Work Text:
April’s at the grocery store buying the lame foods Ben insists are staples and need to be bought every week or two even though the real staples are things like marshmallows and TV dinners and anything with artificial nacho cheese flavoring. But whatever, Ben’s paying a shitload of rent; she’ll buy his stupid milk and eggs and bread. One of these days she and Andy’ll wear him down enough to make French toast.
There’s a flier taped to the metal stand that’s holding all the baskets; that’s the only reason she even notices it. Battle of the Bands. $1000 cash prize. She rips the sign off and carries it around the store with her. She only calls because some old lady can’t figure out the self-checkout.
“This is why they still have actual cashiers!” April yells, ignoring the angry glares from the other people in line. “Hi, I was wondering if I could sign a band up for your thing this Friday? Mouse Rat. Yeah, like the animals. Sure, I’ll hold.”
**
“What are you doing Friday?” April leans against the door jamb, waiting for Andy to look up from the X-Box.
“Nothing.” He mows down three more guys without blinking.
“You do now.” She looks down at the flier in her hand. They don’t need more than a few days notice, right? Whatever. It’ll be fine.
“What? No, babe, I really don’t. Remember, yesterday Leslie asked if we --”
April sighs and waves the flier in front of the TV, forcing him to look.
“Battle of the Bands? Dude, Mouse Rat should totally enter this!”
“They already did.”
He squinches his face up, thinking. “No, I’m pretty sure we didn’t.”
“Well then it’s a good thing you have a super awesome manager who takes care of that stuff for you.”
Andy grins when it finally clicks. “No way.” He reaches for the flier with one hand and for her with the other, pulling her onto the floor with him. “Grand prize a --” his eyes go wide “- a thousand dollars. I gotta call the guys.”
She tips off his lap as he scrambles to his feet, patting his pockets as he tries to find his phone. He stumbles, barely catching himself on the doorway. April winces and then reaches for the abandoned controller and unpauses the game. “Just remember, I get twenty percent of all your winnings.”
**
For the rest of the week, April spends most of her waking hours helping Andy nail down a set list for the show. Which normally would be an ideal way to pass her time, but now Andy’s Leslie’s assistant so instead of sitting in a shoeshine chair and watching him work, she ends up helping him stuff envelopes while listening to him debate the pros and cons of every song in their repertoire.
“Or maybe we should do “5000 Candles,” people really love that one.”
“Maybe,” April says, sticking a stamp onto an envelope.
“Or maybe that’d make people too sad and they’ll hate us.”
“Maybe.”
Leslie pokes her head into the conference room then. She looks harried, like this whole running for office thing is a lot more work than she originally planned. Or maybe she’s just busy today. “Andy, I need you to call Councilman -- oh, April, hi. Are you helping? Isn’t that Ron’s phone that’s ringing?”
“No. That’s Jerry’s phone.” She took Ron’s phone off the hook.
“Oh. Jerry, answer your stupid phone,” Leslie yells over her shoulder. April and Andy both startle at the outburst. Leslie must surprise herself, too, because she says, “Sorry, Jerry, I meant to say your phone is ringing, would you please answer it. Anyway.” She turns back to the conference room. “Andy, can you reschedule my meeting with the Councilman? Make it tomorrow.”
“Yes,” Andy says. “You got it, boss.”
When she’s gone, he takes a deep breath and scratches the back of his neck. “Can you show me how to dial someone else’s office again?”
April sighs. “This is getting to be too much like actual work.”
His eyes go all wide and pleading. “Please?”
“Fine. But you have to use a weird voice when you talk to the Councilman. And I get to pick the accent.”
**
The show’s at the Snakehole. There aren’t that many bands entered, but April still stares down the guy running the whole thing until he agrees to let Mouse Rat go last.
“This way you’ll be fresh in everyone’s minds,” she explains to the band. The first band is on now and they already suck.
“Genius!” Andy says, planting a smacking kiss on her forehead.
“I know. Now go rehearse or something.” She pushes him away, watching as he and the rest of the guys duck out the side door, still trying to decide if they should open with “Sex Hair” or “The Pit.” On stage, the lead singer hits a note so wrong April actually winces.
If all the bands are as sucky as the girls on stage now, though, it won’t matter.
