“I gotcha,” said Renee. “Well, I don’t know what to say. Maybe going after her could be a bad idea, considering she’s part of the label and all.”
“I know.”
“Because if it goes bad,” Renee went on. “You still have to work with her.”
“I know,” I said again.
“And maybe she won’t even reciprocate,” she said. “So it could make for an awkward moment if you ask her out or something and she says no.”
“She kind of asked me out,” I said. “Well, for a drink or something.”
“Okay,” said Renee, slowly nodding. “Yeah, that’s a good sign. You really like this chick?”
“I don’t know what it is,” I said. “I’m drawn to her.”
“You do you,” said Renee, flicking the butt of her cigarette to the ground. “Just be careful. I got your back.”
“I know you do,” I said with a smile.
“Just don’t forget about us,” said Renee. “Cast Party, I mean. This thing’s pretty wobbly right now. We don’t wanna screw shit up.”
“I won’t screw shit up,” I said. “I’m just as on board with all this as you guys are. This is what I’ve always wanted.”
“Good,” she said. Renee leaned over close to me and wrapped her arm around my shoulders, pulling herself against me. “This is so exciting,” Renee said. “I’m, like, pissing myself with excitement.”
“I really can’t believe it’s happening,” I said. “It feels like it’s moving so fast but I’m so amped to see what happens.”
“Me too,” she said. “I’m greedy to see how it goes down.”
Renee turned her face toward me and planted a kiss on the side of my head. I smiled, looked down to my boots, then closed my eyes. I knew some monstrous things were changing in my life and I was glad to have Renee by my side to experience them. Cast Party were my people. It was the perfect group to go through this with. Success could be hard, or so I’d read, and not many people are able to understand what you might be experiencing. I needed Renee to be there with me because everything was about to become far more difficult to explain to other people. That much, I knew.
Municipal had set us up to headline at Saturn Lounge, one of New York’s best loved small rock venues, in an effort to get our name out to the local tastemakers and critics. As soon as Arnie told us about it, we all blew up with excitement. The label was beginning to leak to the press about how they had the “next big thing” on their hands, that an album was imminent, and that how this show might be the last time we’d be seen in such a small club. We were close to finished with the record, we’d worked out some new songs, tweaked some older ones, and were beginning to sort out our set list for the big upcoming tour with Air Patrol.
Saturn Lounge was small and long, with a low ceiling, dark inside with a dim orange light. It was loud in there, the amps humming and mixing with the chatter of the audience. And it was smoky, just what I was used to at all the rock shows I’d been to, all the rock shows I’d played. The place was packed with excited faces. It felt a lot like home. But rather than the hometown crowd of people coming out to support you because that’s just what they always did, this crowd definitely felt like they were there to check out something that was about to take on a life of its own.
“You’re fucking rad, New York,” I said into the mic, grinning wildly, feeling a bit flushed as I stood up there on stage. The band was behind me, looking pretty pumped up as well, excited for the next song. James, in particular, was ready to go, noodling notes on his guitar, looking jittery and ready to play. “This next one is called Zirconia.”
The trio behind me ripped into it suddenly, big beats and crunchy guitars, and I flung my blue hair forward over my face, then back again, head banging along with the music.
I stepped up to the microphone and brought my mouth closer.
“I just want to shine my light,
Don’t want to fight with you any more.
I just want to prove I’m good,
There I stood, knocking at your door.”
The crowd was into it, swaying back and forth, hanging on my words. It made me feel powerful. Even though these people didn’t love me in the way my Detroit people did, their love was palpable. It was something different, for sure, some kind of distant love. The love of a stranger who feels so close to you, but you have no idea who they are. It was just like how I felt with the bands I loved, or the writers of the books I loved, for that matter. You think you’ve got this connection with the person because you know their work so well. They become a hero. I could see that all in the eyes of the audience before me, as I tried to sing personally to each and every one of them. It gave me strength.
