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CHAPTER 14 Kim had Gwen at a candlelit dinner at the most expensive restaurant that would actually let a goth and punk in before she told her the band was signed. She eased it into the conversation between sips of champagne. “I can do this for you more often, luv.” Gwen smiled at her. “Mmm, first spoiled by my parents, and now by my girl. Why?” Kim reached across the table and took her hand. “I’m going to be making a lot more money.” “Really? You found a better club than Dudley’s?” “Nah, Gwen.” She narrowed her eyes. “So where’s the money coming from?” “What’s your favorite label?” Kim withdrew her hand, guiltily aware that Gwen’s fingernails were so much longer and more pretentious than Jessica’s. “Beggar’s Banquet. Was that even a question?” “Not one worth askin’. Gwen m’dear, here’s a thought. Your favorite grrl is now on your favorite label.” Gwen’s smile faltered, but she kept it on her face. It was her eyes that lost any sense of happiness. “That’s amazing, luv. Congratulations. Give me details.” Putting up a forced smile to match Gwen’s, but deeply hurt that there seemed to be nothing positive about her greatest accomplishment in life, she leaned forward. “The estimate for the album’s release is spring of ’91. We’re going to start recording next week. It means that Chatha’s being kicked out of her house, though, because she’s droppin’ school to record.” “Is she okay with that?” “Actually, she’s great with it. She has told me--not asked, told--that the entire band is getting apartments in the same complex as of this weekend. We can all afford it. She’s actually thrilled about the thought of such independence.” Kim smiled with a little more sincerity. “I swear, she’s a child. Everything’s awesome and big and new to her.” “If only everyone could stay that naïve.” Gwen swished the champagne around in her glass, then set it down. “If only we could all put on our blinders. The wonderment of childhood could last forever.” She ducked her head, but not before Kim saw the tears in her eyes. “Gwen--” “I think I’m going back home now.” She stood up. “It’s great about your band.” “Gwen, please--” “Promise me one thing.” “Anything.” “On the weekends, you’re mine and I’m yours. There is no Red Lips Quintet.” Kim nodded. “I’ll give you that.” “I’ve never been a weekend lover before,” Gwen murmured, then walked away. *** With only a week before recording started, the drummer issue had to be discussed. And quickly. Kim and Elke both held their stances with a rabid stubbornness. Kim thought that if a drum machine had been good enough for the musical geniuses of the ‘80s, the new generation of ‘90s rockers could do the same. Elke was adamant that a drum machine had no soul, and they needed an actual human being backing them. “But a human being can fuck up.” Kim cocked her head, waiting for her friend’s response. “So can we; all of us have fucked up and will fuck up again.” “All m’fuck ups were on purpose, s’there.” Chatha stuck out her tongue, which was just as pink as the rest of her. Her big red and white swirled lollypop that she’d been working on all day really helped that. “And I think we cover for each other’s fuck ups quite well.” Ebony, who usually only stood in silent agreement with Chatha, considered both Kim and Elke. “Though drums are one of the most important things a band can have. It unifies the sound, it draws everything forwards. If the drummer sucks, the band is essentially buggered. So I think we should, as a band, vote machine versus human being. Knowing the consequences of each side.” “Ah missed th’ consequence o’th’ machine,” Chatha whispered. “As Elke said, it has no soul. A drum machine doesn’t quite give the feeling that an actual drummer does.” “No offense,” Geneveve said, tired of listening to all the other grrls, “but what sort of chick plays drums, anyway? I don’t think it’d do our image well if we got a total butch backing us up.” “So you want everyone in this band to be just as beautiful and superficial?” Jessica looked up over the edge of her spiral notebook, where she’d been scrawling out some bass lines she could put to use later. “Hey, there’s no one superficial here.” Kim spoke quickly, before the rest of the grrls could beat Jessica back with angry retorts. “But you must admit, we might seem a li’l superficial if all of us are amazingly hot sex goddesses. So I say if we do get a drummer, she should be rather plain.” That was said as she stared at Elke, trying to figure out what she was thinking. Everyone’s thoughts were disturbed, though, when Chatha started giggling. “Ah’m a sex goddess!” She cradled her big lollypop, repeating her sex goddess status between giggles. *** The vote for a drummer was stale-mate. Chatha and Elke wanted the real thing, Kim and Geneveve wanted a drum machine, and neither Jessica nor Ebony would give out their opinions for fear that the two sides would break the band up. Chatha, still enchanted by the fact that she was an amazingly hot sex goddess, admitted she didn’t really care what happened, but Elke was so lonely on her side of the debate. Elke and Kim retreated to the cold concrete practice room, locking the door behind them, so they could argue without interruptions. There was a lot of yelling, all of which Chatha cringed at, and a few times when it sounded like something was thrown across the room. The remaining grrls were considerably happy that their instruments weren’t in there.
