CHAPTER 36

When Teaching Spiders to Cry had been released as both a British and American single back in July, it hit it off quite well. Kim had reported back to her grrls a week after it hit the air waves with what she considered to be terrible news: “We’re th’ next bit of bloody overplayed crap that everyone hears!”

            The idea that their song was played on the radio everyday, and not only that, but often enough to be considered a hit single, enchanted Chatha to no ends. Any time someone passing her on the street so much as glanced at her, she would excitedly babble to them about how, yes, she was the bari-sax player of the oh-so-cool totally grrl band with the hit single on the radio! More than half the time, the person she was talking to would just speed up and not look back. Luckily, Chatha was too excited to let that discourage her.

            As the song climbed both the British and American charts, the band discussed where its future would lead. Ebony had decided she would marry Raine before the American tour, but not until they had done their festivals. There were times when it seemed like Geneveve would drop out of the band, what with their strict new rules about staying sober on stage, but she was never decisive enough to actually do it. Elke avoided doing anything to set off Kim, for fear that the band would end before they even started their British tour. This wasn’t the case with Heather, but Kim did her best to ignore the grungy drummer.

            Teaching Spiders to Cry hit the wonderfully high number of 13 on the British charts, where it held steady through until September. It even made it to 29 on the American charts. These prominent placings meant that people were ready and waiting when Blackened Princess was finally released.

            Jessie and Kim had spent the entire summer pretending nothing had happened between them. It was a silent agreement; neither of them could come to talk of it. Besides, it wasn’t important what sort of mistakes and could-haves were going on in the background of the band. They were going to be touring Britain, they were going to be doing European festivals. They were going to be making an appearance in the bloody US of A. No one had to know what had gone on between the front grrl and half-American bassist.

            It was agreed that Ebony and Chatha could bring their boys along on the tour. Kim knew, even if she had disagreed, there was no way to keep Raine away from Ebony. And since Chatha would complain to no ends if she weren’t allowed to bring Darius along, the techie accompanied them. Of course, Geneneveve hadn’t been given permission to bring any of her myriad of boys along; all they would end up doing is getting her high on the road. The band didn’t need that.

            Sometimes Kim wondered if the band needed a backup guitarist at all.

            But, of course, the Sisters of Mercy had had up to three guitarists at once. An extra guitar, even played by a stoner, could never hurt the band.

            When they first boarded their airplane out of London, Heather had coldly asked Kim why she wasn’t bringing any playthings along.

            Kim looked at her calmly for a moment before turning away and finding her seat. “Because things with pricks aren’t worth it.” She didn’t even try to project her voice, but Heather heard.

            “Well, why not another girl?”

            “Heather!” That was Elke, looking shocked and pissed. She shoved the grungy girl, muttering something under her breath that Kim didn’t quite catch.

            Even Jessie was scowling, not looking at Heather. This only caught the drummer’s attention. “What’s your sore spot on this, huh?”

            Jessie shook her head, not opening her mouth.

            “I think you’d better ask Elke what her sore spot on it is,” Kim said.

            “Nah, I’m not interested. I want to know why Jessie’s so upset about the thought of you with another girl. The whole Gwendolyn fiasco was fine with the entire band. What would be so wrong if the dreaded Kim Kissably brought another girl along for the ride?”

            “Gwen was never along for the ride!” Kim stood up, ignoring as Jessie put her hand on her shoulder, still silent.

            “Oh, that’s right. She hated you when you were part of the band. Couldn’t stand Kim Kissably, only liked Kimberly ... my god, did you ever have a normal last name?”

            “Standen.” Kim cocked her head, silently daring Heather to comment on it.

            “Is that German?” Ebony’s cool voice floated over to them.

            “Yeh, I think so.”

            “Hm.”

            Kim took a seat again, reminding herself to thank Ebony once they got off the plane. Heather didn’t open her mouth again for the rest of that flight.

***

Unlike their last British tour, they didn’t play a single show in London this time. Also unlike their last British tour, Kim wasn’t as overtly sexual on stage. She had moments when she would slip into the old persona, getting sad looks from Jessie the entire time, but she mostly found other things to rant about.

            With Darkling Asking being the next single about to be released, Kim talked about Wuthering Heights at least once every show. She would explain just how perfect it was and how everyone in the audience, even if they were an irreverent thing with a prick, had to read it.

            Chatha tried to help on one show, abandoning her saxophone at the back of the stage so she could run up to Kim’s mic and explain the tragic story.

            “Y’see, there were these two people in th’ moors, an’ well, they were kinda’ adopted brother an’ sister, bu’... Well, that’ kinda’ makes th’ story a bi’ twisted nah, huh? Same thin’ ‘appened in Frankenstein! ‘E married ‘is adopted sister. Maybe a lo’ o’ tha’ jus’ ‘appened in th’ 1800s... Imagine if their parents lied, an’ they weren’t really adopted! Whoah, tha’ would be kinda’ weird...”

            When Kim rolled her eyes and drifted off to a different part of the stage, Chatha took a breath and stood up straighter. “Nah see, these two people were ‘Eathcliff an’ Catherine. ‘Eathcliff was a meany an’ Cathy was a bitch. Perfect fer each othe’! Even though th’were so mean an’ stuff, though, they were s’good togethe’... Bu’, y’know, since they were s’alike, they just wouldn’t ‘ave worked ou’... See, ‘cause Cathy said tha’ sh’ was ‘Eathcliff. Tha’s wha’ ‘er love fer ‘im was; ‘cause ‘e was her, i’ was sorta’ necessary t’ love ‘im, ‘cause y’ gotta’ love yerself, an’...

