Chapter 1: Welcome to Show Biz

Jake “Hawk” Hawkins first fell in love with sound at fourteen. Sleeves rolled, fingers trembling over a battered mixer in the town’s community center, he felt the hum in his fingertips �" and the subtle release in the room when the bass settled just right. That was the hook, and it never let go.

By eighteen, he’d recorded basement demos, run backyard shows, and mixed his own band through the same console that had started it all. When Apex Live Events offered him a spot the week of graduation, his new boss slid a clipboard into his hands. “Welcome to show biz, kid.”

Apex didn’t care about degrees �" it ran on hustle and instinct, and Jake fit right in. His first week blurred: swapping blown bulbs from twenty feet up, patching cables before flickers became phone calls, trading war stories over burnt coffee in the back of the truck.

Now, the new amphitheater in Southeast Virginia’s forested foothills was hosting its grand�'opening festival. First contract under Melissa Crane. One shot to lock in the summer series.

By mid�'morning, the yellow Penske truck sat in a clearing ringed by pines and oaks. Cases rolled into the grass. “Four lifts �" one at each corner,” Jake called, squaring the truss for the roof. The crew eased the frame up to knee height. Black roof skin slid over the steel, zip�'ties clicked home, line arrays hung in their places. The rhythm of a build.

Then Melissa’s voice crackled over comms: wrong sponsor logo on a banner. Jake jogged to the hospitality tent, laptop under his arm.

Back at the stage, momentum took over. “Might as well take it to full trim,” Cameron said. Maya hesitated. No power or signal lines yet. But the winch handles turned. Five feet. Ten. Canopy straining in the wind.

A sharp groan. The stage�'right lift locked up.

Jake returned to see a loose cable swinging thirty feet in the air. He keyed the Genie control �" smooth at first, then a hard jolt. Seized. “No up, no down!”

Wind pushed harder. Harness clipped in, he stepped onto the truss. Steel flexed under his boots, zip�'tie stubs catching his soles. Every motion deliberate. He crawled across, swung down to the next lift, and dropped to the ground.

A ratchet strap ran from the lift arm to an oak. Together they eased it down, inch by inch, until the canopy sagged loose again.

Too close.

They built the deck bay by bay. Power and signal patched. By late morning, the LED wall stood tall, the sound system tested clean. The wind softened to a whisper in the trees.

Jake exhaled. Load�'in was the hardest mile. And the show hadn’t even started.