They got through security at the fairgrounds without a hitch. No one even noticed them. The Battle of the Bands staff had seen so much over the years they weren’t fazed by any “gimmick,” so they assumed Stix Stonz and the Skeleton Bonz were just another band in elaborate costumes.

Stix thought to himself, If the rest of the audience feels the same way, their response will blow Roth’s ears off. He’ll have to sign us then.

Each band was given a half hour for setup—amps, drums, props—and a one‐hour soundcheck. The actual performance slot was thirty minutes. Just before the doors opened, there was a last‐minute cancellation. The band scheduled to play right before Stix and the boys had broken up and would not be appearing.

Normally, this would have been the death knell for a Battle of the Bands, especially if one of the favorites bailed. But luck was on Stix’s side. No one spread the word. The canceled band’s name stayed on the schedule, and those who knew pretended they didn’t.

This was one of Roth’s least appealing qualities. Anything he could do to keep the customer’s money, he would do. Still, he pulled the boys aside and said, “Listen, you’ve got an open slot now before your scheduled time and an intermission right after you. It’s your choice. You can go on a half hour early and maybe keep some of the audience before they get bored and leave, or you can go on at your regular time.”

Stix raised a bony finger. “Give us a minute. Guys—come ’ere.”

They huddled.

“If we go on at our regular time,” Stix said, “we can use that extra half hour to build suspense. Set off some pyro, maybe use the fog machines to create a campy, creepy atmosphere. We’ve got those prop tombstones in Lefty’s trailer—we could rig them to rise up through the fog. Fingers can play some eerie music from offstage. Get the lighting guys to soak the stage in blue, and then we materialize without even an announcement.”

The band readily agreed.

They told Roth they’d take their regular slot and explained what they planned to do with the extra half hour. Roth snickered, coughed, and lit another Camel. “Do what you want,” he said. “I don’t think it’ll help.” He walked off shaking his head.

The lighting crew was on board immediately. They were bone‐weary from endless contests, and anything new was exciting to them. With help from a few stagehands, Stix and the boys rigged an elaborate graveyard scene using leftover props from their days as the Graveyard Shift. It settled naturally into Stix Stonz and the Skeleton Bonz.

The band was excited. Even the grizzled crew was excited. Roth remained skeptical.

1The first two rounds went exactly as expected. Fly Swatter, the regional favorite, faced off against a newer band called Leopard Skin Seatcovers. Fly Swatter won decisively.

Then Roth took the mic again.

He announced that local favorite Jinx would not be performing—they had broken up just a couple of hours earlier. Roth was an excellent emcee. Arrogant and flamboyant, he could steer a crowd toward or away from anything he wanted if he put his mind to it. Walking a fine line between wanting Venom Records to reclaim its glory and not wanting to admit he was wrong, he nudged the audience toward anticipation.

He didn’t really know what was coming next, but he sold it anyway.

“But stick around,” he said, flashing a grin. “You are not gonna want to miss this next act.” Then he disappeared.

Backstage, Stix and the band were already wired up with their wireless gear. The house lights dimmed. Fingers, using a keytar he rarely touched, began playing a low, spooky drone. The stage washed over in blue as fog poured from the sides and back.

Crew members in black shirts with white lettering rolled Skullen’s drum riser to center stage, the lettering glowing eerily in the blue light. They were nearly finished when there was a loud crash at the far end of the stage.

The mirrored rig—the heart of their “appearing” gimmick—lay shattered on the floor. The crew could clean it up, but the trick was gone.

Stix didn’t hesitate. “Let’s just go out there like the band of brothers we are and melt the stage,” he said. “I hate gimmicks anyway.”

Like something straight out of Tombstone, the band walked onstage and tore into the opening riff of “Lights Are On.”

They were tight—really tight. Tighter than they had ever been before.

When Stix sang the opening lines, he sounded like his old self. His voice was pure and rich. The dry, bony rasp was gone, replaced by a full, melodic rock‐and‐roll voice. The harmonies soared, climbing higher and higher, and the crowd went absolutely insane.

After the final song, the cheering didn’t stop. Five straight minutes passed before the house lights finally came up.

Roth choked and nearly swallowed his lit Camel.

