We were closing out the song. The crowd knew it and they were frenzied, hands up in the air, bodies swaying, catcal s piercing the air.
And it was then, riding the high of a great show, heart racing, blood pumping (thankful y), skin tingling, lips in a permanent happy grin, that I saw him.
A scruffy man wearing a beat-up army jacket over a tshirt, hair a mess, hands in the pockets of his jacket, he was making his way with determination toward Jet.
Through my buzz, two things hit me.
It was a warm end of May evening and jackets weren’t al owed.
Effing Monk!
Duke was again working the front of the stage but he didn’t see the guy and he had his back to me so I couldn’t catch his eye.
There were Hot Bunch men in range, in fact, the guy pushed right by Vance who was looking in the opposite direction.
Like last night, Lee was on the stage with the band. I kept playing but twisted my torso to look at Lee. I tried to catch his eye but he was on alert, not paying attention to me, his eyes were scanning the crowd.
Getting desperate, I twisted back around and tried to get Vance’s attention but, for some reason, he turned and pushed in the other direction, away from the Rock Chicks.
Ef it, there was nothing for it.
My eyes glued on the guy, I went to the mic and tried to offer a warning by saying “Jet…” but just as I uttered her name, I watched in horror as a pocket of people opened behind Jet.
The guy had easy access.
Effing, holy, hel !
He made it to Jet in a couple of steps, his hand started to come out of his pocket and it was then I freaked.
“Jet! ” I screamed into the mic.
Her eyes were already on me but there was no time to warn her, the man was right behind her.
I whipped the guitar off, dropped it to the stage with a loud crash of the strings, ran to the edge and executed a stage dive, jumping off and aiming my body at the bad guy.
I vaguely heard the crowd give a shout of approval at my stage dive just as I hit the guy, ful body.
“What the –?” he shouted, caught unaware, with one hand out, one hand stil in his jacket. His free arm went around me, he staggered when my weight hit him, one two, three steps and then we both went down, him on his back, me on top.
Unfortunately, we careened into others and they went down with us.
It was al arms and legs and bodies and what seemed like a mil ion feet, most of them kicking, as we rol ed into others and took them al down.
I stayed focused and struggled with the guy, trying to get a firm hold on his wrists. He was strong and he was wiry and, even though not exactly young, he stil was a guy, so I found this a difficult task.
I heard Floyd’s voice asking for calm but I ignored it, too busy grunting and wrestling with the bad guy.
“Jesus, girl, what the f**k’s the matter with you?” he asked, on the defense, wrestling back and also grunting.
For some reason, I shouted, “You’re wearing a jacket!”
“So?” he shouted back.
“Jackets… are… not… allowed! ” I yel ed right before an arm sliced around my waist and lifted me clean off him.
I struggled, twisting around to see Vance had hold of me.
He set me on my feet in front of his body but he kept me close with the arm around my waist.