That night at the Saturn was one of the best shows we’d ever played. We were tight, we were together. With recording just about behind us, an experience in which we had to play our parts over and over again to sound perfect on the album, we had absolutely mastered our songs and it definitely showed up on stage. The crowd was into it. They loved us. They loved our music. And I could tell from their intent stares that they loved me.
I skipped out from backstage all by myself, eager to shimmy up to the bar and get a beer, bewildered from the performance and naive to what would happen next. As I made my way through the crowd, who had begun to mingle and relax into the post-concert bar scene, people parted as they saw me approach. They cleared a path for me, as though they were scared of me or something. I looked side-to-side, confused by it, but I kept moving. I felt untouchable, but I didn’t know if that was a good thing.
“Baby girl!” I heard suddenly. I looked to my right and saw Arnie, dark sunglasses over his eyes, his mouth elastic and turned up into a smile, bald head shimmering thanks to a light above the bar. “That was killer. Really awesome stuff.” Before I knew it, Arnie had leapt forward to hug me.
“Thanks Arnie,” I said, suddenly feeling claustrophobic. But I hugged him back lightly anyway.
“They loved it!” he beamed as he pulled back from the hug. “The crowd, they loved you.”
“Thanks,” I said again.
“You’re going to be shitting gold records,” he said. “It’ll be magnificent!”
“I sure hope so!” I replied.
“Listen,” he said, leaning forward and placing his hand on my shoulder. He had bad breath. “I can’t stay. But I just wanted to congratulate you and Cast Party on a tremendous show. I want you all to stop by my office this week. We’ve got some proofs back from the cover artist. I think you’ll love what we’ve done.”
“All right,” I said. “That sounds fine, Arnie.”
“For now,” he went on. “You and the rest of the band, you just have a good time. Daisy’s got a tab open with the label’s credit card.” As he said this, my ears perked and my eyes widened. I quickly searched around and saw Daisy just a few seats down at the bar. She was already looking at me. When we met eyes, she smiled and she waved.
“Oh wow,” I said. “That’s generous.”
“It’s nothing,” said Arnie. “We’re going to the top!” When he said this, he stuck a single finger up in the air.
Before long, Arnie and I had parted ways and I nervously made my way over to Daisy, who was obviously waiting for my approach. She was still smiling wide at me and looking gorgeous, dressed down from the kind of outfits I’d seen her in before. She was wearing dark blue matchstick jeans, grey flats, and a white tank top with her black bra straps showing. But her hair was immaculately styled.
“You never got in touch with me about that drink,” she said, playfully scolding me.
“You never got in touch with me,” I countered. She rolled her eyes and handed me a beer. “Thanks,” I cooed, quickly taking a sip.
“I convinced Arnie to let me take you guys out tonight,” she said. “That was a great show.”
“Thank you,” I said. “It felt great. It felt… different.”
“See how all these people look at you?” Daisy asked, motioning w
ith her own beer bottle to the crowd that had secretly assembled near us. I scanned around and noticed that we were indeed being watched. Or, rather, I was being watched.
“It’s weird,” I said.
“Get used to it,” said Daisy. “It’s going to become quite common for you.”
“It’s what I wanted, in a way,” I said, taking another drink and thinking about it all. “I guess it’s what I’ve brought upon myself. It’s not too bad, I suppose, even though I don’t always like the attention.”
“I think you do,” said Daisy with a wildness in her eyes and a grin across her lips. “You dig it.”
“Maybe a little,” I said, smiling and looking away.
“Well, this demure thing you do,” she said, gesturing at me with her hand. “It’s totally different than how you act on stage. It’s like night and day.”
“I feel a lot better on stage,” I admitted. “I’ve got problems with anxiety sometimes, but when I’m on stage it disappears.”
“I like to think the clothes help a bit,” she said, winking. I looked down at myself, wearing something that Daisy and her team had put together for me. It was a black button down shirt, but oversized and billowy like a nightshirt, white tights, black mary janes with chunky heels. The top few buttons of my shirt were undone, exposing my modest cleavage.
