be universally dressed in black so they could move around the stage and set without attracting undue notice.
In the general scheme of things, the sound guys thought they were kings because no one would hear the concert without them. The lighting guys acted like big shots because no one would see anything without them, and the staging roadies would bet good money on being the only ones who did any worthwhile work at all. Front of house fought with backstage, spark fairies slagged off riggers, video techs looked down on roadies, security got in the way of a good time and everyone had it in for the tour manager who could make their life hell. And that was just how Jake liked it.
“Video specs are clear, standard Jumbotron screen. Nothing too difficult, except rigging cameras for the Hand of God sequences,” said Collin Ng.
“Better be nice to my spark fairies then,” said Tim.
Lizard, scratching his shaved head, muttered, “Yeah, what he said.”
“You know how many spark fairies it takes to change a light bulb?” said Collin to his brother, Bruce.
Bruce answered, “As many as you want. One holds the bulb, and the others drink until the room spins.”
“Was that ever funny?” asked Glen.
The big voice of Bodge Baynard, head of the staging crew, cut across the general hubbub. “Staging design is interesting, lots of suspension, lots of scaffolding.”
Lizard pumped his fist. “Truss monkeys rule.”
Bodge ignored Lizard. “The only tricky thing is this Hand of God contraption. It’ll be a bastard to get right from a technical and safety point of view.”
“We’ve added more time in the rehearsal schedule to handle that,” said Jake, to comments of approval from the crew.
Glen turned to the enormous bald man sitting to the right of himself and Jake. “Are you ready for bump-in, Grunt?”
“Ready,” said Grunt, a man of much muscle and few words. “We unload the trucks after we finish here and we’ll be ready for technical rehearsal tomorrow.”
“What’s the plan for security?” asked Glen.
“Low key, they don’t think there will be much trouble here. Tall poppy syndrome works in their favour,” said Jake with a shrug. He wondered about that. Aussie fans were generally considered more laid back, some even said more respectful—if you could believe that—than fans in Europe or the US.
“When do we have talent here?” asked Bodge.
“Tomorrow afternoon.” Jake knew for most of the crew it would be a long night with only snatched sleep until the next evening. There was still no sign of Jonas, so he decided to wrap up. “Anything else for now?”
“Reedy, what are they like?” asked Teflon, one of Bodge’s crew.
“They’re pros, Tef,” said Jake, thinking of how well organised Rand and Rielle had been yesterday, despite the family feud. “It’s going to be a good tour.”
“Reedy, mate, come on,” Teflon urged, wrinkling his forehead under his red bandana.
Jake laughed. “You guys want me to dish dirt on them, you bloody sods.”
“Does a chicken have lips?” said Teflon.
“No!” several people said at once.
“Oh!” Teflon said, his head suddenly jerking forward as Bodge whacked him one. “Is the Pope a Catholic then?”
“Tef, you’ll meet them tomorrow,” said Jake, still laughing.
“Reedy, we just want to know if she has lead singer disease?” said Bruce. “I want to know how hard I have to work to make her sound right. She could be all auto-tune for all we know. Is she any good?”
Jake shook his head. “I haven’t heard her. We’ll all find out together.”
“I just want to know if she’s as fit a bird in person as she is in the music vids.” said Collin, giving Bruce a nudge.
Jake just grinned and received a chorus of appreciative, “Ahhhs!”
“I’ve got a question,” said Bodge. “How reliable is the ‘book of lies’?”
All eyes switched to Jake. An accurate tour program was important, it saved time and money, but more importantly, it let everyone know where they needed to be and what they needed to have done by a specific time and date.
Jake put his open hand down on his copy of the tour bible. “Scout’s honour, this one looks good.” But he was worried, without Jonas’s input they only had the written tour bible to go by. If it was inaccurate, they’d be in trouble.
“Hey Jake,” called Teflon. “There was a rigger, a fairy and a tour manager backstage and this genie appears out of the smoke machine and offers them each a wish.”
“Are you for real, Tef,” groaned Lizard.
“How old is this joke?” said Glen, slapping his