Ending the call, I feel that ache settle in my chest. I really wish Kiera could be here with me. She adoresLuminous, and I’d give anything to take her to one of their shows. But right now, it’s just not possible.
Sadly, there’s nothing I can do about that except work.
So with that in mind, I head back into the hall toward the stage area. I don’t see anyone else around, or if they’re here, they’re keeping a low profile. I know I’m early, but it’s my first day, and I want to scope everything out. Get a feel for how they’ve been running things before I tear it all down.
Things need to be done a certain way.
I learned that the hard way after the Staples Center in LA. That show was a disaster, leaving the band with a major PR mess to clean up.
Hence why I’m here now.
When I don’t get my way, I can be grumpy, but that’s also why my shows are the best.
It’s not cocky, it’s not arrogance, it’s just facts. I’ve earned my reputation, and Luke knows it. That’s why he hired me, whyLuminoushired me.
To make their shows unforgettable.
Their sound is already spectacular. I’ve listened to them, and hell, I’m impressed. For tiny little things, they can belt out a tune. But with my lighting? Their on-stage presence is about to go next level.
Walking along the corridor, I reach the open expanse that is the backstage area…
And it’s a damnmess.
I grit my teeth.
Lighting equipment is scattered, with no sense of order. Speakers and instruments are dumped randomly. This is chaos at its best.
Fucking hell, this shit irritates me.
No wonder there was a fire at their last show. This is a hazard, and they need someone to keep them in line… desperately.
Shaking my head, I step into the mess and begin inspecting. At least the gear’s high quality. That’s something, I suppose. The lighting setup is top-tier, hi-tech, new, and the exact brand I’d personally recommend.
So they’ve got the right stuff.
They just don’t know how to look after it.
I get to work, packing everything into the proper containers, stacking it with care, and making sure it’s protected for setup and teardown. Broken globes or damaged cables are not an option on my watch.
This shit costs a fortune.
How could they be so fucking careless?
Sweat beads on my brow as I work—lifting, organizing, clearing space. After a while, the chaos is gone, and two neat, orderly stacks now sit where a tangled disaster once lived—one for lighting and rigging, the other for instruments and amps.
This is how itmustbe done.
This is the breakdown thatwillhappen at the end of every show.
This is how things run withmein charge.
I hope theLuminouscrew is ready for me.
All that exertion has me sweating. My white shirt clings uncomfortably, so I strip it off and toss it over my shoulder. Wiping my brow, I blow out a puff of air.
That’s when it happens.
A round of applause.
