Slowly I took the ring off my necklace and placed it in her open palm. She snatched her hand away after our brief touch, the only touch we’d had in so many years, and immediately began inspecting the ring. I knew she’d pawn it the first chance she got.
“It’s yours.” I shrugged. “With one catch,” I added.
She looked at me expectantly. “Yes?” “We’re done after this. I don’t want to hear from you again.”
“Oh,” she said, unfazed. “Okay, no problem.” I knew then that she thought I had done her a favor. A payday with no strings attached. But look at what she was giving up.
“Goodbye,” I said.
“Goodbye.”
I got up and walked out of the hotel and onto the street. I did not look back. The past was inside. My future was somewhere on the road ahead.
Chapter Nine
I heard the sounds of the band from outside the studio, and the familiar chord progressions and rhythms were a relief to me.
I pushed open the heavy door and went inside. Jamie was sitting at the controls with Johnny, deep in excited conversation, when he saw me and leaped up.
“Kallie,” he said. He rushed over. “You okay?”
I nodded. “Yeah,” I said. “Yeah, it was okay.”
“So? What happened?”
“Well, I saw her. She was a sad, lonely person. I gave her back her ring—the one from the tin Dad left me—and I said goodbye. She’s gone.”
“Why did you give her the ring? Wasn’t that supposed to be for you?”
I shrugged. “It was just a thing,” I said. “And I didn’t even lay eyes on it until today.”
Jamie leaned in and hugged me tightly.
“Okay,” he said, letting me go. “What do you want first? The good news or the great news?” he asked.
I laughed. “Um, all of it, I guess.”
“Well, that dipshit Mike leaked our raw track to the Internet last night.”
Reading my shocked expression, he quickly explained, “But it backfired, see? He thought it would be bad for us, but the song has taken off. It’s practically gone viral!”
“It’s not viral, Jamie, but it does have thousands of downloads,” said Jelly from her perch in the corner. She was clicking away on the laptop, no doubt managing all our social-media sites at once.
“So anyway,” said Jamie, rolling his eyes at Jelly, “the venue is sold out for tomorrow, and they’ve booked us for three more nights to accommodate the demand!”
“Awesome,” I said.
“And that’s not all,” said Jamie. “Johnny wants to manage us. And he’s the real deal.”
“Yes!” I exclaimed. “Hell yes!”
I couldn’t think of a better manager. He knew the music, the tech, he loved our sound, and he’d even saved me from that psycho Mike.
“The others?” I asked Jamie. “Are they in?”
“You bet,” said Dolly, poking her head out of the studio door. “LeeLee’s all over it.”
“Yeah,” said Johnny. “She’s been up my butt all day about contracts.”
I laughed. “That’s our LeeLee.”
“Well,” said Johnny. “What are you waiting for, Misery?” He motioned to the vocal booth. “Ready to work out that big voice?”
I nodded. “Bring it,” I said.
The inside of the recording booth felt like home. It was warm and cozy, and it felt good to open up and sing and release all my tension.
“What’s next?” I asked.
“Well,” said Johnny, “Jamie has something, uh, special to perform.”
“Oh yeah?” I asked, intrigued. Jelly and LeeLee came out of the studio, and Jamie stayed behind with Dolly. I watched through the glass as he sat on a stool next to her and she picked up an acoustic guitar.
“Anytime you’re ready, kid,” said Johnny.
“This one is for Kallie,” said Jamie into the mic. “It’s called ‘Another Miserable Love Song.’”
Dolly started picking a really haunting and pretty melody, and after a few bars Jamie started singing. I had never heard him sing before, not properly. He would sometimes sing along with me as we were working out songs, but not in full voice. He was actually pretty good, and I could hear how his voice had deepened lately.
He sang about wishing for me, about finding me and about never wanting to let me go.
Dolly strummed the final chords and then the studio was silent. I was crying. Jamie’s song was so full of pain, and I knew it wasn’t just a song about loving me. It was a song about me loving him.