            “Well, sh’died. Uh, afte’ marryin’ someone else! Bu’ tha’s only ‘alf th’ book, see? ‘Eathcliff swears revenge on th’ people ‘oo made i’ so ‘e couldn’t be wi’ Catherine, an’ all tha’ stuff, an’--”

            “Awright, Darling.” Kim, standing behind Chatha once more, put her hands on her shoulders and smiled. “Wanna’ let me have a go?”

            “Sure! Sh’s read th’ book more’n me, anyway.” Chatha grinned, then bounced back to where she had left her bari-sax sitting.

            “It’s a story of anguished love. Being beaten by the odds. Death, desperation, maybe a few overtones of vampirism. Wuthering Heights. Timeless, sad, beautiful. If you haven’t read the bloody thing yet, I suggest you get to it. After all, if even a femi-nazi can write a song for it... It must be damn good.”

            Chatha, still trying to be helpful, started up the sax line for Darkling Asking.

            Kim had never seen so many lighters burning in the audience before.

***

“I’ve decided I’m getting too soft, and I have to bloody well quit that.” Kim jerked a brush angrily through her hair, looking at Jessie in the dressing room mirror. “Getting halfway bloody sentimental over something as personal as my favourite book on the bloody stage? Give me a bloody break. That’s not me.” She tossed the brush down. “From here on in, every show will be a strip show! Overly sexed, violent, desperate. I’m not my bloody self out there anymore, Jess, it’s just so bloody awful.”

            Jessie lowered herself into a chair. “I think your problem is that you are being yourself out there. You’re admitting your humanity, which you don’t want to do. But you have grown out of that phase from Torn Horses, haven’t you?”

            “Phase? What bloody phase? That is Kim Kissably. Tonight, all those nights before... That was Kimberly Standen. She’s not around anymore, Jess. You never knew her.”

            “There’s something other than Kim Kissably in you. Otherwise--” Jessie stopped herself.

            “Otherwise what?”

            “Nothing.”

            Kim turned around. “Tell me what, Miss America.”

            “Otherwise I wouldn’t feel anything.” Jessie stood up. “I’m going to the hotel. You and the grrls can do whatever you want, but please remember we have to be on the plane again tomorrow.”

            “I know.”

            “It’s a short tour. We only have a few more shows. Just let it go, Kim.”

            “I can’t bloody well hit the festivals as Kimberly Standen, Jess. It’s just not right. We’re going to be sharing the playbill with Sisters, y’know that? One night only. Same bloody stage... Fuck, Jess, I can’t keep doing this. I need to redefine myself. Redefine Kissably. What’s a grrl look like? What’s she dress like? What’s she talk like? I’m losing that. What did I used to say on stage?”

            “The songs are different now, Ms. Kissably. You were playing to your old songs.”

            “So then my new songs aren’t good enough! I can’t play the audience with them!”

            “You can, Kim.” Jessie’s voice had taken a dry tone. “You can make anything sexual. You can make anything about control. It doesn’t matter if the songs are more subdued, you can still work your magic.”

            “Fucking right, I can. And I bloody well will.” Kim picked up the brush again. “I think I’ll go schoolgirl. Nah, schoolgrrl. Skirt hiked up, shirt precariously buttoned on. When there’s sad songs, they won’t really be all that sad... They’ll just be. And I’ll bloody well quit talking about Wuthering Heights!”

            “I’m sure even Eldritch has read and worshipped that book.”

            Kim ground her teeth. “If he has, he hasn’t gone writing any songs about it. He hasn’t gone on rants about it up on stage, or let his perky little bari-sax player do the same.”

            “He doesn’t have a perky little bari-sax player. We aren’t the Sisters of Mercy, Kim, and you’re definitely not Andrew Eldritch.”

            “You’re the one who just said ‘even Eldritch,’ so it’s your bloody fault I’m talking about it.”

            “I’m just trying to tell you that even your idols are human. It’s not a fault if you are as well!”

            “I know they’re human. And I know I’m human, Jess, but none of us should be while on stage.”

            “You’d rather be an object?”

            “Wouldn’t you? At least they pay attention to you then. Pretend to listen, even if they’re only staring at your chest. And I’m more than an object when playing the Kissably game, because I’m in charge. They want me to be.”

            “You’re still an object, because you’re exactly what they want. You just attract a different kind of man to your side. Even after you’ve sworn off them. Remember that? After Chatha--”

            “Don’t you think I bloody well remember? Go to your hotel room, Miss America; your pessimism isn’t wanted here right now.”

            Jessie dropped her head, but didn’t step back from Kim.

            Kim sighed, dropping the brush. “I’m sorry.”

            “Sure.”

            “I’ve crossed a line. Let me backpedal, please.”

            Jessie didn’t say anything.

            Kim turned to her, licking her lips. “Jess, how come we never talk about Siouxsie Sioux anymore? It’s always Eldritch this and Eldritch that now.”

            Jessie reached out and touched the blue streak in Kim’s hair. She still couldn’t talk. Kim looked away, swallowed. “I get it.” Her hand had found the brush again, but she just held it in the air. “Carroway says we’ll get a number on sales for Blackened Princess soon. And we’ll finally get a time on when we’re playin’ that festival gig on the Sisters’ stage. I just know we’re going to be one of the day-time unknowns that everyone can’t wait for the end of so the Sisters will be that much closer.”

            “You told me before that you didn’t want to play the night shows and be blinded by the stage lights. You told me you wanted to see the crowd.”

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