April heads to the bar. She can probably convince at least one of the bartenders that since she’s with one of the bands she should drink for free.
“Gin and tonic,” she orders, and then she hears, “Hey hey hey hey --”
“Stop.” She holds her hand up in Jean-Ralphio’s face, fingers pinched together like a closed mouth. The bartender slides her drink toward her. “Put it on his tab,” she says, tilting her head toward Jean Ralphio before turning on her heel and walking away.
It figures that she runs into Tom. Literally.
“Whoa, watch the jacket, this is a one of a kind -- April!” His face changes from angry to excited in the blink of an eye. “What are you doing here?”
“Working. What are you doing here?”
“Scouting the talent. Entertainment 720 could always use some clients.”
She’s about to ask if Entertainment 720 has any clients but Jean-Ralphio’s back. “Maybe these guys,” he suggests.
“No,” April says. “They suck. They’re even worse than the first guys, and the first guys made me wish I had been born deaf.”
Jean-Ralphio’s laugh sounds like he’s dying. “Ouch,” he says, so quiet she almost doesn’t hear it over the music.
“I should... go,” she says, mostly because she doesn’t want to stand here with them anymore. “Bye.”
She hides in the wings of the makeshift stage, chewing on her straw, waiting for Mouse Rat’s turn. The band that goes on second to last -- two guys and a girl calling themselves Forgotten Pizza Place; it isn’t the stupidest name April’s heard but it’s up there -- is actually pretty good.
“We got this in the bag,” Andy says, suddenly behind her, his arms wrapping around her waist.
“Did you guys figure out your songs?” she turns so she’s facing him.
He nods. “We’re going to go with -- ooh, ice, gimme.” He takes the empty glass out of her hand and dumps almost all of the ice into his mouth. “I gotta keep cool. The lights on the stage are killer.”
“And now, Mouse Rat!” the emcee announces. Andy promptly spits all the unchewed ice back into the glass and hands it to April.
“Gee, thanks.”
“Wish me luck,” Andy says. April goes up on her toes to kiss him quickly. His lips are cool from the ice.
“Kick some ass,” she tells them, stepping back to let them pass her. She holds up her hand for a high five and smiles as Andy slaps it as he walks on stage.
**
“Second place, can you believe it?” Burly actually picks April up and spins her in a circle and they’re all so happy that she just goes with it.
“Hey,” she says once he puts her down. “I could use another drink.”
“On it.” He makes a mad dash to the bar and April rolls her eyes. The guys are living it up like they won. Second place was two hundred and fifty bucks; April pocketed her share and then Burly announced they’d be having celebratory drinks. She’s pretty sure they won’t have any winnings left over come morning but whatever. Priorities are overrated.
Later, when back from buying the next round (everyone else bought a round with their winnings, it only seemed fair. Plus Michael’s already drunk enough that he won’t realize his glass is a virgin rum and coke), some guy in jeans and a button-down shirt is talking to Andy. For a second she thinks it’s Derek’s boyfriend Ben, but the hair color’s wrong and Derek’s nowhere around and it’s not like they can go anywhere separately, ever.
“Can I help you?” April asks, setting the drinks down on the table.
“April! This is Hal! He’s from some fancy Eagleton club but he said he really liked our music!”
“Really?” April narrows her eyes. “Came all the way from Eagleton, huh?”
“I’m always looking for music.”
“You want to build a fence around good bands, too?”
Hal chuckles. “Sometimes I just get sick of hearing the same stuff. Like a change, you know?”
“Well if you ever need a change, Mouse Rat’s up for anything,” Andy says. “Old people proms, pet funerals, store openings -- literally anything.”
“For a price,” April amends, and Hal chuckles again.
“Of course,” he says, and even though there’s something about him April hates, she finds herself saying, “Tell you what, you ever feel like Eagleton need a change, you give me a call, we’ll see what we can set up.”
“Deal.” He hands his business card to her and then there’s a weird pause before April realizes he’s waiting for hers.
“Does anybody have a pen?”
Jean-Ralphio half-dances, half-walks over to the table like he was waiting his whole life for this moment. “You’re gonna have to write, you just don’t know when, that’s why you should have a pen in your pocket.”
