Page 59 of My Rock Star Neighbor
This gives Pommer and Ward a motive to frame Galliano.
I back away before Galliano turns around and realizes I’ve been eavesdropping.
Nick comes on next, and I am transfixed.
They perform two songs while the crowd dances to the beat, and then Nick pulls out his earbuds and introduces the band, talking to the audience.He seems relaxed as he develops a rapport with them.He has the crowd totally in the palm of his hand.
It makes me so happy to see him experiencing his dream.
He slips off his guitar for the next song.It’s my favorite—a high energy pop song.Two backup dancers join him on stage.Behind him, a video of a starry night plays.
I hope he can do it.I bite my lip as they start.
Yes!
He’s actually dancing in sync.And singing!
He swings his hips back and forth and sweeps his hand across from thigh to thigh.And I feel like all the women in the pit swoon along with me.The sweep is so sexy and suggestive while not being remotely improper.
I can’t believe we’re even friends.
He winks at me.
That brings me back to the night of dancing at The Laundry Room and being held tightly by him.I fan myself.
The woman next to me looks over and says, “He’s definitely taking the chill out of the air.”
I nod.I certainly feel warm.
Nick and the two backup dancers do a cha-cha-cha and a two-step back while singing the last line.And then his set is over.He looks at me, and I give him a thumbs-up.He’s so good.
Next is a blues group, and it’s a bit more mellow.
Finally, the sun is setting as the concert ends.Galliano prods his daughter to join Pommer, who is talking to the Parks Commissioner.Nick enters the VIP pit area and, per our agreement, talks to Ophelia.At least he’s made that connection.I stand near Galliano, but he’s glad-handing the various constituents.
Suddenly, Pommer’s head whips around.I follow his gaze to see who had caught his attention.
The property manager for Eleanor Roosevelt Houses, Beatrice, has joined us in the pit, and she’s talking to Ward.
Go time.
As if Nick senses my thoughts, he looks at me.I head backstage as he excuses himself.Backstage, we quickly change into the black tech gear we stashed here with the rest of the band’s equipment.I pull my hair tightly back.We both put on roomy black hoodies, pulling up the hoods and face masks.I whip out sunglasses.
“And I’m supposed to be the rock star,” Nick jokes.
“Don’t you have your own?”I ask.“This is years of investigative expertise.Watch and learn.”
“I’m definitely learning something.”Nick’s cell rings.
It’s Amira, per our plan.
He holds out the phone so we can both hear her.
“Ward and Pommer are with Beatrice by the south side of the park, so head that way with the backdrop,” she says.“I’ll direct you through your headpiece.”
“Got it.”Nick puts in his air pods and slides his phone into his pocket.“I’ll cough when we need to stop.”
We each heft one side of the 10x8-foot wooden stage frame with their band name on it.The only things you can see are our sneakers and black pant legs underneath it.