I looked around and saw that everyone else was moved too.
Jelly sniffled. “Oh my god, you guys,” she said. “I hope I fall in love with someone that way too.”
“If I can, you can,” said Jamie as he emerged from the studio. He walked over to me, took me in his arms and kissed me. It was a slow, deep kiss, and in it I felt everything he had sung about in his song.
“Did you like it?” he whispered as we came up for air.
“I loved it,” I whispered back.
He smiled his dazzling Jamie smile, and I felt it light me up inside like it always did.
“I think it should be our first single,” said Dolly. “It’s not heavy like our other stuff, but it’s beautiful, and I think it will get more radio play.”
“Totally,” said LeeLee. “I can hear that a simple, deep, Portishead-like bass line would go great with it.”
“Yeah,” said Jelly. “And I know exactly what to play over Dolly’s melody.”
“Kallie?” asked Jamie. “You want to sing this? I wrote it with you in mind. No one else can hit the full range of these notes.”
“Only if you back me up,” I said.
“That’s a great idea,” said Johnny. “It will add another layer to the song. Like a duet. Misery, get your butt in the booth and let’s lay this down while the feelings are hot!”
“You got it,” I said. I looked at Jamie. “Lyrics, babe?”
“Sure.” He handed over a sheet and gave me a wink.
In a matter of moments we were deep into the process, trying out versions, adding parts, working out the kinks and laying down the track. It was amazing.
After such a productive session in the studio, we were all starving, so we went for steaks. “You guys,” said Jelly, breaking the silence, “I’m kind of freaking out.”
“Me too.” Dolly sighed. “This gig is a big deal.”
LeeLee put down her fork. “Listen, bitches,” she said, and her tone shocked me. “We’re not going to have any of this. It’s just a gig. We go, we play our songs, we rock out, and we go home. Let’s not puss out now.”
I nodded. “You’re right. We’re Misery Girl. We’re a punk band, for crying out loud. We don’t buckle under pressure. Screw everyone else. We play for us. If they want to hate us, let them.”
“Yeah!” said Dolly.
“Yeah,” said Jelly. “Looks like someone already does.” She was staring at her phone.
Uh-oh. “What?” I asked.
“An article is up on Note for Note’s blog. There’s some hot shots of you, Kallie. And a few good quotes from Jamie, about him coming out as trans, but there’s also some bullshit about death threats. What the hell is that?” Jelly looked up at me, scared.
I shook my head. “I don’t know. Just rumors, I think. Where’s Johnny?” I asked, but LeeLee had already pulled out her phone.
“Johnny,” she said when she got him on the line, “what’s this about…? Yeah, yeah? Okay. Yeah. Okay. Yes, we will. Thanks. Bye.” She ended the call and looked at me. “Johnny says he’s all over it, that it sounds like a meaningless anonymous threat and we shouldn’t let it get to us. He does want us to go straight back to the hotel after dinner, and he’ll have a private security guard look out for us until after these shows are over. He says he had to negotiate, but the venue is paying for it. He told them we wouldn’t play there without it.”
“Okay,” I said, feeling a bit more secure. “Le
t’s just enjoy our food, and then we’ll go back and get some rest.”
“But first, a toast,” said LeeLee, holding up a bottle of wine.
“Um, not for me,” I said.
“Really?” she asked, incredulous.
“Yeah, after seeing my mom I just don’t need to go there.”
“You mean, you’re going to sing sober?” asked Dolly.
“Yeah, why?” I asked, getting nervous.
“That’s great!” she said. “Your voice is better when you’re not drinking.”
“Really?” I asked. “Why didn’t you say something?”
Dolly shrugged. “I thought you’d figure it out in your own time.”
“Yeah,” I said. “Let’s not do that anymore, okay? Let’s not assume that we’re all fine. From now on, let’s check in.”
Jelly nodded. “That sounds good to me.”
“Me too,” said LeeLee.
“You got it, girl,” said Dolly. “I wouldn’t know what I would do without you guys. You’re my life.”
