“What the actual fuck, Kacey?” Her eyes, lined in kohl as black as her skin-tight leather pants, zeroed in on me. She was a pretty gal, our fearless leader, or would be if not for the perpetual constipated look on her face.
I felt the weight of the room on me, heavy and accusatory. I crossed my arms over my chest, affected a pinched, slightly mid-Western older lady voice. “Hello, Jeannie, who’s bothering you now?”
Lola snickered, and Violet muffled a laugh behind her hand.
“Who’s bothering me? You…” Jeannie’s confusion morphed to irritation. “Wait, are you quoting some stupid movie at me again?”
“Stupid?” I gaped dramatically. “Ferris Bueller’s Day Off is nothing short of a classic. A national treasure…”
Jeannie flapped a hand, her bracelets jangling. “Whatever. If you devoted as much time to the band as you do to partying and watching 80’s relics—”
“Come on, Jeannie,” Violet said, with a sigh. “Let’s not start any shit right before the show. She’s here. We’re fashionably late. So what?”
Lola nodded. “Only newbies start a show on time. She’s ready to kick ass, right, Kace?”
“Oh, stop coddling her, for chrissakes,” Jeannie snapped at Lola, and then Jimmy swooped in and pulled her aside, talking soothingly to her in a low voice
Under my breath I said, “Mmm-mmm-mmm, what a little asshole.”
Violet burst out laughing, but Lola’s eyes flickered to my ‘Evian.’ She was a human Breath-a-lizer, that girl. Quickly, I tossed the bottle in the trash before she got wind of its contents and laid another of her patented lectures on me. The vodka had already started to work anyway, putting me one giant step back from reality, as if I were behind a pane of glass.
“Let’s not fight, ladies,” Jimmy chided, bringing Jeannie back to the center of the green room. “Three thousand paid ticket-holders are waiting.”
“He’s right,” Jeannie said, and mustered what we called her Fearless Leader expression: stiff and serious as she eyed us in turn. “We need to get focused and give them the performance of our lives. Circle up.”
We formed a ring in the center of the green room, holding hands, while Jeannie murmured a sort of vague invocation. Violet was a Buddhist, Lola an atheist, so the group prayer was more about channeling our energies, being grateful for our opportunities, and getting the four of us in tune with each other so we could play as one cohesive unit.
Was this what I wanted? I mused while Jeannie droned positive affirmations. I suspected the answer was no, but I’d come too far now. Lola was counting on me. If it hadn’t been for her, I’d still be on the streets. She’d taken me in after Chett ditched me, and we’d gotten this gig together. She needed me to not fuck this up, and I needed to not be a fuck up.
“Forget every other show,” Jeannie was saying, her typical closing statements. “Forget we’ve been on the road for months. These fans deserve our best, so let’s go out there and perform as if it were the first day of the tour. Blood, sweat, and tears, ladies.”
We made loud noises of agreement to get amped up, then headed out.
Lola pulled me aside. “Are you okay? For real?”
“Sure, I’m fine. Totally.”
“Where were you?”
“Oh, I… I called my parents.”
Lola’s shoulders slumped and she covered her eyes with one hand. “Oh shit, no. No, no, no. I keep telling you to give it up. It always bites you in the ass, Kace. Every time. You get all upset, then you get even more wasted than usual.”
“No, no, it was great!” I said. “I only talked to my mom but… Well, my dad said hi. I heard him in the background. That’s a start, right?”
Is this where you’re at? Lying to your best friend after all that she’s done for you?
Lola looked shocked. “Really? He talked to you?”
“He said hi, Lola. He really did.”
Lola studied me through narrow eyes and finally relented.
“That’s great, Kace,” she said, hugging me. “I’m really happy for you. To be honest, I’ve been worried lately. You party twenty-four-seven and have a different guy in your bed every night.”
“Not every night,” I said. “I have my dry spells. Like Tuesday.”
Lola snorted.
“Let’s go, girls,” Jimmy reappeared at the door. “They’re waiting.”
I flashed Lola a reassuring smile. “We’re going to kick ass at this show tonight. I promise.”
“I wish you’d promise not to party so fucking hard afterward. Maybe you’d be able to remember how kick-ass the show was.”
I pretended to be affronted. “That is the least rock and roll thing I’ve ever heard in my life. Keith Richards would roll over in his grave if he heard you talk like that.”
A smile twitched Lola’s lips. “Keith Richards isn’t dead.”
“See? Nothing to worry about.”
She rolled her eyes and laughed, slinging her arm around me. Protectively, as always.
Hugo Williams, the Pony Club’s head of security, appeared at the green room door to escort us to the stage. His dark eyes were warm and kind as he smiled at me, his teeth white and bright against the dark of his skin.