A Very Long Night
by Douglas Young
|
Table of Contents parts 1, 2, 3 |
part 2
Having grown up poor and worked hard since childhood, the eldest Cullen had little patience for what he dismissed as frivolous fantasy. While proud of his son’s piano recitals and music scholarship, he was increasingly alarmed at the growing acclaim accorded the young man’s latest band.
While the rest of the family was overjoyed when the local newspaper ran a front-page story on the group with a picture of the band on stage, Dawson Cullen feared his older boy would drop out of school — as three of his bandmates already had — to pursue an absurd pipe dream and — God forbid — fall prey to the stereotypical vices associated with rock musicians.
Not wanting to sour his mood before the late-night gig, Dorsey declined to stand up to his father. Instead, he ate a hearty meal and tried to look forward to the show. Because he did not smoke, drink, use illegal drugs, or get into trouble, his parents had long let him stay out as late as he wanted on weekends.
But, unlike other performances, Dorsey did not mention that night’s concert since the abandoned church had a notorious reputation; everyone there would be trespassing on private property, and there would be plenty of underage drinking.
After dinner, Dorsey studied class notes before excitement overwhelmed him. Then he went to see some bands in Hardeeville’s club district, eager to analyze the competition and learn what he could. Seeing two bandmates downing several beers prompted him to request they not get drunk before their show. His musical partners bluntly told him not to worry and suggested he could use a few brews himself.
Observing one group perform, he noticed a short, dark-haired girl wearing a beret twirling on the dance floor before realizing it was Giada. Impressed with her moves, he wanted to remind her of Planet Pax’s upcoming concert, but too many folks stood between them in the crowded club. Dorsey wondered how to escape should a fire break out in such crammed confines.
By 11 o’clock, he was too pumped to be anywhere but the old church. His confidence that any bandmates would arrive early to help get ready for the show was distinctly low. While fine musicians who played and jammed well, they were decidedly lacking in logistics and organization.
Just before he reached the club’s exit, a bird-like voice sang out his name. Turning around, he saw a somewhat breathless and sweaty Giada.
“Hey, girl. How goes it?” he asked.
“Giadaville feels much better,” she answered with an exuberant smile and catching her breath.
“I didn’t know Italian gals were such dynamite dancers,” he remarked.
“Thanks. I just lose myself on the dance floor,” she noted.
“Coming to the Straight Arrow?” he eagerly inquired.
“I really want to, but I have to convince my girlfriends.”
“Tell them Planet Pax is the best local band, that we should be getting a recording contract soon and that, for the rest of their lives, they can say they saw us when we were still playing clubs. It’ll be like seeing the Beatles at The Cavern Club. Even their children and grandchildren will think they’re hip.” He grinned.
Miss Giordano laughed loudly and slapped his shoulder.
“Okay, it’s not that funny,” he got out before chuckling.
“I’m sorry. I think it’s all great and I promise to try my best to be there.”
“Come see us and you’ll be even cooler than you already are,” he stated, surprising himself by his boldness.
“Ciao.” She winked and waved before returning to her friends. Dorsey tried to recall if any other girl had ever winked at him.
Feeling buzzed, he went to the church to help move the amplifiers on stage, tune up his keyboards, test the sound system, clean the place up as much as possible and find someone reliable — and sober — to collect attendees’ cover charges. Fortunately, Jasper and a few buddies soon arrived to help.
The church had been a non-denominational house of worship built in 1885. Closed for decades, its pews had long been moved to the side of the sanctuary to allow the maximum number of folks to dance. By midnight, many students were already outside, and Dorsey and Jasper were delighted that the band might finally make some decent money from a performance without any club overhead.
After all five Planet Pax members were present and before any patrons got inside, the band ran through a few tunes for its sound check. They felt completely in sync and looked forward to the show. Shortly before 1:00 a.m., the church’s front doors opened, students began filing inside to pay a small cover charge, and the band was thrilled at the rapidly growing crowd.
As the 1:15 starting time approached, Dorsey kept scanning the audience for any glimpse of Giada. Seeing a petite girl wearing a dark beret, he felt his heart skip, only to suffer a letdown and frown upon realizing it was not his Italian buddy.
To Dorsey’s surprise, the band began playing right on time. Seeing the church full while performing one of his songs, he experienced one of the greatest highs of his life. As always, once he started singing, his nerves calmed and he lost himself in an enraptured kaleidoscope of melody, pulsing energy and so many kindred souls tuned in together.
Seeing all those strangers moving to the rhythms of his music was uniquely satisfying, and he wished the magical moment would never end. Not even Giada’s absence could dull such a special joy.
Halfway through the first tune, Dorsey saw Miss Giordano squeeze herself to the front of the crowd while bopping to the beat several feet before him. He immediately grinned and winked at her between lyrics, and she waved. Three other attractive girls emerged dancing by her side and chatting with her between numbers.
Dorsey sensed the band was in peak form, and everyone appeared exhilarated. The light of an almost full moon illuminated the faded but still beautiful stained-glass windows. Where some had been broken out, an enchantingly eerie moonlight lit up the dancing crowd which looked like an organism vibrating to a powerful nocturnal beat.
All the frustrations, indignities and deep disappointments Dorsey had endured for his music suddenly seemed trivial. When he stole glimpses of Giada completely lost in his songs, smiling at him and vigorously clapping after each tune, he could not remember when he had ever been happier. Exchanging smiles with his bandmates, all doubts about their reliability vanished. This is the life I want, he mused.