“And you’re mine,” I said.
I looked around the table at them, at my girls, my band, my best friends. What a life it was.
Chapter Ten
When we got back to the hotel, Jamie wasn’t there, Whatever, I thought. All I wanted was to crash.
I grabbed Jamie’s Dead Kennedys hoodie, the one he had worn thin, and snuggled into it. I curled up on the sofa bed and drifted off.
Sometime later I heard a squeak and rolled over to see Jamie sneaking into bed. It felt late.
“Jamie?” I murmured. “So late…”
“Yeah, baby,” he said. “Go back to sleep. I’m here now.”
He scooted over to me and took me in his arms, and I fell instantly back to sleep.
The morning was a blur. There were people everywhere. Our little band had somehow exploded into a giant crew of people, with Johnny leading the charge of a few hired roadies, reps from the venue and a few other people he had called in favors with to help us get ready and organized.
One of the men there, an impossibly tall dude named Jake, was our designated security force. He hovered around me relentlessly, and I swear he actually cast a shadow he was so tall. Dolly, LeeLee, Jelly and Jamie were all tinkering with their gear, making sure it was in working order and that they had backup.
I excused myself to the bathroom at the last minute and started my transformation into Misery. I had picked out my clothes the night before. I was going to wear my dad’s old Nirvana T-shirt as a tribute, but instead of pairing it with jeans, I was going to wear it with a studded belt and tights, like a teeny mini-dress. When I put it on it was awfully short, but I just took a deep breath and willed myself not to care. Misery would not care. Then I took a pair of ripped fishnets and pulled them on over my tights. I slipped on my spike-heeled boots. They weren’t great for walking, but they made me about four inches taller and were an instant confidence boost.
My hair, in a constant state of flux between black shoulder-length, shaggy bob and long pixie, was again getting too long. I grabbed a razor off the vanity and started chopping into it, shaving away some of the bulk and giving myself eye-skimming bangs. I messed it up with my hands. Not bad. I didn’t ever wear much makeup, but onstage I needed more. I used some near-white concealer to make myself a little more pale—not super goth pale, just enough to look a little inhuman. Then I used black eyeliner to mark a straight black line underneath my eyes.
I emerged from the bathroom and everyone turned to look at me. I felt the energy shift. They were no longer looking at Kallie, and they knew it. They were staring at Misery.
“Well,” I said, my voice already dropping into Misery’s tone, “you guys coming or what?”
Jamie cracked a grin, and we all filed out the door and to the van.
“Nervous?” whispered Jamie. He and I were snuggled together in the back while Jake, the security guy, drove.
“Um, not really,” I said. “Not about the gig.” I pointed at Jake.
Jamie nodded. “Yeah, I’m sorry I didn’t talk to you about that before. I didn’t want to scare you. Just some nutcase on the Internet.”
“Yeah,” I said. “That’s what everyone keeps saying.” I paused. “Do me a favor?”
“Anything.”
“Smile for me.”
And he did. A genuine, true-blue Jamie dazzler. It was all I needed to carry me through.
The place was packed, thumping with aggressive teenage energy, and the time between acts flew by. We were up next, and the five of us waited in the wings backstage. Jake, ever present, hovered nearby. I turned to him.
“Um, dude, you going to come onstage with me?” I asked.
“No. This is where you leave me. We swept the venue. Everyone back here has credentials. You’re good. I’ll be watching from here.”
“Okay,” I said, somewhat reassured.
“You guys ready?” Dolly asked. She was almost humming with excitement.
We all nodded.
“You guys,” said Jamie, “I just want you all to know that this has been the greatest time of my life. No matter what, I love you all, and I’m just really happy to be here with you.”
“Aaw!” cooed LeeLee.
We all went in for a group hug.
The announcer took the stage and stepped up to the mic.
“PLEASE WELCOME TO THE STAGE…MISERY GIRL!”