Tammy, who had just arrived after being stopped four times trying to get backstage—even with a pass— was cheering as loudly as anyone out front.

Roth stared at her in disbelief. “You actually like these guys?”

Tammy grinned. With all the enthusiasm of a groupie, she said, “Absolutely. And that Stix is so cute!” It was a deliberate dig.

Earlier that day, before letting her leave for the show, Roth had smirked and said, They could win the ugliest band in the world contest for sure. But I’ll bet you just think that Stix is ‘so cute.’ He loved mocking her supposed tendency to like artists just because they were good‐looking.

Tammy’s musical taste was refined. She simply believed it was a bonus when the singer looked good, too. Roth didn’t like it when she disagreed with him.

Especially tonight—when she was right and he was wrong.

He hated that.

As much as Roth believed he could manipulate her, Tammy was only there to advance her career. She knew the business, but she needed experience. And even though Venom Records was failing, it was still real experience.

If Stix came to the label, it would mean something more for her—a chance to work with a truly top‐tier band. If Venom signed them, she could be involved closely, doing something that actually mattered. If she pulled that off, she could leave Venom, Roth, and the smallest salary in the office behind for good.

She hoped to broker the deal and make sure she was attached to the project.

Roth never saw that coming. If he had, he would never have allowed her at the show.

Negotiating with a band that had just done what Stix Stonz and the Skeleton Bonz had done would be hard enough. Negotiating with Tammy involved would be nearly impossible.

“Great show, guys!” Roth said as Stix and the boys approached from the wings. “Come by my office in the morning and we’ll talk. Have a great night!”

He walked away without looking back.

Tammy shot him a look that would have burned a hole through another man’s soul. Roth didn’t have one— at least not that anyone knew of.

“You know what he’s doing, right?” Tammy said once he was gone. “He’s not talking tonight because he’s got you over a barrel. You’re the champs. Six standing ovations and three encores. He knows that here, you win.

Tomorrow, in his office, this show is history and suddenly you’ve got nothing. That’s when he’ll push you down on percentages—albums, videos, royalties. Ooh, that man irks me.”

Skullen laughed so hard his teeth rattled. “Why don’t you tell us how you really feel?” Everyone laughed.

“I’m sorry,” Tammy said. “I’ve watched him do this to too many bands, and it makes me so angry. You guys must think I have a fiery temper.”

“No,” Johnny said. “More like a fiery passion. Still—I don’t want to be on your bad side.” The group laughed again.

“Since she knows the business,” Fingers said, snapping the latches on his keyboard case, “why don’t we let her represent us?”

Stix’s eyes widened. “Yeah. You clearly know your stuff, and we’ve already seen how Roth operates. I threatened to steal you away as an employee—why not be our inside person at Venom and help us get this deal?”

Tammy was elated. “But if he fires me, I won’t be on the inside anymore.” “Then we make sure you’re part of the deal,” Stix said.

They shook hands.

The band started to head out.

“Hey—where are you guys going?” Stix asked, puzzled by their sudden hurry. “We’ve got a big meeting tomorrow,” Skullen said. “We need to catch Tammy up.”

“Listen here, loverboy,” he added with a wink, nodding toward Tammy. “You promised to take this lady out to dinner after the show, remember?”

“I never promised it would be alone,” Stix said, shooting Tammy a glance.

“No, you didn’t,” she said. “And I’ll take a raincheck—if the band agrees. We’ve got work to do.” She smirked knowingly. “Besides, if he wants the deal, he’ll honor the raincheck.”

The band erupted in catcalls and teasing until Stix raised his hands. “Okay, enough already! But we do need to eat. I mean, look at us—we’re wasting away. Where’s the nearest buffet? We need to put some meat on our bones.”

They all turned to Tammy, waiting.

She stared at them, completely bewildered.

“Look,” Stix said, grinning, “if you’re gonna work with us, you’ve gotta be okay with us. We’re comfortable in our own skin—uh, I mean bones.”

Realizing he was baiting her, Tammy burst out laughing. The whole group joined in.

It would take her a while to get fully comfortable with the band’s self‐deprecating humor, but she was getting there.

Out of mutual need—and growing trust—a bond was forming.

This was the beginning of something big.