Iris was nervous before she went on. The stage was completely dark when she took her place on a tall stool, with the two musicians from Pattie’s band in the darkness behind her. Iris wanted the music to hang in the air and envelop the crowd and pull them in.
The audience was excited and hadn’t settled down yet when she came on. She had to work when she started, and by the end of the first song, she knew she had them in her grip. Pattie watched her from the wings and was fascinated. Iris held them totally captive with the sheer power of her voice. She was a tiny, little thing with an angel’s face, and as soon as she started singing, the crowd didn’t move until frantic applause at the end. She warmed them up beautifully for Pattie, who exploded onto the stage. She gave a wildly athletic performance, which Iris thought was good enough for any show in Vegas, but no one had discovered her yet.
They all worked hard, and so did the other bands that night, and the crowd went home satisfied. The reviews were good the next day. And Iris was happy. The crowd had felt just right to her, and they had connected immediately. They compared Pattie to Beyoncé, which was high praise. They were both pleased the next day.
They spent four days in Seattle, and after their last performance, they drove to Portland that night, where they spent three days, and from there to San Francisco, for another four days, two days at the Oakland Arena, with a much bigger band headlining, and then another two days in San Jose. They were going to make their way slowly down the state, and then go to Arizona and Texas, and then head for the Midwest. By the time they left San Francisco for L.A. and San Diego, they had another ten weeks of the tour left, but it was going well.
In L.A., Iris met Glen Hendrix himself for the first time, and nothing had prepared her for the barrage of abuse he heaped on them. They had done really well, and gotten good reviews. He came backstage after their first performance in L.A., and told them how pathetic they were. He told them they looked cheap and second rate, and he should fire all of them. They were an embarrassment to him. Iris looked shocked and he told her that her material was terrible and she’d never be more than an opening act. She was crushed as she listened to him berate Pattie and the band, after he had viciously attacked her. She was almost in tears.
“Nobody warned you?” Pattie asked her, after he left backstage. Iris shook her head, as two lone tears slid down her cheeks, and Pattie handed her a tissue.
“That’s his thing. He wants to convince us we’re no good, and no one else will ever hire us, so he can pay us as little as possible, and we think we’re dependent on him. Only the worst slime in the human race are managers in this business, except for a couple of guys on top whom we’ll never be able to get to anyway. They’re too busy with the really big stars to give us the time of day, so we wind up with the Billy Westons and the Glen Hendrixes who kick us in the teeth in order to exploit us and treat us like shit for another day.”
“I never saw Billy Weston the whole time I toured for him,” Iris said, and blew her nose on the tissue Pattie had given her.
“Hendrix likes to show up and surprise us, particularly if we get good reviews somewhere. He wants to make sure he keeps our self-confidence at sub-zero level. Don’t believe a word he says.”
“He said I’m going to be an opening act forever, and my original material is garbage. Do you think that’s true?” Iris looked devastated. “I’ve been playing in lousy venues for so long, maybe that’s all I’m good enough to do.”
“What does the audience tell you?” Pattie asked her. “Do they sound bored? Are they talking while you sing? Your songs make me cry, and when you sing gospel, I feel like I’m going straight to Heaven. You even make the guys in the band cry, and they’re tough critics. Don’t let that jerk fool you. That’s just what he wants, to beat you down and make you doubt yourself and believe you need him. You don’t. He needs you!” Pattie gave her a hug, and Iris felt better. They went out for something to eat afterward with the band, and got back to their hotel late. They were staying at a fairly sleazy hotel off Sunset Strip, and they’d been to an all-night diner, and drowned their sorrows in French fries, chili, and ketchup. Some of the boys in the band told Iris the things Hendrix had said to them over the years that were even worse than what he’d told her. It was hard to imagine why anyone would do that, but Pattie’s explanation made sense. It was disgusting of him, but apparently par for the course.
“Don’t worry, he’ll be back again. He shows up whenever he feels like it, just to beat us down, particularly if the press and the audience are loving us. I don’t think there’s a decent manager in this business.”
Pattie was right with her prediction. He showed up again in Dallas and Atlanta, and was just as insulting. There was talk of a European tour by then, which all of them would have liked to do, but it was only a rumor for the moment. There was another rumor about an Asian tour, to Tokyo, Hong Kong, and Seoul. But Iris had no idea if she’d be asked to go on either of them, and neither did Pattie. But it was something to dream of.
The tour ended in Boston right before Christmas, and Pattie flew home to Biloxi to spend two weeks with her son. Not knowing where else to go, and not wanting to stay in Boston, knowing no one, Iris flew back to Las Vegas. She had no one to spend the holidays with, and hadn’t heard from her father in three months, ever since she told him she didn’t want to be his cash cow, and didn’t want him as her agent.
She had sent him a couple of text messages, but he hadn’t answered. When she stopped at his stripper girlfriend’s house on the outskirts of town, she told Iris coldly that he didn’t live there anymore, and she had no idea where he was. She added that he was a drunk and a deadbeat and Iris was better off without him. Iris couldn’t disagree with her, but he was her father, whether he acted like one or not.
Pattie called her on Christmas to make sure she was okay. Iris went to a church she knew, and sang with the gospel choir that day, and got to sing “Silent Night” solo. It was the best moment of the holiday for her. The rest of the time, she didn’t know what to do with herself, and wandered around the city and did some shopping. At least she had money in her bank account, since her father couldn’t access it. Not a lot, but enough to make her feel comfortable. It was the one advantage of signing a contract to tour. Her only friends were on the tour now, and she missed Pattie and the boys in her band. They had all exchanged small gifts before they left.
She spent the rest of the vacation working on new songs and lyrics, and had three ready to try by the time they left on tour again. She tried them out during a rehearsal with one of the band members accompanying her on piano, and she was pleased with how well they had turned out. She was going to sing two of them at their first performance. They were starting in Washington State this time, in the dead of winter, then on to the Dakotas, over to Michigan, eventually Chicago, and a number of smaller towns. The weather was going to be miserable, but the audiences would be grateful to see them. She and Pattie went shopping for warm down coats and boots before they took off. The drives would be even longer, and some of the roads dangerous. It seemed particularly cruel to book them into that part of the world at that time of year.
Iris hadn’t heard from her father at all over the holidays, and she had no idea where he was, or even if he was alive. She doubted if anyone would call her if he died. It was a strange feeling not having any family at all now. She didn’t know if she had a father or not.