April stares at him and then takes the pen without saying a word. She scrawls her number on a cocktail napkin, writes April, Manager, Mouse Rat underneath.
Hal smiles when she hands it over. “We’ll be in touch.”
He leaves and Andy raises his hands over his head, touchdown style. “My wife is the greatest manager in the world!”
April smiles and high fives everyone in the band.
“Do you think Eagleton’s clubs have gift bags, too?” Tom asks while Burly and Andy shout for the bartender to bring them another round of drinks.
She slides the business card and Jean-Ralphio’s pen into her pocket and shrugs. She guess they’ll find out. Maybe.
**
When Hal calls a week later, April assumes it’s some weirdo calling to complain to Ron and redirects to call to the fourth floor. It’s only after he calls back that she puts two and two together.
“I know it’s last minute but our original band backed out and our go-to backup is a barbershop quartet which isn’t really the aesthetic we’re going for.”
Barbershop quartet. Fucking Eagleton.
“So we’re you’re third choice?” she says.
Hal’s silent.
“To get Mouse Rat this last minute it’ll cost you an extra two hundred.”
“I can do fifty and an open bar.”
“I’ll have to check the band’s availability and get back to you,” she says and hangs up.
**
“A paying gig!” Andy tugs at his bow tie and the car swerves a little. “This is amazing. You are the best manager ever.”
From the backseat, James says, “Maybe next time you could tell them we don’t wear suits, though.”
Andy tugs at his bow tie again. Ben had tied it for him before they left the house but it’s coming undone again and April knows she’s going to have to figure out how to retie it by the time they get to the club. For him and for the rest of the guys. Great.
“No suits, got it,” she says. “Any other demands?”
“Pop-Tarts.”
“Ice cold water. From Iceland.”
“And they should be arranged in the shape of a giant Pop-Tart.”
“Unlimited beer.”
“Ooh, nice,” James says, high-fiving Burly. “Beer from around the world.”
“A beer from every country,” Michael adds.
April nods and writes it all down on the back of a receipt she finds on the floor.
**
“We were on fire,” Andy says, pushing open their front door for her. They were great tonight, even better than last week, and after their set people kept coming up and congratulating them, offering to buy them beers. They sold almost all the CDs Burly had in the box in his trunk. It was a good night.
April stumbles inside and they’re both laughing as Andy steadies her, his hands on her hips. He uses that to turn her around, pressing her up against the door and kissing her. He tastes like beer and he’s sweaty and April might be drunker than she thought because she’s already breathless, already arching into him.
They break apart and April slips under his arm, lets him lock the door while she kicks her shoes off.
“You were...” April tries to think of a suitable word as she puts the check into the kitchen drawer that’ll make Ben yell at them in the morning because a drawer isn’t a bank, April. “You were awesomesauce.”
“Awesomesauce,” Andy echoes softly. His face is flushed and the bow tie is hanging undone around his neck; he looks even better than he did on their wedding day. She leans against the counter to steady herself.
She’s expecting it when he lifts her onto the counter. She hears something clatter to the floor but it doesn’t break so she doesn’t care. “Shh,” she whispers, curling her fingers into his waistband and pulling him closer. “Ben’s asleep.”
Andy nods before he kisses her again. It’s a battle for them both to be quiet, though, and when April shimmies out of her underwear Andy makes a strangled noise that seems to echo throughout the house. They both freeze for a moment, waiting, but nothing happens.
“C’mon,” she says, laying back and hooking her leg around Andy’s hips, urging him back into action. He leans down and kisses the spot right under her ribcage once and the he’s sliding into her and she has to bite her lip to keep quiet when his hand reaches between them and finds her clit.
She can tell when he’s about to come, recognizes the stutter of his hips, and she presses her palm over his mouth just in time to muffle his groan. She squeezes her eyes shut and bites her lip harder when she comes but it isn’t enough to keep a moan from escaping.
Andy chuckles and she can feel the vibrations all the way through her.
In the quiet stillness, their breathing seems as loud as thunder.
**
It’s weird how things sort of start to happen, like one of those lumps of clay that turns into a pot even though your hands aren’t exerting that much pressure. The next time Hal calls -- “First choice this time, April,” he promises, and she doesn’t know if he’s bullshitting her or not but she makes sure the guys get another open bar and they don’t have to wear suits -- it’s to play an actual concert and not some private party.