“Yeah, I dig this,” I said. “I feel comfortable in this kind of thing.”
“I like the pigtail braids,” said Daisy. “Your blue’s starting to wash out a bit, though.”
“It is,” I confirmed, reaching up and feeling one of my braids. “I’ve got to get back to my friend Nikki and have her fix it all up.”
“I can set you up with someone here in New York if you like,” she said, eyes bright, expression expectant.
“I don’t know,” I mewed. “I think we’re heading home soon and I’d rather just have my friend do it.”
“Suit yourself,” said Daisy, pushing the beer bottle to her lips.
“Though I’m sure your person is good, too.”
“Excuse me,” I heard a voice say, breaking into my and Daisy’s conversation. Looking up, I saw a dude looking back with a grungy appearance. Long, greasy hair, tight t-shirt and jeans. A typical rocker. “I was wondering if I could buy you a drink?”
“She’s got all the drinks she needs,” said Daisy matter-of-factly. “And we were just about to meet up with the rest of the band, so if you’ll excuse us…” She threaded her arm through mine and yanked me along, the two of us blowing by the guy and not giving him even another word. I looked back at him as we sped off and he looked defeated.
“Thanks,” I murmured into Daisy’s ear as we crossed the room, the crowd once again parting as they saw me. I was feeling totally swept away.
Later on, Daisy and I ended up alone in a booth at the Lexicon, a library-themed bar on Avenue A in the Lower East Side. It was dark in the Lexicon, and on the far wall a creepy old black and white movie was projected, the sound off, and replaced by punk rock music from a jukebox. It was my kind of place, and I think Daisy knew that. She had taken me there on purpose. I was smitten by the dive bar.
We had moved on from beer and made our way to cocktails. Or, rather, I was sipping on a bourbon and Daisy had a vodka cranberry. I could tell that she was getting increasingly drunk, as the mushy smile on her face revealed the entire story. Despite her growing inebriation, she was with it and sharp, fun and sassy, and as we drank more and traveled further in our conversation, I definitely felt myself opening up to her.
The two of us sat on the same side of the booth, and Daisy had kicked her flats off under the table, her bare feet propped up on the bench on the other side. She was happily melting there. It was like she was letting loose, portraying a much different freewheeling attitude than I had assumed from her in previous meetings.
“This place rocks,” I said, admiring the bar. “If there was a bar like this in Detroit, I’d be there every day.”
“Cool spot, right?” said Daisy, sipping her drink through the straw. “I usually go to fancier cocktail bars up north, but I figured… Hey! We’re downtown, let’s hit up the Lexicon.”
“Thanks for taking me out,” I said. “And thanks for paying!”
“Ha!” she said and laughed at the same time. “Yeah, you got it.”
“Hey, I’m sorry… by the way,” I said, almost too low for Daisy to hear over the music.
“You’re sorry?” she repeated. “For what?”
“At our meeting,” I said. “What I said about you not looking like a lesbian or whatever. I can’t believe I said that. I didn’t mean it. It just came out like that.”
“Oh God,” said Daisy. “You’re not fretting over that, are you?” She sat up straighter in the booth, setting her drink down on the table, and turning toward me. “That’s sweet, Layla. But don’t worry. I’m not offended.”
“No?”
“No way,” she said happily. “C’mon. I do PR for a major record label. Check this.” Daisy brought her arm up and then reached toward it with her opposing hand, giving her flesh a pinch. “Thick skin.” I couldn’t help but laugh.
“All right,” I smiled. “Let’s forget I ever said anything.”
“Done!”
“But I want you to know that I’m totally open-minded,” I said. “I don’t care what you look like.”
“You have something against my looks?” said Daisy teasingly, putting her hands on her hips and giving me a mock-pout.
“No, no, no!” I said, palms up. “I just mean—“
“I’m kidding!” she said, pushing my hands down. “Relax, Layla. Same team.”
“I think you’ve got a good look,” I peeped softly. I watched as Daisy’s smile grew.
