DO ANGELS SING THE BLUES?

      The Harvest Dance was a sellout. Wall-to-wall bodies... The white noise of the gathering crowd built steadily while we tuned up. Eight o'clock on the nose, Theo blasted through it.

     "Is everybody ready to party?"

     He didn't have to ask twice like he did some nights. The crowd came back with one roaring "Yeah!" as we

launched into the Allman Brothers, "One Way Out."

     It's always interesting being up on stage in your own territory. You look down at the sea of people, kids you pass in the hall every day. Here and there, a particular face will pop out at you. I caught sight of Allie huddling with her friends near the bleachers. And Sharon with her new squeeze. I gauged my reaction to seeing her with another guy and was relieved to realize the worst was definitely over. It didn't bother me. She wiggled her fingers when we made eye contact and I even managed a minor smile.

     The whole first set, Carey leaned against the stage near one of our speakers, at the front of the dance floor area. Kids were dancing around her, bumping into her, but she didn't seem to notice. Even though she was right in the middle of the crowd, she seemed set apart from it somehow. I watched her, watched kids notice her, and looks would cross their faces, especially the girls, that seemed to say, "You're not one of us." She didn't seem to

notice or care. She was into the music. And into Theo. And it was obviously mutual.

     We wound up the set with "Tuff Enuff," a modern song, but classic, by the Fabulous Thunderbirds, with Stevie Ray's big brother Jimmie on guitar. You know a song's a classic when you can take it in your head and imagine any one of the greats doing. his own cover version of it. The guitar rolls the rhythm along like a funky snake, and it's one of those tunes that always gets people moving, and keeps them charged up for the next set.

     Carey was dancing by herself, a slinky, gyrating, swaying kind of thing. Theo was kneeling on the edge of the stage, crooning it right to her. Between the two of them, the number got so hot I half-expected one of the chaperones to come over with a fire extinguisher and hose them both down.

     Toward the end of the number, Natalie Stewart worked her way to the front of the dance floor, with a guy I hadn't seen around school in tow, a molded-muscle, sunlamp-tan type, with bristly blonde hair. At that point, Carey's and Theo's little exhibition was drawing some attention. The guy whispered something to Natalie, and a kind of smirk, half scornful, half self-congratulatory, came over her face, like she'd just had a suspicion confirmed.

     We finished up the set. 

     "We're gonna take a short break now, people. Keep the party pumping. Yeah!" Theo slipped his mic back into the stand and turned to me. He was dripping sweat already; his brand of vocals was a full-tilt workout. "I'm gonna go wipe down and change my shirt. Keep Carey company till I get back?"

     I nodded, thinking I'd never seen him this protective with a woman before, unstrapped my guitar and set it out of harm's way, while Theo ducked through the wings to the backstage men's room. I moseyed over to the edge of the stage and sat next to where Carey was standing. She gave me a tentative smile.

     "So, what'd you think?" I asked.

     She opened her mouth, then closed it into a smile, and gave a shake of her head, like she didn't have words superlative enough. It had been a great set, I knew by the way I was still mentally gliding in the groove. As a unit, the band was tight, and my solos were as smooth as they ever get. I could tell that as a listener, Carey had picked up on the nuances, which is always gratifying. I smiled back at her, feeling the most comfortable I'd felt with her so far.

     Natalie chose that moment to intrude.

     "Hi, Boog. Four hundred thirty-two tickets, final count. So you guys'll get six hundred forty-eight dollars."

     "Great," I said.

      She wasn't finished. "Oh, by the way, this is Allan Rappoport. He's captain of Clifton's football team."

      Clifton is a town down the Sound, about halfway between Yardley and the New York border, maybe thirty miles away.

     "Carey, you know Allan, don't you?"

     Carey had gone paler than usual, except for two pink blotches on her cheeks. Natalie lunged onward. Her fangs were showing.

     "Sure you do."

     The guy Allan looked kind of shamefaced, like he'd been tricked into participating in a dirty deed. Natalie kept talking.

     "See, Allan knows Carey from school. Her father used to teach biology there, until he got fired last year. So I guess that story about boarding school in Brazil was a big load of bull crap."

     Carey didn't react, didn't move. Natalie had apparently scored a direct hit, but I guess that wasn't enough; she went for a blitz.

     "Pretty pathetic—falling down drunk in front of a class."

     I couldn't take it anymore.

     "Hey Natalie, you're about as subtle as a train wreck, you know that?"

     Allan had been standing there, staring at his shoes, but his conscience must have started poking him, because he grabbed Natalie's arm and worked her away into the crowd.

     Carey was just standing there, looking off into space.

     "Hey," I said, putting a hand on her shoulder. She looked at me, her expression totally flat.

     "Why did you lie?" I couldn't think of anything else to say.