“This is like, the real deal,” Andy tells Donna. “An actual show. You should come. I’ll put you on the list. April, put Donna on the list.”
It’s not like she’s booking them at Conseco or anywhere remotely big, but still. They’re getting paid. Enough that she and Andy have like, actual savings now. It’s pretty sweet.
**
“Yeah, we’d definitely be interested. You should give me a call when you have something open.” April writes her number on a Mouse Rat CD and passes it to the girl with a star tattoo on her neck.
“That’ll be eight dollars.”
“For your number?” Star Tattoo asks.
“You’re getting a CD and exclusive contact details. In fact, that’ll be ten dollars.”
The girl eyes her for a minute before sighing and forking over the cash.
“Thank you, Fiona,” April reads off the business card the girl had given to her at the beginning of the conversation. “Mouse Rat looks forward to hearing from you.”
Fiona’s barely two feet away when April hears, “April Ludgate, how’s my favorite Parks Department employee slash band manager?”
“Busy. Go away.” She puts the twenty into the old shoebox they’re using as a cash register.
“Oh, April,” Jean-Ralphio laughs. She makes a face at him.
Tom sits on the corner of the table and leans in close. “Saw that little CD sale you just made. Pretty clever.”
She shrugs and smiles, just a little bit.
“Excuse me, do you have this in a small?” someone asks, pointing to a t-shirt.
“Here.” April hands her a medium. “It’ll shrink in the wash.”
The girl thinks about it for a minute, shrugs, and then hands April some money. “Enjoy the show,” April yells after her.
She turns back to Tom and Jean-Ralphio. “What are you guys doing here? Aw, did you guys finally get together? Is this like a date?” She clutches her hands over her heart and flutters her eyelashes.
“What?” Tom jumps off the table so quickly April has to bite her lip so she doesn’t laugh at him. “No, we are single, April, you know that. Single and here on business!” His voice gets louder and a few people turn around. “Entertainment 720, check it out.”
He winks and hands a promotional mousepad to a girl at a table.
“Nice,” April says. Guerilla marketing. Lately it’s become something she can get behind.
“You guys should come check us out,” Jean-Ralphio says. Next to him, Tom’s face splits into a grin like it’s the greatest idea he’s ever heard. “We’re great at marketing.”
“Mouse Rat markets themselves.”
“April, beautiful April.” Jean -Ralphio tucks her hair behind her ear and clucks his tongue. “Nothing markets itself.”
She swats his hand away. “Ew.”
“Come on, man,” Tom says, elbowing Jean-Ralphio in the side. “Seriously, though, you should check us out.”
April thinks about it. It couldn’t hurt, right?
“We wouldn’t pay you,” she says.
Tom’s quiet for a minute. The song ends and the crowd applauds. Someone even cheers. From the stage, Andy gives April a thumbs up. She gives one back, even though he probably won’t be able to see her through the lights.
“Come by this weekend,” Tom says. “We’ll work something out.”
**
“This place looks like a spaceship,” Andy says when Tom shows them into the Entertainment 720 offices.
“It looks like anything you want it to be,” Jean-Ralphio says.
“I want it to look like the beach. Can it do that?” April asks.
“Don’t order sand, Jean-Ralphio, she’s kidding,” Tom says. Jean-Ralphio puts his phone back in his pocket even though April mouths “I’m serious” to him. “April, this way. Andrew, please, make yourself at home.”
Andy’s already touching everything he can, climbing through their weird oval-couch and touching the light fixtures. “Ping pong! Look at this.”
“Detlef, come play ping pong with my friend,” Jean-Ralphio says. Andy drops the ping pong paddle as Detlef introduces himself.
“Get ready for your brain to explode,” Tom tells April, pointing a remote at the ginormous screen that lowered from the ceiling when she wasn’t paying attention.
“So what do we get out of this?” she asks, once the powerpoint presentation is finished.
Jean-Ralphio leans forward in his seat. “I think the question is what don’t you get out of it.”
“For a mere twenty percent we will do all your networking, all your promotion.” Tom ticks things off on his fingers. “We’re talking total merchandise overhaul, your name in lights, stars named after you. Next year Mouse Rat will be performing on American Idol.”
