Petrel couldn’t help but crack a smile at Ariana’s display in the middle of their set. She was brilliant at what she did, even after all these years. The crowd was on her side now, and the cops looked foolish. They stood there with their red faces and their averted gazes, scratching their noses or the backs of their heads uncomfortably. Too good.
At this point Petrel had determined that it was not him they were after. He’d spent so much time in Goldenrod that he figured the cops had probably decided to leave him alone at this point. After all, he hadn’t done anythingreally bad in years. And Ariana had made no attempt to make contact with him. Maybe she had this all under control. Maybe she didn’t want his help? Fine with him. He took a load off in that chair of his, propping his feet up on the small table next to him until a waitress came over and kindly asked him to keep his feet off the table.
The curtains closed after the last song, and Petrel could sense all of the suits behind him begin to move. Instinctively, he cupped his hands against his mouth and called out, “Encore!” If the whole crowd joined in, they could make their escape while they were chanting it. The cops wouldn’t know what hit ‘em.
But Ariana had different plans, it seemed. The curtains came up, and there she was with the guitar player. Just the guitar player. She was going to take the hit for them! Just like that! Although he’d never been given a reason not to, Petrel couldn’t believe his eyes.
An arrest wouldn’t be made out here in the theater. It would be bad for business, and there was a chance the audience would get upset about it. Still, Petrel had to do something. He took his invitation out of his pocket along with his trusty make-up bag. In the dark of the theater, he adeptly covered his lips with a thin layer of the reddest lipstick he had and then planted a big one right on the back of the invitation. Then he rose, wiping the rest off his face with a make-up wipe, and headed towards the green room. There was a woman standing in front of the door to backstage.
“Ariana will come straight here after the performance, right?”
The woman blinked. “Yes, but I’m sorry, sir,” she said. “We do not allow customers backstage.”
“I’m Ariana’s boyfriend,” Petrel insisted, and handed her the card.
The woman took it and looked it over, puzzled. Petrel noticed that she didn’t speak again until she turned it over and saw the lipstick stain. “What’s your name?”
“Petrel.” It was a name he had not used out loud in a long time. “Ask any of the guys in there.” He hoped the backing band was still packing their stuff up. The woman nodded and went into the green room. From inside, he heard a couple voices he recognized.
“Petrel?! Bring him in!” The woman appeared again a moment later and let him in. Petrel went inside and saw the group of musicians. They had just finished up packing, and one of them had left already. Not leaving together was a wise choice. One of them opened his mouth to say something, but Petrel cut him off.
“I’m here to help Ariana. And, uh, the other guy.” Smooth. “Just get yourselves out.”
They seemed to understand, and while they all quietly and slowly left Petrel took the time to acquaint himself with his surroundings: the windows, the ceiling, the potential hiding places. He continued to do this, hoping to have a plan by the time Ariana showed up.
After the last cheers and a final bow Ariana and her guitar player finally went backstage. She looked around the room, glad to see that the boys followed through with the plan and left before she was done. Not only that, but Petrel was here too.
“Go on and get the van.” She told the guitarist. “Stop by the back door for a moment like you’re picking me up, and then go on without me.”
“Ma’am? What about you? I bet we could outrun them.”
Ariana scoffed, “Not in that piece of junk.” She nudged the man forward. “Go. They won’t do anything to you if I’m not there.”
“Yes, ma’am...” The guitarist past by Petrel with a nod and was out the door.
She went over to the door that lead to the backstage and opened it just a crack. “I’m afraid I’ll be leaving now, dear. I got a visitor that I don’t want to keep waiting~ Could you to tell those fine gentlemen they’ll have to catch me at another show?”
With everyone else gone and that taken care of, Ariana finally turned her attention to Petrel. “Glad you could make it, Petrel. Or should I call you Bruce?” She said with a smirk, but it didn’t last long as she glanced around the room. “You wouldn’t happen to have seen another way out of here, did you?”
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