“Thank you,” she said proudly. Daisy could take a compliment. “Hey, so, I’ve been meaning to ask…”
“Yeah?”
“Layla,” said Daisy. “Like the song?”
“Yes,” I said, rolling my eyes. “My parents are big Clapton fans. That song came out a few years before I was born. It was actually Derek and the Dominos. But I don’t want to get into it.”
“Don’t get into it, then,” she grinned.
“I won’t!”
“I happen to — ahem — know a little bit about Eric Clapton,” said Daisy. “And that song. Just wait a few more years and you might be surprised to hear your name a lot more often.”
“That’s not what I want to hear.”
“Well, at least you’ve got a cool rock song to sing with your name,” said Daisy. “What about my name? All I’ve got is… Daisy, Daisy, give me your answer, do!”
“I’m half crazy!” I sung. “All for the love of you!”
“Okay, let’s stop!”
We laughed together and I felt Daisy’s hand touch my leg. I picked up my bourbon and took a deep sip.
“I guess I’ve got the better song,” I admitted.
“You definitely do,” she said.
“Do you have any plans to visit Detroit?” I asked, altering the subject. “Before we kick off the tour, I mean.”
“No,” said Daisy regretfully. “I’ve got a lot of work here in New York to help prepare for the tour.”
“Do you come along with us?” I said.
“I don’t,” she smiled, shaking her head. “I’m sure Arnie will make some stops with you guys.”
“He’s a little smarmy,” I said, instantly feeling embarrassed. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. You won’t tell him, will you?”
“I won’t tell him,” Daisy said through a laugh. “And you’re right. He’s a little smarmy. But that’s part of the gig.”
“I suppose.”
“I don’t know what I’d do if I went on tour with a band,” said Daisy, ruminating about it. She lifted her drink up and took a sip. “I’d probably get far too drunk most nights and make an ass out of myself.” She laughed as she thought about it and shook the ice around in her glass.
“I don�
��t know what to expect, really,” I said. “I don’t really party like most people. Off stage, I’m pretty introverted.”
“I get that,” said Daisy smiling. “You’ll just have to be careful. The road can really ruin a lot of people. You need to stay true to yourself.”
“I’ll sure as hell try,” I said.
“Try to avoid the hard stuff,” said Daisy, lifting up an eyebrow. “I’ve had to cover for far too many drug and alcohol related issues and I would hate to do the same for you.”
“I’ll try.”
“What about the other members of Cast Party?” she asked. “You think they’ll party hard?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “I think it might be hard for them not to. James will just be out to get laid, so he’ll probably do whatever it takes to sleep with groupies.”
“I don’t think that’ll be too hard to accomplish,” Daisy laughed.
“Renee… I could see her going wild,” I continued. “And Paul, I just don’t know about him. He’s introverted like me but sometimes that works itself out in weird ways.”
“You’re going to be given a lot of opportunities,” said Daisy. “A lot of people out there won’t have your best interests at heart.”
“And you do?” I asked sneakily.
“At my job, I have the label’s best interests at heart,” she said with candor. “And that’s to protect you.”
“I don’t know what to make of that,” I mused.
“Don’t worry about it.” Daisy gave me her wide, white smile.
Just then, our waitress approached us. She was punky and sweet looking.
“Another round, ladies?” she asked. Daisy and I looked at each other.
“One more,” said Daisy affirmatively. I laughed softly.
I woke up the next morning on an unfamiliar couch. I was still wearing my black smock shirt and had a blanket draped over me. My white tights were balled up and stuffed into my shoes, which sat on the floor under the coffee table. As my consciousness returned, and the obvious hangover began to set in, I looked around the room and marveled at how beautiful the apartment was. It was decorated with a modern aesthetic, like it was out of some fancy furniture catalog. Light crept in from the sliding door that led out to a balcony, and without thinking much more about it, I fished into my bag and pulled out my cigarettes. I tossed the blanket off me and climbed off the couch.
Rise From Rock City: A Lesbian Rock Star Romance (Revolving Record Book 1) Page 5