Jaqueline's Last Gig

"I never slow down," said Jaqueline Jones. "You know that Gibbs."

She sniffed and wiped her nose.

Gibbs glowered at her.

"Are you fucked up again?" he said. "You're playing with fire, you know!"

"Shut up. This is how I fire up."

"What about--"

"I know what I'm doing, Gibbs! Besides, aren't you the one that got me the candy?"

The distant roar of the chanting crowd like a waterfall penetrated the walls of the dressing room. Jaqueline's heavily made-up eyes glistened.

"You hear that, Gibbs? That's Minneapolis! This is the biggest venue we've played. I'm not toning it down now. This is our shot."

The pudgy little agent sagged in resignation.

"Fine. Kill yourself. It's not like you have the rest of your tour ahead of you. Or your life."

He left the dressing room, and Jaqueline sat at the vanity and checked her makeup. She reached for the tiny silver case and opened it. The silver case had a bit of white residue in it, but no candy left. Stymied, She reached for her bag and shook out its contents. Keys, some tampons, a pack of gum, a notebook with lyrics in it, and a wallet fell out.

But no candy.

Outside, the chanting grew louder.

Jaque-line! Jaque-line!

The wallet had fallen open, revealing a photograph. Her parents. They stood together in front of their house, smiling, the very picture of a happy family. Even in this picture, the smiles looked strained. Her parents had always been simultaneously proud and troubled at their daughter's career, and the toll it took on her life.

Jaqueline picked up her phone and dialed.

"Hello?" said the voice of an older woman.

"Mom?"

"Jackie! Hi! How is Minneapolis?"

"It's fine, Mom. I'm having a great time. I'm getting ready to start. We're opening for Taking the Pain."

"Wow! Even I've heard of them. Of course, I know you will be great. Are you being careful?"

"Of course, Mom!"

"Just remember what the doctor said about your heart valve. You have to take it easy."

"Mom, this is Minneapolis. I can't take it easy. This is my chance!"

"Well, I hear musicians take drugs. You're not taking any drugs are you?"

Jaqueline's nose itched, and she wiped at it.

"No, of course not, Mom. I know better than that. Is Dad there?"

"He's at the warehouse, hon. He's taking an extra shift."

"Mom, if this concert goes well, neither of you will have to work again."

"Jackie, I just want you to be happy. And safe! I don't care about fame, and all the nonsense that goes with it. Just come back home."

"I will, Mom. I love you. And tell Dad."

"I love you too Jackie."

Jacqueline leaned back in her chair, staring at the phone. A half dozen emotions swirled through her, colliding and pushing away the buzz she got from the coke.

A knock sounded at the door, and a skinny kid with long greasy blue hair poked his head in.

"We're on in five minutes, Jack. You ready?"

"Are you, Jo-Jo?"

Jo-Jo held up a hand and deftly spun a drumstick between his fingertips. He smiled.

"I'll be right out," said Jaqueline.

She turned back to the mirror. Even beneath the makeup, there was no mistaking the signs. The tour had taken a toll on her, as it did all of her band. But she pushed herself the hardest. When she was on the stage, shredding the guitar until her fingers bled, pouring out her guts into the microphone until she was hoarse, she was never more alive. When she gave it all on the stage, the crowd knew.

It was destiny.

Words from an old mentor bubbled up through her thoughts.

Give every last bit of yourself out there, and when it's gone, give some more. When you've left it all on the stage, that's where legends are born.

Good old Sly Howard. The memories surfaced in fragments, Jaqueline, not eight years old, wandering into the retired musician's garage. Finding the old Telecaster and plucking at it like a fisherman running a line, then picking up the heavy thing and playing a few notes. Sly had heard, and snuck into the garage and watched her without her knowing. And he knew. Like a seer, he had seen the future with her in it. From then on, she had been his pupil.

Sly was dead now. Only fifty-five years old, but that's the ways it was when you live the life that he had. Jaqueline wondered if he would be proud of her.

The phone chimed an incoming text. Jaqueline picked it up. It was her doctor.

Found donor heart valve. You need to be in the OR tomorrow morning. Take it easy until then, and no more coke!

Jaqueline set the phone down. She lifted her head and listened.

Jaque-line! Jaque-line!

It was the sort of epiphany that songs sprang from. The crowd wasn't here for Taking the Pain. They were here for her! Jaqueline Jones and the Buzzkills! It was her moment, and she wasn't going to let it pass her by.

This is where legends are born.

All at once, Jaqueline felt the rush, no candy needed. She stood up, her heart hammering in anticipation, and something else. The rhythm was off just slightly, like a syncopated beat.

How many beats do you have left in you? she thought. It doesn't matter. I'll take everything you've got left.

She opened the door and strode to the stage, to join her band in front of the roaring crowd and the blinding lights.