This is an excerpt fm Sandy Pearl and the Blades
by Thomas Stone
Sandy ducked as he exited the helicopter. The rotating blades sliced the air above his head, sucking at his long blonde locks. The Pearl stepped across the asphalt to the attending body guard, a big guy dressed in black with SECURITY stenciled in block letters over his shoulders. He nodded at Sandy and called him Mister Pearl before pointing which direction to go. As Sandy and Raggy walked behind, the guard opened a door and led them down a brightly-lit concrete corridor before entering a wider corridor, large enough for vehicles.
A palpable beat came from somewhere ahead, unrestrained and heavy like a great clock banging out the remaining time. People stopped and stared as Sandy walked by; some said hello and shouted his name. Sandy smiled and nodded, shaking hands and touching flesh if possible, but never slowing. They picked up others in a growing entourage and soon enough Sandy was funneled onto a ramp that led up to a stage. Raggy and the original bodyguard accompanied him to the top step but faltered at that point as Sandy surged ahead.
The band was already onstage laying down the beat for the strains of the opening song. Sandy seemed to gather energy from the waiting crowd. Upon seeing him they roared their approval.
He walked up to the microphone and, right on time, began to sing into it. The crowd erupted and for a brief moment overpowered the Pearl's amplified voice. Spotlights focussed on the singer as he belted out a new number: a hard-charging, thumping tribute to the rocker's lifestyle. "We never say die," Sandy sang into the mic, "We never reason why, but it's a good way to go, yes, it's a good way to go!"
Encircled by a separate spotlight, the lead guitarist stepped to the edge of the stage. Hands rose out of the crowd reaching up in adoration as the musician began a four bar mini-solo.
Directing the audience's attention, Sandy pointed at his guitar player as he nodded his head in time with the music. The show had just begun but the audience was already in full rock mode. Spotlights burned through a haze of smoke and the musky odor of marijuana permeated the auditorium. Every member of the sold-out crowd was on their feet and clapping hands in time to the music. Most everyone knew the words and sang along while multiple male fans performed air guitar play-alongs for their dates.
As the guitar player completed his mini-solo, the wall of sound continued to build. Sandy belted out the words in harmony with a trio of female back-up singers who were suddenly revealed in yet another spotlight. Sandy stood at the edge of the stage singing to the crowd holding the microphone stand in his right hand, his mouth close to the mic, and reached out with his left hand for effect. At that moment, Sandy's attention was drawn by someone, or perhaps something in the crowd. Sandy completed the lyric and stared down. Some witnesses reported seeing someone pointing at Sandy, but that was only partially correct. Immediately following were a series of bass drum retorts synchronous with a series of bright flashes right in front of The Pearl.
A look of surprise registered on The Pearl's face as he released the microphone stand and allowed it to fall to the stage floor. Looking down at his chest and the bloody holes that suddenly appeared there, Sandy staggered a couple of steps as the other band members watched in disbelief, but continued to play until Sandy fell in a heap like a puppet whose strings had suddenly been cut.