May 15, 2004
Much to Rose’s surprise, Hard Times managed to pull together enough while performing in Chicago to get themselves several other gigs. Tim’s resentment of the fact that the others were growing more independent of him had lessened, especially when they agreed to let him be their manager, even if he didn’t often perform anymore. He had more contacts than any of the rest of them, knew more people, and thus was able to get them more singing engagements than they would have gotten otherwise.
Still, early in May they decided to move on. Chicago was a lively, teeming city, with plenty of people with an appreciation of music, but the competition was stiffer there than in smaller towns, and the band, comprised as it was of untrained performers without an agent, often couldn’t compete. At Tim’s advice, they made their last performance in Chicago on May thirteenth, and then moved on.
Tim had called around, looking for other places where they might work, and had finally booked a gig with an acquaintance who owned a bar in Chippewa Falls, Wisconsin.
Rose had initially been leery of Tim’s decision to send Hard Times to Chippewa Falls, but she hadn’t told him so. Chippewa Falls had been Jack’s hometown, and a place that she wasn’t sure she was ready to face, but Tim knew nothing of this. She had never told him about Jack, or much of anything about her past before joining the band.
Rose soon came to regard the move with a mixture of excitement and trepidation. She would see the town where Jack had grown up—at least, where he had spent his first fifteen years—and perhaps meet some of the people that he had known, though she wasn’t sure that she could bring herself to mention him, nor did she know how she would react if someone else spoke of him. Would she talk about him then? Or would she pretend to have never known him, in order to protect herself from the pain she still carried inside over his death, though it had been more than a year?
She honestly didn’t know. She wanted to see the town Jack had grown up in, see the places that he had mentioned to her—if they still existed. In her experience, old things were torn down so often that a place could become unrecognizable.
He had mentioned that he had an uncle and some cousins in Chippewa Falls; if they were still there, she thought she might try to find them. She didn’t know if they were unaware that Jack was dead, or if Jack’s friends in Masline had informed them of that fact. If she did find his relatives and told them about Jack’s death, would she be able to keep silent about exactly how he had died? She had promised Cal that she would keep her silence in exchange for his never seeing her again, but could she lie to the family of the man she had loved?
*****
The band arrived in Chippewa Falls just after noon on May fifteenth, giving them several hours before they were scheduled to begin performing at seven o’clock. After checking into the cheapest motel they could find, they went to the bar to find out the details of that night’s performance and to practice.
There was no real stage, but that was not unusual for them. After establishing that they would be singing in the front corner of the room opposite the door, they set up their performance area, did what blocking was needed, and practiced for an hour, squabbling amongst themselves as they did, something that had become far too common over the past few months.
There weren’t many patrons in the bar in the early afternoon, but those who were there either ignored them, too caught up in their own thoughts to pay much attention to the quarreling band members, or watched them with interest, entertained more by the conflict than by the music they were practicing. After Rose and Tim got into a particularly vociferous shouting match, one man began to take bets on whether the band would actually show up that night.
By the time they finished rehearsing, Rose was ready for a break. She had slowly but surely become Hard Times’ lead singer, but that didn’t mean that people argued any less with her than with anyone else. Daffodil had finally stepped into the argument between Rose and Tim about what she should sing, saying that shouting wasn’t good for her voice and that she and Tim should compromise. Both Rose and Tim had yelled at her for interfering, but in her usual manner, Daffodil had ignored them and simply stared them down until they agreed on a compromise.
Now, though, Rose wanted to be away from her fellow band members for a while, even Daffodil. Arriving in Chippewa Falls had rattled her emotions more than she cared to admit, and she wanted to be alone.
Looking at the other members of the band, who were lounging around the bar or hanging around outside of it, she sought out Daffodil.
"I’m going for a walk," she told her, gesturing to the door.
"Where are you going?"
Rose shrugged. "I don’t know. I just want to see what’s around here."
Daffodil nodded. It was Rose’s custom to explore every place they went, a part of what she called making life count.
"Just remember that we’re performing at seven."
"I’ll be back before then. Don’t worry."
"I’m not worried. I know that you’ll be back. Tim, however, might not be so happy."
"So?" Rose frowned in Tim’s direction. "He doesn’t own me. He’s not even really my boss. If he doesn’t like it, he can find someone else to sing. I can take care of myself."
"Undoubtedly, but…Rose, maybe you two should try not to fight so much. It isn’t good for you or the band."
"I’m quite willing to keep the peace. He’s the one who has to go throwing his weight around—what little there is of it these days. Anyway, he can’t stop me. We’re done rehearsing, and when we’re not rehearsing or performing, I can do as I please. You’re the peacemaker. Maybe you should talk to him."
Daffodil looked at her, a little sheepishly. "I tried. He told me to go away and mind my own business."
Rose sighed. "He’s a control freak."
"Sort of, I guess. You and he have a power struggle going on, he’s arguing with Jim and Angel, who are arguing with us, who argue with Tim and them…and round and round it goes."
"I’m worried about the future of this band," Rose told her, expressing her concerns aloud for the first time. "I think we’re going to split up if can’t agree on things more often."
"I hate to say it, but I think you’re right. What will you do if it does split apart?"
"I don’t know. Strike out on my own again, I guess."
"I hope you don’t mind if I tag along, at least for a while. Jim and Angel are fun, but they’re headed for trouble, especially if Jim continues with his ‘five-finger discounts’, and Tim—well—aside from his being a control freak, as you call him, he’s not in good health. I think if the band splits apart, he might go home to Texas to finish out his life, however long that is."
"Yeah." Rose looked at Tim, who sat at a table with a beer, pointedly ignoring her. She shook her head sadly. Although they didn’t often get along anymore, they had once been lovers, and were sometimes still friends. She had watched her father die from AIDS four years earlier, and it wasn’t a death she would wish on anyone, no matter how hard they were to get along with.
Looking out at the street, she said, "Of course you can come with me if the band splits up. Or I’ll go along with you, whichever seems better."
"We’ll work it out when it happens."
"If it happens."
"It will, Rose. Mark my words. But we’ll stick together as long as we can."
Rose sighed. "I’m not even going to try to predict the future, Daffodil. I’ve found that things rarely happen exactly as I thought they would." She opened the door and stepped out into the May sunshine. "I’ll see you in a few hours. I’ll be back by six, and if Tim has any complaints, he can take them up with me when I get back."
That said, she headed out to see Chippewa Falls.