Without actually playing they moved about the stage, memorizing where they needed to be standing at certain times. A few times they stopped to gesture back and forth, the brothers even arguing over their difference in opinion, until they were both satisfied with how it would look.
One of the roadies walked by, one of the few she had begun to recognize by sight. This was the tall, broad shouldered guy with short funky dirty-blond hair who had talked to her and taken her bag at the airport the day before.
Shayle pointed at the stage. “I’ve never seen anything like this before. What do you think? Is all that arguing good or bad?”
Gran your copy of Talkers here!