the groupies
The boss can sing. I was greatly amused by his songs and his straightforward rhythm guitar. The band, all 50-somethings, rocked pretty hard. The boss's wife grabbed me up and pulled me onto the dance floor. We danced for a loooooong time and then she was going to teach me swing dancing, so we did some turns and twirls and such (thought of bobalouche) and when the band took a break, I shook the boss's hand and told him I had to go to bed, since I have to work in the morning. Mrs. Boss says that if I'm going to live in Stevenson, I'll need to come out and dance. (Since she and the other band wives have to attend their shows, they're hungry for dance partners.)
I was greeted by several people whose names I didn't know. Some called me "chef," others "Frank," and I just grinned and smiled and said hi. I was described as an important person, photographed, and spoken to over the loudspeakers from the bandstand. Yikes.
I was greeted by several people whose names I didn't know. Some called me "chef," others "Frank," and I just grinned and smiled and said hi. I was described as an important person, photographed, and spoken to over the loudspeakers from the bandstand. Yikes.