As the last chord faded, Maddy lifted the bass strap over her head. She’d love to do a sweet swan dive into the crowd, but she’d worn a jean jacket and a pink tutu over garters and a giant pair of boots, so there was no way in hell she’d jump into that writhing pit of testosterone. Clearing the stage for the last band would take a few minutes, so she started to rapidly disassemble and put equipment in cases. Canned music pumped through the speakers.