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Gaelic -
If you asked him he would say that he was short, pudgy and mildly amusing . If you asked anybody else who knew him they would say he was dynamic and engaging. His heart’s desire was to be the world’s greatest magician. He was actually a very good magician, but the world doesn’t know him. He likes it that way – no – it must be that way for this would-be world famous magician has the power to do what Merlin himself could do. But he realizes to be the world’s greatest magician would bring too much scrutiny to his life.
Chapter 1
If the rain would ever stop, he thinks to himself, I could have unpacked and re-packed this show without getting drenched. Gaelic had just finished loading his props into his Yukon. He was the featured performer at the American Electrical Contractor Association’s annual convention. It was a good show but packing up in the rain always makes him wonder what it would be like to have the money to hire roadies. People who would travel with him, and laugh with him, have a good time with him. Let him know what a great magician he was. People who would do all the heavy lifting while he walked around the auditoriums and made small talk with the people who hired him. He would then introduce his very own roadies, the ones that work for him. He thought all this while he placed his props in the vehicle and closed the hatch. He wanted to slam it, but not wanting to bother Sam, his white dove, he closed it gently, then waded through the water to the driver’s door.
The driving is always more treacherous in the rain, he thinks, as he reaches for his Blue tooth. He knows Floyd is going to call; Floyd always calls after a show booked by him. He books numerous shows for him, but not all. Gaelic secures most bookings on his own. Gaelic touches the side of his Blue tooth after just one ring and says, “Hello Floyd.”
“Gaelic, how are you?”
“Fine ‘n you?”
“Doing great ma man, so how was the show, and don’t leave out any details.”
“Floyd”, Gaelic sighs and tries to smile. “It was a really good show. The lady in charge was formal and crisp, but nice, a right to the point kinda lady. Makes it so much easier on me you know.”
“I know”, says Floyd. “So did anything happen that I should know about. Did any press show up? Did you notice anyone in the audience taping your act or anyone taking an unusual amount of pictures?”
Gaelic sighs again. Not out of exasperation, at least not completely, more out of weariness. Why do so many of these events have to end so late, he thinks to himself. “Floyd, I didn’t notice any press or anyone taking an inordinate amount of pics or vids. Everyone was pleasant and congratulatory afterwards. Several people stayed to help me pack my things.” This was a lie of course, but it made Gaelic feel better and would make Floyd feel better too.
“That’s great,” says Floyd, not hearing Gaelic completely. “Now sit down cause I’ve got some news for you that is going to knock you on your butt.”
“Floyd, I’m driving! Of course I’m on my butt.”
“O yeah. Well… great. OK here it is, I have just booked a 3 week tour for you to Bangladesh!” Floyd said this with enthusiasm and a little bravado, and Gaelic could see Floyd flinging his hands in the air as he said Bangladesh.
“Bangladesh” Gaelic says, not quite screaming but very close. “How did you stumble on to that and what makes you think I would go to Bangladesh?” Gaelic would go to Bangladesh and Floyd knew it. Gaelic loves to travel and he likes to experience new things but Gaelic wonders if his style of entertaining would be accepted among Bangladeshi’s and would he need an interpreter. He doesn’t speak Bengali and wonders how many of the people speak English, and even if they did would they get the nuances of his jokes and stories. His humor is subtle and easy for English speaking countries but things get lost in translation, as he has discovered in the past. (Gaelic has performed in Brazil at the invitation of a Dr. he met in Florence, Alabama.)
Floyd does not seem to be put off by Gaelic’s tone as he enthusiastically says, “O you don’t want to know about the ins and outs of how I book for you. It’s all boring, mundane Internet and phone work.” Gaelic suspects Floyd’s statement is as far from the truth as Gaelic is from Bangladesh right now. His suspicions are correct too as Floyd is a wheeler and dealer the likes that are a true dying breed. Nothing illegal, or immoral, but hard work, nose to the grindstone, with very little Internet work. Floyd believes in getting into people’s faces, shaking hands, buying lunches, sending gifts and helping would be clients pick up their laundry and children from day care. He will spend 10 hours with one client to make $100.00. Floyd is tenacious. Floyd has two close friends and they call him the barracuda.
“Well, how much do I make” Gaelic said.
Floyd answered sheepishly, “Eight grand for the three weeks”
“What! Is that all. How many shows do I do?”
“Eight shows”
“Does the three weeks include travel time.”
“No”
“So really three and a half weeks.”
“Uh, yeah, I guess that’s right.”
Gaelic sighs again. “What are the venues?”
“Well, they vary. Five of the performances are in auditoriums. Three school auditoriums, and two community auditoriums. One show is in a gymnasium, and two of them are out door events.”
“O great” says Gaelic. He hates outdoor events.
Floyd knew what ‘o great’ was about. “Look I told them you had to have good sound and staging for the outdoor events and they had to provide guards to keep people from walking around or on the stage.”
“What about the weather?”
“I let them know that we get paid no matter what, as always! I told them the contract states that if there is inclement weather it’s up to them to have a suitable alternate location. It’s all your standard requirements. We fly to Bangladesh, and we get paid for the entire eight shows regardless of what happens, unless of course you don’t perform or unable to perform.
“Who books the travel? You?”
“They prefer to book the travel. They are confident they can get the best rates.”
“I don’t want to make a zillion connections just to save them a couple-a-hundred dollars!” Gaelic has flashbacks of his trip to Brazil. The doctor that arranged the show for a physician’s convention in Rio de Janeiro also organized his flight. The doctor, though meaning well, sent Gaelic on a trip that took 30 hours.
“I told them I had to approve the flights before they booked.”
“Good!”
Floyd knew Gaelic was excited even though he sounded put out. Gaelic just cannot pass up a show. Floyd also has a feeling that something big is going to happen to Gaelic as a result of this trip, and Floyd is literally banking on it.
“So I take it your going on this one with me.”
“Wouldn’t miss it buddy.”
“Good. Cause I’m going to need help. You know how it is flying with the extra bags these days. And o yeah what about the baggage fees? Who’s paying for that?”
“They are”, Floyd lied.
“What about your fees?”
“Paid separately”, he lied again.
“Well email me the particulars and I’ll check my schedule and get back with you.”
“You got it boss. N drive like you have something to live for.”
“I do. I haven’t worked hard enough for you to retirement.”
They both laughed, a little anyway, and hung up. Gaelic was lost in thought as he rounded the corner leading him to the entrance ramp. So lost in thought that he didn’t see the pan handler with the card board, hand written sign that said, please help, in two languages. English and Bengali.
