd like. We asked him to surprise us, not really knowing what was on offer, and so that was a thing. About fifteen minutes later, the lights flickered and dimmed and the crowd went silent. Everybody leaned forward as the curtain opened on a black stage. It wasn't just that the stage lights were out, they had the screening 'lights' that absorbed the frequencies of light, reflecting nothing, making what was onstage a real mystery.
"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen," a female voice said over the speakers, sounding calm but energetic. "Welcome to the inaugural event at the Rosebud Ballroom. We hope that you enjoy the cutting edge sound system and lighting; please note that if you find the music too loud for your comfort, there are small headphones in the right arm of every seat where you can adjust the volume to your liking without any loss of clarity or frequency. Similarly, if the lights are too bright, there are glasses in that same compartment that can filter the effects for you. As there is no opening act for this performance, there will be an intermission about halfway through. Comment cards will be available at that time, accessible by a button in that right arm console. We value your comments and patronage. Enjoy the show!"
The noise in the ballroom fell to almost nothing; in fact, I could hear my friends breathing on either side of me. The stage stayed mysteriously black.
A man laughed over the sound system, and I recognized that as Freddie.
"Here we are! Born to be kings," voices sang in perfect a capella harmony, and the the lights exploded. "We're the princes of the universe!" The band began to play and my customer strutted out onto the stage, wearing black leather pants, an ornate purple military-style jacket with gold accents, a huge crown, bracelets, and the mantle of red velvet, lined in red satin, with a white fur edging that sparkled as light hit the black beads for the desired 'ermine' effect. It looked like they'd used the entire length of fabric for the thing. Over the top and spectacular, the collective mouths of the audience gaped at the completely unexpected appearance of Queen. There hadn't even been any rumors that they were going out on tour, just vague ones that they were recording again. Then we roared in response, that wonderful synergy between performer and audience. Between us and the band, I was surprised the roof didn't rise. Every person I saw, me included, had their communicators out and were taking pictures of the performance. I was mortified that I hadn't recognized Freddie Mercury and Brian May when they were right in front of me.
"Are you enjoying our surprise?" Freddie asked at the end of the song, and we yelled and applauded. "Well, we do love the grand gesture. The announcement of our world-wide tour will just have gone live on our web presence, dates and times and all, but we couldn't resist the opportunity to open a new house." As he spoke, two stagehands came out unobtrusively and removed the mantle as he stalked around the stage, putting his arm around John Deacon, messing up Roger Taylor's hair (to his irritation), patting Brian May's shoulder. "It's too bad, really, that we've already had a tour named "The Magic,' albums named "The Miracle," and "Made in Heaven,"" he said, and we laughed. "So welcome to the opening night of the 'Restoration' tour." And with that they launched into some of their greatest hits, including many of my favorites like "Keep Yourself Alive," "Seven Seas of Rhye," "You're My Best Friend," "I Want to Break Free," "Fat Bottomed Girls," "Killer Queen," "Don't Stop Me Now," "Bohemian Rhapsody," and ending the first half with the plaintive "Who Wants to Live Forever."
At the intermission, we saw ushers in all the boxes, including ours, handing out Queen Restoration concert t shirts with the US tour stops on the back. Our usher also brought in a fresh round of beverages and some throat lozenges; we'd been cheering a lot. "Mr Mercury's compliments, miss," he said to me. "He hopes that you're enjoying the performance and invites you and your friends backstage after the concert." I accepted, after looking at my friends to be sure that they could go too, and hit the restroom, changing into the concert T shirt as well. On my way back to the box, I ran smack into Jane and Molly. It was the first time I'd seen my former friends face to face since the day that they cut me dead in the cafeteria. And I looked a mess, sweaty (everybody was up and dancing) and my braid with wisps of hair escaping, my makeup mostly gone.
"Lys," Molly said, surprised. "Um, wow. How are you?"
"Good," I said.
"Where'd you get the t-shirt?" Jane asked.
"It came with my seat," I said. And as Jane opened her mouth again, I added, "And no, my daddy didn't buy it for me. Freddie Mercury actually gave me the tickets because I helped him at work." She looked shocked.
"Where have you been?" Molly wanted to know. "I was surprised when you didn't come back to school."
"I transferred," I said with an eye roll. "Like I wanted to stay there with everybody, including my former friends, acting like I had a disease. But it's for the best. I like my new school better, and certainly my friends are nicer."
And right on cue, bless their hearts, said friends came bounding up. "There's a little bathroom tucked away by the box seats," Imogen told me. "I totally missed it, but the usher pointed me in the right direction."
Ari, the most handsome of the boys who were my friends, tugged my braid and put his arm around my shoulder. Jinx surveyed the situation, and I made myself uncross my arms. "Let's get back," he said. "This is amazing, there's the whole second part of the concert plus backstage to look forward to." Ari steered me away, leaving Jane and Molly in our dust (figuratively speaking) and we hurried back, getting in just as the lights flickered to summon everybody back.
"Those girls looked bitchy, so we thought we'd see what's what," Imogen said as we sat down again, hastily filling out the comment cards with superlatives.
"Thanks, they were just from my last school," I said, and they didn't press for details. I hoped they hadn't heard the conversation.
The lights came up again and the band launched into "We Will Rock You," which they certainly did. There had also been a costume change, the band in outfits that looked like they were straight from their 1970's-era shows. The music was a mix of their old hits as well as tracks from their new album, also titled "The Restoration," which sounded like they had no few new hits on their hands. And at the end of the set, after two curtain calls, the usher led us backstage. The band wasn't back yet, but there were tables with food and beverages, and we were urged to help ourselves. There were other people from the concert, looking as overwhelmed as I felt, plus some people in suits who looked official, and soon the four members of the band came in, accompanied by the other musicians who were touring with them. It looked like they'd had hasty showers and they'd changed out of their glittery costumes into jeans and shirts. The band members split up and worked the room. "Here's my little fabric fairy," Mr Mercury said jovially as he bustled up to us. "What did you think of my mantle? It's not quite finished, there's going to be be gold embroidery before the tour really kicks off."
"It looked spectacular," I said. "The whole thing was such... a huge experience." He laughed.
"That was the point of it all," he said indulgently.
"I can't thank you enough for the tickets. The whole thing was just stunning," I said, but he waved off the thanks. "It's so embarrassing that I didn't recognize you. I'm actually a big fan of your music," I apologized. He laughed again and the drummer came up, curious.
"What did you think?" he asked us.
"That was the best concert I think I will ever see," Ari said sincerely.
"Well, I happen to agree," Mr Mercury said modestly, and Mr Taylor grinned.
"We've probably set the bar higher. We're lucky that music executives finally realized that there's still a market for legends, or we'd still be sitting on our asses."
"Music from musicians who came after the Return are more about the light shows and the spectacle, but you guys had the music to match," Imogen said. "Your hits are classics for a reason. I can still feel the bass in my bones." There was a little more chatter, Mr Mercury told us to enjoy ourselves, and they left to do press.
We stayed awhile longer, enjoying a light late dinner and sweets, then left. There were hugs all outside around as they thanked me for the tickets and I thanked them for going with me (it would have been humiliating to have gone by myself) and we split up. My pod met me as I went into the parking structure, then it was a short drive home, there not being too much traffic at that time of night.
"So who'd you see?" Dad asked as I came in. I was a little late for my curfew. Ok, well, a little later than late.
"Queen, Dad," I said enthusiastically, and told him about the concert and backstage.
"Well, I can understand why you're a little late, honey, but next time something momentous happens, I'd appreciate a text or something," he said, smiling. "I do worry, but I'm glad you had a good time with your friends, Lys."