The ensuing cheers and roaring applause and stomping were deafening as we ran onto the stage and took our places. The venue had been plunged into blackness, but I could find my way to my mic because the stage crew had pasted nifty pieces of glow tape all over the stage.
I stepped up to the mic. I could hear, even feel, the faint buzz of electricity that told me it was live. The monitors at my feet were huge.
I opened my mouth—Misery’s mouth—and pressed my lips to the mic, kissing the crosshatched metal. I breathed in and could hear myself amplified through the monitors at my feet. A surge of power rose in my gut. I let the resulting sound loose and imagined bringing it up from my feet and up through my torso, chest and throat. I imagined bringing it up through every stupid thing that had gone wrong, through everything that had hurt me or the ones I loved.
I released it into the microphone, and it howled out over the audience. And just like every time before, the intensity of the sound surprised me, as if I didn’t even know the full extent of my own voice. The returning roar of the crowd surprised me too. The love they gave was a kind of water that people like me existed on.
The show went by in a daze of sweat and sound and percussion. By the end I was completely wrung out. The crowd had cheered for an encore, and we had given it to them—twice. Eventually, it had been time to leave the stage, and we all did so reluctantly.
Soaking wet and buzzing from adrenaline, we lounged backstage until the early hours and even signed a few autographs for kids who had been given all-access passes. Jake the bodyguard hovered, but even he didn’t think the skinny teen girls seeking a signature were a threat, and he allowed himself a much-needed break to grab some food.
The fans were adorable, dressed like me, and they clearly idolized Jamie, Dolly, Jelly and LeeLee. Dolly gave them guitar picks, and Jamie gave them each a busted drumstick, one of which even had some of his blood on it from a wicked rim shot he’d given himself during the encore.
I checked his hands while we all came down from our performance high. His knuckles were beat-up.
“I think there’s a first-aid kit in the bathroom,” I said, remembering I had seen it earlier. “Let me get you something for your hands.”
Jamie grinned. “Always thinking of me,” he said.
“No,” I said. “I’m just looking out for the band. I wouldn’t want to have to replace you,” I joked.
He swatted my behind as I walked past. “Hurry back. I have a surprise for you.”
“Oh, what is it?” I asked. I loved surprises.
“You’ll see.”
> I hurriedly made my way through a few lingering stagehands to the bathroom and opened the door. I saw the first-aid kit hanging on the wall beside the sink and was just about to open it and look for some bandages and antiseptic when I heard a familiar and menacing voice behind me.
“You’re going to need that when I’m through with you, bitch.”
I turned slowly to face the voice. It was Mike. He was standing in front of the doorway, blocking the entrance, and he had a knife in his hands.
I suddenly had to pee, and I could hear blood whooshing in my ears. Was it Mike who had made the death threats? Was he there to kill me?
I laughed weakly. “Good one, Mike,” I said, pretending I thought he was joking. I hoped he might back off if he figured he wasn’t in too deep, but my ploy backfired.
“You think this is funny?” he snarled.
“N-no. Please.” I started to cry as I pleaded with him. I didn’t want to die.
“That’s right, Misery. You beg. Matter of fact, why don’t you get on your knees and start begging now.”
“Please,” I said. “Don’t hurt me.”
He stepped closer and brandished the knife. “Now, bitch. Kneel.”
Slowly I sank to my knees. As he advanced, I saw the bathroom door open a crack. Relief flooded through me as I pictured someone coming to save me. Perhaps it was Jake, back from his food break. My heart fell when I recognized the toe of Jamie’s ratty green Converse.
“Hey, what the…?” said Jamie.
Before I could scream, or maybe it was even as I was screaming, I wasn’t sure, Mike whirled around and punched at Jamie with the knife.
I jumped up and onto Mike’s back, clawing at him and screaming, fighting him with everything I had. He just kept punching at Jamie, who was making horrible wounded sounds.
A few seconds later Jake came through the door like a machine, swiftly taking Mike down, and me with him, then placing Mike in a crushing choke hold that rendered him unconscious.
Another Miserable Love Song Page 5