JACKSON WORKED THROUGH the night and all of the following day. Determination fueled him, along with the sandwiches and cups of coffee his mother sent up to his room. The song needed to be ready. Had to be.
By one in the afternoon on Friday, Jackson wasn’t anywhere near satisfied, since he’d had to work with his old MIDI controller and outdated equipment. He missed being in a studio with a professional soundboard. Regardless, he needed to get some rest before the party he and Nathan were pulling together last minute. He rubbed both hands down his face. The song wasn’t up to his usual standards, but it had to do. It was real enough. Honest enough. Made from who he was, where he came from, his history. The tweaks and alterations he had planned could wait.
Pushing back from his desk, he stretched, then stood. He had to be at the venue early to check on the sound system in place and brief the crowd on what he wanted before the party started. After setting his alarm for seven p.m., he stumbled to his bed, asleep even before his head hit the pillow.
* * *
Six hours of sleep, a bracing shower, and a hot dinner were all Jackson needed. He packed his things, got on his bike, and rode toward the grassy field on the other side of DoCo’s man-made lake. He arrived at a little past seven. Why he hadn’t thought to use the spot for a venue before baffled him. It was perfect. A little bigger than a football field, surrounded by pine trees. The lake’s shore on one end. A parking lot several yards away. And the stage already built at the other. Barriers lined the area to ensure only one entrance and exit point.
Slinging his backpack over his shoulder, he headed for the simple platform. It wasn’t what he was used to after a worldwide tour, but for his purpose it was perfect.
The sun was down. The stars were out. A great velvet sky blanketed them all. A long line stood outside the barrier into the field. The tweet he’d sent out the night of the art show worked. Mentioning that the party was free didn’t hurt either. Jackson sighed in relief. So far, he had one thing going for him. As it was, he was nervous that Natasha wouldn’t show.
Jackson tapped the closest security guard on the shoulder and asked, “Where’s Nathan?”
The bulky guy went on the walkie attached to his shoulder and mumbled something. In two minutes Nathan came running toward where Jackson and the security guy stood. In slacks and a tangerine sweater, Natasha’s twin stood out like a nail-polished sore thumb on that field.
“Oh, good, you’re here,” Nathan said, stopping and catching his breath. “The sound system you wanted just arrived.”
“Good.” Jackson breathed another relieved breath. Then his chest tightened. “Do you think Natasha will show?”
Nathan’s eyebrow rose. “Are you nervous?”
“Fuck yeah, I’m nervous.”
“Let’s just focus on completing the setup. One thing at a time, or this party won’t happen.”
Jackson nodded. “At least let the crowd in.”
“But we’re not ready yet.”
“Let me take care of what happens onstage. Anyway, I have to have a heart-to-heart with the audience. Might as well get them all primed.”
Without hesitation, Nathan nodded at the security guy, who spoke into his walkie again.
“Your call,” Nathan said. “Let’s get you onstage.”
Taking a deep breath, Jackson trailed after the bright sweater. The hand inside his pocket shook as he walked. Never in his DJ career had he been so unsure. It was like his first kiss all over again.
As he climbed up the metal steps to the stage after Nathan, they were met by a guy in a backward baseball cap and a T-shirt with a smiley face flipping everyone off.
“Arty,” Jackson said, taking the man’s hand and pulling him in for a back-patting hug. “Thank you for bringing the board on such short notice.”
“Anything for you,” he said.
“That’s my cue.” Nathan backed away. “I have a million other things to supervise.”
As the crowd filled the field, Jackson shifted all his focus to the rig Arty had set up. All the goods were there. An MCX8000 with a solid metal chassis, dual hi-res screens, sixteen backlit velocity-sensitive RGB performance pads … basically, everything he needed and more.
Jackson hooked up his laptop to the beast of a controller. His fingertips were already aching to start playing. He shrugged out of his leather jacket and dropped it to the floor.
“You also have your speakers.” Arty pointed at the large black Pioneers flanking them. “Everything is hooked up to the lights. No fog machine, sorry.”
“That’s fine,” Jackson said, his focus already on making adjustments. He didn’t even hear what Arty said before he left the stage. Everything needed to be perfect. For him. For Tash.
After plugging in his headphones, Jackson picked up the mic and faced the already full field. He brought the mic to his lips and said, “Hey, DoCo, are you ready to party?”
Hands in the air, the crowd cheered.
“To those of you who don’t know me, I’m DJ Ax.” He paused as another cheer filled the air. “And I’m going to need your help.”
In a quick explanation, Jackson laid his heart on the line. A hush came over the partygoers. Hopefully, the payoff would be spectacular. The kind that sparkled in the night like a billion stars.
Once he was done, he said, “Let’s dance.”