Then he noticed several sheriff’s deputies in the back of the sanctuary. Though there was no electricity in the building, the battery-powered lights aimed at the band gave enough light to see six men in tan uniforms standing at a table talking with the student recruited to collect the money.
Butterflies began to flutter in Dorsey’s stomach, unstifled by the start of his favorite new song. Bandmembers eyed each other nervously as the lawmen gradually made their way along the wall to the stage.
Dorsey recognized Darius Gray, one of the few local Black deputies. Darius had been a star football player at Hardee High, three grades ahead of Dorsey. They had shared a physical education class and remained friendly acquaintances.
As the deputies got ever closer to the amplifiers on the side of the stage, Dorsey felt as if his greatest living dream was devolving into an ugly nightmare. In the middle of the song, the deputy pointing and giving orders started jerking the instruments’ plug-in cords from the amplifiers. Suddenly the deafening music became deafening silence, to the shock of most of the crowd who had not noticed the uniformed arrivals.
“My solo!” shouted the lead guitarist.
As the deputies walked on stage, a blissful audience threatened to become an angry mob. Loud boos echoed throughout the building. When a few empty beer cans were thrown on stage, Dorsey’s chest tightened in fear of a riot.
“All right, listen up,” bellowed the lead deputy sheriff, Ben Butler. “Show’s over. Y’all are illegally engaged in criminal trespass on private property, creating a public disturbance, violating the local noise ordinance and... likely a few other laws. So everybody go home.” He jumped to dodge another beer can.
“All right,” Deputy Sheriff Butler shouted and pointed at the crowd. “The next thing thrown on this stage guarantees ever’ one a y’all’s gon’ git hisself arrested, too. You just try me.”
The crowd booed still louder, and Dorsey cringed at the obscenities directed at the deputies. When he turned to his bandmates, he saw to his shock they were gone, along with the lead, rhythm and bass guitars. It was just Dorsey, his keyboards, and the drum set left on stage. Failing to see any bandmates in the crowd, he felt a breeze behind him. Turning around, he saw an open door. “They’ve all left,” he gasped.
The top officer approached him. Dorsey knew it was pointless to run away. He could not outrun six cops, and Darius knew him, anyway. Plus he did not dare want to lose his most valuable physical possession: his keyboards.
“You got a permit to perform on these here premises?” Deputy Butler asked him.
“Ah... I don’t know,” Dorsey stammered.
“Got a permit to serve alcohol on this property?”
“Ah ... I’m just not sure.”
“Okay. That’s enough.” The officer declared, turning to the other deputies. “Book him.”
Blinking, and with his eyes wide and mouth open, Dorsey put his hands behind his back as he had seen a thousand actors do on TV. Deputy Sheriff Darius Gray slowly handcuffed him as he stood stunned behind his keyboards.
“I’m awful sorry ’bou this, Dorsey,” Darius said in a soft voice behind him. “Sheriff Pritchard’s out of town and the acting sheriff’s a real jerk. Even though we’ve never stopped a show here, he was just jonesing to bust somebody tonight. I’m real sorry it had to be you.”
“Thanks. It’s not your fault,” Dorsey heard himself say, as if in the midst of a horrific out-of-body experience. As Deputy Sheriff Gray led him off stage, Dorsey saw Giada’s anguished face. Another chorus of boos cascaded across the crowd as Dorsey was led onto the floor.
After the lead deputy’s threat and, especially, once Dorsey was handcuffed, a great many patrons moved to the exit. As Dorsey got outside, he noticed lots of people staring at him. Many shouted encouragement, some booed and others ignored him while drinking and laughing.
Just as Dorsey and Darius reached the latter’s car and Deputy Gray opened its back door, a loud voice came from behind them.
“Deputy Gray, give the prisoner a breathalyzer,” Acting Sheriff Butler demanded.
“Yes, sir,” Darius replied without looking at him.
Too embarrassed to face the folks standing between the church and car, Dorsey kept his back to them and blew into the breathalyzer.
“Well, you ain’t been drinking. That’s good.” Darius smiled before helping him into the back seat with a hand over Dorsey’s head to avoid the car roof.
Once seated, Deputy Gray leaned in to recite the prisoner’s constitutional rights before apologizing again. Dorsey thanked him and then the door shut, muffling much of the crowd noise and leaving him alone amidst a carnival of flashing blue and red police lights.
He wondered what time it was, but the handcuffs prevented him from seeing his watch or phone. Planet Pax began performing at 1:15, and he guesstimated they’d played for close to an hour. And most of the night’s still to come. He rolled his eyes. Hearing the sheriff’s department dispatcher’s announcements on the radio, he felt like an alien from another planet.
It was hard to stay calm in the grip of so much fear and an acute loneliness he had never known. Despite the warm night, he noticed he was shaking. No matter how hard he tried, he could not stop. Nor could he derail the roller-coaster of horrible images racing across his radar. Would he be assaulted by other prisoners in the county jail? Would he serve time in prison? Would his convictions prevent him from ever getting a job? Could he lose his scholarship? Would the college expel him?
Most importantly, what would this arrest do to his family? He swallowed at his father’s certain reaction. This would confirm his worst fears about his son pursuing “all that rock star foolishness.” Could he ever live this down?
But he winced and caught his breath at what this could do to his mother. This is liable to tear her right out of the frame, he dreaded. A train of memories of her standing up for him in the face of his father’s disapproval streaked across his mind as he felt deeply ashamed at the pain this would surely bring her. Thoughts of her crying prompted him to take deep breaths and summon every fiber of his manhood not to weep. For students to see his tears was anathema, and he refused to give the lead deputy any satisfaction.
Copyright © 2026 by Douglas Young
