Daylight

Pet’s POV

“Goddamn this heat anyway!” Sal shrilled at all of us and nobody in particular. “This is fucking crazy! It’s like 100 degrees out there, and we’re in full sun!”
“We have a canopy, just like we do every show,” I pointed out.
“Not good enough!” Sal hissed back. “We’re facing west! We’re gonna fucking melt out there!”

We were all rushing around, trying to figure out just how much liquid we’d need to stay hydrated, and still not burst from not being able to pee.

Even Shoshi was starting to panic. True to form, though, she was doing her best to keep the rest of us calm.

“Sal, ladies, please,” she persisted as our bassist stalked around the stifling backstage area, “we knew this could happen. This is a summer festival…bands have played it for years, and so far nobody’s died from heat stroke…or melted, for that matter.”

Tia looked up from her magazine. “Yeah, you know,” she said casually in her faint Spanish accent, “it gets this hot in Texas all the time. Pretty much every summer is like this, almost every day.”
Shoshi turned to her, hoping for a reprieve. “So Tia, what do folks in Texas do in this kind of weather?”
Our lovely black-haired drummer flipped another page. “Well, we eat spicy foods that make you sweat…stay inside to cool off…hit the beach or pool…or sometimes we visit Six Flags over Texas.”
“None of which is an option for us,” our manager replied dryly. “Any other suggestions, O wise Texas native?”

“Ooh, girls, look, My Chem,” Tia suddenly said, holding out the magazine so we could gaze upon the latest picture of our heroes. There was a brief moment of silence.

“Shit,” Mo said dazedly, “that picture really isn’t helping me cool off.”
“Me either,” I agreed, surprising everyone.
Even Shoshi had to take a look. “Good Lord, woman, put that away!” she told Tia. “Jesus, you guys are gonna be late. Now let’s get going!”
“But Shoshi…” Sal whined.
“No buts, baby,” our manager barked out, grabbing Sal’s bass and handing it to her. “Get your asses out there and PLAY! We don’t have time for this shit.”

As we stood at the side stage, waiting for our intro, I cut a glance back at Shoshi. It scared me as I watched her mop her forehead and then sway dangerously—enough for her to grab onto something to steady herself. She looked flushed—she looked even warmer than we felt—but when she met my eyes, she smiled and mouthed “Knock ‘em dead.”

There was no time to ask her what was up, so I just nodded and smiled back, and took the stage with everyone else.

The evening was much better. The Bouncing Souls were the perfect antidote to all the heat and the stress we’d been experiencing. It was still warm out, but the temperature managed to drop about twenty degrees when the sun finally set.

I was finishing a beer as the crowd began filing out, only to be pleasantly startled by the sudden boom of a fireworks display. A slight cheer went up as the crowd stopping milling around and stood goggling at the pretty lights in the sky.

The bench next to me creaked slightly, and I turned to see Joe McCullough smiling at me, nursing his own bottle.
“Now that’s what I call a pyro display,” he remarked, nodding up at the sky. “What’s the occasion?”
“It’s July 4th weekend…or close enough,” I answered. “Having fun?”
“Always,” he grinned, taking another swig. “And yerself?”
“Oh, we’ve all been okay,” I responded, trying hard not to think of Sal’s little meltdown, and my anxiety about seeing Shoshi looking ill.
“That’s good,” Joe said absently, watching yet another brightly colored explosion. “And how’s your friend, your bass player, whatshername?”
I chuckled. “You mean Sal. She, uh, wasn’t too crazy about the heat today. I guess nobody was, huh?”
My companion shrugged. “Ah, it just means you can drink all you want, and never have to use the loo. You just sweat it out. At least, we do,” he remarked, laughing.

I looked over to where Sal was standing, trying to replace lost fluids with an increasingly alarming amount of beer.
“Well, I guess some people don’t have that luxury,” I muttered. “Joe, I better go, but I’ll see you around, huh?”
“Absolutely, luv. Maybe at the picnic later?” he grinned at me.
It was hard to keep my eye on Sal and on Joe at the same time. “Yeah, great,” I answered. “Barbeque sounds good, especially to soak up the beer. But I better go now.”
“Right,” Joe responded. “See ya then.” He turned his face up to the sky again.

Joe’s POV

Alright, I admit it: as soon as Petula walked away, I twisted round to watch her go.
Oh shite, I thought, if that bird doesn’t have one of the most amazing arses I’ve ever seen, then I’ve never seen one at all.

Fuckin’ sue me, I’m a bloke.

I watched her then as she tried to negotiate with her mate, who was obviously very pissed. It didn’t look like it was goin’ well: Sal the bass player had about five inches and maybe a kilo or two on Pet.

Pet’s POV

“C’mon, Sal, let me take you back to the bus now,” I pleaded, hoping she’d come along quietly.
No such luck; apparently I’d waited too long.
“I’m just having fun here, Pet,” she slurred, gesturing with her latest bottle at the guys around her. They raised their own bottles in a mock salute to Sal.

I was angry with them for encouraging her, but how would they know how much of a problem this was?

I was frowning, considering my options. I chose to continue trying to drag her off.
“Sal, I really need to take you home now,” I insisted, “you need some rest, hon. C’mon, please….”
“But I’m having so much fun!” she giggled. “These guys’ve been so nice… whoever they are…they’ll take good care of me....”

The guys murmured that they would, but I was pretty sure my idea of taking good care of Sal and theirs were definitely not the same thing.

“Thanks, everyone, but I got it. Have a good night now,” I called back as I finally managed to steer Sal away from her admirers and towards our bus.

Joe suddenly appeared, nodding at me without a word, and slung Sal’s other arm over his shoulder, expertly removing her last beer from her limp hand and tossing it away.

“We must stop meeting this way,” he murmured, joking

Sal belched urgently, and we got her to the nearest trash can just in time.

“I really don’t need this shit,” I growled, halfway to myself. But Joe met my eyes right then, so I knew he’d heard me.

Joe’s POV

We managed to struggle the blonde into the ‘Bathers’ bus and installed her in a lower bunk with a mini dustbin for future emissions, just in case.

Pet slumped onto one of the couches with her head in her hands.
“Rough night, eh?” I asked.
She shrugged.
I put a hand on her shoulder. “Tell you what: let’s go and eat, and forget about all this for a bit. What d’you say, Pet?”

At the mention of food, we heard Sal groanin’, but then she stopped and began to snore.

Petula laughed. “Shit yeah, let’s get out of here,” she answered. “Tomorrow’s another day, right?”
I was relieved to see her losin’ some o’that tension her mate had caused.
“Absolutely,” I agreed.