Eventually, Elke came flying out the door, her face deep red with rage.
She whipped back and screamed, “Fine! It’s your fucking dream! You
don’t need me anyway, you’ve got your new
best grrl t’ play with!”
Kim rushed out in time to catch Elke throwing open the front door.
“Elke, I need you! Please” The door slammed and Kim swore, kicking at the
wall as hard as she dared. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!”
Chatha was the first to approach her, touching her arm gently to see if
she was going to lash out, then holding on with her cheek pressed against
Kim’s shoulder. “Wha’s th’ verdict?”
Kim sighed, putting her free arm around Chatha. “She’ll snap out of
it, luv. Though I owe her a drummer now.”
“S’we’re still a band?”
Kim nodded.
Jessica came up to them, carefully disengaging Chatha from Kim’s arm.
“Want to talk?”
Kim sighed. “And say what? We fight. Best friends fight. Best friends
joy in tearing each other right th’ bloody hell apart.” She pulled away from
Jessica’s soft, sure hands. “We both need t’ get s’more sleep. It’s
fine. Everythin’s bloody fine.” *** It was when the grrls were moving their things into their new
apartments, all on the same floor of a pretty nice building, that Elke made her
re-entrance. With a girl so hidden under dirt and amazingly torn, baggy clothes
that she was difficult to see. It looked like Elke had dragged her out of the
gutter, or maybe even the trash.
Kim didn’t even ask what or why this girl was standing here. Instead,
she studied her. Was her hair brown? It was hard to tell. It was greasy and had
things like dead grass caught in it. Her face was gaunt and fine-featured under
the black smudges, and her brown eyes met Kim’s directly. She was wearing an
ancient, torn sweatshirt made for a person five times her size, and had on what
might have been jeans (it was hard to tell through the mismatched patches),
falling over her grease-stained shoes.
“This is Heather Hunter.” Elke’s voice had an air of bitter
triumph. “Our drummer.”
Without a word, Kim turned away and walked into her apartment. Her head
was spinning. What was Elke thinking? That girl wasn’t even human! She was
just ... filth. She was walking filth. Walking, bloody drum-playing filth. What
in bloody hell was Elke thinking?
There was a half-strangled squeak in the hall, then Chatha darted into
Kim’s apartment. “There’s a bog monste’ out there! I ne’er knew they
were real! Wha’s it doin’ in the city? Wha’s i’ doin’ wi’ Elke?”
When she got only silence from Kim, she thought it out for herself. The answer
she came up with was never satisfactory. After all, the only thing that Elke
should be showing up with was their--
Chatha’s eyes went wide, and she clamped her hands over her own mouth
before she squealed again. Taking a deep breath so quickly that she almost
choked on it, Chatha grabbed Kim’s arms. “Our drumme’?”
Kim nodded. Chatha shook her head vigorously, as though that would change
everything, then she ran out the door to alert the other grrls. Kim headed back
out, stopping in her doorway to watch Elke and Heather in silence.
“Well?” Elke approached.
“Can she play?”
“Yes. She’s very good. Most accurate sense of rhythm I’ve ever
encountered.”
“Does she know how to bathe?” Kim’s voice was low.
“She washes her hair once a week, which is sort of a put-off, but the
dirt is actually well-placed, well-smudged eyeliner, and a bit of charcoal.”
“So what are we naming her? Heather Hunter won’t do.”
“Why? You’re precious bassist kept her name. She’s no more special
than the rest of us. No, wait, she kept her name because Gwen
wouldn’t bloody well give her competition a new identity.”
“You bitch.”
“What? Gwen’s threatened by our dear Jessica. You know that.”
“And you are threatened by both Jess and Gwen.” Kim’s voice was calm and
steady, exactly smooth enough to really get Elke going.
“What do I have to worry about from either of them? Gwen will be gone
soon, and Jess isn’t even really a part of the band! The only one to keep her own
name! That displaces her, it puts her at the edge of this precious little
project of yours!” |
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Talk to LL,
the author. |