“American Idol?” Andy yells. “No way!” The paddle goes flying through the air and barely misses a lamp that looks like it costs more than anything in their entire house. It knocks over some weird glass statue of a baby and Jean-Ralphio actually gasps.
Everyone’s silent for a long beat. April leans backwards, kicks her feet up onto their white coffee table.
“You get ten percent, I get final say on all promotional materials and merchandise, you never book any shows, that all goes through me, and Ryan Seacrest never so much as breathes the same air as Mouse Rat or we walk.”
“And can we get a website?” Andy asks. “A new one? Ours is super old and I think still says our name is Scarecrow Boat.”
“And we get a website.”
Tom and Jean-Ralphio look at each other for a minute and then they both nod and turn back to Andy and April. “Deal.”
Andy whoops and then rolls over the back of the couch, landing sprawled on top of April. He kisses her, his body a heavy, solid weight pressing her into the weird, uncomfortable couch.
“Oh, wait, hang on,” Andy says, pushing himself up a little. He holds his ping pong paddle out. “Tom, sub in for me, I’m having a business meeting with my wife.”
April’s still laughing when Andy kisses her again.
**
“Ron, I need business cards,” April says first thing Monday morning. She can’t keep charging people for her phone number. Pretty soon she’s going to get stuck fielding phone calls from idiots who are dumb enough to pay for other people’s phone numbers.
“For what?”
“Business.”
Ron stares at her and she stares back. She can tell he’s trying to figure out how much he wants to know.
“Fine,” is all he says.
**
The worst thing about partnering with Entertainment 720 is that all of a sudden, April is getting emails from Tom inviting her to actual meetings. Before it was just phone calls but now.
“Ugh,” April says, letting her head hit the desk. “Tom is making me go to all these stupid meetings,” she whines.
“I’m sorry, can you hold? Thanks,” Andy says into the phone. He sets the phone in the cradle and scoots his chair around the desk so he’s next to April. “But then you get to play ping pong with Detlef. For a professional basketball player he is not so great at ping pong.” April sighs. “No, they’re at like, restaurants during lunch. You know how much I hate having to go to other places when I could be eating burgers in the courtyard and waiting for a bird to poop on Jerry again.”
He laughs. “That was great. Hey, is it a fancy place? ‘Cause if it is you should try to steal some rolls so we can have sandwiches for dinner. I kinda forgot to buy bread the last time I went to the store.”
“Yeah. Okay.” April nods.
“Andy, why’s the light on my phone blinking? Do I need to pick up?” Leslie yells from inside her office.
“Oh crap.” He picks the phone up and says, “Sorry about that sir -- ma’am -- Leslie was on another super important call but she’s finished now so hold on. I’ll transfer you.”
**
April leaves her lunch meeting with six dinner rolls and a sweet sixteen gig booked. Tom’s contacts all turn out to be kind of weird -- Mouse Rat is a maybe for a used car sale event in two weeks -- but it’s like she tells the guys, a gig’s a gig.
**
They take all the checks to the bank after Ben finds them when he’s looking for a spatula one morning. April makes the whole band go so everyone gets their money and she doesn’t have to deal with it anymore. After, Andy stands on the sidewalk, staring at the receipt from their deposit.
“We’re like, rich now,” he says. “We should quit our jobs and move to France!”
“They speak French there, though,” April says. “I have a better idea.” She reaches for Andy’s hand and leads him down the street.
**
“What the hell?” Ben asks later that afternoon, while the movers are trying to get the giant mattress through their front door.
“Dude, did you know you’re not allowed to test out the beds?” Andy asks, scratching his head.
“It was like shopping in a police state,” April adds. Ben makes that face like he’s going to barf and his brain is going to explode at the same time. One of the movers must get a running start because there’s a thud and then the rest of the mattress pushes through the door.
“This way,” Andy says, leading them to their bedroom. Ben and April watch the mattress go by, just like they watched the frame a few minutes earlier. “Oh my god, April, it looks amazing. It’s so big it’s like the floor is all bed!”
April smiles to herself. She thinks she hears Ben mutter something about a measuring tape but he doesn’t say it loud enough for her to have to care.
“Oh, no, April, we have to get to that meeting!” Andy comes running from the bedroom pointing at the clock. Crap.
