Chapter 125

"So we are using only half the stadium?" I asked.

"Are you kidding? We are going to use less than half. We are roping off the edges of the bleachers. It's gonna leave use seating for less than five thousand. If Joan had her way she would have them sitting in each other's lap. It makes better shots for the website. Which sells more tickets to the next event," the head roadie said.

"So what is the maximum capacity going to be?" I asked.

"We are planning for a five thousand maximum probably be less for the Saturday matinée," he said

"Okay," I answered. I walked away.

"Hold up," Tom called after me. "Where we going?"

"I'm going to talk to the venue manager, This place is a fucking sieve." I explained. I had forgotten Tom had not been involved in the planning stage of the Philly shows. He just nodded.

I found the manager in his office inside the field house, "Hello. I'm Sylvia, this is Tom. We work for the promoter trying to make sure Soda stays alive," I explained.

"Dale Simpson," he replied. "I going to make sure you leave the stadium in one piece."

"Then we both want the same thing. Would you tell me the security plan for tomorrow night?" I asked,

"We are going to close off the far ends of the bleachers, cutting the seating capacity to 5K." he said. "We will be using our security officers to be sure no one sits there."

"So you will have officers on the unused side of the field to be sure no one slip in there?" I asked.

"We planned to just keep the gates on that side locked," he said.

"How about just one man over there to be sure it isn't used for a sniper's nest?" I asked.

"Yeah, we can assign one man there," he said looking at me differently.

"Now would you mind, if we walked the perimeter. You are more than welcome to come along an brief us. If you can't spare the time we can make recommendation and leave them with you." I said.

"Why would I pay any attention to your recommendations?" he asked.

"Because, if somebody gets hurt they will sue the shit out of you. At a trial I would have to say that I recommended things. Things that weren't done and then you would have to explain why you didn't follow my recommendations. Then it would get just plain complicated. You don't have to pay any attention, but I am required to make a plan or approve yours." I said it with a smile.

"Just bring me your recommendations," the security chief said.

"Right, I'll just email then to you, so there is a digital record," I said as I prepared to leave.

"Hold on a second, I'll go with you after all," he said. "I don't want you bothering my people." I just nodded as a reply.

Twenty minutes later was were back in the SUV. "That was a sloppy plan he had. Terrible crowd control, even I knew it." he said.

"I thought that as well. He was providing security as if it were a college football game. If we just have a normal concert, he can say it was all bullshit. If it gets rank, he will thank us for the suggestions." I said.

"You do that so well," Tom said.

"Do what?" I asked.

"Intimidate people of course," he said. "I'll bet you were a good cop."

"My supervisors seemed to disagree, to them I was adequate, no more," I said smiling.

"They were either afraid of you, or they are completely incompetent," he said.

"Thanks," I said.

"So. the company is buying us lunch where we gonna eat?" He asked.

"I'm still not right enough for Mexican, anything else I'm up for," I said.

"I really want a good cheese burger," Tim said.

"If you want a good one, and you want it cooked the way you want it, then you need to go to a southern diner. I bet there is one somewhere around here," I said.

So we asked the security people on the parking lot detail. We got two or three recommendations. The closest one was just a few miles away, so it was our choice. It was one of those long thin diners. There were about a dozen booths on one side, a counter with stools sort of in the middle and a grill along the other wall.

Since it was between lunch and dinner we rated a booth along the parking lot wall. Through the window we could see the parking lot, and the plaza of a tall office building. Since I was still watching my stomach I had a grilled cheese and a baked potato. I was a little surprised by the lack of heavy butter on the outside of the thick break of my sandwich. It wasn't much like a diner. It was almost a health food diner, if there could be such a thing.

Tom and I took the rest of the day just riding around looking the town over. Four hours of that and I was ready to get the hell out of the SUV. Tom was good company on a short trip, or even one where we were headed somewhere definite. When he tried to comment on his surroundings, I found him a little too opinionated for my taste. Still the time did pass.

For dinner he chose a chain restaurant in the parking lot of a mall. I didn't care so long as they served something I could order precut. I settled on beef tips and rice, with just a garden salad and bread. I drank iced tea and Tom drank beer. He seemed to drink beer with every meal. He also stopped for another one or two in the afternoon.

Tom might drink a little too much, I decided. Since he did his heavy drinking after work, I didn't object. There were lots of ex-cops who were functioning alcoholics. I figured Tom was just one of them. He had been able to get it up with the help of the blue pill, so it couldn't be too bad, I told myself.