“You guys have meetings?” Ben asks.
“Like all the time now,” Andy says, grabbing his keys and heading outside. “Where do you think all this furniture came from? Money doesn’t grow on trees, Ben.”
April hides her face in her sleeve so Ben doesn’t hear her snicker.
“You guys aren’t stealing stuff, are you?” He looks pale.
“Here’s some cash for the movers,” April says. “Tell them to put the couch, I don’t know, over here.” She gestures vaguely at the living room and then presses a wad of cash into Ben’s hand. Outside, Andy leans on the horn. “I’m coming!”
Ben follows her outside. “Seriously, you guys aren’t stealing stuff, are you?”
**
“April, I have a big announcement,” Jean-Ralphio sings into the phone.
“I thought I told you not to call me at work.”
“Actually you told me not to call you ever, but this is important.” He sings “important,” too.
“We got invited to the 2011 Battle of the Bands, very exclusive, invitation only and guess. Who. Got. An. Inviiiiiite?”
April clicks over to the tab she keeps open to the band’s new, fancy website. Sure enough there’s already an update, unmistakable, about their upcoming appearance.
“Shut up,” she says. Her heart feels like it’s going to pound out of her chest. This is a really big deal. Up until now it felt sort of like they were playing at this rock band thing but now she has business cards and they’re selling songs on iTunes and they’re getting actual invites to exclusive competitions.
“Did you mean really shut up or shut up in a good way?” Jean-Ralphio asks.
April closes the tab and takes a deep, calming breath. “I think we both know the answer to that,” she says.
“Right. I’ll have Tom send you the deets.”
The line goes dead and April re-opens the tab. The announcement is still there.
“Andy!” she yells and listens to his footsteps as he clambers across the office.
“Did someone bring that seeing eye dog in again? I’ve been waiting to meet him for ages!”
April grabs his sleeve and pulls him around her desk. She watches his face as he reads it. It’s like watching him open presents, the way his face splits into a giant, unbelievable grin.
“We’re gonna be famous!” He does a victory dance right there at her desk. “Everybody, we’re gonna be famous!”
“That’s great,” Jerry says happily. No one else even looks up.
“We’re gonna be famous,” Andy says again, quietly this time. He touches April’s cheek softly. He’s so happy and it feels like such a big moment that she wants to shrug him away, shake off the emotion of it all. But then Andy’s kissing her, his hand curling around to cup the back of her head, and everything stops feeling weird and shifts back into normal.
Then Ron starts banging on the glass partition.
“I will fire one of you if you don’t stop that immediately.”
Andy stands up, wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, and grins again. “Ron! We’re gonna be famous!”
**
Andy spends the entire week leading up to the Battle of the Bands two ways: rehearsing with the band and telling April that he’s convinced he’s dying. He drinks a lot of Gatorade -- “Gotta replenish my electrolytes” -- and ginger ale -- “I have an upset stomach” -- and refuses to eat anything but alphabet soup -- “The letters are brain food and stomach food.”
“I’m pretty sure that’s why he’s sick,” Ben tells her one night while they watch Andy eat dinner.
He’s probably right, too, which is the worst. Ben being right is somehow even more annoying than her parents being right about things. So she tells Ben that Andy’s fine, that he can eat whatever he wants, and neither of them mentions to Andy that it’s probably just nerves.
“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” he tells April so late Thursday night that she should really be calling it Friday morning, “Maybe it’s that pigeon flu.”
“Andy,” she whines, “You’re fine, I told you. Just come back to bed.”
“I don’t want to get you sick, though.”
“You’ve been sleeping here every night this week and I’m not sick yet.”
“That’s true.”
They’re quiet for a while, sitting on opposite ends of their ginormous bed. Even in the moonlight she can see the evidence of stress on Andy’s face; he looks pale and drawn.
She kneels up and holds out her hand. “Come on. You need to sleep. Tomorrow’s a big day.”
When he reaches out, she tugs him towards the middle of the bed, where all the blankets and pillows clumped together.
“You’ll feel better after you sleep,” she says, pulling a blanket over both of them. He nuzzles into her shoulder and she strokes her fingers down his spine, counts his breaths until they’re both finally asleep.
**
“Holy -- wow, there are a lot of people here,” Andy says, closing the stage curtain. Of course that means the rest of the guys take turns peeking out and making the same terrified faces.
“Yeah but like half of those people are here for you,” April points out. The whole Parks Department showed up, plus people Tom knows from the Snakehole, and April’s sister begrudgingly brought a lot of her friends.
“What? Really?” Andy sticks his head out again and then immediately pulls it back in. “Nope, that is still a scary amount of people. And I do not feel comfortable picturing them in their underwear,” he tells Burly, who shrugs.
“Alright, it’s time to get started,” some guy with a headset and a clipboard tells them. “We’re going to need you to clear the stage until it’s your turn, okay?”
“We’re third,” Andy tells the guy, who nods. “Good. Don’t miss your turn. Until then.” He makes a shooing motion.
“I’m going to go out there,” April says, pointing to the house. “Make sure Tom and Jean-Ralphio haven’t sold you to the highest bidder or whatever.”
“Yes, you do that and we will...”
“Relax,” April finishes. “And make sure you all have the same copy of the set list.”
“Good call,” Andy says, snapping his fingers. “That is why you are the boss.”
April leans up to kiss him. “Break a leg.”
**
She spends most of the time before Mouse Rat goes on networking with Tom and Jean-Ralphio and a revolving door of people.
Right before Mouse Rat takes the stage, Leslie and the rest of the department make their way over.
“April,” Leslie gushes, “oh my gosh, this is so exciting!”
“It’s my favorite government department, Parks Department in the hizz-ouse!” Tom says, passing out Entertainment 720 swizzle sticks. “I miss you guys, you kept me grounded.”
“Ooh, look, they’re starting,” Leslie says. Everyone turns to see Mouse Rat taking the stage.
“Hi, uh, I am Andy and we --” he gestures to the rest of the band, “are Mouse Rat.”
The crowd cheers so loud that the whole band is thrown for a second, but then James counts them off and they start to play.
**
April knows the second their set’s over that they could win the whole thing. She’s never seen them play better.
It’s a nerve-wracking hour hoping no one else does as good a job.
“They were so great, if they don’t win, we’ll start a petition,” Leslie says when the emcee appears to announce the results.
April clenches her fists and holds her breath.
“And the winners, thanks to their stirring remix of “November,” Mouse Rat!”
It’s pandemonium on stage as the guys high five each other and wrestle over who gets to hold the trophy.
“Thank you so much,” Andy says. “This is super awesome, like a dream come true. And I just want to say that November is actually -- November is actually about my wife, April,” Andy says, talking to the crowd even though none of the other bands have bantered. “She is a big part of the reason we’re here today. I love you, April.”
“I love you, April!” the whole band shouts. And if the crowd wasn’t applauding before, they sure are now. A spotlight finds her in the crowd and April feels like her face is so red it’s on fire.
It’s a relief when the lights change and the band kicks into their victory encore. A relief in more ways than one.
**
People won’t stop coming up to them once it’s over. April and Tom and Jean-Ralphio end up with so many business cards she doesn’t know what to do with them.
“Oh my god, we could win so many free lunches,” Andy says, gathering some into a pile and then tossing them into the air.
“Come on, man,” Tom says, stooping to pick them up off the floor. Ron plucks a card out of his drink and grunts.
“Interesting,” he says, handing it to April. It’s hers.
Andy reads it over her shoulder and says, “April Ludgate, Manager -- you should have it changed to Best Manager.”
“No,” she says, laughing a little.
“Yes,” Andy says, picking her up and spinning her in a circle. He’s kissing her before her feet are back on the ground. She’s distantly aware of Ron grunting again.
“We’re not at work, you can’t fire them,” Leslie says. “Come on, let’s take a walk.”
Out of the corner of her eye April notices Leslie dragging Ron away, the rest of the department following suit, calling out congratulations as they leave.
“We should go home,” April says eventually. Her lipstick is long gone and she’s pretty sure her hair’s a wreck.
“Now? But it’s still early. We didn’t even get our celebratory drinks.”
April raises an eyebrow and Andy gets it. “Burly, bring my stuff home,” he says, racing toward the door. April grabs some of the business cards that are still on the table and laughs as she chases after him.